you don't get much more pretentious than this title
I occasionally entertain the idea of ditching Ryo/Uchi for Ryo/Tegoshi, but then I imagine MK smashing a sledgehammer into my face and I come to my senses.
on rediscovering a misplaced identity
a Ryo/Uchi not-so epic in 4,014 words
Uchi quits Johnny's. To be precise, he refuses the offer that Johnny-san extends for his return on his twentieth birthday, one year and 107 days after his suspension. Publicity is controlled to a small press report and mitigated by the announcement of TegoMass's formation and future debut. None of the Juniors are given any advanced warning of the offer or the refusal, but management has always taken the hardline that everyone should worry only about their own business and leave others' alone. Kanjani8 is quickly briefed on the details the morning when the statement is due to hit stands so that they can prepare a few answers to troublesome questions the fans might ask at a talk-show live or interview. Their manager delivers the report after listing the day's schedule, his voice as calm and efficient as if he's giving the weather report (which he does) instead of telling them to avoid mentioning the name Uchi Hiroki in the future. Ryo is shell-shocked. He has barely squeezed the beginning of a "why" out of the tight corners of his mouth when their manager is already closing his planner, standing up, moving to the door. No one says anything.
Someone lays a hand on his arm, and he jerks away. "No," he says. That is all he can say. He slams his hand rather painfully on the doorway in his hurry to get out of the room, and he only faintly registers the panicked echo of his footsteps in the empty hallway. When he finally stumbles out of the building, the sun is still low in the sky and the pink glow of morning illuminating behind the trees and Osaka skyscrapers make him stop and take a deep breath. And then he sees Uchi standing in the parking lot.
"Surprise." Uchi offers him a small smile. He does not look nervous or worried, or any other type of emotion that is probably flashing across Ryo's face right now. He waits expectantly, and it takes a few seconds for Ryo to realize that Uchi is holding up a pair of train tickets in his hand.
"I talked to Yamada-san," he continues smoothly. If Ryo's silence is unsettling, Uchi doesn't show it. "He told me that you have a few days off next week."
Ryo's mind processes the information mechanically. He thinks, that is not exactly true. He has to go up to Tokyo next weekend for a NewS rehearsal, some routine television live. He looks at Uchi, who looks the same as he did 472 days ago. He looks away, at the pink sky that is starting to tinge a blinding blue.
Thinks, the live will probably be pre-recorded anyway.
*
The tickets are for a Limited Express Sleeper train from Osaka to Aomori. He went to Aomori for summer vacation with his parents when he was younger, Uchi explains. "My mom wanted to go to Hokkaido, but plane tickets were expensive," he chats breezily as they drag their luggage into the compartment. "It's a nice place."
The sun hasn't set yet, but the light filtering through the blinds of their small window is bathed with the orange of evening. They should reach Aomori Station early tomorrow morning. Ryo can't remember the last time he took an Express, much less a Sleeper; all he rides nowadays is the Shinkansen. Uchi still hasn't mentioned a word about his refusal, and Ryo can't trust himself to bring it up without causing a scene. Part of him is still in shock from the announcement made a week ago, still a little in denial. He keeps waiting for Uchi to laugh and tell him not to believe everything he hears, that the Jimusho loves pranks; he's waiting for the punchline to this sick joke.
But the Jimusho does not joke like this, and Ryo still does not know how to react.
Uchi falls asleep almost immediately once the train starts moving, but that's no surprise; he could always sleep anywhere. Ryo has never been as fortunate, and the Express is nothing like the Shinkansen. It is unstable and loud and the entire car sways irregularly back and forth. The speed is so slow that he can hear each individual clank when the wheels of the train scrape against the rusting tracks. Ryo jams his noise-cancellation headphones over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt for sleep, but the sway-sway-sway of the train car causes his stomach to rise and drop, and with it his repressed anger rises and builds, pooling like a weight on his chest.
He reaches out across their tiny compartment and his fingers brush against Uchi's shoulder.
"Ryo?" Uchi mumbles sleepily. In the moonlight, his eyelashes flutter for a brief second before staying closed.
The weight in Ryo's chest recoils, clouding into a tense hesitation. "Nothing," he says softly. "Go back to sleep."
The Limited Express Sleeper from Osaka to Aomori is traveling at 80 km per hour over two parallel tracks, and for the first time in his life Ryo feels like he is one track running 80 km per hour in one way and Uchi is the other track running the opposite direction, and each second takes them further and further away from each other.
*
Aomori is full of rain when they arrive, and the pouring doesn't stop even as they make their bus transfers and finally arrive at their hotel, located a few miles northwest of the city, overlooking the seaport. September is the time when most schools start up again and, if the idle city streets are any indication, they seem to have just missed the heat of tourist season. In fact, as Ryo looks out through the rain at the Tsugaru Strait, the beaches look miserable and lonely. The entire view looks tired, as if the scenery had spent all summer attempting to find clear skies and crystalline waves and now the color has faded away to show the muddy beaches and craggy cliffs hugging the murky ocean water.
