Fic for randomicicle
Title: Blossom
Characters: Kame, Jin, Pi
Pairing: Kame/Pi, hints of Akame
Word count: 5,330
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: For Randomicicle with my compliments.
Summary: His lover's strange behavior prompts Kazuya to plan a secluded vacation and prefaces a revelation.
Something was on his mind. That had to be it. Something was on his mind that was making him act distracted and just odd. Kazuya had never realized before how very much even this small mystery provoked him. Jin had only been back for half of his most recent 6 weeks home and he’d observed aloud what had eluded Kazuya’s conscious mind for the entire time since the accident. Tomahisa was decidedly changed.
When he walked now, he tended to walk alone. When he talked and laughed, it was the speech and the small nervous snicker of someone whose thoughts are somewhere else.
Of course I’m listening. Yes, the conciliatory answers, but then Kazuya considered, a person wouldn’t have to answer at all if someone hadn’t asked - and someone wouldn’t have asked if there’d been no reason.
He found himself standing on the sidewalk on a raw spring evening, the kind that is not quite comfortable, not quite dark enough and yet not light. He looked back over his shoulder and felt an empty space within. He’d just left the apartment. Walking to where he usually parked so as not to be seen coming and going he’d slowed and then stopped. Their evenings together had become so bland. They were going through motions, the greetings, the meals, the intimacy, at least, he thought, the physicality, watching a show, sometimes a nap; all the seemingly easy familiarity of lovers - all only surface skimming.
What am I doing? He thought of the bottomless black of Pi’s eyes, the secrets at their depths that he’d not been given any clues to unravel. He was not a simple man though you had to know him before you perceived the myriad complexities. Kazuya had been drawn in, the charms, the careless grace and magnetism. Was he playing?
There’s nothing. There’s….no, that’s not right. There is Something. I feel it. Should I worry? he asked, asking really in his monologue to self, ‘is it over?’ Pi was non-committal.
On the sofa, their ritual, the unspoken green lights, the closeness had, for Kazuya, become almost service. Pi resting in his usual spot against the comforting warmth of the aged leather - yet he wasn’t really there, not in mind. Kazuya was about to speak, the rehearsed questions swimming, jostling on his tongue, ready to launch when the other man started. A sound escaped, a rush of air being suddenly sucked in.
Then he was looking, eyes wide, straight into Kazuya’s.
What is it?
He seemed to consider.
Nothing, I…did you…” he began then hesitated and Kazuya was suddenly reminded of fishing trips with his father. There was an art to reeling in a fish, a ritual that was not unlike a dance.
“Did I what?” He calmed his voice. It was placid and reassuring. Pi looked up and his inscrutable expression made Kazuya sit down quickly. He reached out and placed his hand on Pi’s knee, caressing, caring. Whatever this was, and he knew it was important, they would face it, he would be there for his friend, his very special friend.
“I just want to know,” he began and he bit the corner of his Cupid’s lip. “Did you see anything…just now? Hear anything?” His onyx eyes flashed up once, then back.
After a moment Pi seemed about to speak. Kazuya waited. He considered that the other man was pausing for affect but after a moment, a chill seemed to have crept into the room. He moved closer, seeking warmth. Kazuya wasn’t sure what to make it but he knew that he felt undeniably that Pi wanted to be held. So he gathered his legs up under him and pulled Pi close. He tucked the other man’s head under his chin and pulled the sofa blanket around his shoulders and their breathing eventually slowed. The lights dimmed and the night came.
When Kazuya woke he wasn’t certain at first that he was indeed, awake. In a trance he thought he saw his lover standing on the small balcony. Only dim midnight reflections from the street made him visible. Rain had begun some time in the night and Pi was there being washed by it. His thin pajama pants stuck to his legs like a skin, soaked through and clinging tightly.
*********
“He needs a vacation,” Jin had declared in his simplistic authoritative fashion. “And I can tell him exactly where he needs to go.” It wasn’t often that Jin called anymore. Kazuya had realized some things about him since he’d gone. He could picture him now, his hoodies and shades, his eyes restless, he was probably slouched across some sofa. His languorous positioning could be deceptive. Jin could vault from a seeming stupor to a dance floor pose effortlessly within a nanosecond, though Kazuya had noted, he rarely accomplished this gracefully. Nonetheless, Kazuya had been alarmed more than once with Jin’s physical prowess and inclination to exchange horizontal to vertical positioning without warning.
“It’s definitely more than that,” Kazuya went on. He imagined Jin itching to text instead, imagined him grinning at some clever tidbit and thumbing more quickly than Kazuya would have thought possible for Jin. Kazuya found himself frowning. This is why, he thought. He could sense that Jin had lost interest in the conversation practically before it’d started. His mood had always been easy to decipher. Slick and superficial, he thought, that was why Jin loved the celebrity. Pi was an ocean depth in comparison. Though there were claims they were best friends, Kazuya wondered how much Pi and Jin actually did have in common lately. When the call was over Kazuya felt again a relief. Love, and losing, such strange consequences came about.
Ueda had taken up a new hobby, between steps and at wait times during rehearsals. He twined a thin length of rope with his fingers, creating a knotted piece, more decorative and much stronger. After only a week his touch became more agile and he could twist and pull it quickly. He made a wristband and gave it to Kazuya with a slight smile one day as they left a rehearsal. When he thanked his quiet friend and asked what might have been the occasion for a gift Ueda answered, ‘You work hard.’
It was true. Work was Kazuya’s gift to himself. He knew his efforts at self-mastery paid off in that arena at least. Other efforts could not be said to return the same level of benefit. Love was one of these other efforts. It was an entirely different matter.
‘I could never see why you bothered.’ Ueda had said frankly. ‘Jin is Jin.’
However much he might have wanted to protest, Kazuya knew there was no arguing with such simple wisdom. Jin was beyond explanation. Yet now that he thought about this in light of Pin’s mysterious behavior, Jin’s inexplicable persona was somehow easy to analyze and his reactions simple to anticipate. He was a physical person who craved and delighted and communicated best through physical means. He mostly wanted to dance, to push, to make love, or Kazuya thought sadly, to walk away.
Somewhere around the time Jin was planning the LA language visit, Kazuya had felt an unaccustomed stirring, a scent of a freedom that he hadn’t known he’d craved. The pungent jealousies, the obsessions and drama, seemed like a culture, a way of life from which there was no escape. But Jin had let him fly free as easily as a balloon escapes a child’s hand. There’d been no scene, no place where he could mark an ending. The truth was he thought that Jin had lost interest. His surge toward western music and international stardom had become his new focus. Ties with Japan were easily loosened. Kazuya remembered feeling as though Jin had simply outgrown him. He hadn’t even known that he’d grieved. His habit had always been to focus on work when emotions became bothersome. He hadn’t even realized he’d been working so much, that his friends found it troubling.
