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Akanishi? It's Kamenashi. They just told me. Today - just a few minutes ago. They said you - I'm worried, Akanishi. So call me. Okay? I'll talk to you later. Bye.
It's Kamenashi again. You should - you should talk to Yamashita, you know, he's pretty worried, too. Don't - just talk to someone. Bye.
Hi, Akanishi. I'm not sure you're getting these, so you should call me if you are. Or something. Um, I heard they've set a date for the hearing. I know you're going to - be there. I just wanted to know, do you need anything before that or do you want anyone to come there too or - this sounds so stupid. I'm sorry. I'm sorry if you're sick of these. You don't have to call, just send me a message or something. Or tell Yamashita to call me. That's all. Bye.
Akanishi, look - I know it's been - rough. Between us. And I know that's probably not very high on your list of priorities to talk about right now, so just wait a minute, please, and hear me out. It's been rough. But we've known each other a long time now. And we always - we've had some pretty bad things happen and we still managed to get through it, and I just wanted - I just wanted to know if you're okay. I hope you are. Tell me if I, if I can talk to anyone or do anything or - anything. Just let me know. Okay, Jin? Anything. Take care of yourself. Goodbye.
--
The air was heavy. Kame imagined he could feel it pressing down on his shoulders and touching clammy fingers to back of his neck. He really could feel the latter, he realized, and guessed from the faint itch they were probably tendrils of wet hair. He shifted in his seat, just a little, enough to draw the attention of the man seated across from him. The man, heavyset, red and shining like a well-boiled tomato, was undoubtedly in more discomfort than Kame was. He smiled, affably enough, and Kame bobbed his head politely.
The train was thirteen minutes and forty-five seconds late now. The angle of the station roof versus the sun was not in Kame's favor; he could see the precious line of shade receding across the concrete platform, and if the train didn't arrive soon it would disappear altogether. Kame entertained a brief vision of himself shriveling like an ant under a magnifying glass until he crumpled and burst into white flame — but no, it was far too wet, the humidity would extinguish him immediately. He hated watching that particular form of play, anyway.
Sixteen minutes, twenty-one seconds. He debated buying another drink from the vending machine down the platform for just a minute, and quickly decided the effort expended would hardly be worth the return. If he sat still - very still - he almost couldn't feel the dampness of his t-shirt.
There was a faint rumble in the distance. Kame and the stranger next to him exchanged a brief glance. Surely not a figment of hopeful imagination, then. The rumbling grew louder. With a wheeze the man heaved himself to his feet. Kame stood, too, and picked up the plastic bag at his feet. In his palms, slick with perspiration, the handles were slippery.
Louder, and louder, until at last Kame heard the screech of metal on metal and felt a hot breeze tug at his hair and cool his cheeks as the train rounded the curve and groaned to a halt in front of the station.
Kame took a gulp of wet air.
The doors opened.
--
Only three people stepped off the train. Jin was the last.
He was two cars away. "Over here," Kame called, raising a hand - unnecessary, since the only other creature in sight was Kame's stranger, who was now leading a papery white-haired woman away.
Jin looked over. Kame tightened his grip on the slippery plastic handles. Jin walked slowly - reluctantly? Kame couldn't tell - toward him, allowing Kame plenty of time to absorb and analyze the details of his appearance. Hair - undyed and longer than it had been in several years, skin - browner than Kame's, expression - unreadable. Several woven bracelets decorated the wrist of his bare arm and a dark cord followed the line of his collarbone down under his shirt; otherwise he wore no jewelry. There was a heavy rucksack over his shoulders, and his jeans were fraying.
Jin came to a stop a few feet away, just beyond a natural distance. He slid his hands in his pockets and regarded Kame with dark eyes. They stood there, looking at each other, for what felt to Kame like a geologic age, until he was compelled to break the silence.
"Ohisashiburi." It's been a while.
Jin smiled faintly. "Hisashiburi. How long, exactly?"
"Three years, two months." Kame's answer was automatic, and he regretted it immediately after - but Jin would have known that was the sort of thing Kame naturally kept track of. He hadn't asked out of politeness.
"It's hot," Kame said, because he had to say something more, "let's not stand out here too long. My car's just behind the station."
Jin nodded and followed Kame through the turnstile (Kame's lowest-fare ticket, solely so he could get onto the platform, had cost 180 yen) out to the tiny rectangle of asphalt. Kame shaded his eyes against the sun, which seemed to ripple, weak and watery, through the humid haze. He felt Jin stop beside him.
Before them, the mountains soared sharply upward, presenting them with jagged walls of green; deep, thick, luxuriant green. It made Kame thirsty to look at them.
He stole a glance at Jin. Jin was looking around slowly, mouth in the shape of a small o. A little corner of Kame was satisfyingly pleased.
"This one's mine," he said, again unnecessarily. There was only one car in the six spaces of the lot, and its sleek silver body looked distinctly out of place against the faded concrete of the station walls.
Jin finally looked away from the mountains as Kame unlocked the door. "Did you drive this here from Tokyo?" he said. The emphasis was, this?
Kame nodded. "Throw your pack in the back, the trunk's full. Yeah, I did. It gets good mileage, actually. And it's air-conditioned."
"It can really handle the roads here?" Jin did as instructed and climbed in.
"So far." Kame shrugged. "They're not that bad, anyway, in the summer. Hold this?"
Jin accepted the plastic bag and settled it on his lap. Kame pulled out of the parking lot, and they headed toward the mountains.
The roads were narrow and quickly steepened. Kame was glad of the excuse to focus on his driving instead of balancing a lopsided conversation. It was odd — Jin was barely taller than Kame, though admittedly broader in the shoulder, but the front of the car seemed cramped with him in it. Kame kept his eyes steady ahead as they sped through long tunnels and past stands of bamboo passing in a green blur.
"I missed the mountains," Jin said abruptly.
Kame started. "What?"
"Where I went," Jin said. "There weren't any mountains. I missed them."
Kame couldn't resist a little smile. "There aren't very many mountains in Tokyo, either."
"Yeah, but — " Jin stopped. Kame could envision his expression without bothering to look over, staring off at nothing with his mouth partway open in a way that would make someone less fortunate look halfwitted. "It's different," Jin said eventually. "Even though it's usually too smoggy to see anything. You know they're there."
"Yeah," said Kame. "I guess so."
"Where was it, anyway?" Kame asked after a few minutes. "The place with no mountains."
There was no answer.
--
Steeply slanted roofs, mimicking the angle of the mountains, flashed by.
"That's Takanomura," Kame felt compelled to say. "It's the closest village, but there's really not much – well, I usually go down to the valley if I need anything."
"It's pretty," Jin said quietly.
The road rose and dipped over a small hill. Jin twisted around in his seat to watch the village disappear. Up ahead, a small fork branched off the main road into a thick grove of trees. Kame slowed and took the turnoff.
Here, the road was not so well-maintained as Kame's earlier remarks indicated. Overhead, the trees grew close together and the road continued to climb as the little car bumped and jostled along, a silver fish in a green river.
"It's not far on this road," Kame said. "Sorry."
"Hm?" Surprise colored Jin's voice. "No, it's fine. It's nothing."
The same question rose on Kame's tongue: Just where were you? Kame swallowed it and pressed his lips together until it hurt.
