Chapter Text
Akihito flips through the stack of photographs again. He places it on his desk, massages his temples, and sighs. Planning for an exhibit is very different from both criminal photography and advertising photoshoots. The paper can only fit one – or maybe a few – photographs per story, and he only has a handful of shots to choose from, each a little different. It’s usually easy to pick out the best one to draw the readers’ attention and help tell the story: the one that shows the politician’s hand receiving the stack of money from the bribing businessman, for example.
Advertising pictures are a little more difficult. He might take dozens of similar photographs at a photoshoot, but at least the director has a vision of what he’s looking for, and if he articulates that to Akihito, Akihito can narrow down the choices to present to the director. The director ultimately selects the final photographs, and Akihito makes any modifications requested.
This exhibit, though, is an entirely new format for Akihito. He took most of the photographs of the cats without anything in mind other than “The kittens are cute; I want to remember this time I have with them.” Therefore, the pictures don’t tell a story or fit a particular theme other than “kittens.” And that makes selecting the photographs for the exhibit difficult.
Asami knocks on his workroom door.
“Come in,” Akihito calls out.
Asami enters and hands Akihito a steaming mug of coffee.
“Thanks.” Akihito takes a big sip, sets the cup down, stands, and stretches.
“Working on the exhibit again?” Asami asks.
“Yeah. I need to pick the final photos soon so I can start making the prints and decide how I want to display them. I have a meeting with my mentor tomorrow to get his feedback, but I feel like I should have a general idea of what I want to do before the meeting.” Akihito gestures towards his computer screen. “Kou made me a basic 3D mock-up of the cat café, but if anything, I find it a bit overwhelming. Saitō-san, the owner, says most artists display anywhere from 20 to 40 pieces. I have about fifty that I think are good quality, but I don’t know how to narrow it down from there.”
“You want to tell a story, right?” Asami asks. He gestures at the pile. “May I?”
“Go ahead.” Akihito starts pacing back and forth. “Sure, I want to tell a story. The theme ‘cats’ is obvious, but I want something a little more than that. I thought of mother-and-child, but I only have about eight good ones of Momoe and the kittens that don’t include Toshi.”
It was easy to persuade Nakamura, Momoe’s owner, to sign a release granting Akihito exclusive rights to the photos he took of Momoe. Since Akihito and Asami own Amaya and Shiro, he doesn’t need a release to use their images, but Hitoshi, their brother, belongs to the owner of the stud used to breed Momoe.
“You need Hitoshi’s owner’s permission to use Hitoshi’s image? Even though he didn’t technically own Hitoshi yet when the pictures were taken?” Asami raises his eyebrows.
“Technically, he owned Toshi as soon as Toshi was born,” Akihito explains. “Nakamura-san said she couldn’t sign a release for him, and when I contacted Toshi’s owner, he said he’d only sign a release if he could receive 50% of the gross sales from anything using Toshi’s image – plus a minimum 10,000-yen fee for each event at which I display any image of Toshi, scaling up depending on the size of the event.”
“That’s extortion,” Asami says. “You should send him a bill for Hitoshi’s care.”
Akihito shrugs. “I don’t want to make trouble for Nakamura-san. The easy solution is to just not use any of the pictures with Hitoshi. He gets no money, and I don’t have to worry about him suing me.”
“Are there other themes you’re considering?” Asami asks.
“Sure. Human-and-cat bonds. I’ve got about twenty decent pictures of that, but since the ones with you show as little of you as possible, and the ones with me also rarely show my face since I prefer candid shots and have to do those from behind the camera…” Akihito shrugs. “A few of those shots would be okay, but it’d be weird for the whole show to be just that. And then there’s sibling rivalry, but the best of those had Hitoshi and Shiro. Shiro doesn’t really pick on Amaya, probably because she just comes crying to me and lets him win, so it’s no fun for Shiro. And last, there’s playtime. But most of those are technically problematic because the cats move so fast, it’s hard to catch them in focus. Some of the issues can be fixed with cropping, but I still only have about a dozen.”
