Arashi: Like the Stars, Part 1
AUTHOR: Marineko/mylittlecthulhu
FANDOM: Arashi
PAIRING: Juntoshi
RATING: PG
DATE: September 26th, 2011
WORD COUNT: 14,400
NOTES/DISCLAIMERS: This is a work of fiction. Written for the Japan Earthquake & Tsunami Relief Fund. Thank you, iphridian for donating, and I'm sorry for the time I took working on this!
No matter how much time passes or how much things change
No matter how many hundred million years go by
Like the stars shining throughout the light-years
Our love won't disappear.
- 星のように by MISIA
Like the Stars
He stands on Jun’s rear left, holding his sword in a way so that Jun wouldn’t see. To others, and to tradition, it would be courtesy that makes him hold back; in truth, he doesn’t want Jun to see how hard it is for him to keep his emotions at bay, to keep his hands steady. It’s not the first time he’s asked to act as kaishaku, but it’s the first time that he is reluctant to carry out his duty.
It isn’t fair.
Nobody ever said that life is fair, he reminds himself. His mother had always told him that, whenever something upsets him when he was little.
Satoshi looks at Jun’s bowed figure on the ground - he waits for a tremble of anger, of fear, of hatred, anything from Jun but this blind acceptance of his fate, but nothing comes. Jun must hate him, he supposes. Jun has been betrayed by his own master, but it had been Satoshi who had exposed his master’s betrayal to the lord they both served. It had been Satoshi who had been rivals with Hachisuka, Jun’s master, for almost a lifetime, and all that had resulted in is this.
Staring too long at the exposed nape, he imagines a line where it connects to Jun’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Satoshi watches, horrified, as Jun reaches for the sword, points it towards himself, and presses.
Satoshi strikes. His movement makes a perfect line cutting through air, through Jun. He doesn’t lose his composure.
It’s just a dream.
Ohno tells himself this, over and over, but his hand still shakes. It had felt so real; he had felt the weight of the sword in his hands. It must be memory of the swords he’d handled during numerous shoots and taping, he supposes, that makes the dream so real.
He glances over at the seat across his; Jun’s there, reading. In one piece. He breathes out, slowly.
“What’s wrong, Riida?”
Nino’s sitting further away from them, with Aiba, but somehow the gamer noticed how Ohno is more unsettled than he’s ever been. He takes his eyes away from Jun, turns to Nino, and shakes his head slightly.
“Nothing,” he murmurs. “Weird dream, that’s all.”
“Must be really weird to put that look on your face,” Nino comments. Ohno opens his mouth to reply, but Jun beats him to it.
“It’s probably Sho-kun’s snoring that gave him nightmares.”
As if hearing his name, Sho, who’s sleeping next to Ohno, stirs. The caster stretches, and asks groggily, “did I miss something?”
Both Nino and Jun have already lost interest in the conversation, turning back to the things that were previously preoccupying them. Ohno offers Sho a smile and tells him a funny story that Aiba had told him earlier, except that he tells it wrong and it doesn’t make sense. Sho smiles, though, amused for reasons Ohno doesn’t understand.
“You don’t remember me, do you.”
Satoshi knows that Hachisuka had fled. He had thought that this boy, Matsudaira, would have followed his master, instead of sitting in the dark of the now abandoned residence. Waiting. He looks at the boy, puzzled.
“Should I?” he asks.
Even in the dark, Satoshi sees a hint of a bitter smile. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember. You only know of me as Matsudaira - perhaps, if I tell you that I didn’t always have a surname…?”
Jun.
Satoshi doesn’t know why the name came to his mind; he hasn’t seen Jun since he was a child, when he still snuck out the compound sometimes to play with the commoners’ children. He hadn’t thought of Jun in almost as long, at least a few years since he was told that Jun had been sold off.
But it is Jun before him. He’s certain of it.
“I thought…” he trails off, not knowing if it’s appropriate to mention it. But he never cared about propriety before, so why should he start now? “What happened?”
“After your family paid mine off to send me away, I went to live with my uncle. When I was fifteen, Hachisuka-dono found me. He had the Matsudairas adopt me into their family.” Jun’s reverence for Hachisuka is clear in his voice, as is his resentment towards Satoshi.
Satoshi wonders how Jun would take it, if he suggests that Hachisuka had probably sought him out just because he had been Satoshi’s childhood friend.
Another part of him thinks, so that’s what happened. He had always thought it was strange, because Jun’s parents didn’t seem like the kind who would sell off a child even when in the worst of financial burdens.
“Hachisuka betrayed the daimyo,” he says, simply. He isn’t taking pleasure in proving that the man Jun revered and loved was not as noble as Jun thought. He isn’t taking pleasure in the knowledge that even as they are talking, he had sent some of his men after Hachisuka. All of which would only make Jun hate him more. “He had been selling secrets, and -”
“I know,” Jun interrupts, his voice betraying only the slightest tremble. He’s already on his knees; his head bows, then, prostrating before Satoshi. “I will take responsibility for my master.”
“That’s not your place to decide,” Satoshi says, but he knows how the end result would be. “Jun, I -”
Jun straightens up to look at him in the eye. So defiant, Satoshi thinks, and so strong, even though he’s the one looking down, and Jun’s the one on his knees.
“I won’t forget,” Jun says, his voice hard, unforgiving.
“Jun’s so ticklish,” Aiba comments, when Nino’s fingers pinch into Jun’s side, and Jun lets out a startled yelp. Jun argues that anyone would cry out if Nino’s fat fingers had dug into them so hard, when he let out another sound, different than the one before.
Ohno turns, curious. Nino has definitely found Jun’s most ticklish spot. Nino’s hand is already retracting when he looks over, but he could guess where they had been, because Jun’s own hand is now over his nape. Jun is looking at Nino like it’s no longer a joke, and Nino’s laughing, but backing away slightly so that he’d be closer to Aiba.
He probably stares too long, because Sho’s saying something and Jun’s looking his way.
He says the first thing that comes to mind - something about ninjas that he heard about a long time ago. Sho still looks baffled, and Jun snorts ungracefully before turning away.
Later, though, when Nino had left with Aiba and Jun’s still in the dressing room, Ohno touches Sho’s arm lightly. Sho stops to look at him, and waits for him to speak. It takes awhile, because he still isn’t sure if he wants to talk about it.
“I think something’s wrong,” he says. “With me. These dreams.”
Sho looks concerned, but he knows Sho’s more worried that he isn’t getting the rest he needs than about the dreams. So he shakes his head, tells Sho he’s going to be fine, and that he’ll see a doctor about getting better sleep.
He had seen the youth before, during their procession through the countryside. A lot of the people who worked the land had lined up to take a look - in Edo, such processions were common, something one might see every day. There’s always a lord coming into or leaving the city. Here, it only happens once - or twice if one counted the return - a year. The youth, unable to see properly because of the crowd, had climbed one of the larger trees close to the road. As they passed through, Satoshi’s eyes met his, once, and he clambered down the tree as quickly as he had climbed it.
It surprises him to see the same youth later, preoccupied with something by the small stream. Satoshi had been serving Hosokawa-dono for three years, but he’s never noticed this person before. He opens his mouth to speak, but he forgets what he wants to say, and what comes out is a monosyllabic, “Ah.”
The boy looks up, and Satoshi sees mild panic registering in his eyes as he pushes away the things in his hands, and kneels down before him.
“Don’t do that,” Satoshi says quickly. “I’m not a soldier, today.”
He’s always a part of Hosokawa-dono’s small army, of course, but what he means is that he’s not on any particular duty that day. It’s supposed to be his rest day - he likes them best in the country, where he could find a peaceful place to just be.
The commoner, who suddenly seems a lot younger to Satoshi, doesn’t relax at all. He eyes the sword hanging loosely by Satoshi’s side. Satoshi’s eyes follow, and he shrugs. “I’m not working,” he repeats. “I’m not going to tell anyone that there’s a kid sneaking into the compound to…” he looks at the things the boy had tossed aside in a hurry, “play with leaves.”
The youth looks like he’s about to argue, but thinks better of it, and closes his mouth. He still stares at Satoshi, who soon grows tired of it.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“…Jun.”
“How old are you?”
“I will be turning sixteen soon.”
Not that much younger than him, Satoshi realises. He’s thinking of whether or not he should find a different spot to sit in peace, when the boy speaks again.
“I’m not - I didn’t sneak in.” Satoshi looks at him. “I’ve just started to work in the kitchens.”
“An apprentice?” Satoshi asks. Jun nods. Curious, Satoshi asks another question. “What were you doing with the leaves?”
Jun reddens, then. It’s an interesting sight, watching the face grow pinker and pinker. Satoshi bites back a smile. Jun turns to the leaves, picks a couple up, and holds them out to him.
He takes one - the leaf is large and wide, a little more than the span of his palm, and when he holds it out, he sees. Jun had been writing on them.
