[APH] The Six Degrees of Separation (6th°)
Title: The Six Degrees of Separation
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters: Greece, Egypt, Japan, Turkey, France, England, America, Canada, Finland, Sweden, Sealand, North and South Italy, Russia, Germany, Prussia, Spain, Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Poland, China, South Korea
Pairings: France/England, Spain/South Italy, Germany/North Italy, Lithuania/Poland, Turkey/Japan, Finland/Sweden
Genre/Rating/Warnings: friendship, romance, drama, family/PG/AU, human names, shifting POVs, language shifts (which I really hope people won’t get confused by)
Summary/Excerpt: The Six Degrees of Separation is the idea that everyone in this world is connected by at most six people. It’s an empowering, intimidating thought to know that the world can be shrunk within just one city and that lives begin to affect one another as people converge and intersect. Our story begins with a pair of brothers who manage a fruit shake stand in Dotombori, Osaka and bear witness to different fates being drawn together from all over the globe.
Prologue | 1st° Part 1 | 1st° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 1 | 2nd° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 3
3rd° | 4th° | 5th° | 6th° | Epilogue
In this installment: With Sadiq finding a piece of home and a piece of heart and with Kiku finally feeling the sun rising on his horizon, our story comes to a close.
The Six Degrees of Separation
Sixth Degree
♠ stickier than sticky rice and longer than noodles
7:23pm
“Were you in agreement with Lukasiewicz-san or something?” Honda Kiku asked, uncharacteristically annoyed.
“Eh?” Im Yung Soo turned to him questioningly with tayaki in his mouth. “Why d’you say that?”
The kindergarten teacher let out a breath of air through his nose. “Both of you come to Osaka so recklessly and confidently, searching for those you've hardly come in contact with after a long time. Have a bit more tact.”
The two brothers left the rush of the home commute by taking the quiet back streets to Kiku’s apartment. They passed by small stores, parlors, quaint restaurants, karaoke bars, a picturesque maid café, a row of electronics and manga shops and one or two shady businesses one turned a blind eye to if one wanted to be safe. They picked up a few snacks from a couple of roadside kiosks, dinner form the nearby AM/PM and drinks from a large vending machine before going their way. Behind them, the lazy hum of cars echoed along the highway.
“Oho! What a funny lamp post!” Yung Soo exclaimed, snapping a picture of a blue lamp post that looked like a stick man poised to dive into a shallow pool.
Kiku only half-heartedly listened to his brother’s musings. In truth, he was shaken to his very core that the only way he saw to keep up with what was happening around him was suspending his disbelief and treating this as nonchalantly as Yung Soo was, or so he thought. Kiku stared at Yung Soo, enthusiastically walking ahead despite being unsure of where he was going, and a yawning feeling opened in his chest. This man was the living manifestation of a life he had nearly forgotten, forgotten almost welcomingly, of the shame he brought to his father and brothers, a deep unreachable sense of loss of the sole figure whom he’d come to consider truly family more than he cared to admit.
Im Yung Soo was his family, and god that word shouldn’t sound so foreign to him. They had too many years apart and circumstance that, had they not been related by blood, wouldn’t have caused them to meet at all. When Kiku had been younger, after his father inclined to disown him, he didn’t think of patching up the ties. Once or twice, he thought of contacting Yung Soo during his years in Rome, seeking the comfort of his only familiar but a damnable hesitation overcame him. He had never been particularly kind to Yung Soo. What if he had grown up to despise him? What if Yao had gotten tired of him? And until their beloved butler-guardian passed away and Yung Soo returned to Korea without the want to bind ties (Kiku can understand why), he never mustered the courage.
This cowardice Kiku never quite addressed reached its peak in the wonder years of his college life, when the only man he ever felt his heart beat for lost his life because of Kiku’s silence. So devastated and shut up his heart had been, Kiku was afraid he’d never be able to love again, or rather if he opened his heart once again, he’d see it hasn’t healed. Frankly, it was horrible, how Kiku suddenly saw his life in half-hearted increments, how his passivity spilled over to his relationship with his family, with his lover and how this damnable hesitation rendered him utterly incapable of being satisfied with how he lived.
In all honesty, he was absolutely jealous of Im Yung Soo.
“Yung Soo…” Kiku blurted out, halting their steps just outside the entrance of Kiku’s apartment.
“Mm?” the Korean turned with an expectant expression on his face.
“I…” Was it worth bringing back the past just so he could apologize for it? What if he was the only one so bothered by it? If he didn’t voice it out, he would never know. “I’m sorry.”