Jin had been gone 2 months when Pi approached him. ‘Come out with me. Let’s get some dinner,’ he’d said. The friendship that they’d enjoyed for years blossomed without warning or plan. One drunken evening, after Pi had nuzzled him, his surprise had prompted Pi to explain, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’ Kazuya thought, that statement had been pure truth.
Pi liked to walk. He would put on his peacoat and leave, bareheaded, hands in his pockets. He liked to skip stones into canals or stand beneath trees and watch birds overhead. He was quiet and thoughtful where Jin had been always a boisterous five year old. He thought things through before speaking. Speaking was something he wasn’t doing lately, Kazuya’d observed.
Pi wore only black. The contrast with his skin, the complement to his glossy hair was dynamically attractive. His toned body, swathed in black caught the eye, Kazuya especially, couldn’t look away. He must know he’s like a magnet to me, Kazuya thought. He went behind the scenes, presenting his oh-such-a-logical case that the powers to be within JE simply played into his hand. It was a soft gift of manipulation that he had developed early on, a tender persuasion and something he had realized he would need to survive in the grueling world. He procured for them a much needed three days away. He’d given the vacation religious undertones and authorities had even offered to fund the transportation costs. Kazuya had bowed, barely able to conceal a ghost of a smile at his triumph.
They’d taken a small cabin in the Hagi inlets. The dark blue of the water was visible from the landing but the walk to reach the foot of the hill took over twenty minutes. The path wound down and around, at times over gravel, at other times, planks and sometimes just trodden earth. Before they went up for the first time they carried up some groceries, vegetables, tea and sake and blankets that the proprietor insisted they take even though the weather was mild. Pi’s mood seemed at once to improve.
Early the first morning they hiked out. Memories surrounded Kazuya, of their many walks together. He had delighted in the sensory pleasure of them. In this they had always seemed equally enthralled. Early on in their relationship, it had been on one of their walks Kazuya noted that Pi seemed always to have some cracker or crust in his pocket to tear and toss for the birds. A boyish smile of satisfaction lit Pi’s face as he watched his efforts result in several fluttering creatures hopping and pecking at the edge of the path. The only explanation Kazuya’s indulgent expression ever received was the one hushed confession. ‘I like the birds.’
Now, the deeper they walked into the park Pi seemed to be expecting something to emerge from between the trees. He had a faraway look. The quiet between them lately had not been full of the humming anticipation of closeness to be shared later, but seemed instead to be merely vacant. Pi was not really paying attention. They walked through a more popular area, passing more travelers. They passed benches and a pavilion. They passed an area where families were gathered, with wooden beams that the children balanced upon, laughing and teetering. They passed a melodic waterway and walked over its arching footbridge. They moved along a path paved with clean white stones and lined with thick wooden blocks. Pi sighed deeply and Kazuya held out his hand. At one time he might have taken it. At one time the gesture might have begun a conversation about relationships, or morals, or just Pi and Kazuya. This time the slight movement caused Tomahisa to jump, vaulting nimbly to the left and back. Kazuya thought of films he’d seen, images of startled horses rearing back when frightened.
“I’m sorry,” Kazuya said. He’d been told so many times that it was his way, apologizing, always courteous to the extreme, even for a Japanese man, for whom courtesy was assumed to be ingrained. Pi looked into his face bewildered, as if he couldn’t fathom why he’d done what he had done.
“What is it? Is it the children?”
The other man nodded.
“The fountain, then. Is it the fountain? The water?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Pi’s face, Kazuya noted, was no less beautiful in his bewilderment than in any alluring photo shoot.
“I respect that. I would never want you to feel forced to explain something you didn’t want to share with me.”
Pi appeared to recover then, buoyed by his friend’s simple reassurance.
“Thank you,” he said and then, “Let’s go back.”
He hadn’t planned it necessarily but when they had returned to his apartment, Kazuya brought out a bottle of whiskey and poured a shot for each of them. He recalled that he’d once heard alcohol referred to as ‘every man’s confessor’. Maybe he considered, if Pi’s defenses could be relaxed by some good liquor he’d be able to voice what was troubling him. It wasn’t without precedent. Kazuya had seen him laughing, carelessly ordering another round, in the past. Kazuya had been there, pleading prettily for favors, leaving just before the final call, an extra squeeze of fingers in the backseat of the cab. Later he’d seen Pi’s handsome head on his pillows, a sad small drunken smile on his pouty lips before passing out. Whiskey was a good thing. Closeness was even better.
When he thought of Pi fond words came as easily as desires. The words caressed as fingers lingered, sliding each button from its little threaded locket. The black shirt came undone and lips were drawn like magnets to skin smooth as burnished metal. Jin seemed very far away now, something from eons ago, a foolish, adolescent thing. Pi, a heady mystery, was warm and close. When his breath began to come more quickly, Kazuya felt like he was experiencing another level of life. He felt himself come alive in a way he never had before. Pi was like a cat, he thought, sensuous, complex. Jim had been like a dog, jumping up, running off, simple. Pi was not so open and Kazuya was compelled to draw him out. What he said about his deeper dreams and desires had to be coaxed. His mind seemed to be elsewhere but Kazuya had internalized Jin’s blunt advice and planned a short holiday for the two of them.
Hiking and spending time on the beach was what he’d planned for them - on the surface. His motive was to gently draw Pi out. The trip began with his optimistic chatter on the
‘Why did you even agree to come?’ Kazuya quietly asked after they’d walked on in silence for several minutes. There was an apology in the other man’s demeanor. Kazuya had nearly given up hope of receiving an actual verbal reply when Pi spoke,
‘I just want to feel normal again.’
He spoke these words, Kazuya noticed, as they passed a tree that seemed alive with birds. Twittering, peeping, fluttering birds, speaking their natural languages, lending a backdrop to the moment that made Pi’s confession even more confusing. What could be more normal, Kazuya wondered than this afternoon, this place and two friends walking in the sunshine?
“I know you don’t understand,” Pi said. Kazuya slowed his steps, the chattering of the birds fading as he concentrated. A memory of Jin interrupted his thoughts, I don’t expect you to understand, he’d said. It had been so different then, vastly different. Jin’s declaration had been derision, an excuse to pursue his own path without guilt or qualms. Pi’s confession was apologetic, a soft plea asking for an opportunity to explain. Kazuya gave it.