Asami frowns. “What about the last ten pictures?”
Akihito has seen it enough not to be shocked anymore by Asami’s ability to do arithmetic in his head with seemingly no effort while apparently concentrating on other things. “They’re random, cute pictures. Bath time. Eating. Things like that.”
“Hmm,” Asami says. “Your themes all have one thing in common.”
“What’s that?” Akihito asks.
“Relationships,” Asami says, handing the stack back to Akihito. “That’s a theme, right?”
Akihito gapes at him.
“Why do you look so surprised?” Asami asks. “I’ve been to a number of exhibits. I’m not totally clueless about art.”
“That’s not it. I’m just shocked I didn’t think of it myself. I guess I should go see more exhibits myself. I haven’t been to one since Kawase-shishō dragged me to one. I think the last time he did was three years ago. I embarrassed him by wearing jeans.”
Asami eyes him suspiciously. “What are you planning to wear to your exhibit?”
“My suit. I’ve grown up a little since then, you know. Though in my defense, I was planning to wear my suit, but I got stuck late at work and had to go straight to the exhibit. I thought it’d be ruder to be late than to show up in jeans.”
Asami continues to eye him skeptically. “The gray suit you wore to Club Sion?”
“Yeah… I plan to get it altered, though! I know it doesn’t fit me that well…”
“Alterations won’t really fix the problems with that suit,” Asami says. “The shoulders are too broad, which can’t be fixed with simple alterations. And the lines don’t really suit your figure. Something with a more modern cut would show off your sexy physique better.”
Akihito rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s all I’ve got. I don’t have room in my budget for a new suit right now. I’ve got to pay for the exhibit. The framing alone is going to tear a hole in my savings account.”
Asami clears his throat.
Akihito continues speaking before Asami can make an offer that will embarrass him. “I have plenty of money to cover it. I’ve got a budget, and I’ll make it work. But I’d rather make sure my work is presented in the best light possible than compromise there to buy new clothes I’m rarely going to wear. The suit is good enough.”
“Why not do both?” Asami presses. “I still owe you a White Day present…”
“No, you don’t. We already went over that. You got me a Valentine’s present, too.”
“Mine didn’t cost any money.”
“Sure it did. The candles, the paper, the photos, the ingredients for the gyoza and the rest of dinner, the champagne…”
“But you made me chocolates. And you bought all that spa stuff,” Asami points out.
Akihito rolls his eyes. “That’s why I said we’re even. No White Day. Please. Or I’ll just have to get you something, too.”
Asami frowns. “That would defeat the purpose.”
“Exactly.”
“What about as a present for your first exhibit? Surely it’s traditional to give congratulatory gifts at a time like that,” Asami says.
Akihito eyes him skeptically. “I’ve never heard of such a tradition.”
“It’s your first exhibit. How would you know?” Asami says.
Akihito shakes his head. “Maybe something like flowers or chocolates, maybe champagne. Something small. Not a designer suit.”
“Then… Ochugen? It’s nearly June.”
“We don’t work together. And anyway, a designer suit would be too expensive for Ochugen.”
“Do I really need an occasion? Can’t I just get it for you because I want to?” Asami asks.
Akihito picks up his coffee and takes a long sip. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?” he asks.
“Why are you?” Asami retorts.
“Because… Because it’s a slippery slope. I’m already living here with you rent-free.”
“You do all the chores and cook delicious meals for me.”
“That isn’t worth half the rent.”
“Sure it is. Once you factor in the money you spend on groceries.”
Akihito’s eyebrows shoot up. “You must have paid your housekeeper really well then. Especially once you add in the maintenance fees, utilities, and parking fees.”
“You’re not using half the space,” Asami counters. “Anyway, I was already paying the entire rent by myself. The extra utilities are more than offset by the food expenses you’re covering. The savings for the housekeeper would more than cover the rent for a single room here.”
Akihito rolls his eyes. “And the cost of building the darkroom? With all the fancy ventilation and the plumbing?” He turns and starts pacing again.