Yung Soo tensed for a fraction of a second, but he kept his gaze steady. “For?”
“…everything.”
“Absolutely everything?” The wry smile on his brother’s face made Kiku falter.
“Yes.”
Yung Soo laughed. “Silly brother. You can’t apologize for everything. Not everything’s your fault.” He clapped a hand on Kiku’s back so hard he almost dropped their groceries. “But at least you haven’t forgotten. If you did, I don’t think I’d find it in myself to forgive you.”
“Eh?” Kiku exclaimed in panic but his brother laughed again.
“Let’s stop for today,” Yung Soo said peaceably. “What matters is now and now I’m hungry.”
♠ a curious case of an unknown past
The food they bought on the way home sat atop the low table. Yung Soo occupied himself with preparing his instant meal while Kiku moved in the kitchen of his small humble apartment preparing tea. The digital clock beside the television read nine in the evening and Yung Soo noted that his brother still kept things neat, though somewhat empty. It was unnervingly similar to his home.
“Is it alright for you to leave Lukasiewicz-san and Laurinaitis-san like that?” Kiku asked, coming in with a cold pitcher of buckwheat tea and two glasses. “Weren’t you traveling with them?”
“It’s fine,” Yung Soo said, waving a hand as if to ward off the thought. “Feliks is a backpacker. He’s used to traveling. Besides, those two need time to themselves. They haven’t seen each other for a long time.” He flashed Kiku a knowing grin and the latter huffed bemusedly.
They ate in quiet save for the noise of clicking chopsticks and slurping soup.
“Ah~” Yung Soo said. “Hyung-nim used to make so much better soups.”
“Agreed,” Kiku immediately answered and blinked when the other’s eager face met him. “Yes?”
“D’you cook?”
“Ah…well, I live alone so…unless there are special occasions of course.”
Yung Soo fell silent, able to share the sentiment. There was an awkward pause between them to contemplate the irony of forgoing what they and Yao so preciously shared.
“The only thing I remember to do on my own is the onigiri,” he stated bluntly and Kiku smiled.
“I make them for New Years, along with mochi, but they don’t quite match up to Yao-san’s recipes.”
“Haha! I’m only realizing he was much more than a butler.”
“I wouldn’t call him a butler exactly,” Kiku said, pouring himself more tea. “More like an all round housekeeper. In the literal sense.”
“I thought he was a ninja back then,” Yung Soo answered contemplatively.
“I thought he was a woman,” the other admitted and they burst out laughing.
“No way! Man, if hyung-nim were alive right now, he’d pinch your ear.”
“That’s true. Anyway, how are you Yung Soo?” Kiku smiled, feeling at last he wouldn’t be guilty if he asked.
The Korean swallowed the bite in his mouth. “Awesome, of course. I do freelance stuff. I met Feliks through the Seoul City tours I give. It’s an unpredictable life!”
Kiku hummed in thought. “It suits you.”
“What about you, brother?”
“I work at S-preschool. It’s a small place and we’re really underhanded but it pays well.”
“You aren’t thinking of going to culinary school anymore?”
“Yung Soo, that was a long time ago. Besides, I can’t leave the children.”
Now it was Yung Soo’s turn to hum. “Never thought you’d be good with kids. What happened between you and dad? If…if you don’t mind me asking.”
Kiku put down his plastic bowl of noodles on the table. “I thought you and father were still in touch.” His tone was mildly surprised.
“Not since I left for Seoul. You were still in Rome when he sent his last mail to me if I remember right. He didn’t say how you left the family though. Just mentioned you had a boyfriend and he was miffed.”
“I didn’t leave,” Kiku said pointedly and looked at Yung Soo as if brimming with gossip. “I fell in love with someone I met during university. He came from Turkey.”
And with prompt, much to Yung Soo’s glee, Kiku related his scandalous firsts with the aforementioned man-how scared and unsure he felt about his feelings and how because of his innumerable insecurities, his beloved's motorcycle swerved on a rain slicked curb as the man hastened to know why Kiku had to return to Japan so suddenly without any clear indication that he considered their time together as special and wouldn't believe it wasn't.
“I…I supposed I hadn’t wanted to talk about this before. But now,” Kiku stared at the remains of their very fulfilling dinner. Now, he accepted enough to be able to talk about it. Yung Soo continued to look at him curiously and he laughed. “That habit never left you, did it? What is it now?”
“Is there someone new? I mean, you’re getting old, brother.”