The hotel Uchi booked is quaint, with traditional sliding doors and tatami mats; it even offers an artificial hot spring in lieu of a pool, and the small woman running the counter in the front is old enough to possibly remember the formation of Johnny's & Associates. She doesn't give any sign of recognition when they check in, and she shuffles through a doorway to the backroom after she's given them their key.
"This is the same hotel my parents and I stayed in," Uchi grins when he unlocks their door. "Eight years ago."
Ryo nods absentmindedly and throws his duffel bag on the floor by his mat before flopping down beside it. He watches as Uchi methodically unzips his suitcase and begins sorting out his toiletries and clothes. The room has two large windows facing a groove of tall trees; the ocean can be seen in the far background, filtered behind the leaves. Uchi hums a song under his breath. Ryo doesn't recognize the tune; it's not one of Johnny's. He clenches his fingers on the bedcloth -- a moment, and then loosens them again. Uchi rifles through the cabinets, searching for a pair of slippers. Ryo lets himself fall back on the mat, his head hitting the pillow, and he inhales a breath full of starch and clean linen.
"Why did you say no?" he asks without warning, his voice louder than he expected in the small room. He can hear Uchi pause in the middle of folding his clothes. There is a long silence. "Once you leave Johnny's, you can't come back."
"I left Johnny's a long time ago," Uchi answers evenly.
Ryo sits up, tugging at the hem of his shirt angrily. It isn't an explanation, and both of them know it. "Why are we here?"
Uchi's gaze doesn't falter when he looks at him, and Ryo almost drops his eyes at a loss of what to do. The weight from earlier on the train pushes down at his chest again, this time even heavier and tighter than before; he takes another deep breath. "Because if you're going to be angry with me, I'd prefer for you to be angry at me in person," Uchi says mildly. He looks down at his hands, and then unfolds the pair of shorts he had just folded, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding them again. He places them carefully on top of the growing pile on his mat and reaches for another pair from his suitcase. "I came here with my parents the summer before I was accepted into Johnny's. It's the only distinctive memory I have from before I joined the Jimusho, everything else blends together."
Uchi has his face turned away, which makes Ryo relieved, because he doesn't think he could meet Uchi's eyes even if he tried.
"You've changed," Ryo comments faintly. As soon as the words leave his mouth, the weight in his chest seems to drop into his stomach; his shoulders tense involuntarily, rolling upwards around his neck.
Uchi flips the cover of his suitcase over and zips it closed. He stands up, and the weak daylight passes through the window like a sieve and falls in slanted shadows across his face. Ryo realizes too late, his reflexes slow from tension, and he stares up at Uchi blankly. He can't break away.
"It's easy to stay young under Johnny-san's careful guidance," Uchi tells him flatly.
Ryo has never bothered with unnecessary conversations, much like how he's never bothered with unnecessary people, and he can recognize the end of a conversation even before the awkward silence settles in.
The television in their room only has reception for seven different channels, and they end up marathoning the third arc of Doraemon on Nippon 4 for the rest of the first day.
*
Ryo is dreaming. He dreams that he is running in an empty field that stretches into an infinite darkness in every direction. His shoes are caked with dirt. A single light shines far ahead of him, and he runs towards it; there is nowhere else to go. Suddenly the light goes out and a new one appears, off-center. He turns and changes direction. The light disappears several times, each time reappearing on a different point in his vision. Just as his legs feel like they are about to collapse, the light extinguishes for one final time, and the field sinks into complete darkness. He turns around in a circle. He has no idea where to go or where he came from.
Ryo wakes up in cold sweat to the tree leaves beating together in the wind outside the window; the leaves produce the same sound as sleeting rain. Across the room, he can hear Uchi's quiet, even breathing. It must be very early in the morning, because the sun hasn't risen yet, and their hotel room is still bathed in darkness.
*
The rain stops sometime during the night, and Ryo and Uchi go exploring along the shoreline, even though the sky is overcast with gray and there are puddles in the sand pits. They end up climbing a formation of high cliffs that overlook the ocean, and they kick up their legs on the ledge and toss rocks into the water below. There is not much else to do; neither of them are tourists, after all.
Aomori is on the cusp of autumn, and the tailend of the warm summer breeze blows in from the ocean. Ryo can feel the tension, the train ride, yesterday's conversation, last night's dream, all start to slowly dissolve and dissipate in the salty breeze. He can't remember the last time he was at the beach. He can't remember the last time he was with anyone like this, away from Tokyo and Osaka and the responsibilities always expected in each. Uchi stretches beside him, his arms arcing in slow motion in the thick humidity; he lets out a deep breath, and the ocean waves greedily eat up the sound. Ryo sneaks a glance at him. He wants to ask, What am I going to do, without you.
