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When Gou had finally moved out of her mother’s house, it wasn’t without certain rules: Don’t let stray boys into your apartment. Make sure your roommate knows where you’re going. And, oh, it would be nice if you lived in the same apartment complex as your brother.
Rin had protested more at the shared living space, but Gou jumped when the apartment beside his came up for rent.
It was annoying at first, especially when she was out later than eight o’clock. She could picture him sitting by the window, waiting, listening for the distinct rumble of her motorcycle to pull into the parking lot. Rin would poke his head out of the apartment and ask where she’d been, and Gou would huff as she stormed past.
All the times she’d told him to stop being annoying, and it was concerning the night that he did—she’d pulled into the parking lot, shook her hair out of her bike helmet, and Rin’s light was off. The curtains were drawn, and there was no silhouette framing the window. No annoying text message to “get inside!”
When she’d knocked on the door the next morning, it was Sousuke who answered. “He’s with that tattoo artist,” he’d said, and she’d lifted a curious eyebrow.
When Rin didn’t come home a second night, she took matters into her own hands.
The building didn’t look like much of anything. In fact, it didn’t look open at all, besides the illuminated neon sign over the door. Gou blew a bubble with her gum and stared up at the glowing blue script, like that would tell her anything about its owner.
“This is the place, huh?” Chigusa straddled her motorcycle and picked at her nails, seemingly uninterested.
“Guess so.” Gou threw a leg over her own bike to disembark. “That’s his name all right.”
She’d been inside a tattoo parlor before, but never one like Haru’s. Everyone in Samezuka said the same thing—the place didn’t look like a tattoo parlor, but Haru did good work. Chigusa opened the door for her, and the first thing she noticed was the lack of anything on the walls—no sample tatts, no artwork, no nothing. Overconfident bastard, she thought. She was mildly disappointed that her brother wasn’t there, even though she knew he was at the pool.
“You Haru?” she asked, jerking her chin to the man behind the counter.
He didn’t look like much, either; his hair was the same glossy shade of black as his leather vest, paired with a gray cardigan. Her eyes fell to his chest—he wasn’t muscular, but nicely toned—and spied the fin of a dolphin tattoo arching up out of the vest.
His eyes widened in recognition, though they’d never met before. “Yes,” he replied.
She tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I’m Gou,” she said with a grin. “I think you know my brother.”
Only his eyes moved, skirting from the magazine he’d been reading, to Chigusa, and then back to Gou. She shimmied out of her jacket, unsurprised that Haru’s eyes fell to her chest. Not to her amazing cleavage—her boobs did look great in the halter top—but the pink lotus flower that decorated the skin just below her clavicle.
“Goro’s,” Haru said.
Gou beamed. “You’re good.” She approached the counter, crossing her arms as she leaned on it. He tilted away on his stool, sliding the magazine off the countertop—but not before she spied the spread, a glowing waterfall spilling into a crystal lake. What the heck does he read? she thought.
“Rin’s not here,” Haru said.
Gou glanced over both her shoulders—at the empty tattoo parlor, save Chigusa, who had moved down the counter and was flipping through a binder. She loudly popped her gum as she turned each plastic sleeve, which displayed tattoos designed by the sole proprietor.
Gou sighed. “Got that. Thing is”—she leaned farther over the counter, and Haru stiffened—“I haven’t seen my brother in a few days. Thought I’d come meet the boy who's taking up all his time.” The door opened behind her, bringing in a whiff of fresh air and footsteps that were too light to be Rin’s. She didn’t bother turning around.
Haru didn’t yet look up at his potential customer, instead matching Gou’s steely gaze with one of his own. “Hi. I’m Haru. And I’m working.”
“Maybe he’ll open up if you get a tattoo,” Chigusa suggested when they left the parlor.
“Not yet! Geez.” Gou rubbed the space above her chest. Though the ink had already healed, she didn’t see another hours-long session in her immediate future.
“He is cute,” Chigusa went on.