Practise.
Satoshi recognises the intent behind the repetition of words, the slow, careful strokes of the brush. “You’re learning to write?”
Jun nods, again.
Ohno hesitates. He doesn’t know if he should follow what impulse tells him - his mother had always advised him against following random impulses, but he rarely gets them. And when he does, he can’t stop thinking about where they may lead.
“Do you want me to teach you?” he asks.
Jun’s bent over, hands on his knees as he curses. Ohno could see the sweat trickling down his nape. “I’m never going to get this right,” Jun says, as he straightens up, and faces his reflection on the wall-to-wall mirror before him.
Everyone’s taking a break, but not Jun.
The choreography they’re learning that day is really hard, and no one expects to get it down perfectly on the first day. Aiba had made so many mistakes that they keep starting over, although Ohno suspects that some of the mistakes had been for their benefit. Because every time Nino seems like he’s too tired, or Sho’s about to trip over himself, or Jun’s patience is wearing thin, Aiba does something wrong. No one expects to get it perfectly right, but Jun wouldn’t be satisfied unless he really tried.
“Take it easy, Jun-kun,” Ohno calls out from the side, where he’s sitting and nursing a bottle of water. “Don’t overdo it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Jun mutters. “You made it seem so effortless.”
“I was yelled at a lot, too.” Their choreographer had been kind of scary that day.
“Yeah, because you slouch and you shuffle. Not because you got anything wrong.” Distracted, Jun forgets the next movement, and stops. “I’m never going to get this right.”
He’s in one of those moods, Ohno realises. The one where everything’s going to seem wrong no matter what. He sighs, and puts aside his drink, before getting up and going to Jun.
He touches Jun’s right arm lightly, stepping right behind the younger man. “Here,” he says. “You’re too tense, too stressed about getting it right. You should just loosen up, let it come to you instead.” His hands go up to Jun’s shoulders, and rubs them gently, before falling to Jun’s arms again, guiding them through the music. When Jun seems to get it, he lets go and moves a little to the side, following the song. Jun’s feet follows his movements, their eyes meeting over the mirror instead of watching themselves dance. When the song ends, they’ve completed the full dance without a hitch.
Ohno smiles. “See? You can do it.”
It’s kind of funny, when he remembers that he had taught Jun to write in the first place. Jun’s writing is impeccable now, and he reads better than Satoshi, studying from the materials that Satoshi had given him - that Satoshi himself had been too lazy to go through. He had thought that it’s a passing fancy to Jun, but it’s been two years since, and nothing has changed. Jun still gets bright-eyed over the prospect of learning something new, and mastering it.
Satoshi doesn’t bother teaching Jun any longer, the younger man having surpassed him in most of the skills he had bothered to pass on. They still spend a lot of time together, though, at the same spot by the river. Satoshi would take a nap, or just sit quietly and trying to clear his head from all thoughts, while Jun would be writing, or reading, or practising his kata. Sometimes Jun gets tired, and rests, too.
When Satoshi is getting ready to join the procession that will be going back to Edo the next day, Jun dares to sneak into Satoshi’s living quarters, and gives him things to take back with him.
“What are these?” Satoshi asks, perplexed, as he fingers the beautiful hair comb, the exquisite doll. There is a man who lived at the edge of the village who makes these things - it was said that he used to live in the city, trading his wares, but when he lost his son he had packed up and left. Satoshi doesn’t know whether the story is true or not, but he supposes it doesn’t matter.
“For your wife,” Jun says. “And daughter.”
“Ah.” It isn’t that Satoshi forgets - one doesn’t forget such things. But it’s a difficult adjustment to make, to live half a year apart from one’s family, and then spending the rest getting to know them again, before being torn away once more. “Thank you,” he says, and the smile that Jun gives him warms his heart.
It is only when Jun had left that he realises - in the years they’ve known each other, he had never had to struggle in reconnecting with Jun.
It’s been a few days since the five of them had work together, so Aiba’s in a higher mood than usual. He can’t seem to choose between Nino and Sho - he wants to join Nino, who had brought in his Wii in anticipation of a long day of filming, but he also wants to catch up with Sho, who’s concentrating on catching up with the news. Ohno watches, vaguely amused as he wonders if Aiba would ever stop bouncing across the room from one of them to the other. He himself had just seen Aiba the previous night, when they went out for drinks - he had happened to be free and in the area where Aiba had finished recording something, so they had decided to go out.
“Riida,” Jun greets him solemnly as the younger man steps up beside him.
“Jun,” he says, mimicking Jun’s tone.
“You’re darker. Again.” Ohno just smiles at the censure in Jun’s voice. Would he enjoy fishing as much as he did, he wonders, if it doesn’t bother Jun so?
“No one else noticed,” he says.
Jun scowls - well, almost. His lips twist and his face takes on an expression that Ohno is sure is supposed to be intimidating, but he just finds kind of cute. “The rest of them,” Jun says, nodding towards the other three - Aiba had managed to pull Sho to sit on the sofa instead of at the dressing table chair, and had squeezed between Sho and Nino happily, “don’t know the difference between foundation and your actual skin colour. I do.”
Ohno hums in agreement, but doesn’t speak. It’s only when Aiba’s turning to them and asking what are they doing all the way over there, when Ohno moves forward, leaving Jun. He says, “It doesn’t matter, does it, if no one else notices?”
“Yeah, but.” Jun wants to argue, but Ohno is already going to join the other three. He knows what Jun wants to say, of course - it’s the principle of the thing. It’s common sense; he’s an idol, he should act like one. He should have found himself a new hobby, one that doesn’t take him away so much. Why couldn’t he stay home and make more art, instead. (Although if he does that, he knows that Jun’s only going to nag at him about getting dirt under his fingernails, again.)
So many versions of the same argument, all leading to the same thing. He knows where it’s coming from, and he thinks Jun knows, too. But, contrary to Jun’s words, he’s very much aware that he’s an idol, and that there are things that idols can’t have.
“You should stop needling him,” Nino says, his lead leaning back into Ohno’s hands, as he steps up behind the sofa to take a look at the game Nino and Aiba are playing. Ohno plays with Nino’s hair, more out of habit than anything else.
“I had another dream last night,” he says. It’s a random thing, and he doesn’t expect to elaborate, but Nino pauses the game, and the three of them look up at him, waiting. “It’s… kind of nice, this time,” he says. “But kind of sad, too.”
They’re late coming back from school that day. By the time they get home, their mother is already waiting with her arms crossed and her brows knitted in worry - or at least Satoshi knows it’s worry that makes her look like that, but really she looks like she’s ready to kill them.
“Satoshi. Jun.” She’s just saying their names, but it makes both of them stand straighter, like they’re preparing for something bad. “Do you have anything to say to me?”
“It’s not our fault!” Jun burst out, unable to stop himself. “There was an air raid, and-”
Satoshi doesn’t even get a chance to shush his brother up. His mother slaps Jun, hard. He winces, as if he could feel it - even though as twins they look nothing alike, they’ve always had a bond that’s stronger than the ones they have with their other siblings.
“I know there’s an air raid,” their mother is saying. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” It’s true; Satoshi can see it. There’s a wildness in her eyes, and he knows that they shouldn’t have taken the long way home, but he had wanted to pass by the house with all the paintings hanging out over its entrance. How was he to know that the café on the way there is going to get hit? Before their mother could say anything more to Jun, he rushes to her, and wraps his arm around her.
She’s getting smaller, he realises, as his arms go all the way around her. Or is it him who is getting bigger?
The thought makes him sad, and he strengthens his hold.
“We’re sorry, Mama,” he says, and she cries. He’s the only one of the two who still calls her that - Jun has taken to calling her Mother.
The photographer wants a picture of the two of them, with Jun’s arm lightly resting on his shoulders. They play it up, as they usually would, giving each other gooey looks and even pretending that they were in a steamy embrace - they know the photos probably won’t be used, but it doesn’t stop it from being fun. This time, though, Ohno has flashes of the Jun from his new dream, the one who is his brother. It’s probably because of the interview the other day, he thinks, where one of them says that sometimes they’re like brothers, and his subconscious must have latched on to the idea.
He wonders why it’s always Jun in the dreams, though.
“Riida,” Jun is saying to him in a low murmur, as they both force smiles and try not to blink despite the glares of the spotlight and the camera flashing. “You’ve been kind of strange, lately.”
He knows this is Jun’s way of asking if he’s okay. He doesn’t know what to tell the younger man, though - that he’s been dreaming of Jun? That the dreams had seemed so vivid, like he’s having flashbacks instead? That unlike regular dreams that fade away as the day unfolds, these dreams remain in his head, as clear as any other memory? He shakes his head, earning him an admonishment from the photographer for moving at the wrong moment. “Just tired, maybe,” he says.
Jun gives him an incredulous look. “But you’re always switched off.”
Ohno shrugs. “Maybe not always.”