He asks instead, "What are you going to do?" Without me, without us, without Johnny's.
Uchi sends another rock flying into the restless waves. "I've been working a lot of odd jobs in the past year," he says, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. "I worked at a temple for a while, a grocery store, my dad's company. I'm taking college entrance exams next year."
"Wow," Ryo forces a laugh. His fingers feel numb from where they're clutching the cliff edge. "You've become pretty decisive, huh."
The waves crash into the rocks below, and the thundering echoes make him think at first that the ocean has swallowed up all of his words before he has even said them.
"Actually, not really." Uchi's mouth lopsides into a crooked grin. "I have no idea what I want to study."
Ryo laughs again, this time in surprised relief. Uchi launches into a story about how he's always had a keen interest in botany and greenhouses, and Ryo tells him he must be joking, none of the plants in Japan are safe from him now. They continue to toss rocks into the sea; the ocean blows its last breeze of summer; the air soaks in the heavy humidity; and the waves crash on the rocks. And Ryo almost forgets about Johnny's, and what they're running away from in the first place.
*
Things have almost returned to normal by the time dinner finishes and they decide to hit up the hotel hot spring, but Ryo doesn't know if that's because he's becoming better at denial or if things are really getting better. Uchi tells him about the girls he met when working at the temple, especially around New Years, and how he bombed with one, embarrassed himself with another, and accidentally upended a bucket of water on a third. Ryo tells Uchi that the freedom for girlfriends is completely lost on him and he should just quit while he's already behind. Uchi indignantly reminds him of the stunt they had to do for Hadaka no Shounen when they were forced to hit on girls in the street and Uchi had ended the day with the most phone numbers. Ryo scowls and tells him loftily that it doesn't count when a girl only gives you her number because she thinks you're a Korean superstar.
They fall asleep to re-runs of Dragon Ball Z, because they flip for the remote and Uchi has always had more luck than Ryo. Well, more luck before 2005 anyway. Ryo stopped being afraid of the dark when he finally got his well-deserved growth spurt three years ago, but with the lights off, all the doubts and unease he had managed to hide underneath the security of the seaside and offhand conversations begin to creep back into that place in his chest, that persistent force. It's the same as on the train, only this time the room shouldn't be spinning and swaying and yet Ryo's stomach still rises and falls with an invisible pressure. Suddenly, Ryo desperately, with absolute necessity, needs to know that Uchi is still there, and he reaches for Uchi's arm and is almost surprised when he stirs, not four feet away from Ryo's own mat.
"What?" Uchi asks, turning over to squint at his direction.
Ryo can feel his face flush in ridiculous embarrassment, and he's immediately grateful for the darkness. "Nothing," he mumbles, and pulls his sheet up to his chin.
He can hear Uchi's breathing evening out, and he has almost submitted to sleep himself when Uchi says quietly into the silence, "They weren't going to let me join NewS or Kanjani8 again."
Ryo stills, very quickly, and his entire body goes rigid.
"The managers, Johnny-san, they told me both groups are seeing a lot of unexpected popularity right now, and they didn't want to disrupt the good fortune," Uchi continues, his voice sounding a bit muffled, as if he's talking into his pillow now. "They said they'd start me off slow, let me get used to the business again. As if I hadn't done it for six years."
A slight pause; Ryo realizes that he's been holding his breath the entire time and he exhales shakily, just as Uchi picks up again, "At my suspension, Johnny-san promised it'd only be a few months, to show proper regret, to let the fans forget. But every time I asked, he'd say that the timing wasn't right, that I should be patient. And then there was Kusano in January and NewS suspension in March and when he finally called two weeks ago, he said I'd have to start over. It was the best offer he could make me."
Ryo doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing.
"Sometimes you get tired of waiting," Uchi finishes softly.
The wind blows outside their window, and the leaves beat together like before, their sound hypnotic like falling rain.
*
Ryo has only almost quit the entertainment industry once in his life, and that was in 2000 when Johnny's Entertainment entered its rough patch in sales and promotion. This was right after the golden age of the late nineties, when pop and boybands had been #1 on the international and domestic music charts for consecutive years in a row. Johnny-san had bought into the momentary popularity too much, had accepted too many boys, and as the world had bid good-bye to the 20th century, the Japanese economy bid goodbye to a blooming job market. It was no secret that the managers played favorites, and cutbacks had to be made; sacrifices and losses were necessary for the "greater good" of the company. Unfortunately, those who lost and those who gained became too apparent as a dividing of city lines: potential debuts and jobs for the Osaka Juniors were postponed or canceled in favor of the Tokyo Juniors, and the neglect made its mark as the recession dragged on.
