"I never got to thank you for Nepal," Kazuma said, sitting on the bench. It was nice, not to be on his feet for once.
"Nepal?" Hino blinked and looked over at him. Kazuma hadn't been entirely sure, until that moment, that Hino was actually aware of anything outside himself. He'd been watching, out of curiosity, for a few hours. "Oh." His face cleared. "Nepal. Yeah. Sorry about that."
"It's not every day someone gives me an official alibi with the local law enforcement," Kazuma continued. He'd put his phone number in Hino's phone, back in Italy, in case Hino wanted to call, but Hino had vanished before Kazuma had the chance to tell him. He'd been somewhat surprised to get a message informing him that Hino had changed his number, and then realized Hino had just sent out a mass text to his entire phone book. He'd texted Hino anyway, periodically, about where he was and what he was doing. Somewhat to his surprise, Hino had occasionally texted back. Kazuma had been in the general area when Hino had said he was hiking through parts of the Gobi desert, and had suggested they perhaps meet.
"You're a good guy," Hino said tonelessly. He'd gone back to staring at the horizon, right hand in his pocket as it had been since Kazuma had first seen him on the bench.
"Telling them we were on our honeymoon was inspired," Kazuma said. "Although it's a good thing they couldn't tell the difference between Spanish and Portuguese."
"Can I do something for you?" Hino asked. There was a little bit of the spark that Kazuma had seen during their last encounter, the self-assured confidence of the man who'd dramatically walked into a local police station and informed the officers that Kazuma had been with him the entire previous night. Kazuma had no idea how Hino had known, specifically, that he was at the police station for questioning simply for being in the wrong place at the wrong time. Hino had, however, produced a receipt for a local motel, who had verified that Hino, at least, had been there the previous night. They'd spent a few days together, after that, but Hino hadn't said why he was traveling.
"Honey," Kazuma said, just to see if he could coax that spark back out. Hino had vanished without a word, and Kazuma's texts had gone unanswered. Then he'd gotten a brief message, garbled and incoherent, and then Hino had sent him another text telling him to ignore what he'd just sent. Hino had told him where he was with very little coaxing, but still told Kazuma to stay away; all of that just made Kazuma think Hino wanted to be dissuaded from something, and so he went.
"I shouldn't have…." Hino trailed off. "I'm sorry I made you come here," he said. "It was inappropriate."
Kazuma cocked his head to the side. "I'm here, either way. You might as well tell me what's going on."
"I can't save him," Hino said. "I've tried, and I've tried, and nothing – none of it works. Putting them back together ruined them, and I can't do that to him. I can't do it, Kenzaki."
Kazuma blinked, parsed what he could out of the less than adequate explanation, and turned to face Hino. "Do you think he'd want you to keep trying?" he asked.
"What?" Hino finally looked at him.
"Do you think he'd want you to keep trying?" Kazuma repeated. "Or do you think he'd want you to let him go?"
"Want," Hino repeated, with a bitter smile. "All he wanted was to be alive."
"And what do you want?" Kazuma asked. He wasn't sure why that particular word was getting a response, but he wasn't about to look the proverbial gift horse in the mouth.
"I want him back," Hino said. "I just want him back, but I don't know how."
"Do you know that it can't be done?"
"I know that it happened," Hino said. "Or that it will happen. I don't know when. But I know that it happens. I just don't know how."
Kazuma blinked. Hino had sounded absolutely sure of himself, his tone so different that Kazuma was now not entirely sure that there wasn't something wrong with Hino. "So he wouldn't want you to give up," Kazuma said.
"No," Hino said. "No, he wouldn't." He smiled, warmth in it now. "He'd call me an idiot for even considering it."
"Do you want to tell me about him?" Kazuma asked. Hino seemed more relaxed now, and Kazuma thought that whatever Hino had wanted him to talk him out of doing, Hino wasn't about to go and do.
"I've caused you enough trouble," Hino said, sheepish. "You're out here in the middle of nowhere."
"You don't know that I wasn't here already," Kazuma said, and then laughed as Hino looked pointedly at the miles of nothing around them. It wasn't even a pretty beach. "Point taken," he said. "I'd say you owe me a beer, at the very least, Hino."
"I would agree with you," Hino said, "if there were a decent bar in – is this even a town? I don't think this is a town."
"It's two stoplights and one paved road," Kazuma said. "It does not qualify as a town, no."
"We should probably go find something that does." Hino stood, stretching. Kazuma could hear his spine and shoulders pop. "Come on."
Hino had had the foresight to acquire a bicycle, which Kazuma balanced on the back of for far too many uncomfortable miles. There was something about being in Hino's company, though, that eased the sense of loneliness that came from knowing so few people shared his experiences. Hino, for all he knew, didn't share them either, but he'd felt the same sense of responsibility as a Kamen Rider, and since Kazuma couldn't go back to Japan, this was the closest he could get.
The nearest actual town was full of unexpected light and warmth, and Hino smiled and laughed as they shared stories of the unexpected that happened so often while traveling. Kazuma almost hoped that Hino would actually stick around for a little longer this time, or that he would at least say goodbye before leaving, but predictably, Hino had vanished without a word the following morning. He'd left the bicycle behind, though, and Kazuma looked at it for a long moment. Good luck, Hino, he thought, and felt suddenly that he wasn't going to see Hino again. He was miles away before he found the passport and phone wedged into the bottom of the bike's rusty basket.