Salad Days
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Peaked
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Takeru chuckled at his phone, amused over a video that Daisuke sent in their group chat. The cat was making a funny meme-able face — an expression that was held far too long for it to be not funny. His phone pings, suggesting someone replied in their chat. With a few swipes of his finger, Miyako was spamming the chat with some curses and threats at Daisuke — she 'does not look like that when staring!' she says.
But she does, Takeru laughs inwardly. He scrolls upwards just enough to check and deduce that she isn't online. He tries not to read too deeply into it.
He types a friendly message to the chat before pocketing his phone, takes out a fountain pen and the notebook Mimi has gifted him ages ago, then scribbles a note on "cats make funnier faces more than dogs."
He doesn't know how that observation will age well nor if it will be actually useful to his literary career, but he is satisfied. With a smile, he looks at the scenery, admiring the view of the countryside.
"Takeru," Yamato pulls him back to reality. His brother was wearing a pair of expensive headphones that blared out of what sounds like heavy metal. "Thirty minutes."
"Yeah, aniki." he smiles at him. He waits for his brother to return to his brooding before he returns his gaze on the window. The Shinkansen moves fast but he can still appreciate the change of horizon from Tokyo. Greener and greener. Briefly he recalls the same past trips he and his brother had taken, every summer.
Well, for most of it, his thoughts instantly drift to a tiny guinea pig creature with bat-like wings for ears. Into a world he once lived with.
Takeru pockets the nostalgia away for a while. He's been excited about this trip for quite some time now. A vacation at their grandparents' house, and a hiking trip to Mt. Hakkoda.
Now, this wasn't their first hike to Hakkoda. No, they've been doing it every few years since he was 10—they even brought Taichi, Koushiro, and Jyou at some point.
In thirty minutes, they hopped off the Shinkansen, arriving at Aomori Station.
Takeru tails his brother as they look for their ride. Outside the station, he can't help but notice the changes this city experienced. Not even in two years, and it already feels a little different. Still charming in its own way, the smell of the sea breeze and the natural quiet, still feels like home. And yet, he can't help himself but to care. He was certain that his favorite fruit stall nearby was still around the last time he visited. It was the only fruit stall that sold his favorite apples. He would often bring some back home to share with his mother.
"Takeru, come on," once again, Yamato's curt voice brings him back to the present. He seems a bit pissed, tired, and looks at him as if he just did something wrong. Then again, his brother always had a resting bitch face that he was very accustomed to. He chalks it up on that.
"Coming!" he shakes his head, tries to not hold on to the disappointment over a small detail. Maybe they just relocated.
They board a bus to the countryside.
Takeru and Yamato reach the village by the afternoon. Yamato continues to lead them through, not wasting any time. He immediately disappears as he turns to a corner.
Meanwhile, the younger blond observes how the quaint village has changed (and how it hasn't). There are no Japanese-style houses here. It looked more like a village from a Studio Ghibli film, which Takeru always likened it to. He takes photos, documenting out of habit. He then notices plenty of the elderly outside.
"Are you Natsuko's?" a question with a heavy accent is directed at him. He looks around to see an old man, staring at him up and down. Another elderly, this time a woman, emerges to gander at him. Then another, and another, and another.
They chatter.
Takeru bows politely at them, smiling. "How are you? Is obasan around?" He can't help but feel he's like a video game character where the NPCs orbit the main character. Sans the house raiding for loot.
"My! You're the spitting image of her boyfriend!"
"No, no, no, isn't her eldest boy more similar to Hiroaki?!" someone argues.
He ignores the way he twitches at that. Typical elderly talk with no brain-to-mouth filter, which, for almost 100% time, he appreciates. Takeru bows again and excuses himself, skipping over to follow where Yamato disappeared to, a familiar path to home.
By the time he arrives at the place, his grandparents were already outside, smothering his big brother with compliments and questions. Yamato stands, trying to look cool in front of them. Takeru snickers. Their grandmother was half-French, her once honey-blonde hair now a fading gold; she stands out the most in this village. She and their grandfather Hiroji chose to retire early in the foothills and never looked back.
For Takeru, this was the perfect love story.
"No wife? No girlfriend?" Their grandmother exclaims a tomato-reddened Yamato.
"What are you talking about, Junko! He's only 19!"
"Eighteen, ojisan," Yamato corrects him through his chuckle. "And no, obasan, none."
Takeru notes on the softness when he says it.
"I don't get it, you're so handsome and yet you're single," Junko-obasan wonders out loud, elegant hand on cheek with a perplexed expression, as if it was the most unbelievable thing in the world. Yamato just smiles. Takeru could immediately sense it as armor.
"He did have a girlfriend, obasan," Takeru walks toward them and chimes. He settles his belongings and backpack on the ground and he bows to them. "Hi!"