Kiku opened and closed his mouth, wanting to relay a number of things including ‘excuse me, I could say the same thing for you’ and ‘no, there really isn’t, the nature of my job doesn’t leave much time for an active social life’ or ‘my co-teacher and headmaster aren’t my type’ but the face of Arthur Kirkland’s elusive co-worker surfaced in his mind. Since Francis took to picking up the boys again, Kiku hardly ever saw much of Sadiq.
“Well?” Yung Soo prompted. “There is someone, isn’t there?”
Kiku’s silence and the faintest tints of red on his cheeks confirmed suspicions.
“Knew it!” Yung Soo declared triumphantly. “Don’t worry, hyung. I worked as a date consultant once. I’ll definitely get you two together! Now, please tell me he isn’t fictional.”
“Im Yung Soo!” Kiku reproached heatedly. “Have more faith in me!”
“Okay, okay,” his brother breathed between laughs. “I kid. Who is he?”
The teacher frowned. “It’s not anything special, you know. Just a crush. For all I know, he’s married.”
“A crush is a start,” Yung Soo said in a matter of factly tone.
“He’s…well…the co-worker of the father of the students I teach.”
Yung Soo took a while to process the information. “A common friend!” he said knowingly. “A common friend is always good. D’you think that common friend can set you two up?”
Kiku would have fallen off his chair if he’d been sitting on one. “And here I thought you’d give more substantial advice! Weren’t you a date counselor?”
Yung Soo laughed. “No, people just came to me when they had love problems.”
“A…ah. Somehow I’d forgotten you were like this.”
“Hm?”
“It’s nothing.”
They cleared the low table of trash and brought out cans of beer that had been previously chilling in the fridge. Twin pops of aluminum echoed in the apartment.
“So,” Yung Soo said. “What’s he like? Tall, skinny, androgynous, square, like me? Because I totally knew you have the hots for me.”
Kiku rolled his eyes. “I do not. He’s…I guess he’s tall, dark…easy going.”
Yung Soo burst into a fit of giggles that earned him his brother’s raised eyebrows.
“What now?”
“Nothing!” the Korean sang. “I’m thinking you should really meet someday. I’d love to see him.”
Kiku coughed on a sip of beer that went down the wrong pipe. “W-wait a minute. How long do you plan to stay here, exactly?”
Yung Soo shrugged. “Till I feel like leaving. A couple of weeks maybe. I did file for a long vacation.” He flashed a grin.
“I have work, Yung Soo.”
“Well that’s fine. I can help! You did say your preschool is underhanded.”
Kiku tried not to reel at his brother’s crazy spontaneity. “As...as long as it’s legal, I guess,” he said, giving in.
“Woohoo! And hopefully we can meet this crush of yours. D’you know his name?”
“…I’m not sure.”
“Tch. Lame.”
♠ pleasant surprises and the touch of home
Sadiq Anan sneezed.
“Haha, someone must be talking about you,” one of his co-workers at ZY International pointed out cheerfully.
“If it’s tha’, I should be sneezin’ a lot more!” he laughed.
“Congratulations on sealing that deal today, by the way. Kirkland-san should really be celebrating with us.”
“Oh don’ mind the man,” Sadiq said. “Won’t get ‘em jokes.”
“His Japanese is getting better, though. And he missed good food.”
“Arthur’s a family man. ‘Sides, there’s good food where he goes to every night.”
“Uwa, don’t tell me he’s found a girlfriend here?” another one of Sadiq’s co-workers asked and the small group shared a rousing bout of laughter.
They emerged from Bar Vargas at 10:32pm, having spent a celebratory dinner and drinking party in lieu of another successful business deal made by the Sales department.
“Summer sure is hot,” remarked the co-worker.
“Can’t be as hot as Antalya,” the Turk replied.
“Of course! You miss your home city, Anan-san?”
“Well, it’s not my home city but I do miss the place. Y’don’t find proper cheesepies ‘round these parts, but I gotta say, working here’s a real pleasure.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Anan-san. We should do this again sometime!”
“Absolutely.”
The group parted ways and Sadiq lit a smoke as he leisurely passed by stores and restaurants toward a humble apartment he didn’t want to go home to just yet. The summer air was indeed warm and he wanted something cool and non-alcoholic to quench his thirst, and he happened to know just where to go.
Fruit Blends by the end of the famous restaurant strip was the last store to close everyday, it was quite a feat. The joint was run by two absolute beauties. Now, Sadiq Anan was a man of the century. He had no qualms about gender, so long as they were pretty. His type was usually the slender yet masculine Asian but he also had time to admire large, well-toned bodies deliciously browned under the sun. While he didn’t frequent Dotombori enough to know much about the two fruit shake vendors, he was pretty sure they were halves.