“If you’re going to have a chemical laboratory in our home, you’ve got to be safe about it,” Asami points out. “You’re lucky you didn’t poison yourself the way you jerry-rigged it at your old place. Anyway, that was my choice, so of course I should have covered the additional expenses.”
“It’s still a slippery slope. I don’t want you to think that I’m with you because of what you can buy me.”
Asami laughs. “I would never think that. You’re the most unmaterialistic person I’ve ever met.”
“But if I start to accept such lavish gifts, I might reach a point where I come to expect them. I never want to do that to you,” Akihito protests.
Asami sighs. “So what’s ‘lavish’ to you?”
“I don’t know.” Akihito pauses to gaze out the window. “Something I couldn’t buy for myself. Something more than what a normal person would give.”
“I’m normal,” Asami says.
Akihito giggles at that. “Normal? You?! Sorry, you’re a lot of things, but normal is definitely not one of them.”
“I think a normal person would give a nice outfit for someone to wear to their first exhibit, though,” Asami protests.
Akihito rolls his eyes. “Sure, maybe a nice dress for a woman. But they wouldn’t spend more than ten thousand yen, probably.”
“For a really big occasion, wouldn’t twenty to thirty thousand yen be more appropriate?” Asami asks.
“Maybe for a parent…” Akihito concedes.
“What about a koibito?” Asami asks, wrapping his arms around Akihito.
Akihito’s face flushes. “That’s still different. Ten thousand yen is the limit. And that’s only for a special occasion.”
Akihito can feel Asami’s sigh ruffling his hair.
“Fine. So if I don’t spend more than ten-thousand yen, you’ll accept it?”
Akihito groans. “I suppose I’d have to after saying all that.”
“You’re one tough negotiator, Takaba Akihito. Though you’re the only person I’ve ever had to talk into accepting more than was initially asked of me.”
“I didn’t ask for anything!” Akihito protests.
“I know.” Asami kisses Akihito’s cheek. “I should add ‘You’re frugal’ to the jar” (referring to a jar which Asami filled with notes and photographs of the things he loves about Akihito for Valentine’s Day).
“You really don’t need to keep adding to it,” Akihito grumbles. “Besides, I’m not sure that’s a compliment coming from you.”
“Sure it is,” Asami says. “Anyway, I’m hungry. Ready for some breakfast?” His smirk indicates that he has something other than food on his mind.
“If you bring out that apron one more time…” Akihito threatens.
“You can’t fool me. If you really hated it, you’d have used your safe word by now,” Asami whispers in his ear.
Akihito gives him a sharp jab to the stomach with his elbow.
“You’re going to pay for that one,” Asami growls.
He picks Akihito up and throws him over his shoulder. As he opens the door, Akihito starts thrashing, trying to escape, and Asami gives him a resounding smack on his bottom. Akihito squeals.
“Ow,” Asami says. Before Akihito can ask what happened, Asami is squatting down.
“What are you doing?” Akihito cries.
Asami doesn’t answer. As Asami stands back up, Akihito suddenly feels several sharp little pricks on his bottom.
“Is that Amaya?” he guesses.
“She bit my ankle. I think she thought I was hurting you because you squealed like a pig.” Asami continues to make his way to the bedroom.
“I didn’t sound like a pig! Can you hold her still? She’s using her claws to hold on, and my jeans aren’t that thick.”
“If she won’t bite me again,” Asami says. He places his hand firmly on Amaya’s back. After a few steps, he says, “She’s purring. She must be an M, too.”
“She’s probably stressed out. Cats purr when they’re stressed, not just when they’re happy.” Akihito fidgets a bit more, but it only causes Amaya to dig her nails in deeper, so he gives up – for now.
“So you finally admit you’re an M?” Asami teases as he opens the bedroom door. He quickly shuts the door behind him, locking Shiro out.
“What? I didn’t say anything like that!”
“Then what’s that poking into my shoulder?” Asami asks.
