09. if we can just share our loneliness

-x-

The evening breeze brought the distant bonfire smoke and the murmuring sound of people's chatter to the rooftop, gentle and warm, soothing and dispersive, like the ocean breeze at the beach where Shoyo-sensei had taken him on their first outing. He remembered the salt in the air, the coarseness of the sand, and the smile in Shoyo-sensei's voice when he said: This is how you eat a chuubert.

Teeth clenched, Takasugi tightened his grip on the rail, feeling the metal heat up under his skin and the pressure squeeze against the old injury in his left arm. External pain relieved internal pain, but he remembered so much – so, so much. Asking him to let it go, just like that, was nothing more than betraying everything that he ever was.

Wasn't it?

He tensed at the sound of footsteps approaching him from behind and forced his grip on the rail to relax, blinking when that person held up a small carton of strawberry milk to him.

"Here," Ginpachi said.

Taking it, almost on reflex, he suddenly felt as if he were back in the teacher's office, listening to the creak of the ceiling fan and waving off mosquitoes while he tried to absorb Umibozu's recounting of that night's incident. It was what he wanted, yet not what he wanted, dumped inelegantly onto the table belonging to a greyer world.

He said to me, "It's not her fault. It's not anybody's fault. It was just unfortunate."

Those could hardly become famous last words, and a part of Takasugi felt forgotten and abandoned, for the second time, for the third time... He opened the carton of milk and took a swig, making a face when the nauseating sweetness hit the back of his throat. The cold liquid was overwhelming and disgusting, but at least it washed away the bitterness in his mouth, replacing it with something numb.

"He might not've thought that he would die," Ginpachi said, as if reading Takasugi's thoughts, his back leaning against the rail. "Might've never admitted the possibility. He really cared for you, y'know. Loved you."

"How would you know?"

Sighing, Ginpachi tilted his head backward and rested an elbow on top of the rail. "Hang out with these people as peers and you'll find out," he grumbled, shaking his own carton of strawberry milk like it was a glass of liquor. "Men my age only know how to brag about their wives and kids. Show off photos of their beautiful daughters or sons that they are so proud of whenever we go for a drink after work. Aghh, it was a pain listening to them when all I had in my wallet was a lousy picture of a stupid dog that hates my guts."

She was raped and tried to kill herself. It was a sad outcome of school cliques. I guess Yoshida-san had wanted to help.

"Who was the girl?" Takasugi asked, attempting to push away the weight on his chest, the conflict between having nothing but memories to cling onto and knowing that those were far from enough.

"Not the one you were picking a fight with earlier," Ginpachi replied, then hesitated. "I've forgotten her name."

Takasugi furrowed his brows. "The instigator, then?" He looked at Ginpachi, who shrugged in response.

"Who knows? Sometimes it's better to let things be. What's gonna change? The world's a big place. There are many other things that we can hold on to. Right?" Their eyes met, and there was a glimmer of trust, then Ginpachi smiled and pushed himself away from the railing. "Well, I have to go feed a dog. Don't forget you're still on duty this Monday."

Suppressing a smile, Takasugi raised a hand in salutation as Ginpachi walked away, and turned his gaze toward the night sky tainted by a hue of yellow from the bonfire and the city lights. He could see two stars twinkling, but nothing more.

"There's a world around each star?"

"There are many worlds around each star, and there are trillions and trillions of stars."

"Is there a world where nobody gets hurt?"

Shoyo-sensei's smile had been kind. "I'm sure there is, Shinsuke. I'm sure there is."

-x-

He saw him lying under a willow tree next to the river two days later, his umbrella folded by his side. Takasugi's steps slowed before he took an abrupt turn and walked up to the tree, resolute. The thick grey clouds hung low in the sky, barely moving or changing. Leaning over Kamui, Takasugi paused when eyes like the hidden blue sky looked up at him and focused upon recognition.

"Oh," Kamui said, snapping the pocky stick in his mouth in half. He sat up and twisted his head around with a smile. "Hi."

"You owe me a fight."

Kamui's smile widened, contemptuous. "No, I don't."

Takasugi tried again, ignoring the fast pace of his heartbeat. "I owe you a fight," he said slowly.

"You did."

"What if the coin had been rigged?"

"It wasn't."

"It could've been." Should've been.

Kamui's smile faded, his gaze partly searching and partly suspicious. In a swift motion, he blocked the knee strike to his head and pushed himself to his feet with a sideways roll. The smile returned to his face, more taunting than thrilled. "You weren't very serious about that," he remarked.

Takasugi responded with a wry smile and tossed his school bag to the base of the tree. His gaze drifted from the redhead's face to the word "dragon" on the latter's black T-shirt before it jumped back to his face, where it stayed. He would never lose again, Takasugi told himself as he swung a fist at Kamui – both someone and to someone.

With his right arm parried, Takasugi bit back a wince when Kamui caught his left arm in a strong grip that triggered a dull pain in the mended bone. Grabbing Kamui's wrist at the same time the redhead kicked under his feet, he yanked Kamui toward him as he fell, and stopped the fist aimed at his face after they landed on the ground. His heart pounded, and they stared at each other, breathless.

"That was dumb," Kamui said in a low voice, not moving from his kneel, both hands still in Takasugi's grasp.

"What was?"

Kamui forced a smile. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

Takasugi hesitated, looking at Kamui, unable to parse a thought as he watched the poker face that wanted to say nothing but in fact said everything. "Yeah," he uttered after a long pause, even if it was a lie, because it was the truth.

"What are you going to do now?"

Letting go of Kamui's hands, Takasugi said, "Stay here."

Kamui's smile faltered, but he didn't pull back. Takasugi could tell that he wanted to say something, maybe many things, but after a moment of silence, he only leaned forward until their breaths mingled and lips touched.