Gou thought of that vest and the slight tease of his chest. He was fit, though not as fit as her brother . . . “I’ll give him that.” Gou climbed onto her motorcycle, tucking back her hair to fit on her helmet. The parlor’s front door opened, and out came the girl who’d just gone in to browse. She side-eyed Gou and Chigusa in passing, trying to hide her glance behind a curtain of blond hair. Chigusa rolled her eyes when she turned the corner.
The door opened again, and Gou looked up. Haru stood half in, half out, looking like a nervous teenage boy. The cardigan was too big on him, loose around the shoulders, and his hair was slightly disheveled like he’d been running his hands through it. It had looked fine not five minutes prior.
“Gou,” he said, his firm tone betraying his appearance. “Come to dinner tonight.”
“I’d love to, sweetheart,” she said, “but you have a boyfriend.”
Haru smirked, a slight twitch of the lips. “We’ll be at Sakura’s.”
Sakura’s was the gayest gay pub in all the prefecture, and Gou loved it. There was often a table of Samezuka members somewhere inside, and it was one of the few places her outfit would be admired rather than ogled.
It was a short trip, but too long to walk. Gou used any excuse to get on the bike, though, even if that excuse was only so she could park in the lot with the other motorcycles. The air around the pub was always a roar of engines and exhaust, and they often rode one-handed with the constant waving at other riders. Gou pulled into the lot, tucking her bike in with a group of Samezuka’s. She spotted Rin’s right away, its red chrome gleaming in the setting sun.
Sakura’s was crowded and noisy, and it seemed impossible that she could find someone like Haru in its midst. She walked around, squinting in the dim light, and then grinned. She didn’t have to find Haru, not when she could hear her brother’s laugh halfway across the room.
“Haru,” she said, setting a hand on his shoulder when she approached their table. “Introduce me to your friend.”
“Ha-ha.” Rin leaned back in his chair. “You live next door, sis. You had to bug Haru about me?”
Gou plopped down in a vacant seat between them. “You haven’t been there in three days!”
“We ordered pizza,” Haru said, sounding none too pleased about it.
Rin leaned closer like he would whisper, but spoke at full volume to be heard over the buzz of the room. “He wanted fish.” Gou wrinkled her nose.
It felt like longer than three days since she’d seen her brother—not only because they were used to seeing each other every single day, but he was also . . . different. Rin was always obnoxious and loud, but there was a new glow to his cheeks. New relationship glow, Gou thought, as he grinned at his boyfriend again. He sat back, looking too comfortable, and she didn’t doubt he had a foot up on Haru’s chair. Rin wore a fitted T-shirt, the sleeves short and tight around his biceps. Whenever he moved his arm, the cherry blossom tattoo seemed to flutter in a breeze.
Rin was talking about a trip Samezuka was planning to the mountains—surely he hoped Haru could join them—and Gou looked around the pub, mostly seeking out their food. A server went by with a pizza, but bypassed their table, and another passed with an amazing heap of nachos she wanted instead. She reached for her glass of water, the ice already melted, and paused when she glanced at the bar.
“Gou?” Rin lightly poked her arm.
Slowly her fingers wrapped around the glass, gaze fixed on the man behind the bar—the tall, muscular, too-gentle-to-be-bartending man behind the bar. He nervously smiled as he took orders, as if trying to convince himself—and his customers—that he’d remember them all. “New bartender,” she said casually.
Rin massaged his temples as Haru replied, “That’s Makoto.”
He wore a tight, V-neck shirt he didn’t look entirely comfortable in. He kept on tugging the hem down, then pulling up the collar. The shirt hugged each curve of his muscles, from his pecs down to each groove of his abs. He was broad across the shoulders; when he turned, Gou glanced down even though the bar concealed him from the waist down.
“I need a drink,” Gou said.
“You have water,” Haru replied.
“Don’t you start!” Rin said, grabbing her forearm though she hadn’t tried to stand yet.