"Take-chan!" Takeru wastes no time to let himself be welcomed by Junko's waiting embrace and warm smile. An unspoken secret that he is her favorite person—even more than their mother. He takes in her familiar scent of peppermint and apples, with notes of vintage powder.
Takeru releases her and turns to his grandfather, a smug smile on his face. Takeru used to be afraid of him, mostly because of how strict he always was around his brother. But for some reason, he was also his favorite grandson. Takeru bows to him, "Ojisan, I'm so happy we're here!"
"You've grown very handsome my son! You still look like a younger Natsuko-chan." The old man holds his arm with a firm grip. "Now let's get inside first, we're being too noisy outside."
They enter the most elegant household (according to Takeru) in the village as their grandparents lead them to the room where they'll be lodging. Their mother's room.
Her room has been repurposed into a guest room. Since it was mostly Yamato and Takeru who often visited them, the space was changed to accommodate at least four people. The boys take their respective beds—Takeru's near the window, opposite Yamato's. They settle their belongings on the bed.
"Get settled here, boys," she says. "I'll be at the garden if you need me."
The two brothers warmly smile at her, and she returns it to them, before her face contorts to one of shock.
"Ah, didn't you invite your friends over the last time you visited us?" she asks Yamato, hands on her hips. "Why didn't you bring them along with you this time?"
Her question shifts the mood, even Takeru's. His mind races back to Tokyo and the untangled web they temporarily left behind.
"They've been busy, obasan," Yamato replies, way too politely. For all the years he's known him, he knows when Yamato sounds off. "we'll bring them back next time." he ends it with a smile that hopes to convince her.
"Well," she pouts, "next time I want you to bring a granddaughter-in-law, Yama-chan. I am not getting any younger."
Yamato awkwardly laughs at that and gives her a non-committal nod.
Once she was satisfied, she declares, "Okay, you rest up, and I'll get going!"
She leaves the room and closes their door.
Takeru turns to Yamato once it clicks. He sees Yamato already lying on the bed, an arm over his head with eyes shut. Takeru absentmindedly scans his body, and spots a pendant on his neck. He rarely wears accessories outside during their more physical trips, thus it piques him.
"Aniki," he says. "are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Yamato groans. "Just tired."
Takeru rolls his eyes, being reminded of how they almost missed the Shinkansen earlier this morning. "Well, you knew what our call time was and you came home extremely late last night,"
"We've gone over this, Takeru." the tone was calm, yet with finality. Yamato doesn't move nor take a peep at him.
"Not judging," he raises his both hands in defense. "I'm just saying."
And silence.
Takeru knew where he was last night. Or the other night. And the other night. And also the other.
It doesn't go amiss that his brother didn't bring his guitar with him for this trip, yet he always did for the past four days he left and came home. He tries not to think about it too much. He looks at him helplessly. His brother truly was a fool in love. If only they weren't related, he'd love to write him as his protagonist.
He observes Yamato further, deciding to take a step just a little closer, then spots the pendant to be familiar. A guitar pick. It was Mimi's gift to him when she got back here.
Takeru gulps, eyeing the accessory. The weight presses on him when he thinks about Yamato repurposing it into a necklace. "How is she?"
He notices how his brother opens his eyes at that. "Is she feeling better?"
As if he just said the magic word, Yamato sits up and gazes at the view from the window. His answer doesn't come 'til a heartbeat later.
"She's fine." he says. Nothing more or less, though a little late of an answer for Takeru's liking.
"Mhhmm." to Takeru, Yamato may be physically here, but his heart and mind obviously stayed in Tokyo.
After another brief silence, Yamato returns to lie down on his side, his breath evening. Takeru scans the room, noting all the childhood trinkets in it and how some of the dust had collected on them. Unmoving, unchanged.
"I'll go see obasan, wanna come?"
No reply.
"Okay, you know where to find me later, aniki," Takeru stands up, brings his notebook and phone with him, and exits the room.
He must be really tired. What do they do whenever they're together anyway? he wonders in suspicion.
Takeru's eyes roam around for every step he takes. The vintage lights and furnishings. The old framed portraits. The quaint wallpaper chipping off. I If you ask him, he truly doesn't mind the vintage quirkiness.
He spots his grandfather sitting on his favorite leather couch, reading the daily paper while the television is on. Mental note: TV while doing the crossword—peak grandpa energy.
He turns to a corner, where the kitchen is. The area smells of baked pie and honey. Takeru smiles, knowing that his grandmother prepared it for them already.
He heads toward the backdoor. He's greeted with golden light and a familiar zen garden that's changed over the years. Junko sat on a bench where she was drinking her tea—most likely matcha. It seems she just finished pruning some shrubs, with the shears and gloves next to her. The old bamboo was gone, replaced by an intricate rock formation. The old mini koi pond was also no longer there—replaced by pine garden trees that brought some edginess to the space.