Sadiq crushed his smoke under foot, strode over to the exceptionally bright neon left along the street and caught the pair idling behind the counter. The darker of the two sat reading on a low stool while the other sat cross legged on the floor beside him, texting some unknown personage on his cell phone.
Sadiq cleared his throat.
Herakles and Hassan jumped to their feet, somewhat embarrassed. The latter carefully kept his book beside the sink and out of sight while the former stowed his mobile in his pocket.
“Sorry ‘bout that sir,” said Herakles cheerfully. “What may we get you?”
“Uh, well…” Hell be damned, thought Sadiq. These two were foreigners, just like him. He felt acutely awkward still speaking in Japanese. “What’d y’recommend?”
And for the strangest of reasons, the cashier frowned. “Watermelon.”
“Alright, an order then, with…” Sadiq squinted at the bright menu overhead. “…pearls.”
Hassan, who was listening with mild interest, set to work on the drink while Herakles computed the bill.
“Eighty yen.”
Herakles’ ire amused his brother greatly. “Something wrong?” he asked in their native tongue, reserved for conversations they didn’t want other people to understand.
“Somehow this guy annoys me,” Herakles answered.
Shit. Holy shit.
Sadiq felt surprise swell alarmingly in his throat and paid the bill with a mischievous grin blossoming on his face. He could barely keep himself from erupting into raucous peals of laughter. This was precious. Absolutely precious. He took the fruit shake from the counter and slowly eased the straw from the cashier’s fingers, much to Herakles’ annoyance.
“Too bad, kid,” he replied in their language. “’Cuz I think yer cute.”
Hassan laughed at the look of open shock on Herakles’ face and Sadiq walked away, feeling like a man who won the lottery, or scored an extra hot date. Who’d have thought the pair spoke Greek? It was a language he surely wasn’t foreign to and one that spelled a bit of home for him. The coincidence he’d be hearing it in Osaka of all places was so unbelievable that he could only laugh. Very loudly.
There was no way this visit was going to be his last.
♠ there are days for more stories, mine has yet to be told
“Geh! You’re here again. Don’t you have work?”
It was 12:45pm, peak hours, at Fruit Blends and Sadiq Anan stood beside the cashier, surveying the line of customers with a haughty grin. Hassan turned to look at who Herakles had suddenly rebuked, but who else would it be, really? He smiled to himself as he continued to mix the orders lined up.
“I am working, kid. I’m always workin’. Y’can’t confine me in an office y’know,” Sadiq returned easily.
“I wish I could,” Herakles said, punching in items, printing receipts and receiving payments.
“Hey hey, flash yer customers a smile. Y’wouldn’t have these nice people here t’think yer antagonizin’ me..”
“Antagonizing you!” Herakles breathed in disbelief after greeting the next customer in line. Hassan laughed, earning them curious stares from those waiting. “You’re the one disturbing my work. If you’re going to stay here, at least buy something and help me earn money,” Herakles sighed.
“Can’t,” Sadiq said simply. “Can’t be buyin’ food when I’m workin’”
The Greek handed out the shakes and waved a few customers off before rolling his eyes. “What are you doing? I can’t imagine anyone with a job to have as much free time as you do.”
It was true, Hassan observed. After they first met the Turk, he came by almost everyday at the oddest times and well, hung out, for lack of a better word, not that Hassan minded. Sadiq reminded him of his more jovial uncles back home more than anything else. Although Herakles may be genuinely annoyed by the man but Hassan doubted that. Under the insults was comfort. He couldn’t explain it, but it was the type of comfort only family could give, especially having been removed from home for so long.
“I do Sales at ZY International.”
“Sales, huh,” Herakles remarked absently. He had vaguely heard of the bank but not much else besides. “Who’re you stalking?”
Sadiq gave him a wry grin. “Y’really have somethin’ against me, dontcha, kid?”
“Not going to put shady businesses past you,” Herakles said before greeting the next customers in line and taking their orders.
Sadiq looked around the stretch of Dotombori, idly watching the Saturday noon crowd. He was indeed waiting for a client to interview, but what piqued his interest more was the fact that Arthur had told him a certain Honda Kiku passed by the street to shop. Since it was a weekend, Sadiq wanted to try his luck.
The kindergarten teacher intrigued him. He was certainly cute, the type Sadiq liked. But in the rare chances that Arthur told him to fetch the boys instead of Francis, he found the teacher had an air of beautiful mystery and reserve he had an irresistible urge to break. Honda looked quiet on the outside but Sadiq would like to place this quiet as more of an unreachable loneliness, if only to say that he’d be the man to address that. The Turk was a romantic at heart, after all.