“You guys are so lucky,” she said with a sigh. “The hot ones are always gay.”
Rin flexed his biceps, as if to prove her point.
Haru sipped his water. “Makoto is straight.”
“Don’t tell her that!”
Gou sat up straighter, palms flat on the table. “Hook a sister up!”
“No!”
Their pizza arrived at that moment, the server waiting until Rin and Gou stopped shouting at each other to set it before them. It was plain cheese, which surprised her—Rin usually went for meat on his pizza—but given Haru’s affinity for fish, she guessed they couldn’t agree on a topping.
But it was food, and she was starving. Gou pulled a slice away from the pizza, picking at the cheese that stayed connected to the tray. It was the exact moment that her hand was full of cheese and she was sucking grease off her finger that Makoto was sidestepping through the crowd toward them. She unceremoniously dropped her slice, hastily wiping her palms on her thighs.
“Haru! Rin!” Makoto waved, and then paused, noticing they weren’t alone.
“Gou,” Haru said, his mouth full.
“My sister,” Rin added.
Makoto grinned. “Nice to meet you!”
His voice was too soothing, too sweet, as she’d expected. She took a quick glance of his body before meeting his eyes, and then smiled. “You too.”
“Eat,” Haru said, jerking his chin toward the pizza, and Makoto plopped down into the empty chair across from her.
“It feels really good to sit down,” Makoto said. He stretched his legs out under the table, accidentally kicking Gou in the ankle. She didn’t bother moving, and he likely didn’t notice it wasn’t the leg of the table.
She was glad she wore the leather halter. Her jacket had been discarded long ago, leaving her bronzed shoulders exposed. Gou tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
“How’s the first day?” Haru asked.
Makoto had been cute across the room. Now, she saw he was too cute, not even complaining about customers who got angry with him. His hairline was beaded with sweat, and he kept on pushing his hair away from his eyes. He inhaled a slice of pizza before Gou had even touched hers again. She sat immobile, staring across the table, mesmerized. “Everyone’s a lot nicer here than at the Victorian!”
Rin choked on his pizza. “They’re flirting with you, Makoto.”
“Who could blame them?” Gou blurted.
Rin side-eyed her, and then it was Haru’s turn to cough and reach for his glass of water. But Makoto merely smiled. “Not that I mind!”
Gou was desperate to change the conversation, if for no other reason than to get her brother to stop glaring. “Are you inked, Makoto?”
She studied him carefully—he moved slower then, picking up his water but not drinking from it. He ran his thumb around the rim of the glass. His smile was patient, like she was a student who’d asked an obvious question. “No,” he replied.
“Really?” She jerked her thumb at Haru. “This one hasn’t talked you into it?”
Haru frowned. “Accepting the ink is a personal decision.”
Makoto let out a small laugh, a pitch higher than she would’ve expected from a man so broad. “Haru isn’t like that. He waits for people to come to him. And I’m— I-I can’t make up my mind. But yours is beautiful!” He nervously laughed again, holding up his hands in defense. “N-Not that I was staring!”
The lotus flower was close to her breast, though its location bothered Rin more than it did her. She thanked him, but Rin quickly moved the conversation to something that didn’t include his sister’s body.
Gou wouldn’t have minded staring at Makoto all through dinner, but he wolfed down two slices of pizza and had to return to the bar. He left with a wave, and Gou stared mournfully as she watched his back—his beautiful, muscular back—retreat.
She didn’t realized she’d sighed aloud until Rin kicked her under the table.
But dinner hadn’t changed a thing, despite actually seeing her brother once that week. She didn’t have a moment to stop by the pool when he was working—their schedules often overlapped—and when she got home at night, Sousuke was alone in their apartment.
“You can come over if you get lonely,” she offered, standing in their doorway.
“Thanks, but I’m really liking the quiet.”
She didn’t want admit she was lonely, with Chigusa working the night shift at the hospital. She only smiled, reminded him that the offer still stood, and went to her own empty apartment. It wasn’t like she and Rin spent that much time together, but it was still nice knowing he was only next door.