"Obasan," Takeru comes and sits next to her, notebook in hand. Junko smiles at him.
And as always, in his every fond memory of her, they share intimate conversations about their lives. Takeru learns of her nursing a heavy heart, as many of her friends have already passed away just in the last six months. He comforts her with his own stories about school and friends. It brings back life into her face, her blue eyes gleaming. Takeru sees Natsuko and Yamato in them.
Takeru eventually pulls out his phone to show her photos of his classmates and friends, each time he swipes to the next image, he shares a story behind it.
"And this was from last year's summer," says Takeru as he zooms in the photo for her. It was a photo of everyone—them who were once Chosen Children, on a beach outing.
"You really should have brought them here, Take-chan," Junko nags as she stares at the photo with a certain sharpness.
"It would be very difficult, obasan. Our friends' dad just passed away," he gently explains to her. Junko's face immediately turns into one of concern, her hand cups her mouth.
"Oh my, that's awful. Please extend my wishes to your friends," she says, eyes still looking at the photo. She asks further questions about Taichi and Hikari's father, and how it all happened. It's not an easy story to tell for Takeru, but he indulges her.
"Can you tell me again who's who in there?"
Takeru yields to her request with his own entertaining descriptions of his friends. That also seems to brighten her up again, mind being taken off of the idea of death, even just for a bit.
"But Takeru-chan," she says, holding his arm. "I didn't know you had girl friends that aren't Hikari."
The name made his heart skip a bit but he forces it down. "Okay obasan, I will introduce them to you."
He introduces Sora and Mimi as he holds the image for her, zooming in on each of their faces. Junko almost wanted to storm back into the house upon finding out Yamato had a girlfriend (and she didn't know), which seemed to have offended her.
Takeru tries not to laugh as he tries to calm her down and pull her back to her seat. He takes another mental note on Yamato not mentioning Sora to their grandparents, even at least once. "Obasan, you already know how he is,"
"Then this is Mimi," Takeru zooms in on her photo, forcing a neutral yet happy expression on his face. "She just came back from America last year. She's very cool!"
The last part, he means it.
This catches Junko's interest. She stares at the screen where MImi's face occupies its entirety. Her curious finger swipes slightly to the left and sees a familiar blond boy. She pinches the screen and stops 'til she can see both Yamato's and Mimi's faces. Yamato with his usual, unreadable expression and Mimi's beaming one. They weren't doing anything, just standing beside each other in the photo.
Junko sips her tea while staring at the image, silent. Takeru watches her intently, eyes going back and forth, trying to deconstruct her thoughts.
"Your brother is in love with this girl," she declares after her second sip, pointing to Mimi's face.
Takeru gulps and laughs at the same time. He won't lie, he's kind of amused. Though he's also a bit unnerved by Junko's instincts.
"She's pretty. I approve," She looks at Takeru with her lips pursed. "Now go tell Yamato to grow a pair and ask her out."
Takeru swore he ascended when Junko said those words. Hooooolyyyy shiiiiiiiii-tt!
He tries to play it cool. "That's Mimi. She was dating Taichi but they broke up,"
Junko raises a quizzical brow, though her expression remains entirely pleased. "Oh really? Well, if they were the real thing then, shouldn't they be nearer to each other?"
"Obasan I think you had way too much matcha," he giggles, a brief image of the pendant he saw earlier subtly haunts him.
Junko smiles at him tenderly, though there's a knowing glint in her eyes. "Look, your brother's face says it all."
Takeru looks back at the zoomed photo again and sees nothing. "'Basan, you know aniki always looks like that," he argues affectionately.
"No, no, no," Junko shakes her head. "I have known Yama-chan since he had diaper rashes. Look at that smug look on his face just by being next to her!" she points it out too excitedly as if she's looking at her favorite enka singer. She was smiling the whole time.
Takeru squints harder to find that hint of alleged smugness on his brother's face, but can't. Maybe his eyes are more crescent-shaped? A twitch on the left corner? Is 'baasan mad or is it me? It's not that he's unaware of his brother's romantic feelings for her. It's that he never thought that he was already falling for Mimi back before. Probably even before she and Taichi became a thing.
He sighs comically and looks at her fondly. "I'm not gonna lie obasan, I'm not sure if it's you who's delusional or I am,"
Junko ignores him, now too immersed in this. "They're so cute together, Yama-chan looks so happy. It's nice she and Taichi broke up!"
The zero brain-to-mouth filter by wise elderly people truly amuses Takeru. He laughs out loud, even though her implications scare him. Takeru has always admired how Junko sounds certain of what she says—as if she's lived through it all. And he will always believe her.
But for this particular one, a part of him wishes she was just reading too much into it.