Another sharp curve, and there, almost hidden in the weeds, was the overgrown drive. Kame knew from experience that the road came to an abrupt end about a kilometer on, where construction had halted when the elections were over and the ruling party moved to pump money into a new region. But the car turned onto the dirt track, wound past a knotted grove of trees, and emerged into a sudden flood of sunlight.
"Here we are," said Kame.
The circle of gravel was in the middle of a small clearing. In front of them, the house rose from the side of the mountain itself, abutted on one side by a mossy green outcropping. Steep eaves jutted down to shelter a balcony overlooking the sloping mountainside, and through the trees beyond there was the barest glimpse of a grassy field. Somewhere, there was the sound of running water.
Jin got out of the car slowly. He said nothing; his expression was eloquent enough.
Kame got out, too, and went to the trunk. With a heave, he lifted out a large, battered cardboard box and rejoined Jin, whose head was tilted back as he gazed around the clearing.
"You can walk down to the village from here," Kame said, nodding at a narrow dirt path disappearing down among the trees. "They told me the road was only built twenty years ago."
"They?" Jin asked as they made their way up to the house.
"The landowners. I'm renting."
"How long have you been out here?"
Kame didn't answer right away.
"A while," he said finally. "I don't remember exactly." He mounted the front steps and balanced the box on one hip so he could open the door. It was never locked.
It was cooler inside - it was cooler outside, even, on the mountain than it had been at the station, but the air still weighed down. Kame dropped the box on the dining table with several muffled thumps as the contents knocked against each other.
"What should I do with this?" he heard from behind him.
Kame turned. Jin was holding up the plastic bag.
"Oh, I'll take that — thanks." Kame took the bag and moved toward the kitchen. He stopped. "Would you like something to drink?"
"If it's not too much trouble," Jin said formally. He slid the rucksack off his shoulders and eased it to the ground gently.
Kame stashed the bag in the refrigerator and withdrew a thermos of cold tea. He heard rustling, and a voice from the other room said, "Pears?"
"They're fresh," he called back. "Summer pears. There was a stand by the road into the valley." He poured two cups of tea and carried them back to Jin, who was looking in the box.
"I didn't think they'd be in season," he said.
Kame offered him a cup. They sipped in silence. Jin's eyes were riveted on the big window overlooking the clearing; he appeared to be unaware that his free hand was fiddling with one of his bracelets.
"If you want to put away your stuff I'll show you your room," Kame said, when it seemed Jin wasn't going to pick up his cup again.
Jin started. "What? Oh. Okay." He swung his rucksack up with no apparent effort and followed Kame upstairs.
The room was Western style, light and cool despite the diluted sunlight. A window overlooked the leafy slope. "Please use it however you want," Kame said. "If it's all right with you."
Jin brushed his bangs back. "It's fine. It's good. Thanks."
The silence thickened. Kame looked around the room. It didn't provide any immediate help.
He said, grasping, "How long have you been back?"
Jin shrugged, a roll of his shoulders from one side to the other. "A while." His mouth quirked. "I'm not jetlagged, if that's what you mean."
"Oh. Okay. Good. Then I guess... you can unpack and rest and I'll make something for dinner? If you like?"
"Sure." Jin bent down and undid the straps of his rucksack. "In a few hours?"
"That should be fine. I'll see you then." Kame backed out of the room. Jin looked up and raised an eyebrow. Kame shook his head and quickly retreated. His cheeks were hot. Jin's afterimage burned in his vision as he went downstairs.
--
"It wasn't necessary for you to know," Kame's manager said, tight-lipped.
"It wasn't necessary? Someone's — " He choked on the word. Swallowed. Wiped a hand across his mouth.
Kame's manager appeared not to notice. "No," he said. "It wasn't." The spot on his chin, red and crusted, seemed to throb. "We were hoping to keep things — quiet. The boy's family doesn't need a fuss."
The air conditioner must have been set too high. Kame's shoulders prickled. He tucked his hands under his arms and set his teeth.
"It's gone slightly beyond our projections," his manager was saying. "We're recalculating. It's unfortunate for Akanishi-kun that he'll have to be involved — "
"What?" Surprise tore the words from his throat too harshly. "Akanishi?"
"He'll have to give evidence and of course then his name will be tied up with the incident in the news. As will KAT-TUN's." Kame's manager tapped a pencil thoughtfully against the papers on his desk.
Kame said, with difficulty, "Why does Akanishi have to – do anything?"
His manager glanced up. "He found the body."
There was a sharp buzzing in Kame's ears. His manager said, "You need to start thinking about your future, Kamenashi-kun."
--
"Itadakimasu."
"Itadakimasu."
It had been a long time since Kame had eaten in total silence; at least, when there was more than one person present.
He had made soumen, traditional enough for the heat. For several minutes it provided convenient white noise, at least, clinks and splashes as they dipped long bunches of threadlike noodles in their sauce bowls.
There wasn't a clock in the room, but Kame swore he could hear one ticking away. There was a weight on the back of his neck. The air felt thick enough he could imagine cutting it like tofu: neat, solid squares to serve with the meal.
His bowl was empty, Jin's nearly so. Kame cleared his throat.
"Is there anything you want to do in particular?" His own voice rang, too loud, in his ears.
Jin's arm jerked and the thread-fine noodles between his chopsticks fell back into the bowl with a soft splash. He scrubbed at the table with a napkin for a minute, head down, before finally answering Kame.
"What is there to do around here?"
"Not much," Kame said with an uncomfortable laugh. "Hike, mostly. Enjoy nature."
Kame thought Jin would laugh, or maybe not laugh but make that particular expression, that little twitch of the mouth and eyebrows that meant, pathetic. He did neither. He simply nodded and asked, "Are there good trails?"
Kame didn't show his surprise. He said, "There's the path down to the village, the one I pointed out, and then there's another one heading up the mountain. There's a shrine somewhere nearby, and another trail out of the village, I think. I have a map...?"
"Could I have a look?"
The map was in the cupboard, or was it upstairs? It was in the cupboard. Jin had cleared away the dishes, and Kame spread it out on the table and tapped it with his index finger.
"This is us - the house. This is the house." He ran the finger from the small star, in pencil, along a tiny dotted line, down to slightly larger black dot. "This is Takanomura. This," - another dotted line – "goes up the mountain, and these," - two lines, darker, out of the village – "cross the little valley and head toward Tsuruyama," - a final single dot, larger than the first. "The shrine is anyone's guess."
"Can I - ?" Kame nodded and Jin slid the map over to where he sat. He leaned his chin on one hand and studied it intently.
Several minutes passed. Kame crossed his legs; recrossed them. Tugged at the hem of his shirt. Leaned an elbow on the table; both elbows; sat back. He reviewed and discarded a dozen observations in rapid succession and glanced over. Jin was staring at a point on the map, frowning; a small furrow had appeared between his eyebrows.
Kame opened his mouth.
Jin folded the map and stood up. Kame closed his mouth. Jin said, "Sorry, I'm still a little tired. I think I should go to sleep early."
"Right," Kame said. "Of course. Do you want the bath...?"
Jin made a face. "In this weather? No thanks, I'll just shower."
"Okay. Down the hall, on the right."
Jin nodded and disappeared. Kame heard the floor upstairs creak, then footsteps coming back down the stairs and down the hall. After a minute, there was the sound of water rumbling through the pipes.
