Chapter 38— Touch / Release

Yomotsu woke up tangled in his covers. His legs were wrapped around the bedspread, and he was lying on his side, facing away from the door. He realized that he was stirring and let out a satisfied groan. He slid his arms out of the covers and stretched them forward. He rotated his wrists and listened for the quiet simultaneous crack.

He bent his knees so that his legs curled in toward his body, and then he stretched his legs the opposite way. He rolled onto his back. The aftertaste of a weird dream lingered on his palate. It was a dream that amazed him not with sights, for it all took place in darkness, but in other sensations. In the dream, he heard children laughing, and drowned out by the laughter from all directions, he heard a steady, monotone voice.

First quiet, the volume of the voice gradually increased, until he could make out the words over the children's jubilee: "Justice and Mercy, sitting in a tree… K-I-L-L-I-N-G… First comes love, then comes danger, then unceasing desperate anger…"

The laughter of the children remained with its steady laughter, but the monotone, genderless voice continued its rhyme: "Justice and Mercy, sitting in a tree… K-I-L-L-I-N-G… First comes love, then comes danger, then unceasing desperate anger…"

Over and over, endlessly, louder and louder, with only a couple of seconds of pause between each repetition.

That was what Yomotsu heard, but his sense of touch was also stirred. As the volume of the voice increased, he felt the cool touch of fingertips brush against his feet. The fingers traced up along both legs, then converged at his stomach and went up his chest. The cool fingers wrapped around his throat, and Yomotsu felt his breath become strained, until he was gasping for air. While his mouth was open, he felt the cool fingers enter his mouth, and his sense of taste was bombarded with the taste of lukewarm, overly sweet coffee. By this time, the voice was shouting in his ears:

"Justice and Mercy, sitting in a tree… K-I-L-L-I-N-G… First comes love, then comes danger, then unceasing desperate anger…"

The taste was still in his mouth, but the cool fingers were now replaced by cool sheets, and all he could hear were the noisy birds outside. Yomotsu sat upright. He used his left hand to scratch his back, through the tight black Transformation Suit he wore. He reached to his right with his right hand and grabbed a bottle of water. He twisted off the top and set the cap down. His left hand fell on his leg, and his right hand brought the water to his lips.

It was lukewarm, but at least it did not taste like overly sweet coffee. He took a couple more swallows of the water and then set it back down, tightening the cap on the bottle right after. He slid his legs out of the sheet and bedspread and kicked the pile toward the edge of his bed.

Yomotsu placed a foot on the carpet floor of his room and, through his black nylon sock, felt the bump of the cord he was stepping on. After he had the other foot on the ground, he put his hands on his hips and stretched his torso to the left and then to the right. He walked over to the dresser and pulled open the top shelf. He reached inside and grabbed two cotton socks, black like most of his collection. He also snagged a pair of boxers.

He was aware of the exact order he placed the boxers in the drawer, and he was very careful with how he did his laundry. This was a universal rule with Yomotsu's apparel: he always maintained an order, which allowed him to know (usually) what he was actually wearing. In this case, he knew that yesterday he wore the boxers with the Hawaiian floral pattern, so the pair underneath it—today's pair—were the ones with little crowns scattered all over the place. Crowns fit for the king of justice!

He wrapped the socks in the boxers and held the bundle in his left hand. He used the right hand to close the drawer. Next he went to his closet and, ritualistically, pulled down on the string that turned on the light in the walk-in wardrobe. He brushed his fingers along the sleeves of the shirts, counting as he moved from shirt-to-shirt, until he was sure he found the right shirt for today—No. 9, the blue shirt with the Justice girl's clothing brand logo on the center, the shirt Yuri gave him for Christmas.

Yomotsu tossed the shirt over the bundle in his left hand, and then he reached up with his right hand to feel around the shelf above where his shirts hung. He searched for the right pair of pants until he found the nice cropped khakis. He pictured in his mind how awesome he would look with this blue Justice shirt and these cropped khaki pants—hidden beneath which would be his righteous crowns—and silently allowed himself to grin at the image.

The pants went on top of the shirt, which was on top of the underwear, which was folded over the socks. He went from here to the door. As Yomotsu always kept his room tidy, there was no danger of him possibly stepping on anything fragile or making himself trip on some scattered object. He opened the door with his right hand and then passed through, going into the hallway.

He did not hear the water running in the bathroom, and when he went to check the door, Yomotsu found that it was open. He entered the unoccupied bathroom, set his bundle of clothes on the counter by the sink, and closed the door. He peeled off his nylon socks and Transformation Tights and then pulled the top of his Transformation Suit over his head.