She didn’t even know where Haru lived. She could, at least, pop into the tattoo parlor, figuring her brother went there to visit more often than he should.
Gou locked the door and put on music, uncaring what it was, only desiring noise in the background. She boiled a pot of tea and changed into pajamas—a pair of men’s boxer shorts; an old T-shirt of Rin’s. The shirt once advertised an Australian rock band, but the faded screenprinting was now unrecognizable.
She settled on the couch in front of the window, her palms warmed by the mug of chamomile. The sun was beginning to set, which cast an orange hue over the city. She didn’t have much of a view—the complex’s parking lot was right beneath her window—but on a clear day, she could see mountains in the distance. Now, the sun’s rays were jagged over the mountain peaks, the mountain itself a mere shadow in its light.
There was a knock on the apartment door, and Gou sighed.
It wasn’t Sousuke—his knock was more firm and he always rapped thrice, unlike the two gentle taps on the wooden door. And it obviously wasn’t Rin, who’d be pounding with his fist until she finally opened up. Gou set her still-warm tea on the pile of magazines that acted as an end table.
It wasn’t until she opened the door that she wished she was wearing something besides an old T-shirt and a pair of boxer shorts.
“Oh!” Makoto took a step backward, palms up like he was about to shield his eyes. He put his hands in his pockets instead. “I-I’m sorry, is this a bad time?”
Gou blinked at him, one hand still on the knob. “No,” she replied. She stepped aside, and he hesitated before stepping into her apartment.
Makoto looked strange in his street clothes—common clothes. He was dressed like an old man, in loose jeans and a flannel shirt. He hadn’t taken his hands from his pockets, but she could see him clench and unclench his fists. “I’m sorry for not calling before coming over, but Haru didn’t have your phone number.”
She closed the door with her back. “Huh?”
“He told me your sink was broken?”
If she’d had anything resembling a conversation with Haru, the status of her sink would not have been it. What the hell was he—
Gou smiled, twisting the lock on the doorknob behind her back. Just her smile seemed to settle poor, nervous Makoto, who was still looking around the apartment like it was an alternate dimension, a place he wasn’t sure he should exist. “Yes!” Gou beamed. “My sink. In the kitchen. Well, not broken. I . . . I dropped an earring. Stupid, I know.”
“Not at all! I’ve been getting my sister’s jewelry out of pipes for years!” Makoto followed her to the kitchen, too closely; if she stopped short he would’ve crashed into her, and the prospect was tempting. Instead, she lead him to the sink. He wasted no time in crouching down, opening the cabinet to reveal the tubing beneath. When his head disappeared into the cabinet, Gou quickly dropped an earring stud down the drain.
“You have a sister?” she asked, stepping back.
“Mmm hmm!” Makoto’s voice was muffled. “A sister and a brother. They’re twins.” He sat back on his haunches, propping his hands on his muscular thighs. “Do you have a bucket? This could get messy.”
She didn’t have a bucket, but they made do with a mixing bowl. Gou sat on the countertop, swinging her legs, watching as Makoto’s head disappeared under the sink again. It was an awkward position for him; his shoulders didn’t fit into the space, and kept on knocking against the door. He banged the back of his head once, but held in a shriek of pain.
Gou bit down on her bottom lip. Despite the ratty-looking flannel shirt, she could still see his back muscles contract as he worked. When he removed the pipe the scent of sewage filled the kitchen, and he coughed as the foul water spilled into the mixing bowl.
“Sorry it’s a gross job,” Gou said.
“At least it’s not the bathroom!” He forced a laugh. “You’d be surprised how much hair gets caught in the trap.”
She knew exactly how much hair got caught in the trap, having fished her and Chigusa’s earrings out of the pipes before.
“Found it!” Makoto sat back, victorious, holding the tiny stud between thumb and forefinger. “You’re lucky it didn’t get washed away.”