Kame stood up and went to the closet. He balanced in his arms a large, ungainly old microscope, a notebook, and a small box that weighed twice as much as the rest and carried them over to the table. From the box he removed a stack of yellowing envelopes. He picked up the top envelope and extracted a heavy glass slide. Careful to hold it by its edges, he slid it under the microscope lens.
He put his eye to the microscope and squinted, twirling the silvery knob on the side back and forth and back again. After a minute, he moved back and reached for the notebook. He unclipped a pen from the cover, opened the book, and, moving periodically from the notebook to the microscope and back, began to draw.
The water stopped running. Kame replaced the slide in the envelope and set it to the side of the stack. He took the next slide out and placed it under the lens. Footsteps down the hall. Kame reached for his notebook.
A voice said, "Night."
Kame looked up. Jin was standing in the doorway. Tendrils of dark hair clung damply to his temples.
"Good night," said Kame.
Footsteps upstairs again, then silence. Kame bent over the microscope.
--
They had been giving a twenty-four hour warning. The next day the headline blared from every trashy newsstand in the city, wide and nauseating, as the editors no doubt drank themselves into a self-congratulatory stupor.
Kame called Yamapi.
"This is Yamashita."
Kame didn't bother with niceties. "It's Kamenashi. Akanishi won't answer his phone. I've been – worried."
Yamapi let out a short bark of laughter. "You're worried?"
"Yes," Kame said, quietly furious, "of course I'm worried, what do you think I — " He stopped.
He said slowly, "You haven't talked to him either?"
After a minute Yamapi said, "His mother called me to tell me was all right. So, you know, I wouldn't think he'd crashed into a bus or something. He hasn't talked to me – anyone – since he – found — "
Kame drew in a sharp breath.
"They told me he has to testify," he said.
"They told me the same thing." Yamapi's voice was paper-thin, the fragile skin over a churning vortex. With a stinging shock that shouldn't have been, Kame realized Yamapi was exactly as wrecked as he was.
"So it's true," he said. "That boy – Shinoda-kun – was – was — "
"Murdered," Yamapi said, and his voice cracked.
Kame's breath was coming too fast. He tried to breathe deeply, deliberately, anything to balance his pounding heart. His throat was clogged with bile. "Before this," he said, "I didn't even know his name."
"Neither did Jin," said Yamapi.
--
For a moment, when Kame woke up, he couldn't remember why all his muscles were tensed.
The memory returned with the force of a bag of wet concrete and he felt his heart slam against his ribs. Just upstairs –
Kame sat up and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. The morning was already hot; his sheets were plastered to his legs and scratchy with drying sweat. He took a long, steadying breath and swung himself out of bed.
The kitchen was empty. On the counter, a row of drying dishes gleamed in the light. Next to them was a scrap of paper.
Hiking. Took your map. I hope that's okay. Back by evening.
J
Kame let out a long breath.
He made himself breakfast absentmindedly – too much so; slicing a pear, he saw the bright shock of red before he felt the sting. Wincing by reflex, he held the injured finger under the faucet until it numbed and wrapped the bandage too tightly for comfort.
By the time he finished eating, clumsily, it was past nine o'clock. The sun was already high and white. If anything, the pressure in the air had increased. Kame sat back in his chair and gazed out the window. Some tiny corner of his mind methodically identified the birds speeding past, even as his mind roiled.
His leg was jiggling restlessly. Kame shoved his chair back and opened, again, the cupboard where the microscope and slides were kept.
He crouched down and reached in until his entire arm was swallowed, feeling cautiously among a spiky pile of junk in the very back. His fingers brushed paper. He grasped the envelope, withdrew it, and sat back on his heels.
The shock of Jin's handwriting, stark and black and square, still shot a tiny surge of adrenaline through Kame – though nothing compared to the heart-stopping jolt of seeing it staring up at him as he'd sifted through the mail.
Kame had memorized the brief message within. Kamenashi: I'll be there on the 26th. Akanishi Jin. He didn't bother taking the note out, but sat crouched on his heels looking down at the envelope.
He hadn't expected Jin to say yes.
Kame realized he was frowning and thrust the envelope back in the cupboard. He got to his feet and headed for the bathroom, stopped, turned on his heel, took two steps toward the entryway, stopped, turned again, let out a noise of frustration and went to the bathroom to retrieve a scrubbing brush. He had found, early on, that if his body was exhausted enough his mind would follow.
--
Kame had scrubbed the bath and cleaned the whole kitchen by noon. He ate a couple of rice balls and started again. By mid-afternoon, the floors were spotless and every flat surface gleamed. The heat was worse than the day before; Kame's shirt stuck to his back and sides and sweat ran down his forehead and the back of his neck. It wasn't enough.
There was a pile of old shingles rotting behind the house. For weeks Kame had meant to move them to where they could be carted away, in case any chemicals leached into the stream. The rippling sun beat down on the back of his neck. He bent and straightened and bent again until there was a constant acid twinge in his back, until several plastic garbage bags bulged and he dragged them, inch by inch, to his car.
It was late afternoon when Kame staggered into the house. His neck ached with the effort of holding his head upright. He took a cold shower, lay down on the couch, and fell immediately asleep.
--
He woke up at dusk.
It seemed unusually dark. Kame squinted at his watch, and sat bolt upright. It was nearly seven o'clock. Jin should have been back already.
On cue, he heard the front door open.
The light was on and Kame in the kitchen by the time Jin appeared. Jin's hair was plastered to his forehead and neck in damp curls. His t-shirt was dark with sweat and his hands streaked with dirt; everything about him was loose.
"Was it a good hike?" Kame asked.
Jin nodded. He opened his mouth, then closed it and stretched his arms behind his back, rolling his neck in a slow circle.
"Good," Kame said to the counter. "Why don't you clean up and I'll find something eat?" He risked looking up. Jin was rubbing the back of his neck with one hand and frowning.
"I'll help, if you want," Jin said, "when I'm done."
Kame blinked once, twice. "No," he said, "that's all right, I'll be fine — " He realized as he heard the words coming out of his mouth that they were the wrong ones. Jin shrugged, mouth straightening, and disappeared down the hall.
Cold udon. That made some kind of noodles two nights in a row, Kame realized. He looked around the kitchen – no, it was too late to think of anything else.
Jin reappeared, dripping all over the floor, as Kame turned from stacking small dishes on the counter to take the tea from the refrigerator. Wordlessly, Jin took the pile and set them out on the table, two of each, as Kame followed with the wide serving bowl.
Apparently, Jin had no problems with repetitive meals, if the speed with which he shoveled the udon into his mouth was any judge. Kame watched with mild horror and a certain amount of scientific curiosity as the plateful vanished in what seemed to be a matter of seconds.
"So you must have gone the long way," Kame said after Jin paused to swallow most of the glass of tea in one gulp.
Jin paused and looked from his plate to Kame's. He hesitated. "Sorry," he said. "I'm being rude."
"What? Oh, no." Kame was quick to shake his head. "It's fine. Go ahead."
Jin took another, much smaller sip. "It was long," he offered. "I looked around this area for a while, as far as the little meadow out back, then I went down to the village and took the trail up the other mountain. Tsuruyama."
Kame nodded. "That's not easy, is it. You must be in better – in good shape."