Jun frowns. “Is there anything that I should know about? Are you overexerting yourself with something, or someone? Because it’s not good if you’re always so unnaturally tired. I think I have something that will help you get more energy -” Jun only stops when Ohno gives him a small, quick peck on the cheek. The camera flashes, catching the smug look on Ohno’s face, and the dazed surprise in Jun’s.
“You’re sweet,” Ohno says, “but it’s okay. I can handle this.”
Jun doesn’t look like he believes Ohno at all, but at least he lets the subject drop.
He said that he wouldn’t take the long way again, but he can’t help it. It’s like the paintings call to him. He knows that he’s supposed to grow up to be a doctor, like his father, and his father’s father before him. Like Jun is studying hard to do. But school has never fascinated him the way the paintings do.
The old man who lives in the house sees him one morning, when he’s peering at the newest painting hanging out the front porch.
“What are you doing there, boy?”
He jumps, startled. But he doesn’t run. He knows who the man is, of course. He’s heard his mother talk about Takahashi-san before, a once-famous painter who now kept mostly to himself. He had also heard stories from the older kids in the neighbourhood, who said that Takahashi-san is either a user of dark magic or a vampire of some sort, who preys on innocent blood. The kids argue over which is the “correct” version, and as for Satoshi, he just doesn’t care. Takahashi-san’s paintings - at least the ones he’s seen hanging outside - are beautiful. That’s all that matters.
Still, he finds himself tongue-tied when standing before the painter.
“Are you dumb, boy?”
He shakes his head, so fast that he gets a bit dizzy. Then he forces himself to speak. “I was just looking at the paintings.”
“So you speak.” The man motions to the paintings. “You like these?”
He nods. “I try to draw them at home, but I never get them right.” He motions at the rough notebook in his hand, but suddenly feels shy. It isn’t even a proper sketchbook - that would be too much of a luxury for his family to spend on him. What it is, in fact, is a stack of papers torn out from old school notebooks - some lined, some checked, some blank - and bound together with needle and thread. He had watched his mother when she does her mending or sewing, and he had figured that he could do the same with paper to make a book.
Takahashi-san doesn’t laugh at him, like he expects the man to do. Instead, he stretches out a hand to Satoshi, and says, “let me see.”
If that surprises Satoshi, what’s more surprising is that Takahashi-san seems pleased with his work. He tells Satoshi what could be improved, and pointed out the parts that should have been erased and re-drawn. When the man was done, Satoshi is looking at him with hope in his eyes, and asks, “you’re that cartoonist, aren’t you? Sir.” He names the comic he and Jun reads all the time, the one about the boy who saves Japan. It isn’t written in Takahashi-san’s name, and it’s very different from the paintings he sees hanging in front all the time, but there’s something familiar about it, that he’s never been able to put a finger on until now.
Takahashi-san looks impressed. “You’re a smart boy.”
“I want to be one, too. A cartoonist.”
“Do your parents even know you’re here?”
“Um… yes.” He’s lying, but he has a feeling that Takahashi-san - Takahashi-sensei, he supposes - would send him away if he tells the truth. “I want to be your apprentice. Sir.”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” the man mumbled. “I get enough of that from the idiots in the city…” he mutters more things that Satoshi doesn’t really understand, but then he asks another question. “You’re not the oldest son, are you?”
He doesn’t lie this time. “I have an older sister, but I’m the oldest son,” he admits. “My brother is only a few minutes younger, though.”
“I’ve seen the two of you around,” Takahashi-sensei says. “Your brother, he’s taller - a bit on the reedy side?”
Satoshi thinks of Jun, and nods. He swallows. “May I be your apprentice, sir- Takahashi-sensei?” he asks again.
The man frowns at him. “What does your father do?”
“He’s a doctor.”
“And he expects you to take over after him,” Takahashi-sensei adds shrewdly.
Satoshi shrugs. “I don’t want to,” he says, defiant. “I want to draw.”
Takahashi-sensei sighs a little, and mumbles to himself again. Satoshi wonders if the man does that a lot, when he hears mutterings about ‘unfilial sons’. He stands as straight as he could, though, and keeps a determined expression on his face.
“What if your family - your father - tells you that you can’t? You shouldn’t disobey your parents, not when you’re living under their roof.”
“I’ll leave them if I have to,” he says.
“Even your brother?”
He feels a sharp pain in his chest as he realises - he can’t leave Jun. They’ve always been together. Always. He doesn’t know what life is like without Jun, and he isn’t sure that he wants to know. He’d miss Mama, and his sister, despite her constant teasings, and maybe he’d even miss his father’s harsh words - but Jun is more than that. Jun’s a part of him.
But he wants to draw. He wants to suggest that Takahashi-san take Jun as an apprentice, too - Jun is as good as he is, after all. But he knows it won’t work. Jun is good, but Jun had never wanted it the way Satoshi has. And someone needs to make their father proud. Someone needs to look after the family if anything happens to their father. Still, he wants to draw.
Satoshi bites his lips, hard, until he’s sure that he could speak without the slightest tremble. “Even my brother,” he says.
“So?” Sho asked. He and Nino are the first in the greenroom, waiting for Ohno’s arrival. Aiba would be running late because of a last-minute photo shoot that he needed to re-do, and Jun would probably be arriving exactly on time. Usually when Ohno enters the greenroom he would see Sho with his newspapers, and Nino absorbed in his games, but this time they’re both waiting, and looking at him expectantly.
“Um. What?”
“You went to a doctor, right?”
Ohno sighs. It had been an unusual experience, that’s for sure. He isn’t really fazed by it all - he’s seen ghosts and called down UFOs, after all - but he knows that at least Sho would think that his doctor is a quack. “My doctor thinks I’m dreaming of my past lives.”
Silence from the other two. Then, a full minute later, Sho asks, “you do know that that’s stupid, right?”
Nino nudges Sho sharply with one elbow, while his other hand motions for Ohno to sit next to him. Ohno does, and Nino’s hand immediately reaches to pat him on the head, like a puppy. “So, does he have any suggestions on how you could sleep better?”
“He says that if I’m having flashbacks from past lives, it probably means that there’s something about those lives that is connected to this one, that it’s a warning, or a message, or something.” Most of his words are mumbled, and Sho’s brows are knitted as he tries to understand, so Ohno takes out the book from his bag, and passes it to them.
Nino takes it from him, and hands it over to Sho. “Did he hypnotise you?” Nino asks, genuinely interested. Ohno nods, but doesn’t elaborate. This doesn’t deter Nino, who asks as many questions as is required to get the information he needs.
“Learning from Your Past Selves,” Sho said, reading the title out loud. He flips through the book, reading a bit here and there, before turning back to the two of them. “If this is to be believed - and I’m not saying that it is - then there should be a common thread between your flashbacks that will be a clue to what they’re trying to tell you.”
Ohno nods vigorously. “Jun -” he says, but stops. “Jun.” His voice takes on a different tone the second time he speaks, and he’s looking at the entrance. Sho and Nino turn, too, to see Jun standing there. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Jun replies cautiously, looking at the three of them. “Aren’t we all… comfortable, today.”
“Oh! That reminds me. I need to level up before Aiba gets here,” Nino says, getting up suddenly. Ohno had been half-leaning on him, and almost falls over. He quickly rights himself, and looks at Sho, who’s already taking out his paper. Jun is hanging up his bag, and looks at them again when he’s done.
“Anything interesting happened, Riida?” Jun asks, sitting down where Nino had been. Ohno doesn’t answer, but takes Jun’s hand, and keeps it in his. Jun raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything, either. Ohno’s fingers trace over the lines on Jun’s palm, thinking about if it really was true, and they’ve known each other for what must have been centuries. Different lives, different selves - and yet he’s absolutely sure that it’s Jun. His Jun; the man he had killed, the man he had loved, and the boy that was his brother. It bothers him, though, that he only remembers bits and pieces.
He thinks of what the common thread must be in all the bits of life he’d remembered, and there’s only one thing, in the end.
“I love Jun.”
He blinks, realising that he’d said out loud when he hears Sho’s muffled laughter, and the rustle of paper as Sho puts it away. Jun pulls his hand away so that it’s free to knock him over the head.
“Stupid,” Jun chides. “Save that for when we’re on camera.”
He opens his mouth to explain that that isn’t what he means, but closes it as he tells himself that it’s too much of a bother to explain. It doesn’t matter; he’ll figure it out eventually. He always does.
Aiba’s timing is as perfect as ever, shoving the door to the greenroom open and asking loudly, “did I miss out on anything fun?”
Nino remarks on the loss of peace now that Aiba’s back in their midst, but Aiba pays no mind, launching himself at Nino - who has thankfully levelled up by then - as if he hasn’t seen them in weeks instead of only three days. Out of the corner of his eye, Ohno sees Sho getting up and walking towards the two to negotiate peace (presumably), and he bites back a grin. He looks at Jun with mischief in his eyes, about to suggest something - although he never knows what it is until it comes out of his mouth sometimes - when his hand reaches out, almost in defence, as if warding off any smacks from the younger man, but instead lands lightly on Jun’s chest.
