Chapter 5 – Silence / Music

From underneath the sheet, Yuri brought his legs closer to his chest. His knee made a quiet snapping crack, and, with a groan, he leaned forward. He wrapped his arms around his legs and looked around the room. Yuri blinked away his blurry vision.

The room was sweaty. The sun seemed to aimed at Yuri's little window. This room also had the perfect view of the moon, which he noticed the first night; at least, he reflected, tonight he would get to sleep in the basement. There was something unsettling about being directly under the light.

Yuri shifted himself so that he sat on the edge of the bed. He stretched to reach the phone on the nightstand. After sliding his finger across it and putting in his password, he casually noticed the time: 1:17 pm. He closed his eyes and stretched his jaw. Certainly, he was more of a night person, but today he needed to get up. They had a very important day ahead.

Not bothering to gather his suit for the day, Yuri got up and left the warm guest bedroom. He would take a shower in a little bit. He first needed to make sure Yomotsu was up, as that could be a much longer process. Yuri had already dealt with this before; his housemate had a notoriously difficult time waking up. No sound was beyond his sense of hearing when he was awake, but once he fell asleep, a gunshot would cause barely a stir.

The hallway was quite cool. From halfway across it, he could see Yomotsu sprawled out on the couch. He was still in the same suit as last night—his "pajamas"—in fact, his eyeball mask was under his head, being utilized as a pillow. Yuri scowled and looked a bit past Yomotsu's feet, which faced him. On the blue footrest, there was an open can of grape Fanta.

Two concerns came to Yuri's mind—first, should that can tip, anything inside of it would spill onto the footrest. The second worry had greater consequences; something had stopped Yomotsu from finishing the can. Yuri bent down to examine the full extent of this problem. After shaking the can a bit, he found it half full. Yuri took a sip. It was slightly cooler than lukewarm.

Yuri's eyes widened, and he looked at his friend with some spite. The can had not been out long enough to reach room temperature, which meant that either he had risen in the night for a drink he would be unable to finish or—and this was the cause of his irritation—Yomotsu had tried and failed to pull an all-nighter.

If Yomotsu had just literally gone to sleep a short while ago, the whole day had been shot in the foot. No, even worse; it had been shot in the throat. It had been overkilled, right in the vitals. C-C-COMBO BREAKER. If Yomotsu's sleep had been strong enough to keep him from finishing his Fanta, this was well out of his control.

He would shower out the frustrations and try after. It was too much for him to ask of himself to put forth serious effort after only just waking up. Yuri went back to his room and neatly folded the makings of his suit along his arm. He stood in the hallway, still in just his white devil ducky shorts, scratched his cheek, and then took a shower.

Showers were normally a time for contemplation. Hour long showers were not uncommon for Yuri, who enjoyed manipulating the water's temperature whether to make it to almost burn or chill his skin. Usually, he would begin with a cold shower and work it up into a warm one, letting his feelings and thoughts brood up into a cathartic release. When the heat turned to pain, and when the pain was too much, he would abruptly end the spray and naturally bring his body temperature back down.

This morning would contain a forty minute shower, and it began a little on the hot side.

His long, silver-gray hair dripped down in front of his face, which was pulled into a tight expressionless glare. A voice came from the other side of the curtain. The curtain provided two-way cover; Yuri listened to the voice with neither he nor the speaker able to be seen.

"Yuri."

He rubbed his face with his wet hands, massaging the area around his cheekbones.

"Yuri, if you see bad people, you mustn't turn a blind eye to them."

He smirked and reached with his free arm, as though for the backscratcher hanging inside the shower.

"Become someone strong who can punish evil."

The shower curtain flung open. He was taking deep, loud breaths. The bathroom was empty. A few moments passed with Yuri half-extended out of the shower. The front of his body cooled, while the back half felt like it was burning.

"Father…"

He closed the curtain just as violently as he had opened it and settled back in under the stream of water. His eyes went about the shower; they stung a bit. Maybe he had gotten some shampoo in them, at some point, but he was not sure. He just wanted to finish the shower now. It was beginning to hurt too much.