"Take-chan," Junko calls him, and he returns all of his attention to her. "I hope you and Yama-chan keep living and loving fearlessly. Life's too short for doubts and regrets," she places a hand on his knee, wistful, as if she's thinking about her life, too.
"I hope whatever happened to your parents doesn't define who you are. Hiroaki and Natsuko lived and loved each other. And they kept doing so—just not with each other anymore, and that's okay. There's nothing wrong. Nothing more to read from it."
She looks up at him and smiles. "I wish I lived more unapologetically."
Takeru swallows, gaze fixed onto Junko's serene face. He loves how pretty she is, and how the lines on her face elevate her beauty. He doesn't know what to say, so nods. He doesn't really know what he's nodding to, but he believes Junko. Always.
Her smile is redirected back to the screen, un-zooming from Yamato and Mimi, and she lightly taps four times onto the screen, specifically on a brunette with short hair. He was next to her in that image.
"She's pretty," Junko exclaims.
Exposed. Caught. Done in. Outed.
Takeru's breath hitches too audibly for his liking.
"My my, with the way you held your breath there, it seems I'm right!" she chuckles at him. Embarrassed, Takeru hugs her arm gently, "Okay obasan, you can stop now if you still want to see me next year."
"You know what I'm talking about, Take-chan!" she insists, lightly tapping the hand that's gently attached to her forearm. "You usually don't get embarrassed when it comes to your special friend!"
He lets out a defeated, affectionate sigh. He wants to tuck his head in one of her garden tree pots now. The cherry blossom one would do. "She's a good friend of mine."
"More than friends, surely?"
"We're too young, obasan," Takeru catches himself saying that—he's recycled this same argument for far too long, even he can't justify it anymore.
"Oh hush, " Junko playfully chastises him. "You were always excited to tell me stories about her and your creative adventures together. Like that one time, you both vandalized a gachapon in Akihabara,"
Takeru chuckles, and instantly, the memory plays in his mind. "In my defense, that was her idea. And we were broke children."
"You thought it was a great idea, so you followed her," Junko jab, a light finger tickling his side.
"The way aniki had to pick us both up from the station that day…" He lightly leans on Junko, wrapping an arm around her to support her. His eyes drop to the moss, pensive. "You two would probably hit it off. She's into your type of music and old movies."
Junko pulls away lightly, a stern expression on her face.
Takeru knows what it means. "So when do I get to meet her then?! I'm not getting any younger!"
"Well," He grins, albeit it doesn't reach his eyes. "you better make sure you're still alive, obasan. One hundred years more." His throat unexpectedly tightens up when he says this, feeling emotional over the subtext.
"As long as I'm still looking youthful and I can do my jumping jacks, Takeru." She jests, taking another sip of her matcha.
They eventually go back inside to eat the apple pie. Eventually they join Hiroji at the living room, where the three of them went on and on about the cable TV that Hiroji is watching.
That night, Takeru goes to bed—abundant with peace, warmth, and endless stories he may never get to live in this lifetime.
Takeru was already up by sunrise. He stretches with a satisfied grin across his face. Every time he sleeps here in the home of his grandparents, he feels like a spring bear. The air is fresh and cool with gentle sunlight coming from the windows.
Yamato was already up too—though his eyes remain closed as he wore his headphones. Takeru could faintly hear the music behind—he bets on ballads. The type you often sing at karaoke when you have a little too much to drink.
He shakes his head as he opens the notebook next to him and scribbles. "Aniki, I think we should prepare now."
Yamato opens his eyes. " Yeah. I'm ready. Let's leave in 30 minutes."
With their hiking gear rolled into their backpacks and wearing their hiking outfits, they leave the village and head to the ropeway.
Takeru feels restless, the caffeine kicking in. He switches his phone on to record himself while showing off the surroundings. Open sky, the majestic mountain ranges of Hakkoda, and summer fields and apple orchards, all captured in his 30-second clip.
"Me and aniki, on a family tradition," he says out loud. He also adds Yamato into the view, who silently sat next to him with his arms and legs crossed as they rode the jeep. "His signature ice princess look," Takeru jests. Yamato doesn't respond anything to that, but he scoffs at him. Takeru laughs at that.
He smiles and waves goodbye.
After closing the camera app, he opens the group chat and catches up with the conversation. He gulps as the familiar profile photo icon pops up at the very bottom of the chat:
Hikari: our hero in sighting shinjuku. I risked my life to get this
Hikari sent a photo of Chiitan riding a Vespa in one of the narrower streets in Shinjuku—the mischievous baby otter mascot that was pranking the entire Tokyo metropolitan with their crazy public antics seems to have successfully gotten away again. In the photo, everything else was blurred by the motion, except for the crazy mascot and their Vespa.
Not long after, he notices Daisuke, Miyako, and Ken reacting to her image and responding to her:
Daisuke: Thx for the public service, queen
Miyako: #chiitansupremacy #chiitanformayoroftokyo #chiitanwin
Ken: Cool shot. Are you okay though?