“A client I s’ppose,” he sniffed.
“Bullshit,” Herakles said cheerfully, making Hassan and Sadiq look at him.
The latter raised both eyebrows. “An’ what makes ya say that, brat?”
“My brother and I have seen countless people wait along these streets. You’re waiting for a lover.”
Sadiq gave a laugh, loud and bark-like. “Yer a real sweetheart, kid. Y’are.”
Herakles huffed, leaning on the counter, having finished attending to the moment’s customers. “So does he come by often?” he asked as Hassan finished washing the blenders and joined them, book in hand.
“I do hope so,” Sadiq said casually. “I’d look like a real idiot if he doesn’t.”
Herakles laughed. “You already do,” and after a pause added. “You really aren’t working today, are you.”
But before he heard Sadiq’s answer, Hassan nudged his elbow and pointed to the clock. 1:15pm. Honda Kiku would be passing by from his shopping.
No, Herakles wasn’t one to pine. He had grown fond of a few people whose routine he built through the frequency they passed by the fruit shake stand, to the point he came to anticipate their arrival. Kiku was similar. Herakles simply enjoyed seeing the teacher and cherished the moments they’d exchange a smile, a wave or a greeting. He considered him a friend, the kind that one made in sure, steady increments.
“Huh. Why didn’t we pick those up earlier?” came a lively voice from the murmur of the crowds.
“I forgot,” answered a familiar, lower, more subdued one. “I only remembered it now.”
“See, brother, you really are getting old!”
“Am not. It’s honestly been a while since I cooked nabe the way Yao did. Besides, you didn’t either.”
“Hyung-nim did say it was optional. But we should get it since its summer and it’s fresh.”
“Aaah, we shouldn’t have bought the watermelon. My arms are killing me.”
“I didn’t know you had a weakness of bargains.”
Herakles, Hassan and Sadiq watched curiously as Honda Kiku and Im Yung Soo walked past, arms laden with weekend groceries. A telltale leek peeked out from one of the plastic bags, suggesting the pair would be preparing a homemade lunch.
“Good afternoon, Honda-san,” Herakles greeted as Kiku stopped to rearrange his bags.
“Ah, good afternoon, Herakles-san-“ He caught sight of Sadiq and have a small ‘eep’ of surprise. “He-hello.”
Sadiq raised both eyebrows again, this time in interest. “Hello to you too.”
Yung Soo and Herakles exchanged puzzled, somewhat suspicious looks. Then something clicked with the way Kiku reddened and fidgeted with his bags and the way Sadiq cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. Client he says, Herakles thought and shoved the Turk forward, making him stumble closer to Kiku.
“Uh, how are you?” Sadiq asked pleasantly.
“I’m…I’m fine, thank you,” Kiku answered and caught Yung Soo bouncing excitedly, trying his hardest to keep quiet. “This is my brother. He’s visiting from Seoul.” With that, the Korean skipped to the counter to order a drink, obviously brimming with giddiness. Herakles took his order.
“Ah, nice to meet…him,” Sadiq said. “Y’don’t look like th’ type t’have a brother though. This is...” he said, pointing to Herakles. “Well he’s a fruit shake vendor.”
The Greek shot him a withering look at the lame joke and Kiku hid a laugh behind his hand. Sadiq positively glowed inside, much to his own surprise. He found he wanted to see more of his expressions and took a breath.
“D’you need help with those bags?”
Kiku recognized a come on when he heard one. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He glanced at Yung Soo for some sort of approval and a bit of an apology and sighed with relief when his brother nodded excitedly.
“I hope you won’t mind joining us for lunch in our thanks.” The sun slowly rose in Kiku’s horizon and he found it immensely refreshing.
Sadiq smiled. “I wouldn’ mind tha’ at all.”
to the Epilogue
Category: Axis Powers Hetalia / Hetalia World Series
Characters: Greece, Egypt, Japan, Turkey, France, England, America, Canada, Finland, Sweden, Sealand, North and South Italy, Russia, Germany, Prussia, Spain, Belarus, Ukraine, Lithuania, Estonia, Latvia, Poland, China, South Korea
Pairings: France/England, Spain/South Italy, Germany/North Italy, Lithuania/Poland, Turkey/Japan, Finland/Sweden
Genre/Rating/Warnings: friendship, romance, drama, family/PG/AU, human names, shifting POVs, language shifts (which I really hope people won’t get confused by)
Summary/Excerpt: The Six Degrees of Separation is the idea that everyone in this world is connected by at most six people. It’s an empowering, intimidating thought to know that the world can be shrunk within just one city and that lives begin to affect one another as people converge and intersect. Our story begins with a pair of brothers who manage a fruit shake stand in Dotombori, Osaka and bear witness to different fates being drawn together from all over the globe.