“I’d like to.”
Pi looked up and fully into the other man’s eyes. Kazuya couldn’t help the little half smile of encouragement that blossomed spontaneously on his lips. He thought that Pi was about to echo it but there came a flash of light reflecting from a ship’s bell, or the gleam of sunshine off some white surface of a boat and Pi turned his head suddenly toward the water and shuddered.
* * * * * * * * *
Pi had promised that after dinner they would talk in depth. He seemed relieved and was more lighthearted over their meal of tempura fish, seaweed and pickles than Kazuya had seen him in weeks. He watched Pi eating, looking up and smiling briefly as though a weight had been taken off. Kazuya hadn’t anticipated this schoolboy feeling. It felt again like the early days. They’d delighted in each other. For a short while Jin had been a worry but the allure of America, of stardom had won Jin in the end. Kazuya had felt him slip away. He let the thought thread slide, too. Pi was across the table, and a short while later, settled in a corner of the sofa, cradling a drink.
“Everybody knows how Jin nearly drowned that time,” Pi began. He swirled the liquor in his glass. “Nobody really knows about what happened to me.”
Kazuya felt an urge to turn his head to the right. Past the lilting shadows of trees, purple and deep blue in the light of the moon he could see the ever moving reflections across the surface of the restless water. It was true that Jin had been accidently thrown into the sea as a child. Still, he loved the water. His psyche was not harmed by the incident. Oceans opened up for him. Every rising sun meant for him another day of adventure. Jin had been the experience of the full and colorful blaze of summer. Pi was the late autumn, the last yearning warmth before winter began.
Sitting in the cool of the day Kazuya realized that Pi was vastly different. Though Jin and Yamapi were cohorts, it was Pi’s rebellious youth that he shared with Akanishi, not, Kazuya saw now, his inner self.
“Up until just a little while ago, I thought I’d forgotten all about her.” Pi sought his eyes. “I thought I’d maybe even made it up, …as a kid.”
Kazuya cleared his throat, “Her?”
“It’s going to seem crazy, I know, I…” Pi sighed. He took a swallow of the amber liquid and spoke.
“I must have been 7 or 8 years old. My mother’s youngest brother, Hiro would take me with him sometimes. He was kind of a show off but I loved the way he would tell stories. He was always telling stories. We’d walk along the lake edge and he’d run across a tree that was leaning sideways and crouch down, saying he was the rogue ninja waiting to attack a passerby. He’d jump up in the air and land really quiet. He was play acting for me the whole time.” A shadow of a smile flickered on Pi’s lips as he recalled. “I wanted to be like him.”
Kazuya fell quiet. Pi was traveling back in time.
“One time, we found a doll off the path, near the water, an old cloth doll. I didn’t think much of it at first, but Hiro changed all of a sudden. He got quiet and made me go back to the path. He took me home right away. It was too early to go. That’s the way I knew something was wrong. I never found out what happened until years later.”
Kazuya was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
“What happened?” he asked, almost whispering.
Pi angled the glass back against his opened mouth and finished the drink.
“In the morning.”
Kazuya felt that night that there was an unmistakable abandon in their lovemaking. When his lover sighed, he was never so sure that it was a sound, not only of pleasure and release, but of relief. Whatever he had been holding in by way of an unshared secret was now opening up and giving him the joy of freedom.
*****************
When Kazuya awoke it was to the delicate aroma of tea. He found Pi sitting near the window dipping his hand into a bowl of plums and flexing his bare toes. With morning light angling gently in, Kazuya felt sure he’d never seen a more pleasing face, or one of which he was more fond. He sat down opposite his friend and allowed himself to appreciate the companionship. Pi dabbed an overabundance of plum juice from his mouth with the back of his hand.
That day when they walked the mood was different. Kazuya felt an anticipation, but not the type he’d felt 24 hours ago. Yesterday, it could have been anything - today it was an abandoned doll and a walk around a lake. Nothing much there to dread, nothing dark or unmanageable. Today Pi wasn’t dressed in black. He wore blue jeans softened with age, obviously a favorite pair, and a deep green polo shirt. His black hair moved gently around his face, touched by breeze off the water. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but Kazuya reasoned that he was more open simply because he was swinging his arms, his movements appearing looser, less tense. They had packed a simple lunch, energy and protein bars, then set off after breakfast to hike the undulating ridge just beyond the market area.
Their conversation was light, they spoke of Shuji and Akira, and how Jin had been, for all intents and purposes, pushed aside by both of them. They’d spent a year working together. The magic that had happened with Jin before that, for Kazuya, had never come back. He glanced to his left, to the handsome man walking beside him. Yamapi had been another guy in the talent stable, another talented youngster being groomed for profit but on the set of Nobuta, Kazuya had come to see him as something more, someone he could talk to. There was a resonance between them.
When they stopped for lunch, Kazuya had developed a sweat from the last hour of climb without rest. They broke through the cover of trees to a sunlit area with a sweeping view of the bay. The white sails of boats for the tourist trade flecked the water. The breeze was welcomed as they pulled their daypacks around and chose between them which rocks to sit upon. After they’d munched and drank water from their bottles Kazuya felt warm and sated, exhilarated by the view but also just slightly like napping.
“The little girl who lost the doll…she had drowned,” Pi said and immediately Kazuya lost all of the pleasant distraction. He watched as Pi shielded his eyes from the midday sun and gazed out over the charming scene.
“How, how did you find out?” he stuttered.
Pi’s expression was wholly calm. “I guess I imagine that she told me,” he said.
Kazuya’s expression must have begged an explanation.
“No, it’s not like that…not exactly,” Pi went on. “I always thought her name was Kimmie. She was my age when the accident happened.” Pi smiled. “She was a hardhead. She didn’t want to wear the water wings.”
Kazuya felt a chill even as he realized that the sun was warming his back. Pi looked almost embarrassed.
“The thing is this happened so long ago, years ago. I’d really forgotten about it all. My uncle had known about the boating accident on the lake,” Pi went on. “When he saw the doll he pieced the evidence together. He took it because he thought maybe the family would want it back. It turned out that they didn’t. The memory was too hard. So for a while he kept it. As long as he had it around I had dreams and just thoughts every once in a while.”
Pi stood up, adjusting his jeans at the knees and hoisting his daypack up across his shoulder. Kazuya heard himself ask,
“So, what’s happened to bring her back to mind?”