Gou bounced down off the countertop and extended a hand. He pressed the stud into her palm, his finger warm where it made contact. “I haven’t used the sink a lot since I dropped it,” she said, which was true enough. “Want some tea? I just made it.”
The tea in the pot was still warm, though Gou’s was not; she dumped her mug and refreshed it. Makoto waited in the living room, which gave her a chance to breathe. If he was bothered that she was still only wearing men’s underwear, he didn’t say anything.
When she returned to the living room, he was sitting on the couch with his hands on his knees, sitting so straight it was like a board was strapped to his back. He relaxed a little when she passed over the mug of tea.
“You have a nice view,” he said, turning toward the window.
She grinned. “Nicer than my brother’s.”
It wasn’t entirely true—their views were nearly identical—but Gou wasn’t paying much attention to the view. Not when Makoto was now leaned over the back of the couch, neck stretched out as he looked down to street level.
Thank you, Haru, she thought, visually tracing the lines of Makoto’s muscles.
When there was a pounding at the door Makoto glanced at it, curious, but Gou knew that knock—and she knew her visitor would be none too pleased. There was another impatient rap before she reached the door, and she heard his muttering before swinging it open. Rin stood with his hand still poised to knock, but quickly pushed his hands into his pockets. “Yo, sis.”
She leaned against the doorframe. “Hey.”
“Sousuke said you were— Makoto?”
Her apartment was small. Small enough that, standing at the front door, the entirety of the living room was visible without crossing the threshold.
Makoto sat ramrod straight, the mug trembling in his hands. “Hi, Rin.”
Gou tossed her hair over her shoulder. “I have company.”
Rin’s eyes whipped back and forth from Gou to Makoto, then back to Gou. A vein pulsed in his neck. “Put some clothes on!”
Makoto looked around frantically, holding his mug out, searching for a place to drop it. With a lack of tables—they only had the unsteady stack of magazines—he set it on the floor and then bolted up from the couch. “I was just leaving! I have to go to work!” He thanked Gou for no apparent reason before rushing past them, head lowered to avoid their eyes. Rin and Gou both craned their necks around the doorframe, watching him scurry down the empty hall toward the stairs.
“Do you think,” Gou said, slowly closing the door, “that you could not ruin something for me, just once?”
“Ruin? You’re naked and you had a man in your apartment!”
Gou grabbed the discarded mug off the floor. “I am not naked, and we were just talking!”
“You could’ve put on some clothes!”
If Rin had truly wanted to spend time with his sister, his plans had been thwarted. He left in a huff and she bolted the door behind him, then stormed around the apartment to get properly dressed. She grunted as she threw the beloved T-shirt into the corner of her bedroom, a minor act of defiance. She furiously typed out text messages to Rin that she didn’t send. She grabbed her bike helmet, not bothering with a jacket as she left.
It wasn’t until she was on the road that she wished she had brought a jacket. It wasn’t cold, but the tank top she’d pulled from her closet wasn’t enough when cruising at seventy kilometers per hour. Goose bumps prickled her arms, and she welcomed the chill in her spine. It cooled her burning cheeks; it forced her to breathe, but it didn’t change her mind about her brother being an ass.
Haru’s parlor was still open. She pulled up to the front, the blue neon sign welcoming. There was another bike parked outside which—blissfully—did not belong to a Samezuka. Gou rubbed the goose bumps from her biceps before disembarking. A sign was hung on the front door, reading “tattoo in progress,” so she was quiet when she went in.
Haru was half-hidden behind a curtain, and the dull buzz of a tattoo machine could be heard beneath the music. If it could be called music—Gou felt like she’d stepped onto the beach, with the sounds of gentle waves and seagulls. The only thing missing was the sand between her toes. Haru didn’t even look up, and she wondered about the tattoo’s progress. She wondered who it was, and what he was getting. Instead, she leaned on the counter and aimlessly flipped through the binder. Rin’s tattoo was in the front, like Haru enjoyed showing it off the most.