Turning the hot water on, he held the dial with his right hand while his left hand felt the temperature of the stream of water. He found the ideal warmth and then flipped on the shower. The loud burst that hit the tub was replaced by the softer, broader peal of the warm water spray. Yomotsu used the toilet, was his hands, shaved, and then entered the shower.

He sang an original tune, "The Buddy of Justice," while washing himself clean with a bar of neutral-scented soap.

After shutting off the water and stepping out of the shower, he applied the hanging towel to his cold, wet legs. He dried himself off and then applied deodorant. He ran his fingers through his thick, grey hair, and contemplated the idea of getting a haircut soon. Yomotsu put on his Justice shirt and then combed his hair. He pulled on his underwear and cropped khakis, waiting until last to carefully pull on his black cotton socks. He let the fan run for another thirty seconds and then stepped out of the bathroom.

He walked down the hallway and approached the dining room table. He heard clanging from the kitchen.

"Doing the dishes?" Yomotsu asked.

"Yes," Yuri answered, quietly.

"I'm sorry to inform you, but I believe it was my turn."

"I am aware. I will do them this time and next time, as well."

"Oh, thank you very much! That is most generous of you."

Yomotsu pulled out a chair from the table and sat down. He rested his elbows on the Power Rangers placemat. He felt for the paper and found it right away. He opened it up and began to perceive through the paper the paper's contents, feeling along the page with his finger, as though it were in braille.

"Would you like anything for breakfast this morning, or anything to drink?"

Yomotsu turned his head toward Yuri and said, "I will get myself something in a moment. I don't want to trouble you. Just make whatever you want for yourself."

"I already ate breakfast," Yuri answered. "I have been up for some time now. I am almost done with the dishes, and I would like to keep myself busy. It is no trouble at all. What would you like?"

Yomotsu turned his head back to the paper. "I think we have some orange juice still in the fridge, and just two slices of toast with the orange marmalade I bought last week in the store… That would be perfect. Thank you."

While listening to Yuri dry the dishes, Yomotsu pretended to read the paper. He heard two children outside laughing, and he turned his head toward the window. The sound came from the sidewalk, on the right side. The laughter continued with various degrees of loudness until fading to the left. It was just two of the neighbor's kids playing, running across the street, perhaps on bike.

Yuri set the plate in front of Yomotsu. He then set the tall glass of orange juice on the upper right corner of the placemat.

"Let me know if there is anything else I can do for you," Yuri said, before quickly turning toward the living room.

Yomotsu grasped the glass. It was cold and moist to the touch. He lifted the glass to his lips and took a small sip. The orange juice was from concentrate and had a slight aftertaste to it. No pulp. Yomotsu would have liked the pulp, but this was on sale. He took another sip and then set the glass down. He gently felt around the plate for the toast.

"Yomotsu."

He turned his head toward the living room.

"Do you remember what you told me after you used your powers to convince Light to give up the Death Note? About how you said you have accepted that the path of righteousness is lonely?"

Yomotsu took a bite out of the toast. Delicious. "Mmhmm," he mumbled. "I remember that."

Yuri paused. "I am walking on the same path with you, do you understand? So long as you stay on the path, and so long as I stay on the path—we will inevitably be walking along the same path, toward the same destination. Do you understand?"

Yomotsu smiled over his toast. "Of course."

Yuri turned on JusTV. Yomotsu set the piece of toast in his hand back down on the plate.

"Hey, Yuri."

"Yes?" Yuri called back.

"Do you remember 'Touch'?"

Yuri chuckled. "Yes. I remember 'Touch.'"

Pictures came with touch. A painter in my mind.

When the doorbell rang a little after 5:00, Yomotsu went quickly to the door. Yuri watched from a short distance, standing behind the table. His right hand was on the table, palm-down, as though he were swearing an oath at a trial.

Yomotsu opened the door wide, and Mercy came into view. She was smiling and, after glancing past Yomotsu, gave Yuri a quick wave. She then leaned forward slightly and gave Yomotsu a quick hug. This was a typical way they would greet each other. She then gave him a quick kiss on the lips. This was also quite typical.

"Sorry I'm a bit late," Mercy said. Yomotsu closed the door behind her, and she slipped off her shoes. "I've just been really busy lately."

"That is no problem at all," Yomotsu said.

Yuri watched the two as though he were stargazing; he was looking for how the sparkling points connected to form a constellation. He was looking for something in this range of vision: perhaps the direction of the North Star, perhaps an unidentified form of life to go streaking past. All he saw, however, was a black expanse and two bright lights. They were moving apart.

Yomotsu walked toward the kitchen, she toward the living room. Yuri stood by the table. He looked down.