Pi looked off again over the colorful vista, a sudden gust slashing at his hair.
“I just have this feeling, that I’m going to go around a corner and be the one to find something, like that doll.”
************
Being an idol had naturally led Kazuya to feel somewhat removed from the normal stream of Life. He had begun to feel that he couldn’t go places or do things that others could do. And it was true, that in urban scenes, he couldn’t just roam freely without consequence. Usually people would remain respectful and keep a distance. Still there was the occasional interloper, autograph seeker or bold tourist. However, he knew that other people like himself would concur, the strangest thing he had to deal with was just the silent accompaniment of eyes - those who watched him knowing who he was.
Jin had sometimes played to this audience, the ones who never spoke or acknowledged. Kazuya had felt such interaction to be a bad idea, an insincere invitation. Luckily, at the edges of the resort where they found themselves, no such interactions were to be anticipated. Almost as if to prove it out, they showered after returning from their hike and walked down the hillside in search of dinner as the sun was fading. The town wore a subdued air, even with the number of chattering tourists. They found a smallish family style place and sat down for fish soup and dumplings. They drank wine with dinner. Kazuya found himself watching a couple at a table nearby. They were dining with their children, a boy and girl whose animated manners showed them to be indulged by their parents. The girl found it enjoyable to toss her head, her pigtails flouncing and the boy, intent on a handheld that his sister was complaining about. Kazuya smiled at them, thinking of his own niece and nephew.
“Do you think of Jin a lot?”
The question brought his attention back to his dinner companion. It was odd, Kazuya admitted, but children did make his thoughts go to Akanishi. It was even odder that Pi had been able to read this. Or had he guessed? Was it just a random statement? He felt just slightly embarrassed.
“I think of Jin sometimes,” he answered. “Not so much as I used to.”
When they’d eaten, as they stood just outside the door of the restaurant, Kazuya looked toward the beach. Lights blazed over the wooden walkways. The ocean beyond was a moonlit expanse, unending as the backlit clouds moved slowly past.
“Come on,” Pi invited and Kazuya smiled. Kazuya put his hands in his pockets as they walked. He could think of so many reasons why and all of them seemed as frivolous as the thought of holding hands seemed romantic. How often they’d been reminded; you represent your agency and your family. You cannot behave carelessly.
They walked side by side, their private thoughts populating the air between them. Kazuya thought that if Jin were here instead he would have dragged them both toward the water by now. He was merciless in his teasing, boisterous and always pushing the boundaries. Pi was none of those things. The wet sand required a whole different way of walking. He thought of the quiet path they’d traveled earlier in the evening. It was such a small distance to have come, really, to be almost in a whole separate world. The sound of their progress along the trail, or the loud rush of the waves on the beach filled his ears. Pi reached out and touched his hand, surprising him. Without saying it aloud they both began walking back, Kazuya’s senses full of the spray, and the view of the sky and the sparkling stars against the black curtain of night.
Night sounds accompanied their journey to the cabin. Pi walked ahead and Kazuya watched how sharply the moon delineated his shadow. The clouds had disappeared and the light was eerily strong. Inside the bedroom it shone at the edges of the shades and lent a new element to their lovemaking. Just a hint of neediness, just a touch of desperation in the strength of his grasp, in the way he held Kazuya longer, closer, harder.
‘Oh, now, it’s now,’ he moaned and Kazuya shuddered in the ferocity of Pi’s embrace.
When he woke, Kazuya felt two things: that the weather had changed, and that he, himself had changed as well. He carefully moved the other man’s arm from across his side and rolled out. He pulled on the sweatpants he sometimes slept in and went outside. The scenery was just as inspiring. The birds were just as loud overhead. The air was different though, crisp, as if yesterday’s wind had blown a new, fresher atmosphere into the area. He surveyed the view of the ocean and it was then he thought of Jin. He thought of Jin in his quiet moments and smiled to himself thinking about how few moments there’d been when Jin was quiet.
Despite the rumors and the fandoms and the publicity campaigns that the agency had concocted, there had been in truth nothing beyond their teenage years, not on Jin’s part. There was a fascination that had been born of the physicality and maybe even the arduous scheduling and the camaraderie. But after all the experiences they’d shared and after all the changes they’d gone through as bandmates and friends, simple facts emerged. Kazuya was Kazuya and Jin did not see himself as gay.
Kazuya shivered, and despite the sun he could sense autumn on the horizon, almost smell it. He turned when he heard the voice behind him.
“Kame,” Pi was standing in the doorway. He’d pulled on a white shirt and gauzy white drawstring pants. “I know we’re leaving tomorrow.” He bowed his head before continuing. “I want to thank you. I know you planned this for my sake and it, well, it turned out to be just what I needed.”
Kazuya couldn’t help but smile. Pi walked over in his purposeful way. The morning sun was brilliant, not pale or washed out. Pi blinked and squinted as he looked down into his lover’s face.
“There were no ghosts last night. I think that’s over.”
“Good.” Saying the word ‘ghost’ didn’t seem frightening at all while standing in the sun with the pungent green of the trees and grasses and the furious blue of the sky overhead.
“Maybe I’m meant to find what someone else loses.” Pi said. He draped his arms over Kazuya’s shoulders and leaned down until their foreheads touched.
************
They’d taken Highway 1 along Big Sur and they’d seen some famous lighthouse. They’d wanted to build a fire up on one of the cliffs but it wasn’t the same as doing it down by the water and one of the native guys said you could get in so much trouble because of all the wildfires they’d had the year before. So they finally stopped at a pretty good motel with a firepit off the patio and they’d got a bunch of stuff to drink and they’d stayed up laughing and talking crap until the sun was nearly up.
Jin had designs on one of the girls in the group. She’d been scrunching up her face at him, playing around all day. Still, when the moment came and it was time to deliver his suave line and slip an arm around her and make off with the prize, he’d felt a sudden deflation and found himself begging off. He went back to his own room, alone, wondering if he was maybe coming down with something to make him act so strangely. Stranger still was that in the shower, which he took with the water as hot as it could get, he’d thought of Kame.
Kame would really have enjoyed that view and the cool but slightly spooky old lighthouse. He would have no doubt had something to say about the watermarks and the lonely view. He might not have noticed that one weird bird that kept circling. How long, Jin wondered, can a bird go without landing and resting? And then he thought how strange and stupid it was to even waste a thought on such a thing.