After drying himself with the towel, he went about his usual morning routine. He knew he would probably end up eating very soon, but he ritually brushed his teeth right after taking a shower. It completed the clean feeling. He placed both hands on the counter and looked into the mirror. He would have stayed like that for a long time, but Yomotsu was an idiot and had carpet in his bathroom. He did not want the water to drip into the carpet.

He wrapped one of his towels around his body and the other around his head. Both were similarly a mosaic pattern of bright green and blue. He stepped again into the cool hallway, for some fresh air and to check on Yomotsu, who was still sprawled on the couch, although in a new position. He had flipped around; now his face was sinking deep into a real pillow, which earlier his feet had been resting on, and his mask had apparently been flung onto the floor.

After Yuri was dressed, clean, and had prepared his breakfast, he sat down on the unoccupied couch. It was very quiet. He thought about checking what was on TV, but he was sure that turning on the TV would result in Mighty Morphin' Power Rangers suddenly turning on and blaring at him. He considered the cliché of silence being "music to your ears," and he accepted that in his current case, it was awfully fitting. Silence went very well with his piece of toast, with raspberry jam spread across it, and a small cup of tea with honey.

Suddenly, Yomotsu stirred. It was nothing but jumbled half-moan/half-speech, but it was something Yuri could latch onto. From the other couch, he sipped his tea and gave him a curious glance. "You don't say?" Then, setting the cup down on a little plate (the closest thing to a proper saucer Yuri could find in the kitchen) on the foot rest, he brought himself over to Yomotsu's side.

The sleeping hero had begun to drool on the pillow, creating a small stain from where the corner of his mouth touched the plain, white case. This pillow definitely was not there before; it did not match the set. While Yomotsu had no sense of design, Yuri was certain this was something that Yomotsu must have just fetched from the closet or from his own room perhaps. What compelled Yomotsu to use his last remaining effort and consciousness to grab a pillow and a can of Fanta and bring it to the couch, rather than to just properly make his way to his own bed, Yuri would probably never figure out.

Yomotsu's eyes were flitting; Yuri discerned that this was the time to act. He was desperate enough to accept the strangeness of a blind man showing such visible signs of rapid eye movement, because if Yomotsu really was in this stage of sleep, the situation was ripe for him to be woken up. Yuri took hold of his cup of tea and with dramatic and sudden flare, poured a small amount onto Yomotsu's face.

Yomotsu shot up at such a speed that Yuri, startled, nearly fell over backward. His housemate looked around frantically. "Who is the wretched evildoer who woke me?" He looked straight at Yuri. "Your crimes will be punished!"

Yuri lifted a brow. "It's just me," he said, before taking another sip of his tea. "I decided it was time for you to get up. I was making breakfast, and there is not much left in the fridge. I was thinking we should go to the grocery store today. I obviously could go by myself, but I don't know my way around town yet, and I thought you might like to get out for a change."

Yomotsu scratched his head. "Oh, yeah… The grocery store…" A smile crept along his face. "The grocery store… Yeah… Let's go to the grocery store." He stretched his arms and found the can of Grape Fanta. He brought it close and swished around the contents inside, saying, "We can take the Righteous Tsunami and be there in no time. I know the route by heart."

Yuri tried to picture it: he would be at the mercy of a blind man, a blind man who had just suddenly woken up from sleep deprived state of mind, driving a motorcycle, and because he would be sitting behind him, presumably the only thing Yuri would be able to hold onto for support would be Yomotsu himself. He would have to be the woman wrapping her arms around Yomotsu. Right.

"How about we take my car," Yuri suggested, after another sip of tea. "My Phantom." He said it with elevated pride. "You'll be the talk of the town, being seen getting out of that beauty."

Yomotsu's shoulders picked up and then dropped off. "That would be fine," he said. "But I get to pick the music."