It was and is figuratively incorrect to call anyone in Johnny's a real musician. Very few of them had harbored any ambitions to become singers or dancers as children; their applications had all been submitted by eager parents or relatives under the promise of great fame and possible fortune. Rarely do professional musicians choose music for the money; they produce music because music is the same as breathing for them, and financial hardships pale in the face of fulfilling a life's dream. In contrast, Johnny's -- after you become accustomed to the whims of upper management and peculiar job assignments -- was and is a job. And when the Jimusho fails to provide adequate compensation for the years of sacrifice and effort, the logical decision for Juniors is to find a job that won't. But the longer the stay, the greater the risk.
Ryo has only almost quit the entertainment industry once in his life, and that was at age 16 with three years already invested into Johnny's but with the rest of his life still spread out in front of him.
Now, Ryo is almost 22 with nine years invested into Johnny's, and his future is a lot more narrow than six years ago.
But the fear of the future and fear of the business is still nothing compared to the fear of the identity loss. Ryo has grown up and matured in Johnny's, and it has saturated every aspect of his life and decisions from age 13 to 22, and now -- now, he no longer knows if it's possible to separate the Junior from the Nishikido Ryo.
And even though Uchi is his best friend, and has been for the past five years, when Ryo looks at him, he is not sure if he can separate the Junior from the Uchi Hiroki, either. Or, if Junior Ryo and Not-Junior Uchi are still best friends like how Junior Ryo and Junior Uchi were before.
*
They don't talk about the night before in the morning. When chatting with the old woman who owns the hotel, Uchi discovers that there's a boardwalk that stretches from one end of the port to the other, and he pulls Ryo out the door to find it. Ryo rolls his eyes, but their train doesn't leave until later in the day, and the sky has cleared up from the day before. The water even looks blue in the sunlight. There's a lot more people out on the beaches than before, too, and years of paranoia have made them conditioned to keep their heads down and walk in the opposite direction. They get themselves lost, which is a considerable feat considering the ocean blocks off an entire direction, and they wander around the outskirts of Aomori for an hour before accidentally stumbling onto the mysterious boardwalk that the woman had told Uchi about.
Unfortunately, the boardwalk is buried under what looks to be 10 centimeters of wet sand and littered with debris. Uchi pouts, and Ryo laughs at him, and they turn around and slowly make their way back to the hotel. Ryo hates to admit it to himself, but he's already starting to miss Tokyo; not working has always made him restless, and the past few days have been appropriately lazy, and almost too much. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks at Uchi, and his stomach tightens again. He thinks about five years of friendship.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asks, kicking the sand with his toe.
"Yeah," Uchi says, a grin spreading across his face. "I was in V.WEST, and you were moving back to Osaka from Tokyo for Kanjani8's debut. We were roommates in the Jimusho dorms." He laughs and stretches his arms in the air, toward the sky. "I'd never even heard of you before, and Subaru would tell me these awful stories. He said you were really mean, told me to watch out."
"That liar!" Ryo fumes, but Uchi only quirks an eyebrow at him, and he scowls in response. A pause, and then he demands, "Is that why you made your mother bake cookies for us when I moved in?"
"Hey, she offered!" Uchi protests. "My mom's nice like that."
Ryo kicks sand at Uchi's legs anyway.
"This isn't the end of our friendship, Ryo," he says suddenly. "All these years, we haven't been best friends only because of Johnny's. If anything, we're friends despite Johnny's."
Ryo can't stop the flush that rises up his cheeks, and this time in broad daylight, but Uchi only gives him a lopsided smile in mutual embarrassment, and they both look away. And then Uchi kicks a footful of sand up Ryo's shorts in revenge.
*
They decide to take the Shinkansen instead of the Express Sleeper for the return trip due to time restraints. Ryo plans to get off directly in Tokyo, considering he should have reported for the television rehearsal hours ago. Uchi will probably have to transfer trains in Tokyo Station, before going back to Osaka.
"Figures that it's sunny the day we leave," Uchi grumbles at the clear sky. The sun beats down on him in smug satisfaction.
The station is crowded with people, more than when they arrived in Aomori. Ryo looks from the train to Uchi to the ticket in his hand to the ticket in his own hand, and he thinks, this is it. Uchi really isn't coming back. He feels lighter than he has in the past week, a mysterious weight finally removed. "We're not going to the same places, anymore," Ryo says, and he can't keep the disappointment from his voice.
"No," Uchi agrees, and then chews his bottom lip. "But we're still going in the same direction."
Ryo pretends to furrow his brows in deep thought. He finally quips, "South?"
"Good to know you're still hilariously not funny," Uchi retorts, but he ends up laughing anyway, because that's what you do with a best friend.