Jin raised an eyebrow. Kame felt his face heat. "I mean — " He floundered; he meant exactly what he'd said.
Jin snorted – a laugh, Kame thought, as his shoulders relaxed. "Better than I used to be? Yeah, probably."
Kame chose his next words with the care of one picking footsteps through a minefield. "You must have been working hard while you were gone."
It was interesting, he thought clinically, how one could actually see Jin's face shut down. "Not really," Jin said.
Silence again, brittle and thorned. Kame set his teeth and repeated over and over to himself idiot, idiot, idiot.
"Everyone assumes I wasn't in Japan," Jin said abruptly and viciously. "What if I stayed and didn't tell you? What if I just wanted to forget about all of you?"
Kame took a deep breath. Jin's hits had always been able to strike home in a way no one else's could. "I don't think you could have," he said when he knew his voice would be even. "Stayed. Without someone noticing. They tried to say you had anyway, you know, there were reports about you being sighted all over Tokyo, or in Osaka or the country, after a while."
Jin's eyebrows drew together. "No one told me that," he said.
Kame shrugged. "It was just like the first time."
Jin was still frowning. He propped his elbows on the table and asked, "How did — how did you know they weren't true?"
I didn't want them to be. Kame took two fat, pale noodles between his chopsticks, swirled them in sauce, and sucked them in. They tasted insipid. He set his chopsticks down and rested his hands on his legs.
"I guess I didn't think you could forget anything if you stayed in Tokyo," he said.
As close as they'd come to mentioning it. Kame's arms prickled. He didn't dare look at Jin. He could have sworn he could feel Jin vibrating like a string, holding himself stiff and still and about to snap.
Jin said, in a voice Kame hadn't ever heard before, "You were right."
Kame's palms hurt. He glanced down. His hands were fisted; his nails dug into the flesh of his palms.
"Did it work?" he asked.
Jin let out a long, shuddering breath.
"Sometimes," he said.
A tiny measure of pressure went like a whisper of air from a balloon, just enough to ease away from the breaking point. Kame exhaled and reached, with a hand that barely shook, for his glass. Eyes closed, he took a long, long drink.
When he opened his eyes, Jin was standing up, clearing away his dishes. Kame looked down at his own half-empty plate. He had never noticed how closely the noodles resembled shiny white worms.
He, too, got up and began to clear the table.
Without asking, Jin set his armful in the sink and turned on the faucet. He picked up the long-handled brush and looked around with a tiny frown.
Kame took the dish soap from its cabinet and set it next to the sink.
For a minute there was nothing but the sounds of crockery and running water. Kame ran the dishcloth over the little bowls and placed them back in their cupboards automatically. He was very careful, measuring the distance between them, never to turn or take a step at the wrong time.
He was so determined to concentrate on the gloss of the lacquer, the exact positioning of each plate on top of its fellows, that he missed Jin's shoulders settle, as they always did before he was deliberate. "I've been wondering," Jin said. "How did you end up here? How did you even find this place?"
For just a moment, in a childish fit of retaliation, Kame was tempted to pretend he hadn't heard. But sense won out, and it wasn't as though he hadn't been expecting to hear it eventually. He glanced over at Jin, whose arms were braced against the sink, looking down.
"I was looking for somewhere out of the way," he said. "I got tired."
Jin nodded. Kame couldn't see his face. "Good," he said. "You never did take enough breaks."
The decision was not conscious. Kame sucked in a breath and said, "Actually." He put down the cloth and put his hands in his pockets. "They told me to go somewhere quiet. For a while."
Jin's head came up and he turned around. Kame met his look steadily.
"I found it myself," he said. "I had – there were a lot of offers, of places to stay. But I didn't want to – take advantage of their kindness."
Jin's eyes were very wide and very dark. He started to speak, and stopped. Kame could see the pattern of thoughts flitting across his face like clouds across the sky and, absurdly, almost had to hide a smile.
"I didn't – no one said anything," Jin said finally. "You didn't say anything." – faintly accusatory.
To Kame's surprise, he felt a small laugh bubble up. "It's not the sort of thing you slip into a casual letter," he said.
Jin didn't laugh. Instead he said, "I'm sorry."
"What?" Kame said, and was amazed at how regular his voice sounded.
Jin held his gaze. "I should have – asked about you earlier. Or something." He was frowning again. "I didn't realize."
"No," Kame said. He struggled for breath. "It's fine. Really. I'd rather not."
Jin was leaning back on the counter now, both hands resting on the edge of the sink. He said, "What were you doing last night? With the microscope?"
Kame leaned against the refrigerator himself and crossed his arms. He could feel his heart thump just above his wrist.
"When I got here — " He paused. "I had a lot of time on my hands. At first I was just... sleeping all day, or sitting outside. Then I tried all kinds of things, painting, reading, even haiku — " He gave a small, self-deprecating laugh, but Jin was silent, dark eyes on Kame's face.
"My – the person who said I should come here told me that writing might help but I've never been very good at that. Anyway, I found this box in the store room upstairs. All these slides, and the microscope. At first I was just looking at them because I didn't have anything else to do, but after a while I thought I'd see if I could make my own and match them up and then little by little..." Kame shrugged. "I have a couple old books, you know, birds and flowers. And I've been pressing some specimens, and drawing... my drawing's gotten a lot better, you know." He laughed, again. "I think the next step is to get a better camera."
Jin had not looked away once during this recital. "So you're a... naturalist?"
Kame smiled a little. "Maybe? I guess. An amateur. I know it's strange. I never had any interest in it when I was a kid."
Jin nodded. Kame felt a sudden, heaving swell of exhaustion, the kind he normally associated with strenuous physical activity. He closed his eyes very briefly.
Jin was still watching him when he opened them. Kame couldn't read his expression. "You're tired, too," Jin said. "I'm just going to — " He gestured loosely away from the kitchen.
Kame nodded, maybe too quickly. "Okay. Yeah."
When he heard the creak of Jin's footsteps ascending the staircase, Kame let himself slacken. His knees were trembling. Slowly, he slid down the face of the refrigerator, inch by inch, until he was on the floor with his knees up and his head tucked against them, concentrating on taking one deep breath after another.
--
It was on television by the evening news, as the media conglomerates began to realize, one by one, that this went far beyond the influence of the jimusho. In his apartment, Kame sat watching, numb, without really listening. Each time his phone rang – roughly every five minutes – he flinched; each time, he checked to see if it was Jin and then pressed "Ignore" when it wasn't.
This would be the end; it had to be. Nebulous allegations of sexual harassment were one thing, easy to ignore or at least to pretend to ignore (they were never proven, wasn't that right, and surely if there had been problems they were fixed by now, in this day) but no family would send a child to the care of an institution where he might – even as he thought this, Kame knew that some would still be willing and the thought made him sick. Not enough, though. Decades of favors and bribes and threats and personal friendships were, at that moment, crumbling to the ground.
He hoped they found fingerprints, DNA, something undeniable and terrible and that – whoever it was – rotted in a concrete prison block for the rest of his miserable life. He hoped Jin could –
No. No, he didn't. He imagined Jin reciting what he found over and over again as he was questioned and cross-questioned and cross-cross-questioned. He hoped they found some other piece of irrefutable evidence and let Jin alone.
But, again, even as Kame thought it he knew it was impossible.
