Soujiro and Akira sat on the front porch and picked at the remains of their dinners. Neither had much to say, and so they ate in silence. After a while, they heard the back door slam open with a violence that could only be attributable to one man.
"Tsukasa." Akira stated the obvious.
Soujiro nodded in agreement, "Wonder what he's up to now?"
"No clue." Akira shook his head ruefully, "Did you see the way he was looking at Makino during dinner?"
"Yeah, it was weird. Like he kept expecting her to suddenly sprout horns and a third eye."
"Exactly." Akira frowned, "Think he's starting to remember?"
"Maybe. But I wouldn't bet on it. More likely Makino said something weird this afternoon. Tsukasa's already been acting strangely since we got here, I wouldn't put it past him to start losing it completely if Makino pulled one of her usual circus acts." Soujiro shrugged. Sure, it would be nice if Tsukasa finally pulled his head out of his ass and remembered Tsukushi, so this tiptoeing around could stop, but Soujiro was far to cynical to think that it would be that easy.
"Bah." Akira snorted. "I think we should take the girls and just go home."
"What, and leave Rui and Tsukasa alone up here?" Soujiro stared at his friend in some disbelief.
"Sure, why not? They're obviously the ones with the most issues here. Hell, even Makino is starting to seem rational compared to those two."
"Hmm. . . " Soujiro pondered Akira's words. "Tsukasa's really not That bad. He's just moody. He's always been moody. I'd be moody too, if I had a hole in my side that wouldn't stop bleeding."
"Now you're defending him?"
"Someone's got to."
"I suppose. Still, I'd like to see what might happen if we left those two alone."
"You just want to see Rui and Tsukasa fight."
"Well. . I'll admit, it's tempting." Akira grinned suddenly. "After all the trouble they put us through. . . ."
"Hmm. . ." Soujiro thought some more, as off in the darkness outside the house, the soft melody of Rui's music began to permeate the night. "Technically speaking, Makino's the catalyst for trouble. Always has been. If we follow your logic she should stay here too." He didn't sound like he approved of that plan at all.
"Erk," Akira grimaced, "No. That'd be all bad."
"So, what should we do? Just sit and wait? I hate waiting."
"At least it's not boring."
"Riight. . . ." Soujiro sighed, "A bloody soap opera, is what it is. I always thought those were for idiots and old women."
"Oh come on now. . . ."
". . . Not to mention the fact that I haven't gotten laid in a week. . . " Soujiro continued to grumble.
". . .you can't tell me that you'd abandon Makino, Rui, and Tsukasa, for some of your bimbos?"
"No! of course not." Soujiro frowned, "But that doesn't mean I'm enjoying any of this."
"Me neither."
A few moments of silence ensued as the two boys stared out blindly into the dark, listening still to the faint snatches of Rui's music that the night breezes carried to their ears.
"I wonder what's going to happen?" Soujiro mused at last
"To any of them?"
"To all of us. . . How much longer can the F4 last like this? It's not like it used to be."
"Things are changing."
"You feel it too?"
"How could I not? We've been changing since we first met Makino, you know. And, of course the F4 couldn't stay the same once we started tolerating new acquaintances."
"You mean Makino?"
"And Sakurako, and Shigeru. You know we never used to have real friends outside each other."
"Now we do. But the four of us. . . all we ever seem to do is fight each other these days." Soujiro sighed. "I hate it."
"Yeah, you and me both. There's just no good here, anymore."
"And nothing we can do to fix it either."
"Exactly." Akira stretched and stood suddenly, "God, I hate being so serious all the time. One might think we were starting to become all mature and shit."
"Gah. Adulthood. A fate worse than death." Soujiro agreed. "We need a drink."
"We sure do. But think about what I said earlier. How bad could it be to just leave Rui and Tsukasa to work it out?"
"What about Tsukasa's memories? And Tsukushi?"
"We'll think of something." Akira sighed. "What other choice do we have?"
"Yeah. .. "Soujiro climbed slowly to his feet as well, "Why are we always the ones to pull these fools out of the pits they dug for themselves?"
"Because we're the only sane ones here?" Akira grimaced
"Must be. Ugh. Where the hell's the vodka?"
"Right this way," Akira waved the way back into the house, away from the melancholy night music, away from the heavy sense of responsibility that had enveloped the two boys, and back into the warm light and fuzziness that only heavy drinking could sustain.
------
Shigeru lay curled up in her bed, tightly clutching an anciently decrepit teddy bear. Slow tears trickled from her eyes, as she sniffled in misery. Normally a high-spirited, energetic girl, at this moment she seemed anything but. She cried not only for Tsukushi, but also for herself.
When had things started to go so wrong? Of course, it had all begun with Tsukasa and that cursed engagement. She'd tried so hard to make it work, but Tsukasa never cared. And now, though she might maintain her blithely cheerful façade, the sad truth was she still hurt. Rejection hurts, and try as she might, she could not help but long for Tsukasa, even as she strove to aid Tsukushi's fight for his heart and memory.