The station whistle sounds, and they board the train together.
on rediscovering a misplaced identity
a Ryo/Uchi not-so epic in 4,014 words
Uchi quits Johnny's. To be precise, he refuses the offer that Johnny-san extends for his return on his twentieth birthday, one year and 107 days after his suspension. Publicity is controlled to a small press report and mitigated by the announcement of TegoMass's formation and future debut. None of the Juniors are given any advanced warning of the offer or the refusal, but management has always taken the hardline that everyone should worry only about their own business and leave others' alone. Kanjani8 is quickly briefed on the details the morning when the statement is due to hit stands so that they can prepare a few answers to troublesome questions the fans might ask at a talk-show live or interview. Their manager delivers the report after listing the day's schedule, his voice as calm and efficient as if he's giving the weather report (which he does) instead of telling them to avoid mentioning the name Uchi Hiroki in the future. Ryo is shell-shocked. He has barely squeezed the beginning of a "why" out of the tight corners of his mouth when their manager is already closing his planner, standing up, moving to the door. No one says anything.
Someone lays a hand on his arm, and he jerks away. "No," he says. That is all he can say. He slams his hand rather painfully on the doorway in his hurry to get out of the room, and he only faintly registers the panicked echo of his footsteps in the empty hallway. When he finally stumbles out of the building, the sun is still low in the sky and the pink glow of morning illuminating behind the trees and Osaka skyscrapers make him stop and take a deep breath. And then he sees Uchi standing in the parking lot.
"Surprise." Uchi offers him a small smile. He does not look nervous or worried, or any other type of emotion that is probably flashing across Ryo's face right now. He waits expectantly, and it takes a few seconds for Ryo to realize that Uchi is holding up a pair of train tickets in his hand.
"I talked to Yamada-san," he continues smoothly. If Ryo's silence is unsettling, Uchi doesn't show it. "He told me that you have a few days off next week."
Ryo's mind processes the information mechanically. He thinks, that is not exactly true. He has to go up to Tokyo next weekend for a NewS rehearsal, some routine television live. He looks at Uchi, who looks the same as he did 472 days ago. He looks away, at the pink sky that is starting to tinge a blinding blue.
Thinks, the live will probably be pre-recorded anyway.
*
The tickets are for a Limited Express Sleeper train from Osaka to Aomori. He went to Aomori for summer vacation with his parents when he was younger, Uchi explains. "My mom wanted to go to Hokkaido, but plane tickets were expensive," he chats breezily as they drag their luggage into the compartment. "It's a nice place."
The sun hasn't set yet, but the light filtering through the blinds of their small window is bathed with the orange of evening. They should reach Aomori Station early tomorrow morning. Ryo can't remember the last time he took an Express, much less a Sleeper; all he rides nowadays is the Shinkansen. Uchi still hasn't mentioned a word about his refusal, and Ryo can't trust himself to bring it up without causing a scene. Part of him is still in shock from the announcement made a week ago, still a little in denial. He keeps waiting for Uchi to laugh and tell him not to believe everything he hears, that the Jimusho loves pranks; he's waiting for the punchline to this sick joke.
But the Jimusho does not joke like this, and Ryo still does not know how to react.
Uchi falls asleep almost immediately once the train starts moving, but that's no surprise; he could always sleep anywhere. Ryo has never been as fortunate, and the Express is nothing like the Shinkansen. It is unstable and loud and the entire car sways irregularly back and forth. The speed is so slow that he can hear each individual clank when the wheels of the train scrape against the rusting tracks. Ryo jams his noise-cancellation headphones over his ears and squeezes his eyes shut in an attempt for sleep, but the sway-sway-sway of the train car causes his stomach to rise and drop, and with it his repressed anger rises and builds, pooling like a weight on his chest.
He reaches out across their tiny compartment and his fingers brush against Uchi's shoulder.
"Ryo?" Uchi mumbles sleepily. In the moonlight, his eyelashes flutter for a brief second before staying closed.
The weight in Ryo's chest recoils, clouding into a tense hesitation. "Nothing," he says softly. "Go back to sleep."
The Limited Express Sleeper from Osaka to Aomori is traveling at 80 km per hour over two parallel tracks, and for the first time in his life Ryo feels like he is one track running 80 km per hour in one way and Uchi is the other track running the opposite direction, and each second takes them further and further away from each other.
*
Aomori is full of rain when they arrive, and the pouring doesn't stop even as they make their bus transfers and finally arrive at their hotel, located a few miles northwest of the city, overlooking the seaport. September is the time when most schools start up again and, if the idle city streets are any indication, they seem to have just missed the heat of tourist season. In fact, as Ryo looks out through the rain at the Tsugaru Strait, the beaches look miserable and lonely. The entire view looks tired, as if the scenery had spent all summer attempting to find clear skies and crystalline waves and now the color has faded away to show the muddy beaches and craggy cliffs hugging the murky ocean water.