--
Kame awoke in the middle of the night soaked with sweat. His heart was pounding. He couldn't remember what he'd been dreaming of but he had a fair guess. He lay still and tried to calm the pounding of his heart with slow, measured breaths.
He heard a creak on the stairs.
He sat up. There was a faint sliver of light showing under the door. His heart skipped.
He got up and fumbled for a spare t-shirt, and went out into the hall.
The light was coming from the front of the house. Kame kept his steps as soft as he could until he reached the kitchen.
Jin was in the act of opening a can of dry cider. He wore a wide-necked t-shirt and long shorts, both faded and threadbare. His hair was disheveled, licks sticking up in back and bangs flopping in his face, and there were dark circles under his eyes. The expression on his face was incredibly guilty.
Kame cleared his throat. "Couldn't sleep either?"
Jin hesitated just the barest second. "Dreams," he said.
"Me, too." Kame crossed over to the refrigerator and took out his own can. It was – he glanced at his watch – two-thirty in the morning, but still warm enough that even in short sleeves Kame didn't feel cold, and no less humid than it had been in the middle of the day.
"Come on," Kame said. "As long as we can't sleep."
Just beyond the couch was a tall shutter. Kame unhooked the latch, slid open the door, and went out onto the balcony.
Sawing crickets filled the still air. Not a leaf rustled. There weren't any chairs; Kame crossed his legs on the wooden slats and settled himself against the wall, and felt Jin ease down next to him.
"It was really nice in the spring," Kame said after a minute. "Before it got too hot. I always brought supper out here."
Jin asked softly, "When did you get here?"
"At the end of March," Kame said. "Four months ago."
They were quiet for another minute. Kame tilted his head back. Beyond the overhang of the roof he could see a slice of the glittering mass of stars overhead.
"Can I ask you something?" Jin's voice was low and cautious. Kame refrained from the obvious (Aren't you, already?) and said,
"Yes."
"How did you find out I was back? Why did you write to me?" Jin's voice was quiet, but there was a current Kame couldn't name built up behind his words, intense and almost forcible. "I thought at first you thought I needed help or something, but — "
Instead of continuing, Jin exhaled heavily. Kame didn't have to turn his head to know that Jin was looking at him.
"But what?" he said, keeping his eyes on the deep sky.
"But," Jin said. "That wasn't it."
"No," Kame said. "I thought — " He finally turned toward Jin. The planes of Jin's face were unexpectedly clear in the darkness.
"I just wanted to make you answer me," Kame said.
The flinch was nearly imperceptible. Jin looked away, toward the slope. "Yeah," he said.
"I knew you were back," Kame continued, "because Yamashita told me."
A soft breath. "I thought so," said Jin.
"I hadn't talked to him in at least a year," Kame said. "But he heard about – well, everyone heard about it, it wasn't exactly a secret. I don't know how he got the address. It probably wasn't very hard."
There was a deep breath and Jin said, very fast, "I didn't want to come."
It wasn't a surprise, exactly. Kame's jaw tightened.
Jin wouldn't look at him. "I didn't want to see anything or – anyone – that would remind me of it."
Kame's voice scratched. "Then why did you come?"
"I wanted — " Jin turned to look at him. "I wanted to see how you were."
The relentless thud of Kame's heart drowned out everything else. His fingers were warm; so were his cheeks.
"Me too," he said. "I wondered how you were doing all the time."
Jin's smile, even hidden in darkness, still had the power to make Kame's heart contract. It was reassuring to know some things did not change with time.
"What are you doing tomorrow?" he said, because he had to say something.
Jin appeared unfazed by the sudden change of subject. "I wanted to try this mountain next."
Kame nodded. "It feels like you've really done something, something you know," he said, "when you're standing on top of a mountain."
Jin looked surprised. "Yeah," he said. "You're right."
Kame said, before his thoughts could catch up with what he was saying, "Can I – do you mind if I come with you?"
Even in the darkness Jin looked so taken aback Kame's cheeks burned. He added quickly, "I don't want to intrude, it's fine — "
"No," Jin said even more quickly, running over the tail of Kame's sentence. "You're not. I mean, yeah, go ahead. Come ahead. It's fine if you come."
Kame smiled a little, hesitantly. The corners of Jin's mouth turned up.
"Well," Kame said. "Then we'd better get a little sleep."
He got to his feet. Jin said, "Kame."
The name rang in Kame's ears. He looked down.
"I listened to your messages," said Jin.
Kame said, "What?"
"All of them. When – that time."
Kame put a hand against the side of the house.
"I saved them," Jin said. "Until I left. That's why I thought it was something else. That it wasn't just pity or – that's why I wanted to see you anyway."
"Oh," said Kame. His mouth was dry and empty.
Jin stood up, facing Kame. "I just thought you should know," he said.
"Thank you," Kame said automatically.
Jin shifted from foot to foot. "Inside?" he said.
"Right. Yes." Kame licked his lips. "Inside." He slid the door open. Jin's footsteps followed.
"Night," Jin said softly from behind him at the stairs.
"Good night," said Kame. He didn't trust himself to turn around.
He lay awake for a very long time.
--
The hearings dragged on for endless leaden weeks.
Kame was called into the office after the first week of the investigation. He answered a few questions about what he knew about Shinoda (nothing) and what he knew about the management (even less).
Did you ever notice Shinoda-kun with any of the managers in particular?
What kind of gossip did you hear at the time?
Do you have any idea – any idea at all – how it could have happened?
He didn't, and they let him go.
KAT-TUN was on hiatus. All the groups were. Kimura and Nakai and the rest still carried out their individual appearances but there were no releases, no performances, no group activity. Kame didn't leave the house. As far as he knew, neither did anyone else. They huddled in bomb shelters, waiting for the blast.
The hearings were closed to all but the witnesses. Kame was never called in. There were reports in the news every day, with very little to tell. They usually mentioned Jin.
Kame's phone rang constantly. He never turned it off, just in case.
It was almost a relief when verdict was announced. Perpetrator undetermined, seven counts against Johnny's and Associates for criminal negligence. Damages awarded: five hundred million yen.
Kame sat at home, after he heard the news, and tried to calmly consider his options. He'd thought of running a boutique before, in the hazy and indefinite way one imagined things that would never happen. Or, he supposed, he could always go back and try to study for entrance exams -
His phone rang.
Yamashita calling. The disappointment, almost physical, drove the air from his chest. "Kamenashi here."
"He left," said Yamapi.
Kame said, "What?"
"He left." Yamapi's voice was bare. "I think the country. I don't know."
"He — " Kame spread a hand flat on the table and pressed down until the tendons of his wrist stood out in white cords.
"I just thought you should know." There was a click, and the line went dead.
Kame put the phone down gently.
He didn't know how long he'd been sitting there when it rang again.
"Kamenashi-kun," Kame's manager said. "I have a new contract for you."
--
The morning was cloudless and close. The pressure had yet to break. When Kame peered out the front window, not a blade of grass moved.
Jin wasn't up yet. After some thought, Kame took out two plastic containers that would serve as makeshift bento boxes and began to fill them: rice, chunks of tender marinated meat, leftover vegetables. At the last minute, he took a jar from the refrigerator and plucked several glossy black olives from it, arranging them in the corner of one box.