It wasn’t long before Haru was sitting up, telling his client to take a break as he switched colors. “Hello, Gou,” he said, as he bled out the red ink.
“I’m getting a tattoo,” she replied.
He peered up, squinted at her, and shook his head. “No.”
“What do you mean, no? I’m a paying customer.”
“You’re angry.” He leaned back over the machine. “You shouldn’t accept the ink when you’re emotional.”
“You’re just as annoying as he is.”
Haru lifted an eyebrow, but turned back to the client. She couldn’t see who it was from her vantage point; the curtain concealed him from public view. “I’m working,” he replied. If it was her cue to leave, she didn’t take it. Gou plopped down on the floor, leaning against the wall, determined to stay until they were finished.
She closed her eyes, listening to the hum of the machine. The client didn’t make a sound at all, and Haru didn’t force conversation. After time she forgot she was in a tattoo parlor at all; she didn’t even hear the machine anymore, and the soft background noise almost made her feel like she was dozing at the shore.
She didn’t realize she’d fallen asleep until Haru was prodding her with his toe.
Gou groaned, rubbing her head as she sat up. Only the emergency light was on overhead, and Haru had a messenger bag slung over one shoulder.
“You fell asleep,” Haru said. He sat cross-legged on the floor and offered her a bottle of water. She drank half of it in one gulp.
“Thanks for the handyman,” she said.
Haru’s smile was barely perceptible.
“Would’ve been better if my stupid brother didn’t come over, too.”
“Oh.” His face fell. “He’s harder to predict. Still want a tattoo?”
“Not right now.” Gou picked at the bottle’s label. “Need a ride home?” She wasn’t surprised that he had a helmet behind the counter.
Gou wasn’t accustomed to passengers on her motorcycle. Haru was taller than she, and couldn’t find a good grip when they mounted the bike. “Don’t you ride with my brother all the time?”
He shifted his arms down around her waist. “I can’t grab your chest.”
“Ugh. Please stop.”
He didn’t live far—Haru admitted he usually walked to work—but she liked feeling him on her back, shouting directions in her ear. The ride was too short; they pulled in front of the building just as she was getting her groove.
Haru disembarked, standing on the sidewalk holding his helmet with both hands. He looked at her bike, then at the ground, before meeting her eye. “Sorry about Rin.”
Gou flipped up her visor. “What?”
“He’s been staying with me a lot. I’m sorry he hasn’t been spending time with you.”
In public, Haru was quiet and mysterious. But with just the two of them, she could read what he felt. He was too sincere; he was cute with his brutal honesty. He wasn’t saying anything she didn’t already know, but she smiled. “Are you kidding? I should thank you for giving me a break.”
“If you want another tattoo,” he said, “you should come to me.”
“Why? Family freebies?”
He smiled as he looked away. “No.”
Gou lowered the visor and revved the engine, smiling though Haru couldn’t see through the helmet. “Hey, Haru!” He looked up again. “Think your handyman wants to paint my kitchen?”
He offered a half-shrug. “I’ll ask.”
It was growing colder when she got back on the road, but she accelerated faster to feel the wind on her skin. She grinned as she turned for home, spying Rin’s motorcycle in the parking lot. She pulled into her own designated space, right beside his, and looked up at his window.
His blinds were open and his figure took up half the window. He wasn’t looking at the lot; he stared at the mountains and the trace moonlight that illuminated them. Gou sat sideways on her bike, watching, until he looked down.
Rin’s eyes widened and he threw open the window. There was no screen, so he stuck his head all the way out. “Where have you been?” he shouted. “It’s ten thirty at night!”
Gou threw her head back and laughed. “I love you, big brother!”
“Get inside!” Rin slammed the window but still stood before it, his smile clear even from a distance.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket; it was an unknown number, but she didn’t have to ask to know who it was.
Here’s M’s number. Says he’ll paint the kitchen.
She hugged her phone to her chest, humming as she bounded for the door.