Prologue | 1st° Part 1 | 1st° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 1 | 2nd° Part 2 | 2nd° Part 3
3rd° | 4th° | 5th° | 6th° | Epilogue
In this installment: With Sadiq finding a piece of home and a piece of heart and with Kiku finally feeling the sun rising on his horizon, our story comes to a close.
The Six Degrees of Separation
Sixth Degree
♠ stickier than sticky rice and longer than noodles
7:23pm
“Were you in agreement with Lukasiewicz-san or something?” Honda Kiku asked, uncharacteristically annoyed.
“Eh?” Im Yung Soo turned to him questioningly with tayaki in his mouth. “Why d’you say that?”
The kindergarten teacher let out a breath of air through his nose. “Both of you come to Osaka so recklessly and confidently, searching for those you've hardly come in contact with after a long time. Have a bit more tact.”
The two brothers left the rush of the home commute by taking the quiet back streets to Kiku’s apartment. They passed by small stores, parlors, quaint restaurants, karaoke bars, a picturesque maid café, a row of electronics and manga shops and one or two shady businesses one turned a blind eye to if one wanted to be safe. They picked up a few snacks from a couple of roadside kiosks, dinner form the nearby AM/PM and drinks from a large vending machine before going their way. Behind them, the lazy hum of cars echoed along the highway.
“Oho! What a funny lamp post!” Yung Soo exclaimed, snapping a picture of a blue lamp post that looked like a stick man poised to dive into a shallow pool.
Kiku only half-heartedly listened to his brother’s musings. In truth, he was shaken to his very core that the only way he saw to keep up with what was happening around him was suspending his disbelief and treating this as nonchalantly as Yung Soo was, or so he thought. Kiku stared at Yung Soo, enthusiastically walking ahead despite being unsure of where he was going, and a yawning feeling opened in his chest. This man was the living manifestation of a life he had nearly forgotten, forgotten almost welcomingly, of the shame he brought to his father and brothers, a deep unreachable sense of loss of the sole figure whom he’d come to consider truly family more than he cared to admit.
Im Yung Soo was his family, and god that word shouldn’t sound so foreign to him. They had too many years apart and circumstance that, had they not been related by blood, wouldn’t have caused them to meet at all. When Kiku had been younger, after his father inclined to disown him, he didn’t think of patching up the ties. Once or twice, he thought of contacting Yung Soo during his years in Rome, seeking the comfort of his only familiar but a damnable hesitation overcame him. He had never been particularly kind to Yung Soo. What if he had grown up to despise him? What if Yao had gotten tired of him? And until their beloved butler-guardian passed away and Yung Soo returned to Korea without the want to bind ties (Kiku can understand why), he never mustered the courage.
This cowardice Kiku never quite addressed reached its peak in the wonder years of his college life, when the only man he ever felt his heart beat for lost his life because of Kiku’s silence. So devastated and shut up his heart had been, Kiku was afraid he’d never be able to love again, or rather if he opened his heart once again, he’d see it hasn’t healed. Frankly, it was horrible, how Kiku suddenly saw his life in half-hearted increments, how his passivity spilled over to his relationship with his family, with his lover and how this damnable hesitation rendered him utterly incapable of being satisfied with how he lived.
In all honesty, he was absolutely jealous of Im Yung Soo.
“Yung Soo…” Kiku blurted out, halting their steps just outside the entrance of Kiku’s apartment.
“Mm?” the Korean turned with an expectant expression on his face.
“I…” Was it worth bringing back the past just so he could apologize for it? What if he was the only one so bothered by it? If he didn’t voice it out, he would never know. “I’m sorry.”
Yung Soo tensed for a fraction of a second, but he kept his gaze steady. “For?”
“…everything.”
“Absolutely everything?” The wry smile on his brother’s face made Kiku falter.
“Yes.”
Yung Soo laughed. “Silly brother. You can’t apologize for everything. Not everything’s your fault.” He clapped a hand on Kiku’s back so hard he almost dropped their groceries. “But at least you haven’t forgotten. If you did, I don’t think I’d find it in myself to forgive you.”
“Eh?” Kiku exclaimed in panic but his brother laughed again.
“Let’s stop for today,” Yung Soo said peaceably. “What matters is now and now I’m hungry.”
