The following days went by very similarly.
Makoto fell in love with the process of going out to the field or the mountain to harvest whatever abundance was available. He also fell in love with the comfortable quiet of reading while Haru did other things around him. He enjoyed washing the dishes next to Haru, and even helping him go around the cottage and clear away dust and sand from the seashells and surfaces.
He wasn't so partial to Haru insisting on teaching him how to cook at first, but that was mostly because he was so intimidated by the act, and reluctant to touch the stove out of fear of possibly burning down Haru's home, but Haru swore he wouldn't allow that to happen, so Makoto submitted and paid even closer attention to Haru's teaching in this area.
They made a routine out of cooking together at lunchtime. Haru would pull out all of the ingredients they would be using, explain the dish, and even write out the steps for how each dish was made as he described them out loud. Makoto would nod, and watch, and keep the recipe with him as they began cooking, and they would each go through the process side-by-side with Haru demonstrating and Makoto following his every move. They made the same dish at the same exact time, and somehow, whenever they were done and it was time to taste their creations, Haru's dish was a glorious masterpiece that satisfied every taste bud imaginable, and Makoto's had them lurching with regret and spitting it back out almost immediately.
It was awful. Haru didn't even try to be nice about it. But he was determined to fix the problem, so they spent time on it every day.
It took a couple of days before Haru gently offered to start helping him confront the sea, and Makoto's fingers immediately turned cold, but he knew it needed to happen so he agreed with a grateful nod.
They started by just simply leaving the doors and windows open again. Then the next day they ate their breakfast outside in the sand, far up against the cottage, but facing the ocean and its vastness, and Makoto found it difficult to swallow, but Haru at some point shifted close enough that Makoto could feel the brush of their shoulders and it was easier to settle.
They started eating their breakfast outside every day, and then after their lunch disasters, began going on walks along the beach. They started far away, and then gradually drifted closer and closer to the water as the days passed, and Haru always watched Makoto carefully, as though waiting to catch him if Makoto started to check out again, but it never happened. And that was probably only because Haru was so quick to declare that they'd gone far enough in the very moment that Makoto stopped breathing.
It was a very long and slow process, and there were days in between when they were both okay with not confronting the sea at all. And on those days they just talked — sometimes while Haru drew pictures and Makoto organized boxes of seashells, other times they just sat on the couch and listened to each other for hours. And Makoto grew so comfortable with his new friend that there were times he maybe forgot, just for a moment, that he was in a hurry to get somewhere, that he didn't technically belong in Haru's cottage and was supposed to be trying to find a way to get over his phobia so that he could get back home.
But even after two weeks passed and he still couldn't get in touch with anyone, he had no concern other than missing his family and just simply wanting them to know that he was okay. He didn't care that he was missing the first days of his new job, didn't care that his apartment was gathering dust in Tokyo, didn't mind that there were undoubtedly a couple of karaoke nights that he'd been absent from. It suddenly wasn't worth it if Haru wasn't going to be there anyway, and he found he would much rather spend his time in the quiet of the cottage, if he'd been given a choice.
It was a very gradual and soundless process, but Haru was becoming a vital piece of his life, even outside of being the one who had saved it. One day, he looked up and realized that he wouldn't know what to do without Haru once he left, and that began a chain reaction of entertaining thoughts of how they were going to keep in touch once it was all over, how they were going to visit each other, how often they were going to visit each other, how it was going to be awkward trying to readjust to the life he had before.
It shouldn't be a difficult thing. Haru had never been there in that space, in those environments, in his day-to-day zigzags across the city, or even in his time with his family. But he knew already that once he returned, there would be massive holes everywhere he went, as though Haru had always been there and was now suddenly gone. He dreaded that, instantly and without question, and he spent an incredible amount of time wondering how to prevent it.
But for a while, it wasn't a direct issue, because it took a whole other week for his knees to stop shaking whenever they got up close to the shoreline. By that time, they'd stopped nearly throwing up Makoto's attempts at lunch, and instead reluctantly swallowed with equally wrinkled expressions of disgust — but they swallowed. It was some kind of achievement. As was the moment that they made it close enough to the water that the tide brushed over their bare feet for the first time, and though Makoto automatically grabbed for Haru's hand, he didn't flinch away, and they stood in that exact spot, feet sinking, for an entire thirty minutes.
It was almost peaceful, but a headache started to form at the back of Makoto's skull, and by the time that thirty minutes was over, his brain was throbbing and he was so lightheaded that he could barely hear himself breathing that he was done. Haru's grip tightened on his hand, and he led him back up the beach and inside to safety.
They didn't speak for the majority of the evening, but that was mostly because Haru disappeared for a few hours, then came back with ruffled hair and a bar of chocolate that he offered over meekly.
Makoto thought that maybe that was the first time his heart started beating differently, and he accepted with a smile.
Clouds started rolling in the next day, leaving the sky grey and sleepy, and the rain started before the sun could fully set — though it wasn't like they'd gotten to see it at all throughout the day anyway.
Makoto was tense about it, because the waves had not been at peace at all, and by nighttime, they were getting aggressive. He sat curled up in a blanket, watching Haru shut all the windows, and feeling a fresh swell of frustration with himself that the fear was suddenly so potent it was as though they'd barely made any progress across the past three and a half weeks.