As he snapped the lids on, he heard the telltale creak on the stairs. A moment later Jin appeared, fully dressed and stifling a yawn.
"Morning," he said.
"Good morning," said Kame, stacking the improvised bento on top of each other and tucking them, along with a bottle of water, into a small pack. "There's currant rolls if you want one.
Jin shuffled past Kame and took one from the plate. "Thanks," he said – or so Kame assumed – around a mouthful of bread.
Kame muffled a snort. Jin raised his eyebrows. The effect, coupled with the gopher-like appearance of his puffed cheeks, was ludicrous.
Kame found he was biting the side of his cheeks to hide a grin. "Come on," he said. "We'd better get going before the sun gets too high."
The heavy, moist air hit them like a physical wave. "You still want to do this?" Jin asked. "It's not the best conditions or anything."
Kame nodded even as he tied his hair back. "I'm sure."
"All right," Jin said. "Lead the way."
Past the house, a narrow path wound up through the trees until it leveled out in a grassy meadow split by a small brown stream. Kame kept an eye out as they passed by but it seemed to be too hot for anything but the insects buzzing above the low-lying greenery strung in patches along the stream.
The path joined the main trail just beyond, in the middle of a steep switchback. For Kame, the first part of a hike was always the hardest, before he found a rhythm to pace himself. After only a few minutes his breath came short and he was hyperaware of every knob and corner and chafing strap of the pack sticking to his back. Jin, who had taken the lead when they came to the broader trail, didn't seem to be having any such problem and Kame surreptitiously tried to deepen and quiet his breathing.
Trees rose tall on either side of them. Not a hint of breeze stirred the thick masses of leaves overhead. Every so often, the trail gave way to a flight of high stone steeps, crumbling and spotted with lichen. The rise was just enough that Kame felt the effort to climb them; by the end of the fourth flight his thighs burned. He glanced ahead at Jin, pressed his lips together, and braced himself for the next stretch.
The path curved to circumvent a massive, gnarled tree trunk. Jin rounded the bend and Kame paused for just a minute to reach out and brush his fingers against the bark for luck.
He followed the path around the tree – really, he saw as he went, a whole dense grove, knotted roots erupting across the path. Now he was at the bottom of another steep rise and he could see Jin standing at the top, outlined against a patch of blue sky.
Kame took a deep lungful of air and started up the path. He kept his eyes firmly on the sky. Just as he thought it must be an optical illusion, he reached the top and was standing between a gap in the trees.
A rippling sea of green rolled away before him. He was looking across the top of the forest to where the peak of Tsuruyama thrust up against the sky. Suddenly aware of an intense thirst, Kame dropped his pack to the ground and rummaged for the water bottle.
Jin wiped a hand across his forehead. "We're looking west now, right?" he said.
There it was, sweating condensation at the bottom of the pack. Kame tilted his head back and took a drink, swishing it in his mouth rather than gulping down mouthful after mouthful as he wanted.
He wiped his mouth after he swallowed, unable to help a regretful little sigh, and passed the bottle to Jin. "That's right," he said. "That's Tsuruyama there. Takanomura's on the south side, and when we get to the top we should be able to see all the way down to the valley."
Jin nodded. "And the sooner we get there, right?" He glanced at his watch. "It's only eleven. I think we're making good time?"
Kame nodded. "The next part is gentler, I think."
"Okay," Jin said, stretching his arms behind his back. "Here, my turn to carry the pack. No? You sure? All right. Let's go."
It was gentler, and punctuated with views of the northern slope through the thin line of trees. They seemed to be traversing the face of the mountain now, rather than climbing straight up.
They rounded another curve and directly in front of them a tiny bird, cream and brown, rose fluttering into the air with a surprisingly loud squawk. Jin twisted around and pointed ahead of them. "What's that?"
"A yabusame," Kame said automatically. Jin's mouth dropped open and Kame laughed before he could help it.
Jin slowed to a halt. "What about that?" He gestured, suspiciously randomly, at a plant by the side of the path. Kame glanced in the direction he pointed.
"Um, cinquefoil, I think, the petals are the right shape."
"And that?"
Kame squinted. "A... weed. Or something. No idea."
"Ha!" The corners of Jin's mouth were twitching. "Some naturalist you are."
Kame crossed his arms. "You wouldn't know if I was making it all up in the first place." A laugh was rising in his chest. He pressed his lips together and tried to look stern.
"You're a fraud," Jin said. "I can't believe it."
"Oh, shut up," Kame said without thinking. Jin's expression cracked and he burst into snorts of laughter.
"The call of the wild Kamenashi," he said. "Known to idol-watchers everywhere."
Kame was laughing now, just a little. "You would know, wouldn't you."
Jin started back up the trail. "It's weird to hear some things again," he said, the words distorted as they came over his shoulder. "Talking to you and Pi and Yuu. And my family. I only heard you in my head for years and now you're here actually talking aloud."
Kame nodded. Against the measured, almost mechanical rhythm of his legs rising and falling up the path and his lungs expanding and contracting the conversation seemed less immediate. "Yeah," he said. "Same with you."
"Do you talk to the rest of the guys often?"
There was no need to ask which guys. Kame let momentum carry him up another few steps before he answered. "Sometimes," he said. "None of us – no one in the company – really talked to each other for a while afterwards. We were – I'm not sure. We were shell-shocked, I guess."
Jin didn't say anything. Kame concentrated on the breathing heavy in his ears: in-out (one), in-out (two), in-out (three). After another moment he said, "I think we started trying to get in contact again after a couple months. Koki got another contract, too, so we saw each other sometimes."
Taguchi got a new contract as well. Nakamaru stayed at Waseda. Ueda began designing jewelry and surfaced frequently in tiny live houses.
"You should tell them I asked about them," Jin said. "Whenever you talk to them next."
You could tell them yourself. The words balanced on the tip of Kame's tongue for an instant and melted away. "Okay," he said instead.
They continued climbing in silence. The path steepened and turned inward; they must be all the way to the south side now. Next were a series of sharp rises as the path narrowed, twisting and uneven with scarred roots. Kame's lungs were aching again; there was no breath to spare for conversation. He began to count his steps: twenty-five, fifty. One hundred. Two hundred. Four hundred.
He could hear Jin's breath coming hard and felt just a little better. Five hundred. Seven hundred. His legs ached. Just as far as the ridge ahead – then he'd be able to see the end, surely. Not the ridge after all, but maybe beyond the next curve. Nine hundred. The path rolled upward. The next rise, then. Or the next. One foot ahead of the other, keep moving the next foot forward. One, two, one, two.
"I think we're close," Jin said suddenly.
Kame's head jerked up. He'd been focused single-mindedly on the stretch of path ahead. Now he looked up, beyond the next ridge, and saw a wide stretch of sky.
He nearly stopped and collapsed with relief. "I think you're right," he said.
Keep to the rhythm. One, two, one, two. The distance to the top of the ridge shrank, and shrank, and they crested the hill –
The trees thinned and fell away. Ahead of them dipped a low, grassy ridge, and beyond that the final ascent to the top of the rocky peak.
A wide grin stretched Jin's face. "Come on," he said. "We're almost there."
A rush of adrenaline tingled through Kame's arms and legs. He grinned back. "Let's do it."