The hotel Uchi booked is quaint, with traditional sliding doors and tatami mats; it even offers an artificial hot spring in lieu of a pool, and the small woman running the counter in the front is old enough to possibly remember the formation of Johnny's & Associates. She doesn't give any sign of recognition when they check in, and she shuffles through a doorway to the backroom after she's given them their key.
"This is the same hotel my parents and I stayed in," Uchi grins when he unlocks their door. "Eight years ago."
Ryo nods absentmindedly and throws his duffel bag on the floor by his mat before flopping down beside it. He watches as Uchi methodically unzips his suitcase and begins sorting out his toiletries and clothes. The room has two large windows facing a groove of tall trees; the ocean can be seen in the far background, filtered behind the leaves. Uchi hums a song under his breath. Ryo doesn't recognize the tune; it's not one of Johnny's. He clenches his fingers on the bedcloth -- a moment, and then loosens them again. Uchi rifles through the cabinets, searching for a pair of slippers. Ryo lets himself fall back on the mat, his head hitting the pillow, and he inhales a breath full of starch and clean linen.
"Why did you say no?" he asks without warning, his voice louder than he expected in the small room. He can hear Uchi pause in the middle of folding his clothes. There is a long silence. "Once you leave Johnny's, you can't come back."
"I left Johnny's a long time ago," Uchi answers evenly.
Ryo sits up, tugging at the hem of his shirt angrily. It isn't an explanation, and both of them know it. "Why are we here?"
Uchi's gaze doesn't falter when he looks at him, and Ryo almost drops his eyes at a loss of what to do. The weight from earlier on the train pushes down at his chest again, this time even heavier and tighter than before; he takes another deep breath. "Because if you're going to be angry with me, I'd prefer for you to be angry at me in person," Uchi says mildly. He looks down at his hands, and then unfolds the pair of shorts he had just folded, smoothing out the wrinkles before folding them again. He places them carefully on top of the growing pile on his mat and reaches for another pair from his suitcase. "I came here with my parents the summer before I was accepted into Johnny's. It's the only distinctive memory I have from before I joined the Jimusho, everything else blends together."
Uchi has his face turned away, which makes Ryo relieved, because he doesn't think he could meet Uchi's eyes even if he tried.
"You've changed," Ryo comments faintly. As soon as the words leave his mouth, the weight in his chest seems to drop into his stomach; his shoulders tense involuntarily, rolling upwards around his neck.
Uchi flips the cover of his suitcase over and zips it closed. He stands up, and the weak daylight passes through the window like a sieve and falls in slanted shadows across his face. Ryo realizes too late, his reflexes slow from tension, and he stares up at Uchi blankly. He can't break away.
"It's easy to stay young under Johnny-san's careful guidance," Uchi tells him flatly.
Ryo has never bothered with unnecessary conversations, much like how he's never bothered with unnecessary people, and he can recognize the end of a conversation even before the awkward silence settles in.
The television in their room only has reception for seven different channels, and they end up marathoning the third arc of Doraemon on Nippon 4 for the rest of the first day.
*
Ryo is dreaming. He dreams that he is running in an empty field that stretches into an infinite darkness in every direction. His shoes are caked with dirt. A single light shines far ahead of him, and he runs towards it; there is nowhere else to go. Suddenly the light goes out and a new one appears, off-center. He turns and changes direction. The light disappears several times, each time reappearing on a different point in his vision. Just as his legs feel like they are about to collapse, the light extinguishes for one final time, and the field sinks into complete darkness. He turns around in a circle. He has no idea where to go or where he came from.
Ryo wakes up in cold sweat to the tree leaves beating together in the wind outside the window; the leaves produce the same sound as sleeting rain. Across the room, he can hear Uchi's quiet, even breathing. It must be very early in the morning, because the sun hasn't risen yet, and their hotel room is still bathed in darkness.
*
The rain stops sometime during the night, and Ryo and Uchi go exploring along the shoreline, even though the sky is overcast with gray and there are puddles in the sand pits. They end up climbing a formation of high cliffs that overlook the ocean, and they kick up their legs on the ledge and toss rocks into the water below. There is not much else to do; neither of them are tourists, after all.
Aomori is on the cusp of autumn, and the tailend of the warm summer breeze blows in from the ocean. Ryo can feel the tension, the train ride, yesterday's conversation, last night's dream, all start to slowly dissolve and dissipate in the salty breeze. He can't remember the last time he was at the beach. He can't remember the last time he was with anyone like this, away from Tokyo and Osaka and the responsibilities always expected in each. Uchi stretches beside him, his arms arcing in slow motion in the thick humidity; he lets out a deep breath, and the ocean waves greedily eat up the sound. Ryo sneaks a glance at him. He wants to ask, What am I going to do, without you.