"Want anything to drink?" Yomotsu asked.

"No, no. I'm fine, thank you."

"Very well, then."

Yuri watched Yomotsu go into the living room and plop down on the couch, next to Mercy. She was wearing a black t-shirt with a faded red peace sign on the front, a long black skirt, and long red socks that quickly disappeared inside the skirt.

Yuri, who was wearing a white suit and banana-yellow tie, went into the kitchen. He was hardly in the mood for drinking anything, but he knew some water would do him some good. His mouth had been dry all day, and his head was beginning to hurt a little. It was not that warm in this house, but that did not halt the signs of dehydration.

"What do you want to do today?" Yuri heard Yomotsu ask.

"Whatever you want to do."

"Anything would be fine."

"Yeah? I really don't care, either way."

"We could… watch a movie? I just got a Power Rangers DVD in the mail recently, and I haven't watched it yet."

"Sure. I think that would be really good."

Yuri held his glass under the fridge ice machine and pressed the button until a few cubes clinked down. He then turned to the faucet, turned it on, and set the temperature to the coldest it could go. He held the glass under the stream until it was three quarters full, and then he turned off the tap.

"I had this really weird dream this morning," Yomotsu said.

"Yeah?"

"It was… Quite disturbing. But I did not dwell on it, because I knew that later today we would be able to see each other. When I have something to look forward to, I can let certain unpleasant things slide away."

"I understand…"

Yuri left the kitchen and looked into the living room. Mercy was sitting to Yomotsu's left. Her head was on his shoulder, and she was gently stroking her hand across his back. Yuri walked calmly toward the basement stairs.

"Yuri? Aren't you gonna watch the movie?" Mercy asked.

Yuri looked at her, then Yomotsu. "I'm not feeling up to it," he said.

As he went down the stairs, he heard the DVD title menu music going, and he pictured in his mind that scene of Mercy cuddling up with Yomotsu and stroking his back.

"That fool," Yuri muttered when he sat down on the foot of his bed. "Mercy, do you not realize what you're doing…?"

He fell back on the bed, so that his feet were dangling off the end and the rest of his body was lying down. He spread his arms wide and clenched the bedspread. It remained chilly in the basement all year round, so he did not have to switch out his winter bedspread for something lighter for the summer. The cold helped him think more clearly—like the glass of water, which he set on the table near the keyboard for his computer.

"Yomotsu is going to hold on to this memory of sharing this moment with you," Yuri whispered to himself. "Every time he watches the DVD, or even just looks at it or thinks about it, he's going to remember watching it with you for the first time. And you know how important Power Rangers is to this imbecile."

He groaned and stared at the dark ceiling. It was lit faintly by a soft blue light, which he traced back to the waterfall display in the wall on the other side of the room.

"It's been five days," Yuri whispered, emphatically. "And you've been acting like nothing is different. You're still holding him and letting him hold you… This isn't fair to him, this isn't fair to his memories… You have to release him now, if you're going to release him. Don't let him dangle there, don't let him be suspended in this mirage…"

Yuri pulled from his pocket his phone. He sent Mercy a message urging her to talk to Yomotsu today.

A minute later, the phone buzzed. He received a text saying, "I can't stay long tonight, and I think it should wait for a day when I can stay longer and talk it out with him. I have to leave in two hours."

Yuri groaned and texted back that he did not want to keep this secret from his friend any longer, and that he would be there for Yomotsu tonight. He simply needed to know the truth as soon as possible.

"But we still have to watch this movie," she texted back.

"Tell him to pause the movie, and start talking with him," Yuri responded. "It's better that he doesn't get the wrong idea about what is currently happening between the two of you. When you show him affection, he is going to think you still have affectionate feelings for him."

"But I'm not sure if I don't have affectionate feelings for him. I still might, after all, but I'm not sure."

"If you might still have affectionate feelings for him—then maybe you shouldn't break up with him quite yet. But definitely tell him that you are uncertain."

"No, it's for the best that I break up with him, for both of us… I'll talk with him now. I'll text you when to come back upstairs."

Yuri sat the phone down on the bed, next to him, and closed his eyes. He began to mindfully breath in and mindfully release. He placed his right hand on his stomach and felt the swell and depression of his steady, deep breaths.

"Why, Olivia? Why, Dostoevsky? What sort of salvation have you in the works for us?"

Yuri must have fallen asleep. He heard his phone buzz, and his eyes heavily lifted. He reached for his phone and let his eyes adjust to the bright light of the screen before reading the message. Forty minutes had passed, according to the clock on his phone, and the message was not from Mercy. It was from Meilag.

Yuri rubbed his eyes. "I don't remember even giving him my phone number…"