They set crashing off. Little by little, Jin sped up until they were practically marching and Kame followed, laughing breathlessly. He barely felt the burn of his muscles or the heat on the back of his neck. They had crossed the ridge. The trail zig-zagged up the rock, as steep as anything they'd encountered so far. But they were almost there, Kame was trying to catch his breath and speed up at the same time, he could hear Jin's breathing quicken, he'd lost count of the steps, just a bit farther –
They tripped up over the top and stumbled to a halt.
A vast green landscape folded away before them. A sheer drop plunged into a froth of trees, tumbling down in a succession of small peaks and vales. Past swelling foothills Kame could see the vibrant paler green patchwork of the valley rice paddies, and if he squinted, a jumble of tiny grey rectangles and spidery roads where the town clustered. Beyond the valley, mountains rose and fell and rolled away, fading from green to blue on the edge of the horizon.
"Wow," Jin whispered.
Kame's legs were trembling. He turned toward a worn, grey boulder within a few steps and sank onto it with a long sigh.
Jin remained standing, staring across the landscape with hungry eyes.
"Hey," Kame said after a few minutes had passed. Jin turned his head. "Catch." The water bottle arced through the air.
Jin's hands shot up and fumbled the catch utterly. The bottle hit the ground and rolled away. Kame bent over laughing as Jin went chasing after it.
"Could have hit me right between the eyes," Jin said as he took a seat on a neighboring boulder. "If I'd gotten a concussion you would have had to carry me back down the mountain."
Kame eyed him. "Wouldn't have much chance of managing that, would I? I'd just have to leave you up here and hope for the best."
"If you're referring to my muscle, Kamenashi — "
Kame forestalled any further complaints by handing him one of the plastic containers and a pair of disposable chopsticks.
It was several minutes before there was any sound other than rapid chewing and swallowing and the scrape of wood against plastic. Container nearly emptied, Kame slowed and savored the flavor of the last few mouthfuls.
"Hey," Jin said suddenly. "Have you always liked olives?"
Kame focused his attention on chasing down several individual grains of rice. "Oh," he said. "Those. Yes. I mean, sort of. Last time you came back you said you liked them, so... I don't know. I didn't know what you started liking this time." He glanced up.
Jin was staring at him. "You remember that?"
Kame swallowed. "If you don't like them any more you can pretend it's symbolic," he said. "Olives are supposed to be good, right? Peace offerings."
"Olive branches, I think," Jin said. "Or maybe the whole tree. I don't remember." He was still looking at Kame.
"Right," Kame said. "That."
Jin turned back to his bento. Something lurked in the corner of his mouth, almost like a little smile. Kame looked down at his box and concentrated very hard on sopping up the last threads of sauce.
Now that Kame was resting, the sticky heat crept back into the forefront of his awareness. His shirt was damp all over; so was his hair, where strands had escaped from its tail or straggled in his face. He fit the lid back on the plastic container, set it to the side and took another drink of water. The water sloshed just below the one quarter line. He hoped it would be enough to get them both home.
Jin had gotten up and was slowly circling the summit. Kame leaned back and watched him unashamedly. Every few steps he stopped and shaded his eyes against the sun, still, as he gazed at the horizon.
He was facing northeast, and in profile to Kame, who was absently noting the line of his nose, when his shoulders straightened.
"Kame," he said. "Take a look at this."
Kame got up. Jin was pointing; Kame shaded his eyes and followed the line of Jin's finger.
Off in the distance, a dark line stained the horizon.
"Is that — "
Kame pursed his lips. "Yes," he said. "It's pretty far off, but we'd better go."
Jin packed up the containers and water bottle as Kame quickly glanced over the rocks for any sign of rubbish. Jin shouldered the pack and cocked his head to one side; Kame nodded. They began to descend the peak.
Kame had forgotten that steep descents were, at the least, no easier than ascents. His feet quickly began to ache from clenching his toes to brace himself on the scree; his upper thighs, constantly tensed, began to throb. As they crossed the ridge and started down the path he thought of the sharp drops ahead with a prickle of dread.
The first dim rumble echoed as the path began to broaden. They exchanged a look.
"We can't go much faster," Kame said. "Trip on one of these roots and you'll break your neck."
Jin nodded and turned back to the trail. Their pace quickened, all the same. The throb in Kame's thighs built up to a slow burn.
Another rumble, louder. The sky had darkened without Kame noticing, and he thought he saw a bright flash through the trees. They kept going.
They reached the gap in the trees where they'd stopped briefly on the way up just in time to see a spindly stick of lightning forking down on the horizon. The thunder sounded with a sharp crack.
Kame swore under his breath. Jin made a breathless noise that sounded like a laugh. "Faster," he said, and they half-slid, half-ran down the slope to the dense grove of old trees. Kame stumbled and grabbed wildly at the branches for balance; a thin, whippy branch stung his face and he couldn't suppress a hiss.
Jin turned. "Are you all — " Another crack of thunder swallowed his words.
"Keep going," Kame said and gave him a shove.
A brilliant flash lit up the grove. Jin's cheekbones blazed eerily white. The thunder followed within seconds. They kept going.
They reached the first of the stone stairs. Hurrying down them risked a fall that would split one's head open like a summer melon. Kame swore again as they inched down, crab-like.
Another flight of steps. Another. Jin slipped on the crumbling rubble; Kame caught his shoulders and pushed him back upright. One more, and they were down, it was packed dirt all the way to the house. There was another flash of lightning.
"We might make it," Kame said breathlessly, hardly daring to hope.
Jin's eyes glittered. "Maybe."
Ahead, at the bottom of the slope, Kame could see the little path heading off through the meadow. "Look," he said. "It's right there."
He felt a raindrop hit his cheek.
"We're not going to make it," Jin said. Something like laughter was rising under his voice.
"That's energy you could be using to move," Kame said, "come on."
Another drop. Another. There was the path, and Kame could see the meadow just beyond.
That was when he heard it – the hissing rush of rain sweeping toward them.
"Run," said Jin gleefully, and took off through the meadow.
Kame gaped for one precious fraction of a second and then pelted after him as the skies opened up overhead.
He was drenched within seconds. Ahead, Jin was laughing, or whooping, Kame could barely tell. Wet hair washed into his eyes. His sneakers thumped against the rain-churned dirt, nearly mud, with a wet sucking sound. He felt his stride opening up, his arms coming in close and he ducked his head and ran as he hadn't in years.
He went flying past Jin halfway across the meadow. Jin gave a startled yelp and Kame heard his footsteps speed up; he laughed jubilantly and careened onward with the unbearable satisfaction of knowing he couldn't lose. Thunder cracked as the meadow glowed white again, and with Jin right on his heels Kame was stumbling over the little hill, up the steps, into the house –
The door slammed behind them. Jin was half-gasping for air, half-laughing like a maniac. Kame bent over and braced his hands on his knees, breathing hard. Outside, the rain poured down in flooding sheets, coursing down the side of the mountain with wild abandon.
Water was running off both of them in streams and puddling in the hallway. Kame was still breathing hard. Straightening, he gathered his hair back and wrung it loosely, feeling little rivulets run down his neck. He looked up at Jin.
Jin's dark hair was slicked away from his face. The line of his cheekbones seemed higher, glistening with rain, and his eyes wider. The wide collar of his shirt was plastered to his collarbone. He was watching Kame.
Kame felt the breath leave his lungs.