The way he said that bothered Yuri almost as much as the words themselves had. That voice had been so foreboding; his tone contained the implication, "And this is how I shall exact my revenge on you for waking me up like this..." That and, given Yomotsu's other questionable choices in interior decorating and bathroom flooring selection, the possible musical tastes of a man who dresses up in pajamas to fight petty wannabe criminals did not necessarily seem promising.

Yomotsu got ready rather quickly. Something had certainly put a spark in him. He walked with new life, and Yuri realized with curiosity that, save last night, this was the most enthusiastic he had seen the man. He must have been pretty pumped for the grocery store.

They got into the Rolls-Royce Phantom a little after 3:00. Yuri had to remind Yomotsu to be careful, so as not to scratch any of the interior. Once they both had their seatbelts on, Yuri relaxed into his seat and watched as Yomotsu eagerly sat toward the front of his seat, with this huge grin on his face.

"Did you bring the music you wanted?" Yuri sighed out the question.

"I have the goods!" The other half-squealed.

Yuri thought more on it. "…Is this drive even going to be long enough to warrant listening to certain music? We could just turn on the radio."

Yomotsu chuckled. "The trip can be as long as you want it to be."

"Easy for you to say," Yuri remarked. "You're not the one who has to pay for gas."

Yomotsu was wearing a white short-sleeve shirt with a Japanese red dot in the center. He also wore denim jeans, slightly faded, and sandals without socks. Yuri, by contrast, was wearing a caramel-colored suit with a black and yellow polka-dotted tie.

Yuri noticed that Yomotsu had just opened the CD case. He slid the CD into the player, as Yuri just watched. "I'm not going to like it, you know," he said.

"You don't even know what it is yet," Yomotsu protested, softly.

"But I have very particular musical interests."

The music started up with a powerful 18 second intro, before fading into a mildly funky beat. Yuri looked toward Yomotsu. He was about to say something, when 50 seconds in, the vocals started up. He frowned and looked back at the car's CD player. "What is this?"

"Why?" Yomotsu smirked.

"Because… I like it so far."

Yomotsu chuckled to himself. "It's Daft Punk. Random Access Memories. French house is at its best when it sticks to disco roots. Woolfy vs. Projections, Kraftwerk, Justice…"

Yuri laughed. "Justice? You like Justice?"

"I love Justice," Yomotsu corrected, "And you might laugh, but you'll grow to love it too. This Daft Punk you're listening to… It makes you want to dance, right?"

Yuri's eyes were wide, staring ahead past the dash board. "Irresistibly so, Yomotsu. I want to shake parts of my body I've never shaken before." He wanted to laugh at himself, but he was caught up in a genuine appreciation for the music.

"As I thought…" Yomotsu asked to have his window rolled down partway. He glanced toward his house, its superior garden, and its overall non-uniqueness as a unit of this neighborhood. He kept his face averted when he asked, "What music do you normally listen to?"

Yuri cleared his throat and straightened his sitting posture. "I mostly listen to classical composition," he answered. "Although, when it comes to modern work, which is usually vastly inferior, I do have a slight interest in—"

His voice became an incoherent mumble, as he also turned to look out of his window. Yomotsu looked back over at the other. "Hm? What was that? What other music do you like?"

Yuri mumbled it again, but still, even Yomotsu could not discern what he had said. "Pardon?" He repeated. "You can like whatever music you want, so just feel free to admit it…"

"I LIKE VISUAL KEI, ALRIGHT."

Yuri blushed. His face was still turned away. Yomotsu patted his shoulder. "It's okay, it's okay," Yomotsu said quietly. "We all make mistakes, sometimes."

The hand was slapped away. "Truth be told, if you hadn't been around for this drive, I would have listened to Yusei Teikoku or maybe DEAD END. I'm not ashamed. It's just something I wouldn't expect everyone to appreciate."

And at that moment, Yomotsu recalled coming across Yuri's MySpace page, while researching him. It had a gothic design and automatically played My Chemical Romance when someone visited. He remembered the blog posts and poems especially; the rant entitled "nobody understands my code of justice" was especially endearing.