Takeru sees Hikari type in real-time. He anticipates her answer too.
Hikari: yeah im ok! _ totally worth the shot. might stick around. they might come back.
Daisuke: Want me to come over and join?
Hikari: sure!
Miyako: count me in. let's hunt for chiitan
Hikari: ok ill be waiting!
Daisuke: I'll be there in 20min
His fingers itch to type something but he ultimately doesn't. He doesn't miss Hikari's receptive responses to Daisuke, and the proximity they will enjoy together—somewhere in Tokyo—without him. He can't help but feel estranged from everyone. From her. But that's entirely your fault, you dumbass, he scolds himself. He can't be upset right now. Doesn't have the right to be, he thinks. He briefly remembers Junko's words to him. "To live and love fearlessly."
But obasan. How do you do that without destroying everything?
For a little while, just slightly—Takeru wishes he was back home.
He feels too engrossed in this chat now that Takeru doesn't notice the vehicle stopping.
"Takeru, we're here," Yamato snaps him out of it, standing up, packed gear on one shoulder. Takeru almost drops his phone but recovers. He grabs his own bag as he jumps out of the vehicle. They prepare for another ride this time at the Ropeway Station.
The view from the lift further enhances his surroundings. Something swells in him. Words are coming out. Takeru opens his notes app to type an itch that his mind and heart need him to remember: I see everything from up here, yet I rule alone, and you are far beyond my reach.
Satisfied, he closes the app and returns to the camera app. He looks at the quiet figure next to him. It would be nice to have something to remember this by, especially with his favorite person. Takeru positions his arm, ready to take a photo with Yamato. "Aniki,"
Yamato doesn't look at him, he just shifts his gaze in another direction below.
Takeru glared at him through the camera. Something snaps in him. "I just wanted to take a photo with you," he spats bitterly, giving up on taking a photo with him. Takeru shifts in his seat, looks the other way.
"Do you even want to be here with me?"
The question stirs Yamato, and for the first time since this trip, he softens. "Of course I do."
Takeru says nothing.
"I'm sorry. I'm just out of it. You know I wouldn't be here if I didn't want to. You know this." his big brother apologizes. He scoots next to him closer, nudging him by the elbow. Takeru lets out an exasperated sigh. Yamato nudges him again. "Come on. Let's take that photo."
Takeru glances at him and gives in, readying his phone again. He eyes his brother a bit more through the camera, notices the faint outline of the pendant, tucked inside his shirt. You carry her wherever you go.
"Please don't be a sourpuss. You owe me a smile here," he jabs.
They arrive ten minutes later.
Takeru scouts the area and realizes there are only a few hikers around. Which was odd, considering it's peak season.
"Takeru, the map?" Yamato asks him, his hand out already to receive it.
The younger blond excitedly digs into his pocket and hands it over to Yamato. Takeru opens his phone again, this time to record videos. With sheer confidence, he and Yamato follow one of the familiar trails, trekking poles already out and ready.
No steep slopes for the first thirty minutes they've been hiking, just the abundance of nature overwhelming Takeru. There were a lot of wilting cherry blossoms, beech trees, and azaleas. Then, nostalgia hits him. "Aniki," he turns to him. "That one time we didn't come here, we were at summer camp. That fateful day."
A rare smile graces Yamato's face. "How could I ever forget," he breathes. "It changed everything."
"Do you ever wonder how Gabumon and the others are doing?"
"I do," answers Yamato. Takeru hears a leak of affection within those tiny words. "Though I always conclude he's likely fooling around at Toy Town."
"Heh. That's everyone's favorite spot."
"Yeah."
Takeru chuckles, carefully dodging a branch that extends itself in their path. "Patamon loved playing hide-and-seek. I'd worry sometimes that he left me,"
Yamato snorts at that. "And you'd make it difficult for me to find you while you're looking for him. You two were a pain,"
Takeru shakes his head and laughs. "You always try too hard, aniki."
A few minutes into their path, they reach a forked road. Yamato halts. "Wait," he says, unfolding the map. "I remember this area. We always get confused in….-" Yamato trails off, brows furrowing, eyes narrowing as he scrutinizes the map.
"What is it?"
"Takeru," Yamato looks at him with the signature stoic face. To Takeru though, it spelled trouble. "This isn't the map for this trail."
"That's impossible!" he exclaims, taking the map out of his hands to check it for himself. He recognizes immediately, and very clearly that this is indeed, not the map. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Takeru becomes visibly panicked, but before it sets in, Yamato pulls him out of his spiral.
"It's a different one," Yamato sighs, taking the item out of Takeru's hold and shoving it in his pocket. "It's all right. We've been here before. It shouldn't be hard to figure it out ourselves."