Characters: Kame, Jin, Pi
Pairing: Kame/Pi, hints of Akame
Word count: 5,330
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Notes: For Randomicicle with my compliments.
Summary: His lover's strange behavior prompts Kazuya to plan a secluded vacation and prefaces a revelation.
Something was on his mind. That had to be it. Something was on his mind that was making him act distracted and just odd. Kazuya had never realized before how very much even this small mystery provoked him. Jin had only been back for half of his most recent 6 weeks home and he’d observed aloud what had eluded Kazuya’s conscious mind for the entire time since the accident. Tomahisa was decidedly changed.
When he walked now, he tended to walk alone. When he talked and laughed, it was the speech and the small nervous snicker of someone whose thoughts are somewhere else.
Of course I’m listening. Yes, the conciliatory answers, but then Kazuya considered, a person wouldn’t have to answer at all if someone hadn’t asked - and someone wouldn’t have asked if there’d been no reason.
He found himself standing on the sidewalk on a raw spring evening, the kind that is not quite comfortable, not quite dark enough and yet not light. He looked back over his shoulder and felt an empty space within. He’d just left the apartment. Walking to where he usually parked so as not to be seen coming and going he’d slowed and then stopped. Their evenings together had become so bland. They were going through motions, the greetings, the meals, the intimacy, at least, he thought, the physicality, watching a show, sometimes a nap; all the seemingly easy familiarity of lovers - all only surface skimming.
What am I doing? He thought of the bottomless black of Pi’s eyes, the secrets at their depths that he’d not been given any clues to unravel. He was not a simple man though you had to know him before you perceived the myriad complexities. Kazuya had been drawn in, the charms, the careless grace and magnetism. Was he playing?
There’s nothing. There’s….no, that’s not right. There is Something. I feel it. Should I worry? he asked, asking really in his monologue to self, ‘is it over?’ Pi was non-committal.
On the sofa, their ritual, the unspoken green lights, the closeness had, for Kazuya, become almost service. Pi resting in his usual spot against the comforting warmth of the aged leather - yet he wasn’t really there, not in mind. Kazuya was about to speak, the rehearsed questions swimming, jostling on his tongue, ready to launch when the other man started. A sound escaped, a rush of air being suddenly sucked in.
Then he was looking, eyes wide, straight into Kazuya’s.
What is it?
He seemed to consider.
Nothing, I…did you…” he began then hesitated and Kazuya was suddenly reminded of fishing trips with his father. There was an art to reeling in a fish, a ritual that was not unlike a dance.
“Did I what?” He calmed his voice. It was placid and reassuring. Pi looked up and his inscrutable expression made Kazuya sit down quickly. He reached out and placed his hand on Pi’s knee, caressing, caring. Whatever this was, and he knew it was important, they would face it, he would be there for his friend, his very special friend.
“I just want to know,” he began and he bit the corner of his Cupid’s lip. “Did you see anything…just now? Hear anything?” His onyx eyes flashed up once, then back.
After a moment Pi seemed about to speak. Kazuya waited. He considered that the other man was pausing for affect but after a moment, a chill seemed to have crept into the room. He moved closer, seeking warmth. Kazuya wasn’t sure what to make it but he knew that he felt undeniably that Pi wanted to be held. So he gathered his legs up under him and pulled Pi close. He tucked the other man’s head under his chin and pulled the sofa blanket around his shoulders and their breathing eventually slowed. The lights dimmed and the night came.
When Kazuya woke he wasn’t certain at first that he was indeed, awake. In a trance he thought he saw his lover standing on the small balcony. Only dim midnight reflections from the street made him visible. Rain had begun some time in the night and Pi was there being washed by it. His thin pajama pants stuck to his legs like a skin, soaked through and clinging tightly.
*********
“He needs a vacation,” Jin had declared in his simplistic authoritative fashion. “And I can tell him exactly where he needs to go.” It wasn’t often that Jin called anymore. Kazuya had realized some things about him since he’d gone. He could picture him now, his hoodies and shades, his eyes restless, he was probably slouched across some sofa. His languorous positioning could be deceptive. Jin could vault from a seeming stupor to a dance floor pose effortlessly within a nanosecond, though Kazuya had noted, he rarely accomplished this gracefully. Nonetheless, Kazuya had been alarmed more than once with Jin’s physical prowess and inclination to exchange horizontal to vertical positioning without warning.
“It’s definitely more than that,” Kazuya went on. He imagined Jin itching to text instead, imagined him grinning at some clever tidbit and thumbing more quickly than Kazuya would have thought possible for Jin. Kazuya found himself frowning. This is why, he thought. He could sense that Jin had lost interest in the conversation practically before it’d started. His mood had always been easy to decipher. Slick and superficial, he thought, that was why Jin loved the celebrity. Pi was an ocean depth in comparison. Though there were claims they were best friends, Kazuya wondered how much Pi and Jin actually did have in common lately. When the call was over Kazuya felt again a relief. Love, and losing, such strange consequences came about.
Ueda had taken up a new hobby, between steps and at wait times during rehearsals. He twined a thin length of rope with his fingers, creating a knotted piece, more decorative and much stronger. After only a week his touch became more agile and he could twist and pull it quickly. He made a wristband and gave it to Kazuya with a slight smile one day as they left a rehearsal. When he thanked his quiet friend and asked what might have been the occasion for a gift Ueda answered, ‘You work hard.’
It was true. Work was Kazuya’s gift to himself. He knew his efforts at self-mastery paid off in that arena at least. Other efforts could not be said to return the same level of benefit. Love was one of these other efforts. It was an entirely different matter.
‘I could never see why you bothered.’ Ueda had said frankly. ‘Jin is Jin.’
However much he might have wanted to protest, Kazuya knew there was no arguing with such simple wisdom. Jin was beyond explanation. Yet now that he thought about this in light of Pin’s mysterious behavior, Jin’s inexplicable persona was somehow easy to analyze and his reactions simple to anticipate. He was a physical person who craved and delighted and communicated best through physical means. He mostly wanted to dance, to push, to make love, or Kazuya thought sadly, to walk away.
Somewhere around the time Jin was planning the LA language visit, Kazuya had felt an unaccustomed stirring, a scent of a freedom that he hadn’t known he’d craved. The pungent jealousies, the obsessions and drama, seemed like a culture, a way of life from which there was no escape. But Jin had let him fly free as easily as a balloon escapes a child’s hand. There’d been no scene, no place where he could mark an ending. The truth was he thought that Jin had lost interest. His surge toward western music and international stardom had become his new focus. Ties with Japan were easily loosened. Kazuya remembered feeling as though Jin had simply outgrown him. He hadn’t even known that he’d grieved. His habit had always been to focus on work when emotions became bothersome. He hadn’t even realized he’d been working so much, that his friends found it troubling.