Jin wet his lips. He wasn't moving. He wasn't looking away.
It was Kame's move.
He took three steps forward and Jin's mouth came down to meet his.
--
The heat of Jin's mouth scalded. Kame was crushed against him from head to toe; he felt broad palms spread against his lower back, shoving up his soaking shirt and he gasped and slid his hands into Jin's wet hair.
He was dizzy. He was hallucinating. He was – Jin sucked at his lower lip and Kame pressed forward until Jin was backed against the wall and Kame could feel the solid, hot lines of Jin's body plastered against his.
"You don't play around, Kamenashi," Jin gasped, in a voice Kame felt vibrating against his chest. "Ah — "
Kame didn't play around. He let Jin go just long enough to say, "This way," and tugged him away from the wall as he caught Jin's mouth again.
They stumbled through to the living room. Kame's hip collided with a chair; it would probably bruise. He didn't care.
Jin made a sound that was perilously close to a growl. A shudder went down Kame's spine. His neck and collarbone burned where Jin's mouth moved against them
Wet clothes proved surprisingly difficult. Kame's sodden jeans were nearly impossibly to peel away; Jin's shirt clung stubbornly to his neck until Kame yanked it clear and caught some of Jin's hair in the process. Jin yelped, and Kame muffled a laugh against his bare shoulder.
"Go ahead and laugh," Jin said to Kame's throat, "we'll see if you still think it's funny in a minute — "
A white flash outside the window lit the room. Kame looked down at his fingers digging into Jin's slick skin, at Jin's open mouth and closed eyes and the line of his throat where his shoulders arched back.
Thunder rumbled. The rain cascaded down the mountainside in torrents, in floods. Kame burned, and cried out, and fell back against a warm body in a shock of white and searing heat and space.
--
Fingers combed through his hair. Kame opened his eyes.
He was lying half on top of Jin, nearly inhaling a few strands of Jin's hair. Jin's face was pressed against the curve where his neck met his shoulder. Their right legs were hooked together.
Kame's cheeks hurt. He tucked his face further away and grinned foolishly and unrepentantly.
Jin stirred. Kame felt a breath of air slide across his shoulder. He began to ease himself up.
Jin's other arm came up and curled against his back. "Don't," came the low exhalation next to Kame's ear. "Please."
Kame shifted a little, resettling himself until his arm was comfortably slung across Jin's chest and his neck at a bearable angle. Jin's skin was warm under his fingertips. "Okay," he whispered. "I won't."
He closed his eyes.
Jin said against Kame's ear, a breathy, ticklish murmur, "It was because of a meeting."
"Hm?"
Jin's voice was so low that Kame could barely make it out, even as he felt the vibrations hum through Jin's chest. "I was supposed to be in a meeting," Jin said. "With the new manager. I never found out why. He gave me the wrong room number."
Kame tensed.
"I knocked," Jin said. "A couple times. Then I waited for a while. Then I thought I could at least go in and wait inside. I was kind of angry."
Kame could hear his own heart pounding. Absently, he smoothed a thumb across Jin's arm.
"The door wasn't locked. So I went in." Jin's voice was nearly a whisper. "And there was one of those big metal cabinets in the corner, hanging open a little."
"Jin," Kame said. He dug his fingers into Jin's shoulder. "You don't have to. You don't."
"So," Jin said. "I opened it."
Kame let out a shaky breath. Jin's hand, still threaded in his hair, was trembling. Kame turned his head and pressed his lips blindly against Jin's hair.
"There was — " Jin stumbled, and swallowed a shaky breath. "Someone had been doing something. To him. Before. Maybe it went wrong. I don't know what. I don't know who. I've never – no matter where I went, or what I did, or – I couldn't forget — "
Kame squeezed his eyes shut. He kissed Jin again and again, gripping his shoulder so tightly he was surprised Jin wasn't in pain. Maybe he was.
Jin kept going. "When it was over," he said, "when it was finally over, I wanted to get out as soon as I could. I bought a ticket to America but it, I don't know why, thinking about it made my skin crawl. Yuu – my friend Shirota Yuu – his mother works with all kinds of volunteer programs and she asked me, how far did I want to go? And she set it up and then I left on the next flight I could get."
With some difficulty, Kame freed a hand and hesitantly touched Jin's hair. It was smooth and damp under his fingertips. At no sign of dissuasion, he stroked a soft line down Jin's temple, again and again.
"So I was a volunteer. In Africa. The program, you can work in schools or help build things or help the medical teams – I was actually, I was doing something." Kame felt him swallow. "It sounds so stupid. I was helping someone."
"It's not stupid," Kame said fiercely. He moved to raise his head but Jin's arms tightened, held him down. "It's not."
"There were three different countries you could pick from," Jin said. "So I chose somewhere called Namibia, because they said it would be in the desert. It rained twice, in three years. But it was really..." He said the next word so quietly Kame could barely hear. "Beautiful."
"Shirota-san knew where I was, obviously, but I made her promise not to tell Yuu. I mean, Yuu and Pi, they knew I went somewhere in the middle of nowhere with one of her programs, but they didn't know where. No one else knew but my parents."
"Have you told them yet?" Kame whispered.
Jin let out a deep, shuddering breath. "No. I don't want to talk about it. It's mine. It's, it was all — " His voice cracked and broke, and his shoulders shook.
Kame stroked the side of Jin's face, pressing his mouth against Jin's hair and whispering – he didn't know what. Nothing, probably, complete nonsense. The words spilled out, tumbling over each other, fervent and tender and meaningless, until Jin's cracked breaths quieted, and his shoulders eased, and he lay still.
--
Eventually, they had to move. Kame sat up, every muscle throbbing in protest, and felt a joint crack. Jin sat up, too, and wiped unobtrusively at his face; his eyes were bloodshot.
"I think the rain's stopped," Kame said.
Jin looked out the window. "Yeah," he said. "It's already starting to clear."
Kame put a hand on the arm of the couch and pulled himself to his feet. "Come on," he said. "We better clean up."
They took turns at the shower. There was a bruise coming in on Kame's hip, as he expected, and a scattering of other marks across his skin, including one particularly bright purplish one on his collarbone. He touched it gently and winced.
Jin was sitting at the table looking out the window at the lightening sky when Kame padded out. There was a carafe of tea in front of him. Kame poured himself a cup and they sat in silence for a few minutes.
He couldn't put it off any longer. Kame flattened his palms against his thighs, wet his lips, and, braced, made himself speak.
"Where are you going next?" he asked.
Jin's head came around, too fast. His mouth was open. "Next?" he said.
Kame stumbled. "Yes," he said, "I thought after this — "
Jin's face didn't shut down this time. Maybe he was too tired. It was all there for anyone to read and Kame's fingers gripped his knees as he reeled.
"I," Jin said and stopped. "Of course. I'm not — "
"No," Kame said in rush. "No. Wait. I thought you'd want – I'm sorry." He took a deep breath. "How long were you going to stay? Originally?"
Jin licked his lips. His face was still painfully bare. "A few days, maybe. Just long enough."
Kame took another deep breath. He looked at Jin and, heart throbbing steadily, said, "Would you – maybe – like to stay for a little while longer?"
The smile started at the corners of Jin's mouth and spread across his face, brightening his eyes, the smile that had made Kame's heart clench for years.
"Yes," said Jin.