Not an abnormal thing, really. The touch is innocent enough. But a flash of memory hits him, and it makes him pull back more abruptly than he otherwise would.
He’s old enough, and have ascended in rank enough that Hosokawa-dono is assigning him to remain in Edo, to watch over the family - families - left behind. It’s his last year outside the city.
Satoshi doesn’t tell Jun about it, wanting to taint the last days he would spend with the youth. Not really a “youth” anymore, he supposes - Jun has grown, as he had. Unlike him, however, Jun had never taken a wife. “What am I going to do with a wife?” Jun asks, when Satoshi asks him why, and he’d been struck dumb, unable to answer.
A lot of things, he would want to say. He’s sure that his mother could think of a million reasons why a man could never live without a wife. But he’s spent too long and too far apart from his own, and sometimes when he returns to Edo he thinks he’s going back to a stranger.
Jun seems to suspect something, though, because Jun is always trying to find more time to spare for Satoshi, and sometimes looks at him in an unsettling way, like he knows too much. Satoshi supposes this wouldn’t be too surprising; Jun may not be the natural that Satoshi is, but he works so hard that he always surpasses Satoshi in the end. It would only be right that Jun would know Satoshi’s mind more than he does himself, sometimes.
“You’ve become a wonderful cook,” he tells Jun, as they eat by the riverbank in the evening. “This is better than anything I’ve tasted.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not.” He’s telling the truth - it is the best, as far as he’s concerned.
Jun half-smiles, both pleased and amused. “Then it’s just because it was me who made it. If I took someone else’s dish and told you I made it, it would’ve been the best you’ve ever tasted.”
This, too, rings true. Satoshi is quiet as he contemplates Jun’s words - what makes Jun so special, he wonders. He’s pretty sure that they aren’t supposed to be friends. They aren’t supposed to be close, and Jun shouldn’t be talking to him so casually. But all of that seems stupid, because even though they don’t make sense, they actually do. He laughs to himself, thinking that he finds his own thoughts confusing. Jun doesn’t seem perturbed at all by his behaviour. Jun never does.
“You’re not coming back this time,” Jun suddenly says, and Satoshi stops laughing. Of course Jun knows, he thinks. What had made him think that he could hide it from Jun in the first place?
“No,” he says, sober. “I’m not.”
“Forgive me,” Jun says, and it doesn’t make sense - it isn’t a logical response to his words no matter how he thinks of it, but then he hears the rustle of fabric and all he could think of is, he’s fast, and Jun’s in front of him, and Jun’s hand is on his chest, only lightly touching at first, but then Jun’s fingers digs into his clothes and pulls him close, and their lips meet.
Oh, Satoshi thinks.
He understands now.
Ohno understands now.
Jun looks confused as he pulls away, stares at his hand. Just because he understands, it doesn’t mean he knows what he wants to do about it, or what he’s supposed to do. The memory of Jun - the one in his dreams, or flashbacks - is too clear, too vivid in his mind, and it’s hard to separate from the Jun he knows now.
“Riida?” Jun asks. “Ohno.”
He shakes his head, but he’s feeling a little dazed, so he stops. “I’m fine,” he says.
“Are you sure…?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Sho says, interrupting before Ohno could answer. “Jun, you texted me this morning saying that there’s something you want to talk to us about.”
Jun shifts, looking uncomfortable. Sho walks back toward them, pulls a stool, and sits facing Jun and Ohno, Even Aiba and Nino, who have settled down on the other side of the room, looked up at them. Listening. They’ve all gotten the same text, and had forgotten about it after a hectic morning schedule.
“That…” Jun glances at Ohno again. “Maybe now’s not the time.”
“If it’s something you’re telling all of us,” Sho reminds Jun, “it has to be now, or next week. We won’t be meeting each other ‘til then. You know that.”
“I know.” Ohno sees the flash of annoyance in Jun’s eyes. Sho doesn’t. This relaxes Ohno, though. It’s easier for Jun to talk when he’s uncomfortable, if he’s also in a temper. “Look, nothing’s set in stone yet, and I haven’t made a decision, but…” he trails off, and both Sho and Ohno lean a little closer. Aiba is standing, as if to head over to where they’re sitting, but Nino pulls him back down. “You know how Nino got that Hollywood gig last time? It’s something like that. But with me, this time. You know.”
Aiba’s the first to speak. “But that’s so cool! Why are you hesitating?”
“Because this isn’t something that will only take a couple of months.”
“Oh. How long?” Aiba, again. Nino’s still staring at Jun, and Sho looks like he might have known about it already.
“A year, at least. Maybe two. It’s a television series, about - my manager says I can’t talk about it yet.”
“What happens to Arashi, if you leave?” Trust Sho to ask the right questions, Ohno thinks.
“I asked. I even went to Johnny himself, and asked. He said that it’s up to me - I can stay or leave, and you could continue without me while I’m gone.” Jun looks down, suddenly interested in his hands, which are gripping and twisting at the edge of his shirt. “With Jin’s success abroad, he said that I could do solo concerts while I’m there.”
“But you can’t sing.” Nino finally speaks, his voice high and almost panicky, but only Ohno notices the last part. Aiba’s nudging Nino to quiet down or to be nicer, while Sho lets out a muffled snort. “And you can’t act. They only like you because you’re… us.”
Sho’s the one who looks pained, as he mutters something to Nino about it not being funny. Nino likes to joke in private that while their group might be popular because of Jun, Jun himself is only popular because of his looks, and his affiliation with the group. Jun, unoffended, just gives Nino a cool look and says, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
They continue talking, and Ohno let the noise go over his head, until he realises that they’ve stopped. He looks up, and sees that everyone’s looking at him.
“What do you think, Riida?” Jun asks.
He smiles. “I think Jun should do whatever makes Jun happy.”
Nino gripes that it’s such a stupid answer, but he doesn’t care - Nino’s going to complain no matter what he says, and anyway, he doesn’t want to be there anymore. He tells them that he needs air, and walks out.
He follows the corridor down to the farthest end, and turns into the door marking the emergency exit, and goes through. He sits on the staircase heading down, and closes his eyes. Peace at last.
He remembers the other-him, the one who once sat by a riverbank thinking the exact same thing, and he laughs.
A knock on the door, taking him away from the thought of dubious pasts.
“Riida?”
He sighs. “I’m here.”
Jun goes through the door, and sits next to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Jun. They’re quiet for a few moments before Jun says, “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
There it is again, he thinks. That double-edged sword. If he tells Jun to go, then he doesn’t care enough to want Jun to stay. If he tells Jun to stay, then he doesn’t care enough to want Jun to be happy. And he doesn’t even know what he wants himself.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.” Jun has probably made the decision already, he thinks, and just needs the support, without knowing how to ask for it without seeming selfish. He thinks about the other-hims. “We’ve known each other for a long time,” he says.
“I know, Riida. Over a decade.” Jun lets his shoulder bump into Ohno’s. “What, are you getting sentimental in your old age?”
“No. I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time. More than a decade, or decades. A century, maybe longer.”
Jun laughs, then. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He takes Jun’s hand, wiping away the smile on Jun’s face, as Jun realises that he’s being serious. “The first time we met - I think it’s the first time - I ended up killing you.”
“Look, if you’re mad about me talking about leaving -” Jun starts to extricate his hand, but Ohno holds on in persistance.
“I didn’t want to do it,” Ohno continues, ignoring Jun. “But there hadn’t been any choice. Not to the person I was back then, anyway. I can still feel it now,” he says, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, “the way it felt when I swung the sword.”
“Riida. That’s not funny.”
“The second time we met - that I remember, anyway; I have a feeling there’s more - we became friends. Maybe more than that.” His fingers draw a pattern on the back of Jun’s hand, and he’s pleased by the way Jun bites his lips, the way Jun’s fingers curl around his. “But I left you, in the end. I think. While relationships like ours may not have been too strange, they were never expected to last.”
“You’re really weird. You know that?”
“The last that I can remember - and I think it’s the last time we met before now - we were brothers. That only makes sense, I suppose, since we’re almost that now. All of us.” He waits for Jun to say something, but when Jun remains silent, he adds, “I left you, too. I loved you then, but there was something I wanted more than anything else, and I left you.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says absently. “It’s just me, you know. We’ve known each other forever. I guess -” he hesitates, as a part of him demands if this is what he really wants, “you should go. Why should I always be the one who leaves?” The last part, he speaks mostly to himself. “Yes, you should go.”
Continue to Part Two
Comment in Part Two, please :)
FANDOM: Arashi
PAIRING: Juntoshi
RATING: PG
DATE: September 26th, 2011
WORD COUNT: 14,400
NOTES/DISCLAIMERS: This is a work of fiction. Written for the Japan Earthquake & Tsunami Relief Fund. Thank you, iphridian for donating, and I'm sorry for the time I took working on this!