"Let's take the left path." Yamato's calm, assuring tone and demeanor dilute the bubbling worries inside Takeru. He could feel his heart race, then calm down again. He breathes in and out and entrusts the hike to his brother.
What could possibly go wrong?
Two hours in and a lot of things went wrong, Takeru concludes. Although he hasn't verbalized it, he's blaming himself for this. They've been walking through the thicket to find a clear path, and yet, nothing. No signage nor any hint of human civilization nearby.
Neither he nor Yamato were saying anything about it. Yamato continues to lead him on. To nothingness. To the great wilderness. But all he could see is the abstract image of foliage pulling him in. This was not how Takeru pictured their hike to go at all. Here, stuck with his emotionally paralyzed brother in the middle of Hakkoda.
"We should rest for a while," Yamato says, stopping. He sits in the very same spot where he stood, audibly exhausted by his heavy breaths.
Takeru continues to feel guilty. He kneels next to him. "This is all my fault."
Yamato shakes his head and takes a huge gulp from his canteen.
A strong gale suddenly sweeps over them. And then… downpour.
"Fuck," Yamato curses under his breath as he quickly takes shelter under a larger beech tree, taking Takeru with him. He unfolds and spreads the rain tarp overhead, yanking the other blond closer to him.
"I did not see the rain coming."
"I'm being punished by the gods," Takeru exclaims, anxiously watching the rain clouds that accumulated above.
"I'd hate to ask, but," Yamato starts, trying to remain serene and not sound snippy. Yet even he wants his bite. "Who the hell goes hiking without double-checking the map?"
"And why didn't you when I handed it over?" In an instant, Takeru goes into full defensive mode.
"I trusted you already did!"
"You're always the one who always navigates us, that's always been how it was!"
Yamato shakes his head in disapproval and rolls his eyes. He notices their bags getting all muddy and wet. Thankfully they're waterproof. "This is not how I expected today would go."
"Ditto," Takeru replies bitterly, teeth chattering due to the cold.
Yamato doesn't respond.
"This is so dumb," Takeru laughs sarcastically. "Getting lost in Hakkoda, a famous hiking spot,"
They suddenly hear a faint roar that sounded very much not like thunder. Takeru's heart skipped a beat and clutches onto Yamato's sleeve.
"You did bring the bear bell, right?" he asks Yamato, who was shivering next to him.
"We never bring the bear bell, Takeru," he retorts.
Takery glares at him in disbelief. "What?!"
"We never did."
"That's Outdoors 101 we always bring the bear bell,"
"Well I didn't, okay?!"
"Oh my god. If we end up as bear lunch it's your fault,"
"We'll not be eaten by bears."
"We're in Hakkoda—there are black bears!" Takeru yells out loud as the thunder kept trying to outmatch him. "I can't believe you right now."
Yamato rolls his eyes, looking calm, but already searching his pocket for his Swiss knife. Just in case. Though the ridiculousness of the situation dawns on him quickly. "I can't believe you right now."
The rain cleared after an hour and a half, with no bear terrorizing them during the wait. Thank God. Takeru wants to pass out.
They've never experienced rain when hiking before. Takeru could still vividly hear the howling winds and the roaring thunder as if they were just next to him. Their equipment is already wet, and they—well—half-wet, uncomfortably so, too. He looks around, feeling a bit exposed with how soaked he is. He would've also appreciated the new rose-golden glow of the area if they weren't stuck in the middle of the forest. Briefly, he thinks Hikari would like to take photos here, where she could play with bokeh—shut up Takeru this is not the time, he scolds himself.
Takeru looks at his phone—35% battery, no signal. Words start to bubble up again in him. He recites them out of his heart as he dries himself begrudgingly.
"Beech trees, bears, and bitter company—oh Hakkoda, deluge curses onto me!" he shouts at the sky.
Yamato throws him a glare, immediately understands what he meant behind his little burst of poetry. It rarely happens, but when it does, it is often something meant to be noticed.
"Fucking dramatic," he grunts lowly, almost unheard of. But Takeru catches it. He always does, and it stings him.
They change their tops first to avoid getting ill from the cold. It was 3 p.m.
"We should probably get going," says Yamato, picking up his trekking pole and backpack. "Be extra careful. It's slippery."
Takeru only grunts in reply. He follows suit, trekking pole also at hand and backpack secured behind. Before he could walk, he senses a stinging sensation on his right ankle.
He kneels, pulls down his sock, and sees inflamed skin. "Fuck," he groans out loud, causing Yamato to turn around.
"Are you okay?"
"Great, just great," he shouts back, though his tone says otherwise. Takeru could only sigh and rummage through his backpack for an ointment, He rubs it generously. "Getting poison ivy on top of enduring a shitstorm in the middle of nowhere, yep, all great!"
Yamato tries to ignore his drama and approaches him, a worried look on his face. He kneels next to him. "Shit, is it bad?"