His chest sank with an exhale and he looked down at his knees, too aware of the muffled quiet that followed when the last window was closed. He could feel the moment that Haru's eyes turned to him and was hyper-tuned to his careful movement as he crossed over to the couch and took a seat close to where Makoto was sitting.
Haru watched him for a good long while in silence, and Makoto didn't mind, but he also didn't meet his gaze. The rain was heavy on the roof, and though he wouldn't have called it comforting, it did do a decent job of drowning out the angry crashes of the waves.
Haru took a tentative breath. "There's an orca that's been hovering around ever since you got here."
Makoto looked up from his lap. There was an uncertainty to Haru's expression, but it was subtle against his regular passiveness, which Makoto had come to realize was more so a result of having had no one to be expressive with for far too long, rather than him simply being uncaring by nature. In all reality, Haru did care, and Makoto was always surprised to realize just how much when those signs made an appearance seemingly out of the blue.
"In America, there are indigenous cultures that believe the orca is the guardian of the sea. And they say that orcas protect those who travel far from home and will lead them back when the time comes … My grandmother said that they're the most loyal and devoted creatures that the sea has ever given us."
Makoto sat forward and wrapped his arms around his knees. "Do you see them around here often?"
Haru shook his head. "No. The only other one I've ever seen was when I was seven, and it was probably a good hundred kilometers from here."
Makoto's head tilted on its own. "Hm … Was there someone trying to get home then too?"
Haru shrugged. "I don't know."
The rain filled the silence that followed, and they just sat reading each other's gazes for a good long while, not even really thinking about it until a flash of lightening made them both look toward the windows. A rumble of thunder followed, and Makoto exhaled a trembling breath and rubbed at his arms.
"I hope its okay out there."
"He's fine," Haru said confidently, and for whatever reason this was a massive comfort to him, enough so that he managed a smile.
"You're so comfortable with all the animals."
Haru's lips pinched in the corner. Makoto could have sworn he saw the faintest bit of a blush in his cheeks. "I … have gotten to know them across the years," he mumbled, eyes darting away.
"I'm glad," Makoto admitted. "It's much less threatening to know at least a little bit about what's out there … And even more so that I have a guardian waiting to see me home."
Haru looked back at him, maybe with the faintest shine of admiration in his gaze. "You don't have to believe it."
"I do though." He lifted his smile. "Maho was no fool, and I think she knew the real spirit of this planet and everything in it better than any of us ever will."
There was a look that swam up behind the admiration, something Makoto couldn't read but that was softer and more full to bursting than anything he'd seen in Haru's gaze thus far. He seemed to struggle with something for a moment, as though unsure how to express whatever it was going through his mind. He lifted a hand even, absently at first, like it was just a reaction, and it looked as though he was going to reach out and touch Makoto's wrist, but he stopped halfway there, as though realizing, and his fingers curled in on themselves before dropping back to his lap. He looked away, cheeks definitely redder than before, and then stood up almost forcefully and started his way toward the kitchen.
"Do you want any tea?"
"Sure."
Makoto watched him, and refrained from sinking with disappointment.
He couldn't sleep that night. The storm only intensified, and he was unnerved by the howl of the wind being blocked only by glass doors and a curtain of fabric. He burrowed deeper beneath the duvet and tried to block out the noise by covering his head, but it didn't do much.
He closed his eyes, breathed, tried to will his body to relax and his mind to calm, but behind his eyelids he saw towering, fifty-foot waves and furious bolts of lightening surrounding him on all sides. Everything came in varying shades of black, swallowing him in darkness with just enough distinction to know that he was being overwhelmed, to know that there was no way out. It was all thrashing water and storm clouds, and he could swear underneath the crackling thunder he heard distant screaming.
He sat up, and was much less hesitant about getting out of bed and opening the door to the living room, where Haru was a more distinct shape this time, thanks to the low light over the stove. He was laying on his back with one arm tucked under his head, just staring at the ceiling, and when Makoto opened the door, Haru looked over to meet his gaze, fully aware of the crease of discomfort on Makoto's brow, and Makoto knew it, even though he lifted a small, wavering smile.
He leaned against the doorway for support, but decided not to be shy. The fear was too present to worry about it. "Doesn't really make any sense not to share the bed, does it?"
There was only a beat of silence before Haru responded with, "I guess not."
Makoto waited, and it was only a moment longer before Haru sat up and stood from the couch. He took his time folding up the blanket he'd been using and straightening the couch pillows back, and Makoto was patient, but also relieved when Haru made it across the distance between them and followed him into the dark of the bedroom.
Maybe at a different time there might have been an inclination to hesitate, but in this moment neither of them did. They just simply crawled onto the bed as though this was their nightly routine, and lay close enough next to each other that their combined body heat wrapped them in an extra layer of security. Makoto found himself breathing much easier already, and lay on his side facing Haru, who resumed staring at the ceiling.
Once they'd settled and the quiet passed on, he asked quietly, "Is this better for you?"
Makoto nodded, and even though Haru didn't directly look at him, he knew he didn't need to say anything out loud to reinforce it. Haru returned his arm back behind his head, shifting with ease to find the right position, and closed his eyes. Makoto watched his silhouette until his own eyes drifted close with sleep.