No matter how much time passes or how much things change
No matter how many hundred million years go by
Like the stars shining throughout the light-years
Our love won't disappear.
- 星のように by MISIA
Like the Stars
He stands on Jun’s rear left, holding his sword in a way so that Jun wouldn’t see. To others, and to tradition, it would be courtesy that makes him hold back; in truth, he doesn’t want Jun to see how hard it is for him to keep his emotions at bay, to keep his hands steady. It’s not the first time he’s asked to act as kaishaku, but it’s the first time that he is reluctant to carry out his duty.
It isn’t fair.
Nobody ever said that life is fair, he reminds himself. His mother had always told him that, whenever something upsets him when he was little.
Satoshi looks at Jun’s bowed figure on the ground - he waits for a tremble of anger, of fear, of hatred, anything from Jun but this blind acceptance of his fate, but nothing comes. Jun must hate him, he supposes. Jun has been betrayed by his own master, but it had been Satoshi who had exposed his master’s betrayal to the lord they both served. It had been Satoshi who had been rivals with Hachisuka, Jun’s master, for almost a lifetime, and all that had resulted in is this.
Staring too long at the exposed nape, he imagines a line where it connects to Jun’s shoulder. Out of the corner of his eye, Satoshi watches, horrified, as Jun reaches for the sword, points it towards himself, and presses.
Satoshi strikes. His movement makes a perfect line cutting through air, through Jun. He doesn’t lose his composure.
It’s just a dream.
Ohno tells himself this, over and over, but his hand still shakes. It had felt so real; he had felt the weight of the sword in his hands. It must be memory of the swords he’d handled during numerous shoots and taping, he supposes, that makes the dream so real.
He glances over at the seat across his; Jun’s there, reading. In one piece. He breathes out, slowly.
“What’s wrong, Riida?”
Nino’s sitting further away from them, with Aiba, but somehow the gamer noticed how Ohno is more unsettled than he’s ever been. He takes his eyes away from Jun, turns to Nino, and shakes his head slightly.
“Nothing,” he murmurs. “Weird dream, that’s all.”
“Must be really weird to put that look on your face,” Nino comments. Ohno opens his mouth to reply, but Jun beats him to it.
“It’s probably Sho-kun’s snoring that gave him nightmares.”
As if hearing his name, Sho, who’s sleeping next to Ohno, stirs. The caster stretches, and asks groggily, “did I miss something?”
Both Nino and Jun have already lost interest in the conversation, turning back to the things that were previously preoccupying them. Ohno offers Sho a smile and tells him a funny story that Aiba had told him earlier, except that he tells it wrong and it doesn’t make sense. Sho smiles, though, amused for reasons Ohno doesn’t understand.
“You don’t remember me, do you.”
Satoshi knows that Hachisuka had fled. He had thought that this boy, Matsudaira, would have followed his master, instead of sitting in the dark of the now abandoned residence. Waiting. He looks at the boy, puzzled.
“Should I?” he asks.
Even in the dark, Satoshi sees a hint of a bitter smile. “I suppose you wouldn’t remember. You only know of me as Matsudaira - perhaps, if I tell you that I didn’t always have a surname…?”
Jun.
Satoshi doesn’t know why the name came to his mind; he hasn’t seen Jun since he was a child, when he still snuck out the compound sometimes to play with the commoners’ children. He hadn’t thought of Jun in almost as long, at least a few years since he was told that Jun had been sold off.
But it is Jun before him. He’s certain of it.
“I thought…” he trails off, not knowing if it’s appropriate to mention it. But he never cared about propriety before, so why should he start now? “What happened?”
“After your family paid mine off to send me away, I went to live with my uncle. When I was fifteen, Hachisuka-dono found me. He had the Matsudairas adopt me into their family.” Jun’s reverence for Hachisuka is clear in his voice, as is his resentment towards Satoshi.
Satoshi wonders how Jun would take it, if he suggests that Hachisuka had probably sought him out just because he had been Satoshi’s childhood friend.
Another part of him thinks, so that’s what happened. He had always thought it was strange, because Jun’s parents didn’t seem like the kind who would sell off a child even when in the worst of financial burdens.
“Hachisuka betrayed the daimyo,” he says, simply. He isn’t taking pleasure in proving that the man Jun revered and loved was not as noble as Jun thought. He isn’t taking pleasure in the knowledge that even as they are talking, he had sent some of his men after Hachisuka. All of which would only make Jun hate him more. “He had been selling secrets, and -”
“I know,” Jun interrupts, his voice betraying only the slightest tremble. He’s already on his knees; his head bows, then, prostrating before Satoshi. “I will take responsibility for my master.”
“That’s not your place to decide,” Satoshi says, but he knows how the end result would be. “Jun, I -”
Jun straightens up to look at him in the eye. So defiant, Satoshi thinks, and so strong, even though he’s the one looking down, and Jun’s the one on his knees.
“I won’t forget,” Jun says, his voice hard, unforgiving.
“Jun’s so ticklish,” Aiba comments, when Nino’s fingers pinch into Jun’s side, and Jun lets out a startled yelp. Jun argues that anyone would cry out if Nino’s fat fingers had dug into them so hard, when he let out another sound, different than the one before.
Ohno turns, curious. Nino has definitely found Jun’s most ticklish spot. Nino’s hand is already retracting when he looks over, but he could guess where they had been, because Jun’s own hand is now over his nape. Jun is looking at Nino like it’s no longer a joke, and Nino’s laughing, but backing away slightly so that he’d be closer to Aiba.
He probably stares too long, because Sho’s saying something and Jun’s looking his way.
He says the first thing that comes to mind - something about ninjas that he heard about a long time ago. Sho still looks baffled, and Jun snorts ungracefully before turning away.
Later, though, when Nino had left with Aiba and Jun’s still in the dressing room, Ohno touches Sho’s arm lightly. Sho stops to look at him, and waits for him to speak. It takes awhile, because he still isn’t sure if he wants to talk about it.
“I think something’s wrong,” he says. “With me. These dreams.”
Sho looks concerned, but he knows Sho’s more worried that he isn’t getting the rest he needs than about the dreams. So he shakes his head, tells Sho he’s going to be fine, and that he’ll see a doctor about getting better sleep.
He had seen the youth before, during their procession through the countryside. A lot of the people who worked the land had lined up to take a look - in Edo, such processions were common, something one might see every day. There’s always a lord coming into or leaving the city. Here, it only happens once - or twice if one counted the return - a year. The youth, unable to see properly because of the crowd, had climbed one of the larger trees close to the road. As they passed through, Satoshi’s eyes met his, once, and he clambered down the tree as quickly as he had climbed it.
It surprises him to see the same youth later, preoccupied with something by the small stream. Satoshi had been serving Hosokawa-dono for three years, but he’s never noticed this person before. He opens his mouth to speak, but he forgets what he wants to say, and what comes out is a monosyllabic, “Ah.”
The boy looks up, and Satoshi sees mild panic registering in his eyes as he pushes away the things in his hands, and kneels down before him.
“Don’t do that,” Satoshi says quickly. “I’m not a soldier, today.”
He’s always a part of Hosokawa-dono’s small army, of course, but what he means is that he’s not on any particular duty that day. It’s supposed to be his rest day - he likes them best in the country, where he could find a peaceful place to just be.
The commoner, who suddenly seems a lot younger to Satoshi, doesn’t relax at all. He eyes the sword hanging loosely by Satoshi’s side. Satoshi’s eyes follow, and he shrugs. “I’m not working,” he repeats. “I’m not going to tell anyone that there’s a kid sneaking into the compound to…” he looks at the things the boy had tossed aside in a hurry, “play with leaves.”
The youth looks like he’s about to argue, but thinks better of it, and closes his mouth. He still stares at Satoshi, who soon grows tired of it.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
“…Jun.”
“How old are you?”
“I will be turning sixteen soon.”
Not that much younger than him, Satoshi realises. He’s thinking of whether or not he should find a different spot to sit in peace, when the boy speaks again.
“I’m not - I didn’t sneak in.” Satoshi looks at him. “I’ve just started to work in the kitchens.”
“An apprentice?” Satoshi asks. Jun nods. Curious, Satoshi asks another question. “What were you doing with the leaves?”
Jun reddens, then. It’s an interesting sight, watching the face grow pinker and pinker. Satoshi bites back a smile. Jun turns to the leaves, picks a couple up, and holds them out to him.
He takes one - the leaf is large and wide, a little more than the span of his palm, and when he holds it out, he sees. Jun had been writing on them.
Practise.
Satoshi recognises the intent behind the repetition of words, the slow, careful strokes of the brush. “You’re learning to write?”
Jun nods, again.