Takeru looks at him with an exhausted expression, his hands dramatically gesturing to his foot. "Does it look any good to you?"
Yamato twitches at the attitude. He stands up and continues to walk. After Takeru finishes applying the ointment, he follows his trail, though by this point he's probably done with today. He just wants the rest of Junko's apple pie now.
It wasn't until another hour when they returned to a path back to the hiking trail. Takeru could almost cry to find the stoned path. He kneels and almost kisses the earth. He also notices the temperature drop, signifying they're at least in a more elevated mountain area by now. He lets out a loud cry of relief.
"Finally," Yamato sighs, running a hand through his semi-wet hair as he scouts the area. He stops to kneel and acknowledge the spring lilies in the corner. The flowers were reminiscent of a certain Digimon, of a certain female Chosen Child.
Takeru watches him intently.
"This path should probably lead us closer to a restplace."
"Most likely, yeah." Yamato stands up, completely disengaging from the flowers as soon as he approaches. He continues to trek. "We'd likely want to keep going though."
The younger blond notices—and something inside him stirs.
"Why?" Takeru couldn't help his tone. "I'm kind of really tired, to be frank."
"Isn't our plan to descend before sundown?" Takeru doesn't miss the way Yamato's body hardens.
"Well yeah," he replies, suddenly throwing his trekking pole to the ground, loud enough for Yamato to hear. He looks at his brother and then eyes the trekking pole on the ground. He clenches his jaw.
"But I'm not feeling well." Takeru added stubbornly.
"We'll be there soon. Let's keep going," Yamato turns around and walks.
Takeru doesn't move. He waits for Yamato to look back and notice. If he'll pay attention. If he'll care.
Nothing.
He feels regretful about everything today already. Wishes he was back in Tokyo—would rather see the baby otter mascot wreak havoc in the middle of Shibuya Crossing with Hikari and the others, or down at the village to spend the rest of this weekend trip with his grandmother. He'd rather be anywhere else right now than be here.
He wants to scream.
Words. Takeru could feel words coming out of him again, but there's nothing poetic or literary in nature of what he was about to say. He's been biting his tongue for too long. Not just today, or yesterday, or the day before, or even before. It's all of Spring.
The real storm starts to burst.
"You're really just going to act like nothing wrong has happened?"
Yamato turns around. A quiet, puzzled expression on his face. Takeru seethes at the judgmental look.
Yamato snaps. "What is wrong with you?"
"What is wrong with you?!" A cracking chuckle leaves Takeru's voice.
"You always act like nothing's wrong, aniki," he starts, face almost pink, almost just like his rash. "As if nothing happened. You've been like this for weeks! And it gets worse because you're not fine,"
"Wrong time and place, Takeru." Yamato warns him, gripping his pole.
"No, no, no—shut up!" Takeru's voice raises. He winces at his ankle, but nothing compares to the pain he's feeling now. "Don't use that on me right now, I'm so done with this,"
Yamato just continues to watch him, while rubbing his temples. He takes a few steps toward Takeru, a little open to listening.
Takeru drops to his knees and hugs them. He tucks his head inside to hide his tears. "Well I'm not fine, I'm tired of pretending. I know. I know because I notice everything."
His older brother lets out a sigh, tucking himself in his jacket. "What exactly do you want me to say?"
"Everything! Or anything?" he cries. God, it's like pulling teeth from Yamato every time. "At least something so I don't have to second-guess you all the time!"
He tries to catch his breath, having never spoken at that volume before. It's all too much.
A long pause before Yamato pulls Takeru up, and helps him walk.
Takeru doesn't like this, being cared for, by him, but he lets it for now. He doesn't fight him more, trying to collect more words. He needs the words. He wipes his face with his sleeve, though he doesn't care if someone sees him like this.
Not a few minutes and they reached the restplace. There's a stone bench and table with marble sheltering to cover the area. In spite of the discomfort he feels, Takeru hurries to sit down on it as he tends to his rash. The view from the restplace is incredible—scenic and cinematic in every way, as if a watercolor painting. He looks to his side, the summit not far from here.
Still. Takeru has half a mind to end this hiking trip here once and for all. It's futile. He honestly feels fucking silly for breaking down like this. This was not on his schedule. But now there's nowhere else to go but to see this through with Yamato.
Takeru shoots him a glare as he sits down, his body facing the view. He glances around for any other hikers or possible eavesdroppers.
Once the coast was clear, his voice cracks.
"I'm not dumb you know."
"I never said you were."
"I see it. How you hurt. Because of her."
Yamato snaps his head and glares at him, almost defensively. "This isn't about Mimi."
"You're a liar, aniki, It's always been about her," Takeru shakes his head and laughs disbelievingly. He feels like he's going to spiral with the amount of gaslighting he's been getting.