Jin had been gone 2 months when Pi approached him. ‘Come out with me. Let’s get some dinner,’ he’d said. The friendship that they’d enjoyed for years blossomed without warning or plan. One drunken evening, after Pi had nuzzled him, his surprise had prompted Pi to explain, ‘There’s a lot you don’t know about me.’ Kazuya thought, that statement had been pure truth.
Pi liked to walk. He would put on his peacoat and leave, bareheaded, hands in his pockets. He liked to skip stones into canals or stand beneath trees and watch birds overhead. He was quiet and thoughtful where Jin had been always a boisterous five year old. He thought things through before speaking. Speaking was something he wasn’t doing lately, Kazuya’d observed.
Pi wore only black. The contrast with his skin, the complement to his glossy hair was dynamically attractive. His toned body, swathed in black caught the eye, Kazuya especially, couldn’t look away. He must know he’s like a magnet to me, Kazuya thought. He went behind the scenes, presenting his oh-such-a-logical case that the powers to be within JE simply played into his hand. It was a soft gift of manipulation that he had developed early on, a tender persuasion and something he had realized he would need to survive in the grueling world. He procured for them a much needed three days away. He’d given the vacation religious undertones and authorities had even offered to fund the transportation costs. Kazuya had bowed, barely able to conceal a ghost of a smile at his triumph.
They’d taken a small cabin in the Hagi inlets. The dark blue of the water was visible from the landing but the walk to reach the foot of the hill took over twenty minutes. The path wound down and around, at times over gravel, at other times, planks and sometimes just trodden earth. Before they went up for the first time they carried up some groceries, vegetables, tea and sake and blankets that the proprietor insisted they take even though the weather was mild. Pi’s mood seemed at once to improve.
Early the first morning they hiked out. Memories surrounded Kazuya, of their many walks together. He had delighted in the sensory pleasure of them. In this they had always seemed equally enthralled. Early on in their relationship, it had been on one of their walks Kazuya noted that Pi seemed always to have some cracker or crust in his pocket to tear and toss for the birds. A boyish smile of satisfaction lit Pi’s face as he watched his efforts result in several fluttering creatures hopping and pecking at the edge of the path. The only explanation Kazuya’s indulgent expression ever received was the one hushed confession. ‘I like the birds.’
Now, the deeper they walked into the park Pi seemed to be expecting something to emerge from between the trees. He had a faraway look. The quiet between them lately had not been full of the humming anticipation of closeness to be shared later, but seemed instead to be merely vacant. Pi was not really paying attention. They walked through a more popular area, passing more travelers. They passed benches and a pavilion. They passed an area where families were gathered, with wooden beams that the children balanced upon, laughing and teetering. They passed a melodic waterway and walked over its arching footbridge. They moved along a path paved with clean white stones and lined with thick wooden blocks. Pi sighed deeply and Kazuya held out his hand. At one time he might have taken it. At one time the gesture might have begun a conversation about relationships, or morals, or just Pi and Kazuya. This time the slight movement caused Tomahisa to jump, vaulting nimbly to the left and back. Kazuya thought of films he’d seen, images of startled horses rearing back when frightened.
“I’m sorry,” Kazuya said. He’d been told so many times that it was his way, apologizing, always courteous to the extreme, even for a Japanese man, for whom courtesy was assumed to be ingrained. Pi looked into his face bewildered, as if he couldn’t fathom why he’d done what he had done.
“What is it? Is it the children?”
The other man nodded.
“The fountain, then. Is it the fountain? The water?”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
Pi’s face, Kazuya noted, was no less beautiful in his bewilderment than in any alluring photo shoot.
“I respect that. I would never want you to feel forced to explain something you didn’t want to share with me.”
Pi appeared to recover then, buoyed by his friend’s simple reassurance.
“Thank you,” he said and then, “Let’s go back.”
He hadn’t planned it necessarily but when they had returned to his apartment, Kazuya brought out a bottle of whiskey and poured a shot for each of them. He recalled that he’d once heard alcohol referred to as ‘every man’s confessor’. Maybe he considered, if Pi’s defenses could be relaxed by some good liquor he’d be able to voice what was troubling him. It wasn’t without precedent. Kazuya had seen him laughing, carelessly ordering another round, in the past. Kazuya had been there, pleading prettily for favors, leaving just before the final call, an extra squeeze of fingers in the backseat of the cab. Later he’d seen Pi’s handsome head on his pillows, a sad small drunken smile on his pouty lips before passing out. Whiskey was a good thing. Closeness was even better.
When he thought of Pi fond words came as easily as desires. The words caressed as fingers lingered, sliding each button from its little threaded locket. The black shirt came undone and lips were drawn like magnets to skin smooth as burnished metal. Jin seemed very far away now, something from eons ago, a foolish, adolescent thing. Pi, a heady mystery, was warm and close. When his breath began to come more quickly, Kazuya felt like he was experiencing another level of life. He felt himself come alive in a way he never had before. Pi was like a cat, he thought, sensuous, complex. Jim had been like a dog, jumping up, running off, simple. Pi was not so open and Kazuya was compelled to draw him out. What he said about his deeper dreams and desires had to be coaxed. His mind seemed to be elsewhere but Kazuya had internalized Jin’s blunt advice and planned a short holiday for the two of them.
Hiking and spending time on the beach was what he’d planned for them - on the surface. His motive was to gently draw Pi out. The trip began with his optimistic chatter on the
‘Why did you even agree to come?’ Kazuya quietly asked after they’d walked on in silence for several minutes. There was an apology in the other man’s demeanor. Kazuya had nearly given up hope of receiving an actual verbal reply when Pi spoke,
‘I just want to feel normal again.’
He spoke these words, Kazuya noticed, as they passed a tree that seemed alive with birds. Twittering, peeping, fluttering birds, speaking their natural languages, lending a backdrop to the moment that made Pi’s confession even more confusing. What could be more normal, Kazuya wondered than this afternoon, this place and two friends walking in the sunshine?
“I know you don’t understand,” Pi said. Kazuya slowed his steps, the chattering of the birds fading as he concentrated. A memory of Jin interrupted his thoughts, I don’t expect you to understand, he’d said. It had been so different then, vastly different. Jin’s declaration had been derision, an excuse to pursue his own path without guilt or qualms. Pi’s confession was apologetic, a soft plea asking for an opportunity to explain. Kazuya gave it.