Ohno hesitates. He doesn’t know if he should follow what impulse tells him - his mother had always advised him against following random impulses, but he rarely gets them. And when he does, he can’t stop thinking about where they may lead.
“Do you want me to teach you?” he asks.
Jun’s bent over, hands on his knees as he curses. Ohno could see the sweat trickling down his nape. “I’m never going to get this right,” Jun says, as he straightens up, and faces his reflection on the wall-to-wall mirror before him.
Everyone’s taking a break, but not Jun.
The choreography they’re learning that day is really hard, and no one expects to get it down perfectly on the first day. Aiba had made so many mistakes that they keep starting over, although Ohno suspects that some of the mistakes had been for their benefit. Because every time Nino seems like he’s too tired, or Sho’s about to trip over himself, or Jun’s patience is wearing thin, Aiba does something wrong. No one expects to get it perfectly right, but Jun wouldn’t be satisfied unless he really tried.
“Take it easy, Jun-kun,” Ohno calls out from the side, where he’s sitting and nursing a bottle of water. “Don’t overdo it.”
“Easy for you to say,” Jun mutters. “You made it seem so effortless.”
“I was yelled at a lot, too.” Their choreographer had been kind of scary that day.
“Yeah, because you slouch and you shuffle. Not because you got anything wrong.” Distracted, Jun forgets the next movement, and stops. “I’m never going to get this right.”
He’s in one of those moods, Ohno realises. The one where everything’s going to seem wrong no matter what. He sighs, and puts aside his drink, before getting up and going to Jun.
He touches Jun’s right arm lightly, stepping right behind the younger man. “Here,” he says. “You’re too tense, too stressed about getting it right. You should just loosen up, let it come to you instead.” His hands go up to Jun’s shoulders, and rubs them gently, before falling to Jun’s arms again, guiding them through the music. When Jun seems to get it, he lets go and moves a little to the side, following the song. Jun’s feet follows his movements, their eyes meeting over the mirror instead of watching themselves dance. When the song ends, they’ve completed the full dance without a hitch.
Ohno smiles. “See? You can do it.”
It’s kind of funny, when he remembers that he had taught Jun to write in the first place. Jun’s writing is impeccable now, and he reads better than Satoshi, studying from the materials that Satoshi had given him - that Satoshi himself had been too lazy to go through. He had thought that it’s a passing fancy to Jun, but it’s been two years since, and nothing has changed. Jun still gets bright-eyed over the prospect of learning something new, and mastering it.
Satoshi doesn’t bother teaching Jun any longer, the younger man having surpassed him in most of the skills he had bothered to pass on. They still spend a lot of time together, though, at the same spot by the river. Satoshi would take a nap, or just sit quietly and trying to clear his head from all thoughts, while Jun would be writing, or reading, or practising his kata. Sometimes Jun gets tired, and rests, too.
When Satoshi is getting ready to join the procession that will be going back to Edo the next day, Jun dares to sneak into Satoshi’s living quarters, and gives him things to take back with him.
“What are these?” Satoshi asks, perplexed, as he fingers the beautiful hair comb, the exquisite doll. There is a man who lived at the edge of the village who makes these things - it was said that he used to live in the city, trading his wares, but when he lost his son he had packed up and left. Satoshi doesn’t know whether the story is true or not, but he supposes it doesn’t matter.
“For your wife,” Jun says. “And daughter.”
“Ah.” It isn’t that Satoshi forgets - one doesn’t forget such things. But it’s a difficult adjustment to make, to live half a year apart from one’s family, and then spending the rest getting to know them again, before being torn away once more. “Thank you,” he says, and the smile that Jun gives him warms his heart.
It is only when Jun had left that he realises - in the years they’ve known each other, he had never had to struggle in reconnecting with Jun.
It’s been a few days since the five of them had work together, so Aiba’s in a higher mood than usual. He can’t seem to choose between Nino and Sho - he wants to join Nino, who had brought in his Wii in anticipation of a long day of filming, but he also wants to catch up with Sho, who’s concentrating on catching up with the news. Ohno watches, vaguely amused as he wonders if Aiba would ever stop bouncing across the room from one of them to the other. He himself had just seen Aiba the previous night, when they went out for drinks - he had happened to be free and in the area where Aiba had finished recording something, so they had decided to go out.
“Riida,” Jun greets him solemnly as the younger man steps up beside him.
“Jun,” he says, mimicking Jun’s tone.
“You’re darker. Again.” Ohno just smiles at the censure in Jun’s voice. Would he enjoy fishing as much as he did, he wonders, if it doesn’t bother Jun so?
“No one else noticed,” he says.
Jun scowls - well, almost. His lips twist and his face takes on an expression that Ohno is sure is supposed to be intimidating, but he just finds kind of cute. “The rest of them,” Jun says, nodding towards the other three - Aiba had managed to pull Sho to sit on the sofa instead of at the dressing table chair, and had squeezed between Sho and Nino happily, “don’t know the difference between foundation and your actual skin colour. I do.”
Ohno hums in agreement, but doesn’t speak. It’s only when Aiba’s turning to them and asking what are they doing all the way over there, when Ohno moves forward, leaving Jun. He says, “It doesn’t matter, does it, if no one else notices?”
“Yeah, but.” Jun wants to argue, but Ohno is already going to join the other three. He knows what Jun wants to say, of course - it’s the principle of the thing. It’s common sense; he’s an idol, he should act like one. He should have found himself a new hobby, one that doesn’t take him away so much. Why couldn’t he stay home and make more art, instead. (Although if he does that, he knows that Jun’s only going to nag at him about getting dirt under his fingernails, again.)
So many versions of the same argument, all leading to the same thing. He knows where it’s coming from, and he thinks Jun knows, too. But, contrary to Jun’s words, he’s very much aware that he’s an idol, and that there are things that idols can’t have.
“You should stop needling him,” Nino says, his lead leaning back into Ohno’s hands, as he steps up behind the sofa to take a look at the game Nino and Aiba are playing. Ohno plays with Nino’s hair, more out of habit than anything else.
“I had another dream last night,” he says. It’s a random thing, and he doesn’t expect to elaborate, but Nino pauses the game, and the three of them look up at him, waiting. “It’s… kind of nice, this time,” he says. “But kind of sad, too.”
They’re late coming back from school that day. By the time they get home, their mother is already waiting with her arms crossed and her brows knitted in worry - or at least Satoshi knows it’s worry that makes her look like that, but really she looks like she’s ready to kill them.
“Satoshi. Jun.” She’s just saying their names, but it makes both of them stand straighter, like they’re preparing for something bad. “Do you have anything to say to me?”
“It’s not our fault!” Jun burst out, unable to stop himself. “There was an air raid, and-”
Satoshi doesn’t even get a chance to shush his brother up. His mother slaps Jun, hard. He winces, as if he could feel it - even though as twins they look nothing alike, they’ve always had a bond that’s stronger than the ones they have with their other siblings.
“I know there’s an air raid,” their mother is saying. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” It’s true; Satoshi can see it. There’s a wildness in her eyes, and he knows that they shouldn’t have taken the long way home, but he had wanted to pass by the house with all the paintings hanging out over its entrance. How was he to know that the café on the way there is going to get hit? Before their mother could say anything more to Jun, he rushes to her, and wraps his arm around her.
She’s getting smaller, he realises, as his arms go all the way around her. Or is it him who is getting bigger?
The thought makes him sad, and he strengthens his hold.
“We’re sorry, Mama,” he says, and she cries. He’s the only one of the two who still calls her that - Jun has taken to calling her Mother.
The photographer wants a picture of the two of them, with Jun’s arm lightly resting on his shoulders. They play it up, as they usually would, giving each other gooey looks and even pretending that they were in a steamy embrace - they know the photos probably won’t be used, but it doesn’t stop it from being fun. This time, though, Ohno has flashes of the Jun from his new dream, the one who is his brother. It’s probably because of the interview the other day, he thinks, where one of them says that sometimes they’re like brothers, and his subconscious must have latched on to the idea.
He wonders why it’s always Jun in the dreams, though.
“Riida,” Jun is saying to him in a low murmur, as they both force smiles and try not to blink despite the glares of the spotlight and the camera flashing. “You’ve been kind of strange, lately.”
He knows this is Jun’s way of asking if he’s okay. He doesn’t know what to tell the younger man, though - that he’s been dreaming of Jun? That the dreams had seemed so vivid, like he’s having flashbacks instead? That unlike regular dreams that fade away as the day unfolds, these dreams remain in his head, as clear as any other memory? He shakes his head, earning him an admonishment from the photographer for moving at the wrong moment. “Just tired, maybe,” he says.
Jun gives him an incredulous look. “But you’re always switched off.”
Ohno shrugs. “Maybe not always.”
Jun frowns. “Is there anything that I should know about? Are you overexerting yourself with something, or someone? Because it’s not good if you’re always so unnaturally tired. I think I have something that will help you get more energy -” Jun only stops when Ohno gives him a small, quick peck on the cheek. The camera flashes, catching the smug look on Ohno’s face, and the dazed surprise in Jun’s.