Yamato gazes at him with utter restraint, jaw clenching, bottling everything in. Takeru shivers at this as the realization overwhelms him. Because he knows it hurts. To love but can't act on it.
"I get it. You're in love with her…. Probably even before Taichi came into the picture," he croaks, his own eyes shifting to where that personal relic is etched underneath Yamato's neckline.
"Now she's hurt, and so you're hurt," he says, eyes still on Yamato's icy ones. Words. Takeru needs more of them. His brain is on overdrive trying to find the perfect words to say to him. "B-but you're not—you're not even doing anything about it,"
"You're just… doing it all over… again…" Takeru gulps and finally lets the tears fall. He lifts his knees and cries onto them. "You did this with Sora," he hiccups, as a more painful memory flashes before him. "You did this with mom, too, and I…"
Takeru knows, because he did the same for his father. The script of children growing up on divorce. He wipes his face with his sleeve. "And you're doing the exact same thing now with Mimi."
Hearing her name again makes Yamato place a hand over his eyes. Takeru sighs.
"You've no idea how difficult it is to see you like this," he spats a little bitterly. He pauses to look at the sunset, and sees the birds flock at the far distance. "You think that if you keep pretending, everything will be okay. Deep down, you know it's not."
And in these words, something else tries to appear in his head.
"You're just going to destroy the both of you." And then it crashes into him. Flashes of Hikari and what he did at the funeral remind him of his own transgressions. You're a fucking hypocrite, Takeru. He sheds a few more tears.
"I won't just watch to see you do this to yourself all over again."
Takeru pauses and allows himself to simmer his own words for a few minutes. For Yamato. For himself. How it all goes back to Hiroaki and Natsuko. This constant fear of living and loving. Running away from Hikari. How their decisions are constantly laced with this fear and anxiety. Of being unloved. Unwanted. Being too much. Being not enough.
He glances at his brother next to him. Yamato remains motionless, but a certain look in his eyes betrays him.
"I wish it was that simple."
Takeru scoffs. "Yes, it is."
Yamato crosses his arms, tilts his head as he looks at the sunset. "How can I leave her like this? When she needs me the most." His fist creeps up to softly clutch against where her gift resides in him. It pulls Takeru's heartstrings every time he sees it: Yamato's quiet, extraordinary love.
"You need yourself the most," Takeru emphasizes desperately. "And she needs herself the most."
Yamato's frown deepens, but not because he disagrees with him.
"You're not even yourself right now when you're with her." They both recognize the irony of this.
And so, another long pause.
Takeru notes the sunset, golden, orange, pink. It's beautiful and it hurts. He thinks about the hurt he's caused Hikari and his own cowardice. How she looked so insulted. He feels pathetic. The way he took the easy way out.
Yamato finally looks at him. Takeru sees it in his eyes. And all that burden and love with nowhere to go. "If I lose her as a friend, I lose everything. If I act on my feelings, then…"
Guilt flashes into Takeru. He looks at his brother like a mirror. He believes no one will ever understand Yamato better than him. "You're already losing her and yourself by staying as her friend."
He sighs, running a hand through his damp, rain-and-sweat-slicked hair. He feels the pulsing itch below his foot, but he can't be bothered. "I know you can't say anything soon. I know that… because if you do, she'll break," he says solemnly. His own feelings for Mimi have been very mixed lately, but he knows deep down, Koushiro's, Taichi's, and even his brother's feelings, are out of her hands.
"But you have to tell her... at the right time. You can't hide it forever. It will eat you."
More tears he didn't mean to shed run down his face. Takeru realizes this is the first time he's actually been thinking more about what he did. That he hasn't fully processed himself and his own scars at all. He's already lost Hikari as a friend. The worst part is she was brave for him. Loved him despite himself. No one knows him like Hikari. No one gets the little quirky corners of his mind and heart like she does. He feels he's lost that, too.
And so, words—
I miss you, I miss you.
I miss the times we'll waste together.
Learn me like I'm the most divisive book,
and I pick you apart like my beloved film.
We were us without losing
you and me.
—are all he has.
He wished someone wiser told him sooner. Wished he knew earlier, rather than learning it himself—then it wouldn't have been this way.
Takeru gulps, steeling himself a little more before his feelings get out of hand. He looks at Yamato, hands on his head. His fingers gripping through the locks of his hair, desperately trying to get a sense of control.
I'm not any different. I'm just like you.
Waiting for Yamato's answer feels like forever.
But Takeru needs him to realize it—and he'll wait up here with him on this mountain until Yamato gets it right—even if it takes us days.
He sniffs and attempts to peek into his rash, and sees it calming down now. Before he could look up, Yamato was already next to him, pulling him into an embrace.
"You have to choose, aniki."
He doesn't know if his words truly reached him, but Takeru feels like he's seven again and cries in his arms.