“I’d like to.”
Pi looked up and fully into the other man’s eyes. Kazuya couldn’t help the little half smile of encouragement that blossomed spontaneously on his lips. He thought that Pi was about to echo it but there came a flash of light reflecting from a ship’s bell, or the gleam of sunshine off some white surface of a boat and Pi turned his head suddenly toward the water and shuddered.
* * * * * * * * *
Pi had promised that after dinner they would talk in depth. He seemed relieved and was more lighthearted over their meal of tempura fish, seaweed and pickles than Kazuya had seen him in weeks. He watched Pi eating, looking up and smiling briefly as though a weight had been taken off. Kazuya hadn’t anticipated this schoolboy feeling. It felt again like the early days. They’d delighted in each other. For a short while Jin had been a worry but the allure of America, of stardom had won Jin in the end. Kazuya had felt him slip away. He let the thought thread slide, too. Pi was across the table, and a short while later, settled in a corner of the sofa, cradling a drink.
“Everybody knows how Jin nearly drowned that time,” Pi began. He swirled the liquor in his glass. “Nobody really knows about what happened to me.”
Kazuya felt an urge to turn his head to the right. Past the lilting shadows of trees, purple and deep blue in the light of the moon he could see the ever moving reflections across the surface of the restless water. It was true that Jin had been accidently thrown into the sea as a child. Still, he loved the water. His psyche was not harmed by the incident. Oceans opened up for him. Every rising sun meant for him another day of adventure. Jin had been the experience of the full and colorful blaze of summer. Pi was the late autumn, the last yearning warmth before winter began.
Sitting in the cool of the day Kazuya realized that Pi was vastly different. Though Jin and Yamapi were cohorts, it was Pi’s rebellious youth that he shared with Akanishi, not, Kazuya saw now, his inner self.
“Up until just a little while ago, I thought I’d forgotten all about her.” Pi sought his eyes. “I thought I’d maybe even made it up, …as a kid.”
Kazuya cleared his throat, “Her?”
“It’s going to seem crazy, I know, I…” Pi sighed. He took a swallow of the amber liquid and spoke.
“I must have been 7 or 8 years old. My mother’s youngest brother, Hiro would take me with him sometimes. He was kind of a show off but I loved the way he would tell stories. He was always telling stories. We’d walk along the lake edge and he’d run across a tree that was leaning sideways and crouch down, saying he was the rogue ninja waiting to attack a passerby. He’d jump up in the air and land really quiet. He was play acting for me the whole time.” A shadow of a smile flickered on Pi’s lips as he recalled. “I wanted to be like him.”
Kazuya fell quiet. Pi was traveling back in time.
“One time, we found a doll off the path, near the water, an old cloth doll. I didn’t think much of it at first, but Hiro changed all of a sudden. He got quiet and made me go back to the path. He took me home right away. It was too early to go. That’s the way I knew something was wrong. I never found out what happened until years later.”
Kazuya was leaning forward, his elbows on his knees.
“What happened?” he asked, almost whispering.
Pi angled the glass back against his opened mouth and finished the drink.
“In the morning.”
Kazuya felt that night that there was an unmistakable abandon in their lovemaking. When his lover sighed, he was never so sure that it was a sound, not only of pleasure and release, but of relief. Whatever he had been holding in by way of an unshared secret was now opening up and giving him the joy of freedom.
*****************
When Kazuya awoke it was to the delicate aroma of tea. He found Pi sitting near the window dipping his hand into a bowl of plums and flexing his bare toes. With morning light angling gently in, Kazuya felt sure he’d never seen a more pleasing face, or one of which he was more fond. He sat down opposite his friend and allowed himself to appreciate the companionship. Pi dabbed an overabundance of plum juice from his mouth with the back of his hand.
That day when they walked the mood was different. Kazuya felt an anticipation, but not the type he’d felt 24 hours ago. Yesterday, it could have been anything - today it was an abandoned doll and a walk around a lake. Nothing much there to dread, nothing dark or unmanageable. Today Pi wasn’t dressed in black. He wore blue jeans softened with age, obviously a favorite pair, and a deep green polo shirt. His black hair moved gently around his face, touched by breeze off the water. He wasn’t exactly smiling, but Kazuya reasoned that he was more open simply because he was swinging his arms, his movements appearing looser, less tense. They had packed a simple lunch, energy and protein bars, then set off after breakfast to hike the undulating ridge just beyond the market area.
Their conversation was light, they spoke of Shuji and Akira, and how Jin had been, for all intents and purposes, pushed aside by both of them. They’d spent a year working together. The magic that had happened with Jin before that, for Kazuya, had never come back. He glanced to his left, to the handsome man walking beside him. Yamapi had been another guy in the talent stable, another talented youngster being groomed for profit but on the set of Nobuta, Kazuya had come to see him as something more, someone he could talk to. There was a resonance between them.
When they stopped for lunch, Kazuya had developed a sweat from the last hour of climb without rest. They broke through the cover of trees to a sunlit area with a sweeping view of the bay. The white sails of boats for the tourist trade flecked the water. The breeze was welcomed as they pulled their daypacks around and chose between them which rocks to sit upon. After they’d munched and drank water from their bottles Kazuya felt warm and sated, exhilarated by the view but also just slightly like napping.
“The little girl who lost the doll…she had drowned,” Pi said and immediately Kazuya lost all of the pleasant distraction. He watched as Pi shielded his eyes from the midday sun and gazed out over the charming scene.
“How, how did you find out?” he stuttered.
Pi’s expression was wholly calm. “I guess I imagine that she told me,” he said.
Kazuya’s expression must have begged an explanation.
“No, it’s not like that…not exactly,” Pi went on. “I always thought her name was Kimmie. She was my age when the accident happened.” Pi smiled. “She was a hardhead. She didn’t want to wear the water wings.”
Kazuya felt a chill even as he realized that the sun was warming his back. Pi looked almost embarrassed.
“The thing is this happened so long ago, years ago. I’d really forgotten about it all. My uncle had known about the boating accident on the lake,” Pi went on. “When he saw the doll he pieced the evidence together. He took it because he thought maybe the family would want it back. It turned out that they didn’t. The memory was too hard. So for a while he kept it. As long as he had it around I had dreams and just thoughts every once in a while.”