“You’re sweet,” Ohno says, “but it’s okay. I can handle this.”
Jun doesn’t look like he believes Ohno at all, but at least he lets the subject drop.
He said that he wouldn’t take the long way again, but he can’t help it. It’s like the paintings call to him. He knows that he’s supposed to grow up to be a doctor, like his father, and his father’s father before him. Like Jun is studying hard to do. But school has never fascinated him the way the paintings do.
The old man who lives in the house sees him one morning, when he’s peering at the newest painting hanging out the front porch.
“What are you doing there, boy?”
He jumps, startled. But he doesn’t run. He knows who the man is, of course. He’s heard his mother talk about Takahashi-san before, a once-famous painter who now kept mostly to himself. He had also heard stories from the older kids in the neighbourhood, who said that Takahashi-san is either a user of dark magic or a vampire of some sort, who preys on innocent blood. The kids argue over which is the “correct” version, and as for Satoshi, he just doesn’t care. Takahashi-san’s paintings - at least the ones he’s seen hanging outside - are beautiful. That’s all that matters.
Still, he finds himself tongue-tied when standing before the painter.
“Are you dumb, boy?”
He shakes his head, so fast that he gets a bit dizzy. Then he forces himself to speak. “I was just looking at the paintings.”
“So you speak.” The man motions to the paintings. “You like these?”
He nods. “I try to draw them at home, but I never get them right.” He motions at the rough notebook in his hand, but suddenly feels shy. It isn’t even a proper sketchbook - that would be too much of a luxury for his family to spend on him. What it is, in fact, is a stack of papers torn out from old school notebooks - some lined, some checked, some blank - and bound together with needle and thread. He had watched his mother when she does her mending or sewing, and he had figured that he could do the same with paper to make a book.
Takahashi-san doesn’t laugh at him, like he expects the man to do. Instead, he stretches out a hand to Satoshi, and says, “let me see.”
If that surprises Satoshi, what’s more surprising is that Takahashi-san seems pleased with his work. He tells Satoshi what could be improved, and pointed out the parts that should have been erased and re-drawn. When the man was done, Satoshi is looking at him with hope in his eyes, and asks, “you’re that cartoonist, aren’t you? Sir.” He names the comic he and Jun reads all the time, the one about the boy who saves Japan. It isn’t written in Takahashi-san’s name, and it’s very different from the paintings he sees hanging in front all the time, but there’s something familiar about it, that he’s never been able to put a finger on until now.
Takahashi-san looks impressed. “You’re a smart boy.”
“I want to be one, too. A cartoonist.”
“Do your parents even know you’re here?”
“Um… yes.” He’s lying, but he has a feeling that Takahashi-san - Takahashi-sensei, he supposes - would send him away if he tells the truth. “I want to be your apprentice. Sir.”
“Don’t ‘sir’ me,” the man mumbled. “I get enough of that from the idiots in the city…” he mutters more things that Satoshi doesn’t really understand, but then he asks another question. “You’re not the oldest son, are you?”
He doesn’t lie this time. “I have an older sister, but I’m the oldest son,” he admits. “My brother is only a few minutes younger, though.”
“I’ve seen the two of you around,” Takahashi-sensei says. “Your brother, he’s taller - a bit on the reedy side?”
Satoshi thinks of Jun, and nods. He swallows. “May I be your apprentice, sir- Takahashi-sensei?” he asks again.
The man frowns at him. “What does your father do?”
“He’s a doctor.”
“And he expects you to take over after him,” Takahashi-sensei adds shrewdly.
Satoshi shrugs. “I don’t want to,” he says, defiant. “I want to draw.”
Takahashi-sensei sighs a little, and mumbles to himself again. Satoshi wonders if the man does that a lot, when he hears mutterings about ‘unfilial sons’. He stands as straight as he could, though, and keeps a determined expression on his face.
“What if your family - your father - tells you that you can’t? You shouldn’t disobey your parents, not when you’re living under their roof.”
“I’ll leave them if I have to,” he says.
“Even your brother?”
He feels a sharp pain in his chest as he realises - he can’t leave Jun. They’ve always been together. Always. He doesn’t know what life is like without Jun, and he isn’t sure that he wants to know. He’d miss Mama, and his sister, despite her constant teasings, and maybe he’d even miss his father’s harsh words - but Jun is more than that. Jun’s a part of him.
But he wants to draw. He wants to suggest that Takahashi-san take Jun as an apprentice, too - Jun is as good as he is, after all. But he knows it won’t work. Jun is good, but Jun had never wanted it the way Satoshi has. And someone needs to make their father proud. Someone needs to look after the family if anything happens to their father. Still, he wants to draw.
Satoshi bites his lips, hard, until he’s sure that he could speak without the slightest tremble. “Even my brother,” he says.
“So?” Sho asked. He and Nino are the first in the greenroom, waiting for Ohno’s arrival. Aiba would be running late because of a last-minute photo shoot that he needed to re-do, and Jun would probably be arriving exactly on time. Usually when Ohno enters the greenroom he would see Sho with his newspapers, and Nino absorbed in his games, but this time they’re both waiting, and looking at him expectantly.
“Um. What?”
“You went to a doctor, right?”
Ohno sighs. It had been an unusual experience, that’s for sure. He isn’t really fazed by it all - he’s seen ghosts and called down UFOs, after all - but he knows that at least Sho would think that his doctor is a quack. “My doctor thinks I’m dreaming of my past lives.”
Silence from the other two. Then, a full minute later, Sho asks, “you do know that that’s stupid, right?”
Nino nudges Sho sharply with one elbow, while his other hand motions for Ohno to sit next to him. Ohno does, and Nino’s hand immediately reaches to pat him on the head, like a puppy. “So, does he have any suggestions on how you could sleep better?”
“He says that if I’m having flashbacks from past lives, it probably means that there’s something about those lives that is connected to this one, that it’s a warning, or a message, or something.” Most of his words are mumbled, and Sho’s brows are knitted as he tries to understand, so Ohno takes out the book from his bag, and passes it to them.
Nino takes it from him, and hands it over to Sho. “Did he hypnotise you?” Nino asks, genuinely interested. Ohno nods, but doesn’t elaborate. This doesn’t deter Nino, who asks as many questions as is required to get the information he needs.
“Learning from Your Past Selves,” Sho said, reading the title out loud. He flips through the book, reading a bit here and there, before turning back to the two of them. “If this is to be believed - and I’m not saying that it is - then there should be a common thread between your flashbacks that will be a clue to what they’re trying to tell you.”
Ohno nods vigorously. “Jun -” he says, but stops. “Jun.” His voice takes on a different tone the second time he speaks, and he’s looking at the entrance. Sho and Nino turn, too, to see Jun standing there. “Hi.”
“Hi,” Jun replies cautiously, looking at the three of them. “Aren’t we all… comfortable, today.”
“Oh! That reminds me. I need to level up before Aiba gets here,” Nino says, getting up suddenly. Ohno had been half-leaning on him, and almost falls over. He quickly rights himself, and looks at Sho, who’s already taking out his paper. Jun is hanging up his bag, and looks at them again when he’s done.
“Anything interesting happened, Riida?” Jun asks, sitting down where Nino had been. Ohno doesn’t answer, but takes Jun’s hand, and keeps it in his. Jun raises an eyebrow at him, but doesn’t say anything, either. Ohno’s fingers trace over the lines on Jun’s palm, thinking about if it really was true, and they’ve known each other for what must have been centuries. Different lives, different selves - and yet he’s absolutely sure that it’s Jun. His Jun; the man he had killed, the man he had loved, and the boy that was his brother. It bothers him, though, that he only remembers bits and pieces.
He thinks of what the common thread must be in all the bits of life he’d remembered, and there’s only one thing, in the end.
“I love Jun.”
He blinks, realising that he’d said out loud when he hears Sho’s muffled laughter, and the rustle of paper as Sho puts it away. Jun pulls his hand away so that it’s free to knock him over the head.
“Stupid,” Jun chides. “Save that for when we’re on camera.”
He opens his mouth to explain that that isn’t what he means, but closes it as he tells himself that it’s too much of a bother to explain. It doesn’t matter; he’ll figure it out eventually. He always does.
Aiba’s timing is as perfect as ever, shoving the door to the greenroom open and asking loudly, “did I miss out on anything fun?”
Nino remarks on the loss of peace now that Aiba’s back in their midst, but Aiba pays no mind, launching himself at Nino - who has thankfully levelled up by then - as if he hasn’t seen them in weeks instead of only three days. Out of the corner of his eye, Ohno sees Sho getting up and walking towards the two to negotiate peace (presumably), and he bites back a grin. He looks at Jun with mischief in his eyes, about to suggest something - although he never knows what it is until it comes out of his mouth sometimes - when his hand reaches out, almost in defence, as if warding off any smacks from the younger man, but instead lands lightly on Jun’s chest.