It was hard sometimes. Hard to pretend she no longer cared for him. Hard to see him gazing lovingly at Tsukushi. Hard to look at them and smile. But, it was even harder to see them like this. Shigeru had never expected to feel such misery at this unexpected estrangement. Sure, she loved Tsukushi, almost like a sister, and her hurt stabbed Shigeru like hot knives, but . . . there was more to it than that. Tsukasa's pain hurt her as well, and while his friends might look the other way while he sulked and moped, Shigeru could not help but ache with unhappiness each time she saw the lost confusion; the hurt and lonely emptiness reflecting in his eyes. He needed a friend badly, at this time when it seemed his own friends had forgotten about him in any way that mattered.
Shigeru wanted to be that friend. Wanted to be at his side, comforting him, healing him. Encouraging him to get well, to recover his memories. But she was afraid. Afraid of the feelings he awoke in her. Afraid of what she might try to do if she got too close to him. She couldn't betray Tsukushi like that, but she knew that she didn't stand a chance in hell of maintaining her distance from Tsukasa. If she were to even try to be his friend, she knew, just knew, that she'd just fall for him harder than ever. Why else had she kept her distance while he was in hospital? Why else had she busied herself in searching for Tsukushi? Why else had she maintained her distance, even here, where her memories of him rose so clearly to the surface of her mind? No, Shigeru knew that dwelling on a failed experiment of the past, and a future that could never be, was neither healthy, nor productive.
And so, instead of seeking him out, offering him advice, an encouraging smile, the warmth of knowing he still had one friend he could rely on to not be sneaking around behind his back in this time of pain, Shigeru curled on her bed and cried.
Tears of frustration, tears of unhappiness; they flowed so freely these days.
Everyone's got their secrets. Shigeru had hers. When she was done crying, she pulled her resolve back around her like a shield. Maybe she'd go do a little late night jogging. Or perhaps she'd go climb a tree, and reminisce about her tomboy youth.
No one had to know how she'd lain here crying for all the things she couldn't do, and for all the things that had been done already. Her smile already in place as her best defense against prying eyes (not that anyone ever bothered to look too closely anyway), Shigeru rose from her bed. She gave her old teddy bear one final squeeze, and headed for the door.
Out in the hallway, Shigeru listened closely for sounds of life. Sure enough, Akira and Soujiro's low voices could faintly be heard emanating from the front porch. With a slight grimace, (and wishing, at this moment, to avoid human contact) Shigeru turned and headed for the back door.
Shigeru opened the door gently, knowing that the aging hinges tended to squeal if not properly coaxed into functionality. The hall behind her was dark and quiet, and little light spilled out across the wooden flooring as Shigeru lightly stepped through the door. Thus, it should come as no surprise to anyone, that the tall man hunched up on the steps, absorbed deep within his inner limbo, failed to notice her presence. And, dressed in dark, hidden in shadow as he was, Shigeru too, failed to see Tsukasa until she was almost upon him. She started as she finally noticed his lanky frame folded up beneath the railing, and a splintered floorboard creaked beneath her feet. Doumyouji whirled at the unexpected noise so close behind him.
"What are you doing here?" he demanded roughly, dark eyes latching onto Shigeru's lighter ones.
"Ah, you surprised me!" Shigeru tried to cover her startlement, "I didn't think anyone was out here." She couldn't help but notice the rare tinge of vulnerability in his downcast expression, as if he'd been puzzling too long at some painful mystery that wouldn't quite yield up its dark secrets. She could feel it tugging at her heart, eroding her resolve, calling out to her in damning complicity, that here was the man who needed someone to fill the void. . . And why shouldn't it be her?
"Well, I was." Tsukasa growled, "What do you think you're doing, sneaking up on me like that?"
"Sneaking up? I was doing no such thing!" Shigeru returned hotly, "Besides, it is, after all, my house. I can go where I want." And, right now, her mind was telling her to go Away. Now. Quickly. Out into the garden. Away from Doumyouji. Away from the awful, awful temptation to sit beside him, gaze into those hurt and angry eyes, and ask. . . "What are you doing out here, alone?" Ack. Betrayed by her own larynx. Shigeru willed her feet to move. They refused. "Shouldn't you be inside, resting? You're not going to get well if you sit out in the cold." Why was she still talking? She had to harden her heart, strengthen resolve, get out of here. . . .
Oh come on. Just admit it, girl. Shigeru sighed to herself in defeat, You're not going anywhere. Well, at least, the worst that could happen is she'd hurt herself some more. Tsukasa couldn't notice her anymore than he ever had. Hell, he probably wouldn't even talk to her now. Amnesia couldn't change a man that much, could it?
If only she'd taken the front door. But no, her traitorous feet had led her straight to the one man she'd so wanted to avoid tonight. She'd forgotten the cardinal rule of life, "Things can always get worse than you think."
"It hurts." Doumyouji, admitted, looking away from Shigeru's surprisingly intense gaze.
"What, your injury?" Shigeru surrendered to her heart, and took a seat on the step next to Tsukasa.
"No." Doumyouji grimaced, as if by baring his teeth to the night, he could frighten away the uncertainties that gnawed at his soul. "Remembering."
To be continued. . . .