Pi stood up, adjusting his jeans at the knees and hoisting his daypack up across his shoulder. Kazuya heard himself ask,
“So, what’s happened to bring her back to mind?”
Pi looked off again over the colorful vista, a sudden gust slashing at his hair.
“I just have this feeling, that I’m going to go around a corner and be the one to find something, like that doll.”
************
Being an idol had naturally led Kazuya to feel somewhat removed from the normal stream of Life. He had begun to feel that he couldn’t go places or do things that others could do. And it was true, that in urban scenes, he couldn’t just roam freely without consequence. Usually people would remain respectful and keep a distance. Still there was the occasional interloper, autograph seeker or bold tourist. However, he knew that other people like himself would concur, the strangest thing he had to deal with was just the silent accompaniment of eyes - those who watched him knowing who he was.
Jin had sometimes played to this audience, the ones who never spoke or acknowledged. Kazuya had felt such interaction to be a bad idea, an insincere invitation. Luckily, at the edges of the resort where they found themselves, no such interactions were to be anticipated. Almost as if to prove it out, they showered after returning from their hike and walked down the hillside in search of dinner as the sun was fading. The town wore a subdued air, even with the number of chattering tourists. They found a smallish family style place and sat down for fish soup and dumplings. They drank wine with dinner. Kazuya found himself watching a couple at a table nearby. They were dining with their children, a boy and girl whose animated manners showed them to be indulged by their parents. The girl found it enjoyable to toss her head, her pigtails flouncing and the boy, intent on a handheld that his sister was complaining about. Kazuya smiled at them, thinking of his own niece and nephew.
“Do you think of Jin a lot?”
The question brought his attention back to his dinner companion. It was odd, Kazuya admitted, but children did make his thoughts go to Akanishi. It was even odder that Pi had been able to read this. Or had he guessed? Was it just a random statement? He felt just slightly embarrassed.
“I think of Jin sometimes,” he answered. “Not so much as I used to.”
When they’d eaten, as they stood just outside the door of the restaurant, Kazuya looked toward the beach. Lights blazed over the wooden walkways. The ocean beyond was a moonlit expanse, unending as the backlit clouds moved slowly past.
“Come on,” Pi invited and Kazuya smiled. Kazuya put his hands in his pockets as they walked. He could think of so many reasons why and all of them seemed as frivolous as the thought of holding hands seemed romantic. How often they’d been reminded; you represent your agency and your family. You cannot behave carelessly.
They walked side by side, their private thoughts populating the air between them. Kazuya thought that if Jin were here instead he would have dragged them both toward the water by now. He was merciless in his teasing, boisterous and always pushing the boundaries. Pi was none of those things. The wet sand required a whole different way of walking. He thought of the quiet path they’d traveled earlier in the evening. It was such a small distance to have come, really, to be almost in a whole separate world. The sound of their progress along the trail, or the loud rush of the waves on the beach filled his ears. Pi reached out and touched his hand, surprising him. Without saying it aloud they both began walking back, Kazuya’s senses full of the spray, and the view of the sky and the sparkling stars against the black curtain of night.
Night sounds accompanied their journey to the cabin. Pi walked ahead and Kazuya watched how sharply the moon delineated his shadow. The clouds had disappeared and the light was eerily strong. Inside the bedroom it shone at the edges of the shades and lent a new element to their lovemaking. Just a hint of neediness, just a touch of desperation in the strength of his grasp, in the way he held Kazuya longer, closer, harder.
‘Oh, now, it’s now,’ he moaned and Kazuya shuddered in the ferocity of Pi’s embrace.
When he woke, Kazuya felt two things: that the weather had changed, and that he, himself had changed as well. He carefully moved the other man’s arm from across his side and rolled out. He pulled on the sweatpants he sometimes slept in and went outside. The scenery was just as inspiring. The birds were just as loud overhead. The air was different though, crisp, as if yesterday’s wind had blown a new, fresher atmosphere into the area. He surveyed the view of the ocean and it was then he thought of Jin. He thought of Jin in his quiet moments and smiled to himself thinking about how few moments there’d been when Jin was quiet.
Despite the rumors and the fandoms and the publicity campaigns that the agency had concocted, there had been in truth nothing beyond their teenage years, not on Jin’s part. There was a fascination that had been born of the physicality and maybe even the arduous scheduling and the camaraderie. But after all the experiences they’d shared and after all the changes they’d gone through as bandmates and friends, simple facts emerged. Kazuya was Kazuya and Jin did not see himself as gay.
Kazuya shivered, and despite the sun he could sense autumn on the horizon, almost smell it. He turned when he heard the voice behind him.
“Kame,” Pi was standing in the doorway. He’d pulled on a white shirt and gauzy white drawstring pants. “I know we’re leaving tomorrow.” He bowed his head before continuing. “I want to thank you. I know you planned this for my sake and it, well, it turned out to be just what I needed.”
Kazuya couldn’t help but smile. Pi walked over in his purposeful way. The morning sun was brilliant, not pale or washed out. Pi blinked and squinted as he looked down into his lover’s face.
“There were no ghosts last night. I think that’s over.”
“Good.” Saying the word ‘ghost’ didn’t seem frightening at all while standing in the sun with the pungent green of the trees and grasses and the furious blue of the sky overhead.
“Maybe I’m meant to find what someone else loses.” Pi said. He draped his arms over Kazuya’s shoulders and leaned down until their foreheads touched.
************
They’d taken Highway 1 along Big Sur and they’d seen some famous lighthouse. They’d wanted to build a fire up on one of the cliffs but it wasn’t the same as doing it down by the water and one of the native guys said you could get in so much trouble because of all the wildfires they’d had the year before. So they finally stopped at a pretty good motel with a firepit off the patio and they’d got a bunch of stuff to drink and they’d stayed up laughing and talking crap until the sun was nearly up.
Jin had designs on one of the girls in the group. She’d been scrunching up her face at him, playing around all day. Still, when the moment came and it was time to deliver his suave line and slip an arm around her and make off with the prize, he’d felt a sudden deflation and found himself begging off. He went back to his own room, alone, wondering if he was maybe coming down with something to make him act so strangely. Stranger still was that in the shower, which he took with the water as hot as it could get, he’d thought of Kame.
Kame would really have enjoyed that view and the cool but slightly spooky old lighthouse. He would have no doubt had something to say about the watermarks and the lonely view. He might not have noticed that one weird bird that kept circling. How long, Jin wondered, can a bird go without landing and resting? And then he thought how strange and stupid it was to even waste a thought on such a thing.