Not an abnormal thing, really. The touch is innocent enough. But a flash of memory hits him, and it makes him pull back more abruptly than he otherwise would.
He’s old enough, and have ascended in rank enough that Hosokawa-dono is assigning him to remain in Edo, to watch over the family - families - left behind. It’s his last year outside the city.
Satoshi doesn’t tell Jun about it, wanting to taint the last days he would spend with the youth. Not really a “youth” anymore, he supposes - Jun has grown, as he had. Unlike him, however, Jun had never taken a wife. “What am I going to do with a wife?” Jun asks, when Satoshi asks him why, and he’d been struck dumb, unable to answer.
A lot of things, he would want to say. He’s sure that his mother could think of a million reasons why a man could never live without a wife. But he’s spent too long and too far apart from his own, and sometimes when he returns to Edo he thinks he’s going back to a stranger.
Jun seems to suspect something, though, because Jun is always trying to find more time to spare for Satoshi, and sometimes looks at him in an unsettling way, like he knows too much. Satoshi supposes this wouldn’t be too surprising; Jun may not be the natural that Satoshi is, but he works so hard that he always surpasses Satoshi in the end. It would only be right that Jun would know Satoshi’s mind more than he does himself, sometimes.
“You’ve become a wonderful cook,” he tells Jun, as they eat by the riverbank in the evening. “This is better than anything I’ve tasted.”
“You’re just saying that.”
“No, I’m not.” He’s telling the truth - it is the best, as far as he’s concerned.
Jun half-smiles, both pleased and amused. “Then it’s just because it was me who made it. If I took someone else’s dish and told you I made it, it would’ve been the best you’ve ever tasted.”
This, too, rings true. Satoshi is quiet as he contemplates Jun’s words - what makes Jun so special, he wonders. He’s pretty sure that they aren’t supposed to be friends. They aren’t supposed to be close, and Jun shouldn’t be talking to him so casually. But all of that seems stupid, because even though they don’t make sense, they actually do. He laughs to himself, thinking that he finds his own thoughts confusing. Jun doesn’t seem perturbed at all by his behaviour. Jun never does.
“You’re not coming back this time,” Jun suddenly says, and Satoshi stops laughing. Of course Jun knows, he thinks. What had made him think that he could hide it from Jun in the first place?
“No,” he says, sober. “I’m not.”
“Forgive me,” Jun says, and it doesn’t make sense - it isn’t a logical response to his words no matter how he thinks of it, but then he hears the rustle of fabric and all he could think of is, he’s fast, and Jun’s in front of him, and Jun’s hand is on his chest, only lightly touching at first, but then Jun’s fingers digs into his clothes and pulls him close, and their lips meet.
Oh, Satoshi thinks.
He understands now.
Ohno understands now.
Jun looks confused as he pulls away, stares at his hand. Just because he understands, it doesn’t mean he knows what he wants to do about it, or what he’s supposed to do. The memory of Jun - the one in his dreams, or flashbacks - is too clear, too vivid in his mind, and it’s hard to separate from the Jun he knows now.
“Riida?” Jun asks. “Ohno.”
He shakes his head, but he’s feeling a little dazed, so he stops. “I’m fine,” he says.
“Are you sure…?”
“Oh, that’s right,” Sho says, interrupting before Ohno could answer. “Jun, you texted me this morning saying that there’s something you want to talk to us about.”
Jun shifts, looking uncomfortable. Sho walks back toward them, pulls a stool, and sits facing Jun and Ohno, Even Aiba and Nino, who have settled down on the other side of the room, looked up at them. Listening. They’ve all gotten the same text, and had forgotten about it after a hectic morning schedule.
“That…” Jun glances at Ohno again. “Maybe now’s not the time.”
“If it’s something you’re telling all of us,” Sho reminds Jun, “it has to be now, or next week. We won’t be meeting each other ‘til then. You know that.”
“I know.” Ohno sees the flash of annoyance in Jun’s eyes. Sho doesn’t. This relaxes Ohno, though. It’s easier for Jun to talk when he’s uncomfortable, if he’s also in a temper. “Look, nothing’s set in stone yet, and I haven’t made a decision, but…” he trails off, and both Sho and Ohno lean a little closer. Aiba is standing, as if to head over to where they’re sitting, but Nino pulls him back down. “You know how Nino got that Hollywood gig last time? It’s something like that. But with me, this time. You know.”
Aiba’s the first to speak. “But that’s so cool! Why are you hesitating?”
“Because this isn’t something that will only take a couple of months.”
“Oh. How long?” Aiba, again. Nino’s still staring at Jun, and Sho looks like he might have known about it already.
“A year, at least. Maybe two. It’s a television series, about - my manager says I can’t talk about it yet.”
“What happens to Arashi, if you leave?” Trust Sho to ask the right questions, Ohno thinks.
“I asked. I even went to Johnny himself, and asked. He said that it’s up to me - I can stay or leave, and you could continue without me while I’m gone.” Jun looks down, suddenly interested in his hands, which are gripping and twisting at the edge of his shirt. “With Jin’s success abroad, he said that I could do solo concerts while I’m there.”
“But you can’t sing.” Nino finally speaks, his voice high and almost panicky, but only Ohno notices the last part. Aiba’s nudging Nino to quiet down or to be nicer, while Sho lets out a muffled snort. “And you can’t act. They only like you because you’re… us.”
Sho’s the one who looks pained, as he mutters something to Nino about it not being funny. Nino likes to joke in private that while their group might be popular because of Jun, Jun himself is only popular because of his looks, and his affiliation with the group. Jun, unoffended, just gives Nino a cool look and says, “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
They continue talking, and Ohno let the noise go over his head, until he realises that they’ve stopped. He looks up, and sees that everyone’s looking at him.
“What do you think, Riida?” Jun asks.
He smiles. “I think Jun should do whatever makes Jun happy.”
Nino gripes that it’s such a stupid answer, but he doesn’t care - Nino’s going to complain no matter what he says, and anyway, he doesn’t want to be there anymore. He tells them that he needs air, and walks out.
He follows the corridor down to the farthest end, and turns into the door marking the emergency exit, and goes through. He sits on the staircase heading down, and closes his eyes. Peace at last.
He remembers the other-him, the one who once sat by a riverbank thinking the exact same thing, and he laughs.
A knock on the door, taking him away from the thought of dubious pasts.
“Riida?”
He sighs. “I’m here.”
Jun goes through the door, and sits next to him. He doesn’t say anything, and neither does Jun. They’re quiet for a few moments before Jun says, “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
There it is again, he thinks. That double-edged sword. If he tells Jun to go, then he doesn’t care enough to want Jun to stay. If he tells Jun to stay, then he doesn’t care enough to want Jun to be happy. And he doesn’t even know what he wants himself.
“I don’t know,” he says. “I don’t know what’s the right thing to do.” Jun has probably made the decision already, he thinks, and just needs the support, without knowing how to ask for it without seeming selfish. He thinks about the other-hims. “We’ve known each other for a long time,” he says.
“I know, Riida. Over a decade.” Jun lets his shoulder bump into Ohno’s. “What, are you getting sentimental in your old age?”
“No. I mean, we’ve known each other for a long time. More than a decade, or decades. A century, maybe longer.”
Jun laughs, then. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
He takes Jun’s hand, wiping away the smile on Jun’s face, as Jun realises that he’s being serious. “The first time we met - I think it’s the first time - I ended up killing you.”
“Look, if you’re mad about me talking about leaving -” Jun starts to extricate his hand, but Ohno holds on in persistance.
“I didn’t want to do it,” Ohno continues, ignoring Jun. “But there hadn’t been any choice. Not to the person I was back then, anyway. I can still feel it now,” he says, his voice dropping to barely a whisper, “the way it felt when I swung the sword.”
“Riida. That’s not funny.”
“The second time we met - that I remember, anyway; I have a feeling there’s more - we became friends. Maybe more than that.” His fingers draw a pattern on the back of Jun’s hand, and he’s pleased by the way Jun bites his lips, the way Jun’s fingers curl around his. “But I left you, in the end. I think. While relationships like ours may not have been too strange, they were never expected to last.”
“You’re really weird. You know that?”
“The last that I can remember - and I think it’s the last time we met before now - we were brothers. That only makes sense, I suppose, since we’re almost that now. All of us.” He waits for Jun to say something, but when Jun remains silent, he adds, “I left you, too. I loved you then, but there was something I wanted more than anything else, and I left you.”
“I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”
“Don’t worry about it,” he says absently. “It’s just me, you know. We’ve known each other forever. I guess -” he hesitates, as a part of him demands if this is what he really wants, “you should go. Why should I always be the one who leaves?” The last part, he speaks mostly to himself. “Yes, you should go.”
Continue to Part Two
Comment in Part Two, please :)