He grabs Amaya by the scruff of her neck and lets Akihito fall onto the bed. As Asami heads to the door to put Amaya out, she meows plaintively while kicking her legs, trying to break free.
“Aw, at least let her know I’m alright first,” Akihito protests.
Asami sighs and hands the cat to Akihito.
“I’m alright, girl. We were just playing. Sorry we scared you.” As soon as she’s in Akihito’s arms, she calms down. He holds her out towards Asami, and she lets out a low growl. “Hey, now! Asami’s our friend, Amaya!” Akihito pets Asami’s arm, then holds Amaya closer to him again. “Hold out your hand.”
Asami complies, and after sniffing it, Amaya licks it, looking up at him with a reproachful look. “I’m sorry, girl,” he croons, petting her head.
After a few seconds, she starts purring, and Akihito walks her to the door. “See ya!” he cries, holding her low and dropping her as he runs off down the hall. Amaya turns tail and runs in the opposite direction, but when Asami comes barreling out of the bedroom, she heads towards the genkan and kitchen.
Dropping Amaya cost him valuable time, and Akihito is slowed down further by the sharp turn to the living room. Why did I run right instead of left? he wonders.
Asami catches him and throws him on the couch. “You’re definitely going to pay for that,” he growls. This time, when he goes to the bedroom, he ignores Amaya and Shiro (who has decided he wants in on the excitement), deftly blocking them from entering the room with one foot as he balances on the other and closes the door. When he clicks the button to open the door to the secret room, Akihito gulps.
After brunch, Akihito heads back to his workroom to work on the exhibit again. Thirty minutes later, he’s fidgeting on his chair, making no progress, when Asami knocks on the door.
“Change into something a little nicer and get your shoes on,” Asami says.
“I’m working right now,” Akihito grumbles.
“I know. This will help,” Asami promises.
“What will?” Akihito grouses, but Asami will give him no additional information as Akihito quickly changes into an Asami-approved outfit (khakis and a button-down shirt).
Yoneda drives them to Sendagaya. When he pulls up to the curb, Akihito grumbles, “We could have walked here, you know. It’s only two kilometers from ho–” He stops abruptly as he recognizes the building. “We’re at the Taka Ishii Gallery.”
“You’ve been here before?” Asami asks.
“Of course. My mentor brought me to a few different exhibits here. Aren’t they closed on Mondays?”
Asami shrugs. “They’re open to their patrons.”
When the curator opens the door for them and bows, greeting them with a “Thank you for your continued support, Asami-sama,” Akihito understands.
“Would you like a tour of the new exhibit, or would you prefer to look at it yourselves?” the curator asks.
“I think we would prefer to observe it for ourselves first,” Asami says, looking at Akihito, who nods in agreement. “But afterwards, my friend here might have some questions for you, if it isn’t too much trouble. He’s preparing for his first exhibit.”
The curator’s eyebrows shoot up. “Where will you be showing?”
Akihito blushes. “It’s a small show at the Neko Bijou Café.” He’s a bit embarrassed to even be talking to the curator of the most famous photography gallery in Tokyo, much less about his exhibit at a cat café.
But the curator simply nods. “So your focus is cats – or do you have a more general interest in all animals?”
Akihito blushes harder. “Actually, I’m a crime photographer for Weekly Headlines. Well, I also do some advertising work, as well.”
The curator’s eyebrows shoot up again. “Has Saitō-san changed her policy regarding subject matter?”
Akihito scratches his head. “No, I don’t think so. The focus of my exhibit will be on cats. It’s not my usual focus, but I helped foster a mother cat and her kittens recently, and I took a lot of photos of them.”
“I see.” As the curator leads the way to the exhibit room, he continues to converse with Akihito. “So you realized that you had enough photos along a single theme to finally have an exhibit?”
Akihito shakes his head. “Actually, I never really thought of having an exhibit. But my friend knows Saitō-san, and she showed her one of the photos I had taken, and Saitō-san said she was interested in hosting an exhibit of my work.”