♠ a curious case of an unknown past
The food they bought on the way home sat atop the low table. Yung Soo occupied himself with preparing his instant meal while Kiku moved in the kitchen of his small humble apartment preparing tea. The digital clock beside the television read nine in the evening and Yung Soo noted that his brother still kept things neat, though somewhat empty. It was unnervingly similar to his home.
“Is it alright for you to leave Lukasiewicz-san and Laurinaitis-san like that?” Kiku asked, coming in with a cold pitcher of buckwheat tea and two glasses. “Weren’t you traveling with them?”
“It’s fine,” Yung Soo said, waving a hand as if to ward off the thought. “Feliks is a backpacker. He’s used to traveling. Besides, those two need time to themselves. They haven’t seen each other for a long time.” He flashed Kiku a knowing grin and the latter huffed bemusedly.
They ate in quiet save for the noise of clicking chopsticks and slurping soup.
“Ah~” Yung Soo said. “Hyung-nim used to make so much better soups.”
“Agreed,” Kiku immediately answered and blinked when the other’s eager face met him. “Yes?”
“D’you cook?”
“Ah…well, I live alone so…unless there are special occasions of course.”
Yung Soo fell silent, able to share the sentiment. There was an awkward pause between them to contemplate the irony of forgoing what they and Yao so preciously shared.
“The only thing I remember to do on my own is the onigiri,” he stated bluntly and Kiku smiled.
“I make them for New Years, along with mochi, but they don’t quite match up to Yao-san’s recipes.”
“Haha! I’m only realizing he was much more than a butler.”
“I wouldn’t call him a butler exactly,” Kiku said, pouring himself more tea. “More like an all round housekeeper. In the literal sense.”
“I thought he was a ninja back then,” Yung Soo answered contemplatively.
“I thought he was a woman,” the other admitted and they burst out laughing.
“No way! Man, if hyung-nim were alive right now, he’d pinch your ear.”
“That’s true. Anyway, how are you Yung Soo?” Kiku smiled, feeling at last he wouldn’t be guilty if he asked.
The Korean swallowed the bite in his mouth. “Awesome, of course. I do freelance stuff. I met Feliks through the Seoul City tours I give. It’s an unpredictable life!”
Kiku hummed in thought. “It suits you.”
“What about you, brother?”
“I work at S-preschool. It’s a small place and we’re really underhanded but it pays well.”
“You aren’t thinking of going to culinary school anymore?”
“Yung Soo, that was a long time ago. Besides, I can’t leave the children.”
Now it was Yung Soo’s turn to hum. “Never thought you’d be good with kids. What happened between you and dad? If…if you don’t mind me asking.”
Kiku put down his plastic bowl of noodles on the table. “I thought you and father were still in touch.” His tone was mildly surprised.
“Not since I left for Seoul. You were still in Rome when he sent his last mail to me if I remember right. He didn’t say how you left the family though. Just mentioned you had a boyfriend and he was miffed.”
“I didn’t leave,” Kiku said pointedly and looked at Yung Soo as if brimming with gossip. “I fell in love with someone I met during university. He came from Turkey.”
And with prompt, much to Yung Soo’s glee, Kiku related his scandalous firsts with the aforementioned man-how scared and unsure he felt about his feelings and how because of his innumerable insecurities, his beloved's motorcycle swerved on a rain slicked curb as the man hastened to know why Kiku had to return to Japan so suddenly without any clear indication that he considered their time together as special and wouldn't believe it wasn't.
“I…I supposed I hadn’t wanted to talk about this before. But now,” Kiku stared at the remains of their very fulfilling dinner. Now, he accepted enough to be able to talk about it. Yung Soo continued to look at him curiously and he laughed. “That habit never left you, did it? What is it now?”
“Is there someone new? I mean, you’re getting old, brother.”
Kiku opened and closed his mouth, wanting to relay a number of things including ‘excuse me, I could say the same thing for you’ and ‘no, there really isn’t, the nature of my job doesn’t leave much time for an active social life’ or ‘my co-teacher and headmaster aren’t my type’ but the face of Arthur Kirkland’s elusive co-worker surfaced in his mind. Since Francis took to picking up the boys again, Kiku hardly ever saw much of Sadiq.
“Well?” Yung Soo prompted. “There is someone, isn’t there?”
Kiku’s silence and the faintest tints of red on his cheeks confirmed suspicions.
“Knew it!” Yung Soo declared triumphantly. “Don’t worry, hyung. I worked as a date consultant once. I’ll definitely get you two together! Now, please tell me he isn’t fictional.”
“Im Yung Soo!” Kiku reproached heatedly. “Have more faith in me!”