He asks instead, "What are you going to do?" Without me, without us, without Johnny's.
Uchi sends another rock flying into the restless waves. "I've been working a lot of odd jobs in the past year," he says, lifting a shoulder in a half shrug. "I worked at a temple for a while, a grocery store, my dad's company. I'm taking college entrance exams next year."
"Wow," Ryo forces a laugh. His fingers feel numb from where they're clutching the cliff edge. "You've become pretty decisive, huh."
The waves crash into the rocks below, and the thundering echoes make him think at first that the ocean has swallowed up all of his words before he has even said them.
"Actually, not really." Uchi's mouth lopsides into a crooked grin. "I have no idea what I want to study."
Ryo laughs again, this time in surprised relief. Uchi launches into a story about how he's always had a keen interest in botany and greenhouses, and Ryo tells him he must be joking, none of the plants in Japan are safe from him now. They continue to toss rocks into the sea; the ocean blows its last breeze of summer; the air soaks in the heavy humidity; and the waves crash on the rocks. And Ryo almost forgets about Johnny's, and what they're running away from in the first place.
*
Things have almost returned to normal by the time dinner finishes and they decide to hit up the hotel hot spring, but Ryo doesn't know if that's because he's becoming better at denial or if things are really getting better. Uchi tells him about the girls he met when working at the temple, especially around New Years, and how he bombed with one, embarrassed himself with another, and accidentally upended a bucket of water on a third. Ryo tells Uchi that the freedom for girlfriends is completely lost on him and he should just quit while he's already behind. Uchi indignantly reminds him of the stunt they had to do for Hadaka no Shounen when they were forced to hit on girls in the street and Uchi had ended the day with the most phone numbers. Ryo scowls and tells him loftily that it doesn't count when a girl only gives you her number because she thinks you're a Korean superstar.
They fall asleep to re-runs of Dragon Ball Z, because they flip for the remote and Uchi has always had more luck than Ryo. Well, more luck before 2005 anyway. Ryo stopped being afraid of the dark when he finally got his well-deserved growth spurt three years ago, but with the lights off, all the doubts and unease he had managed to hide underneath the security of the seaside and offhand conversations begin to creep back into that place in his chest, that persistent force. It's the same as on the train, only this time the room shouldn't be spinning and swaying and yet Ryo's stomach still rises and falls with an invisible pressure. Suddenly, Ryo desperately, with absolute necessity, needs to know that Uchi is still there, and he reaches for Uchi's arm and is almost surprised when he stirs, not four feet away from Ryo's own mat.
"What?" Uchi asks, turning over to squint at his direction.
Ryo can feel his face flush in ridiculous embarrassment, and he's immediately grateful for the darkness. "Nothing," he mumbles, and pulls his sheet up to his chin.
He can hear Uchi's breathing evening out, and he has almost submitted to sleep himself when Uchi says quietly into the silence, "They weren't going to let me join NewS or Kanjani8 again."
Ryo stills, very quickly, and his entire body goes rigid.
"The managers, Johnny-san, they told me both groups are seeing a lot of unexpected popularity right now, and they didn't want to disrupt the good fortune," Uchi continues, his voice sounding a bit muffled, as if he's talking into his pillow now. "They said they'd start me off slow, let me get used to the business again. As if I hadn't done it for six years."
A slight pause; Ryo realizes that he's been holding his breath the entire time and he exhales shakily, just as Uchi picks up again, "At my suspension, Johnny-san promised it'd only be a few months, to show proper regret, to let the fans forget. But every time I asked, he'd say that the timing wasn't right, that I should be patient. And then there was Kusano in January and NewS suspension in March and when he finally called two weeks ago, he said I'd have to start over. It was the best offer he could make me."
Ryo doesn't know what to say, so he says nothing.
"Sometimes you get tired of waiting," Uchi finishes softly.
The wind blows outside their window, and the leaves beat together like before, their sound hypnotic like falling rain.
*
Ryo has only almost quit the entertainment industry once in his life, and that was in 2000 when Johnny's Entertainment entered its rough patch in sales and promotion. This was right after the golden age of the late nineties, when pop and boybands had been #1 on the international and domestic music charts for consecutive years in a row. Johnny-san had bought into the momentary popularity too much, had accepted too many boys, and as the world had bid good-bye to the 20th century, the Japanese economy bid goodbye to a blooming job market. It was no secret that the managers played favorites, and cutbacks had to be made; sacrifices and losses were necessary for the "greater good" of the company. Unfortunately, those who lost and those who gained became too apparent as a dividing of city lines: potential debuts and jobs for the Osaka Juniors were postponed or canceled in favor of the Tokyo Juniors, and the neglect made its mark as the recession dragged on.