The curator’s eyebrows continue their workout. “Saitō-san wanted to host you after seeing a single photograph?”
Akihito shrugs. “I thought it was a little strange, too, but after talking to her a bit, she really seems to know what she’s doing, and it’s a good space, so I figured I’d give it a try.”
“I’d love to see that photograph,” the curator muses.
“You can see it at the exhibit,” Asami tells him. “I’ll make sure you receive one of the promotional flyers as soon as they’re printed.”
“You said that you’re a criminal photographer, correct? Do you perhaps know Kawase-sensei?”
“Yes, he’s my mentor.”
“Ah. You must be Takaba Akihito. I’ve heard a lot about you from Kawase-sensei.”
“Really?” Akihito asks. He wonders whether it was good or bad. He’s never met this curator before, so hopefully he didn’t hear about Akihito’s wardrobe faux pas when he last came to an exhibit here.
“You’re the one who got away, the student who ran off to be a journalist instead of continuing your art. He said you have a knack for capturing the secrets people want to keep hidden. You’re technically very proficient, but you’ve never really found anything that can keep your interest long enough for you to develop a distinctive style.”
Akihito blushes again. Kawase has never said anything good about Akihito’s work to Akihito himself. The best he’s ever heard is “Hmm. Not bad.”
“Kawase-shishō is an excellent teacher, but I still have a lot to learn. I figured this exhibit would be part of the learning process.”
“Well, I look forward to seeing your photographs. Look around for as long as you like, and then I’ll answer any questions you have about hosting your own exhibit.”
“Thank you.”
Asami stands back, allowing Akihito to set the pace. Akihito leads the way around the room, pausing to study each photograph in turn. He spends much less time on the mixed media pieces. After he’s finished a first tour of the room, he goes through the exhibit again, focusing less on each individual piece and more on how the pieces work with their neighbors.
“What’s up with the stools?” he mutters. “How is this art? And why is it called ‘twelve’?”
Asami clears his throat.
“I didn’t say that too loud, did I?” Akihito asks, looking around for the curator. “But seriously, I don’t get how you can call this art.” He yelps and grabs his buttocks. “What the heck? It vibrates?” He glares at Asami. “I still can’t believe you made me wear this thing in public. Do that again, and I’m removing it. What if someone noticed?”
“What if someone heard you insulting an eminent artist showcasing their works here?” Asami retorts. But he slips the remote control back in his pocket.
“Sorry,” Akihito mutters. He pulls out his phone and starts typing.
“What are you doing now?” Asami asks.
“Since I don’t get it, I’m looking it up,” Akihito explains. “It says she explores time and space, especially as it pertains to memory, incorporating the space where the art is installed. These stools were found.” He walks around the stools, observing how their display complements the other pieces, frowning. “I still don’t get it. I mean, I can see it all works together, I guess, but I could never come up with something like that.”
“No one is asking you to,” Asami says.
Akihito examines the photographs one more time. “I was wrong before. I only have about ten good photos. I need to take more.”
“Are you ready to ask some questions?” Asami asks.
“I guess,” Akihito says. “I wish I’d known where we were going so I could prepare the questions in advance. I don’t want to ask anything stupid, or something I should have already known.”
“If you thought about it too long, you probably would end up asking things you could have found out online. Just keep it general, like ‘What are the most common mistakes you see first-time exhibitors making?’” Asami suggests.
Akihito nods.
After a brief conversation with the curator, they climb back into the car.
“How are you feeling now?” Asami asks.
“I don’t know. I think I’ve got a better grasp of all the things I need to do for the exhibit, but it didn’t really help with the immediate issue of selecting which photos to show, much less where to place them. The gallery is so different from the cat café. There, my photos will be competing with living, breathing cats for attention. I don’t really want them to compete, though. If I could find a way for them to work together…”
“I think the next place we’re going will help you with that issue,” Asami says mysteriously.
“Where is that?” Akihito asks, but Asami distracts him by pulling out his remote again.