It was and is figuratively incorrect to call anyone in Johnny's a real musician. Very few of them had harbored any ambitions to become singers or dancers as children; their applications had all been submitted by eager parents or relatives under the promise of great fame and possible fortune. Rarely do professional musicians choose music for the money; they produce music because music is the same as breathing for them, and financial hardships pale in the face of fulfilling a life's dream. In contrast, Johnny's -- after you become accustomed to the whims of upper management and peculiar job assignments -- was and is a job. And when the Jimusho fails to provide adequate compensation for the years of sacrifice and effort, the logical decision for Juniors is to find a job that won't. But the longer the stay, the greater the risk.
Ryo has only almost quit the entertainment industry once in his life, and that was at age 16 with three years already invested into Johnny's but with the rest of his life still spread out in front of him.
Now, Ryo is almost 22 with nine years invested into Johnny's, and his future is a lot more narrow than six years ago.
But the fear of the future and fear of the business is still nothing compared to the fear of the identity loss. Ryo has grown up and matured in Johnny's, and it has saturated every aspect of his life and decisions from age 13 to 22, and now -- now, he no longer knows if it's possible to separate the Junior from the Nishikido Ryo.
And even though Uchi is his best friend, and has been for the past five years, when Ryo looks at him, he is not sure if he can separate the Junior from the Uchi Hiroki, either. Or, if Junior Ryo and Not-Junior Uchi are still best friends like how Junior Ryo and Junior Uchi were before.
*
They don't talk about the night before in the morning. When chatting with the old woman who owns the hotel, Uchi discovers that there's a boardwalk that stretches from one end of the port to the other, and he pulls Ryo out the door to find it. Ryo rolls his eyes, but their train doesn't leave until later in the day, and the sky has cleared up from the day before. The water even looks blue in the sunlight. There's a lot more people out on the beaches than before, too, and years of paranoia have made them conditioned to keep their heads down and walk in the opposite direction. They get themselves lost, which is a considerable feat considering the ocean blocks off an entire direction, and they wander around the outskirts of Aomori for an hour before accidentally stumbling onto the mysterious boardwalk that the woman had told Uchi about.
Unfortunately, the boardwalk is buried under what looks to be 10 centimeters of wet sand and littered with debris. Uchi pouts, and Ryo laughs at him, and they turn around and slowly make their way back to the hotel. Ryo hates to admit it to himself, but he's already starting to miss Tokyo; not working has always made him restless, and the past few days have been appropriately lazy, and almost too much. He bites the inside of his cheek and looks at Uchi, and his stomach tightens again. He thinks about five years of friendship.
"Do you remember the first time we met?" he asks, kicking the sand with his toe.
"Yeah," Uchi says, a grin spreading across his face. "I was in V.WEST, and you were moving back to Osaka from Tokyo for Kanjani8's debut. We were roommates in the Jimusho dorms." He laughs and stretches his arms in the air, toward the sky. "I'd never even heard of you before, and Subaru would tell me these awful stories. He said you were really mean, told me to watch out."
"That liar!" Ryo fumes, but Uchi only quirks an eyebrow at him, and he scowls in response. A pause, and then he demands, "Is that why you made your mother bake cookies for us when I moved in?"
"Hey, she offered!" Uchi protests. "My mom's nice like that."
Ryo kicks sand at Uchi's legs anyway.
"This isn't the end of our friendship, Ryo," he says suddenly. "All these years, we haven't been best friends only because of Johnny's. If anything, we're friends despite Johnny's."
Ryo can't stop the flush that rises up his cheeks, and this time in broad daylight, but Uchi only gives him a lopsided smile in mutual embarrassment, and they both look away. And then Uchi kicks a footful of sand up Ryo's shorts in revenge.
*
They decide to take the Shinkansen instead of the Express Sleeper for the return trip due to time restraints. Ryo plans to get off directly in Tokyo, considering he should have reported for the television rehearsal hours ago. Uchi will probably have to transfer trains in Tokyo Station, before going back to Osaka.
"Figures that it's sunny the day we leave," Uchi grumbles at the clear sky. The sun beats down on him in smug satisfaction.
The station is crowded with people, more than when they arrived in Aomori. Ryo looks from the train to Uchi to the ticket in his hand to the ticket in his own hand, and he thinks, this is it. Uchi really isn't coming back. He feels lighter than he has in the past week, a mysterious weight finally removed. "We're not going to the same places, anymore," Ryo says, and he can't keep the disappointment from his voice.
"No," Uchi agrees, and then chews his bottom lip. "But we're still going in the same direction."
Ryo pretends to furrow his brows in deep thought. He finally quips, "South?"
"Good to know you're still hilariously not funny," Uchi retorts, but he ends up laughing anyway, because that's what you do with a best friend.
The station whistle sounds, and they board the train together.