“Okay, okay,” his brother breathed between laughs. “I kid. Who is he?”
The teacher frowned. “It’s not anything special, you know. Just a crush. For all I know, he’s married.”
“A crush is a start,” Yung Soo said in a matter of factly tone.
“He’s…well…the co-worker of the father of the students I teach.”
Yung Soo took a while to process the information. “A common friend!” he said knowingly. “A common friend is always good. D’you think that common friend can set you two up?”
Kiku would have fallen off his chair if he’d been sitting on one. “And here I thought you’d give more substantial advice! Weren’t you a date counselor?”
Yung Soo laughed. “No, people just came to me when they had love problems.”
“A…ah. Somehow I’d forgotten you were like this.”
“Hm?”
“It’s nothing.”
They cleared the low table of trash and brought out cans of beer that had been previously chilling in the fridge. Twin pops of aluminum echoed in the apartment.
“So,” Yung Soo said. “What’s he like? Tall, skinny, androgynous, square, like me? Because I totally knew you have the hots for me.”
Kiku rolled his eyes. “I do not. He’s…I guess he’s tall, dark…easy going.”
Yung Soo burst into a fit of giggles that earned him his brother’s raised eyebrows.
“What now?”
“Nothing!” the Korean sang. “I’m thinking you should really meet someday. I’d love to see him.”
Kiku coughed on a sip of beer that went down the wrong pipe. “W-wait a minute. How long do you plan to stay here, exactly?”
Yung Soo shrugged. “Till I feel like leaving. A couple of weeks maybe. I did file for a long vacation.” He flashed a grin.
“I have work, Yung Soo.”
“Well that’s fine. I can help! You did say your preschool is underhanded.”
Kiku tried not to reel at his brother’s crazy spontaneity. “As...as long as it’s legal, I guess,” he said, giving in.
“Woohoo! And hopefully we can meet this crush of yours. D’you know his name?”
“…I’m not sure.”
“Tch. Lame.”
♠ pleasant surprises and the touch of home
Sadiq Anan sneezed.
“Haha, someone must be talking about you,” one of his co-workers at ZY International pointed out cheerfully.
“If it’s tha’, I should be sneezin’ a lot more!” he laughed.
“Congratulations on sealing that deal today, by the way. Kirkland-san should really be celebrating with us.”
“Oh don’ mind the man,” Sadiq said. “Won’t get ‘em jokes.”
“His Japanese is getting better, though. And he missed good food.”
“Arthur’s a family man. ‘Sides, there’s good food where he goes to every night.”
“Uwa, don’t tell me he’s found a girlfriend here?” another one of Sadiq’s co-workers asked and the small group shared a rousing bout of laughter.
They emerged from Bar Vargas at 10:32pm, having spent a celebratory dinner and drinking party in lieu of another successful business deal made by the Sales department.
“Summer sure is hot,” remarked the co-worker.
“Can’t be as hot as Antalya,” the Turk replied.
“Of course! You miss your home city, Anan-san?”
“Well, it’s not my home city but I do miss the place. Y’don’t find proper cheesepies ‘round these parts, but I gotta say, working here’s a real pleasure.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, Anan-san. We should do this again sometime!”
“Absolutely.”
The group parted ways and Sadiq lit a smoke as he leisurely passed by stores and restaurants toward a humble apartment he didn’t want to go home to just yet. The summer air was indeed warm and he wanted something cool and non-alcoholic to quench his thirst, and he happened to know just where to go.
Fruit Blends by the end of the famous restaurant strip was the last store to close everyday, it was quite a feat. The joint was run by two absolute beauties. Now, Sadiq Anan was a man of the century. He had no qualms about gender, so long as they were pretty. His type was usually the slender yet masculine Asian but he also had time to admire large, well-toned bodies deliciously browned under the sun. While he didn’t frequent Dotombori enough to know much about the two fruit shake vendors, he was pretty sure they were halves.
Sadiq crushed his smoke under foot, strode over to the exceptionally bright neon left along the street and caught the pair idling behind the counter. The darker of the two sat reading on a low stool while the other sat cross legged on the floor beside him, texting some unknown personage on his cell phone.
Sadiq cleared his throat.
Herakles and Hassan jumped to their feet, somewhat embarrassed. The latter carefully kept his book beside the sink and out of sight while the former stowed his mobile in his pocket.
“Sorry ‘bout that sir,” said Herakles cheerfully. “What may we get you?”
“Uh, well…” Hell be damned, thought Sadiq. These two were foreigners, just like him. He felt acutely awkward still speaking in Japanese. “What’d y’recommend?”
And for the strangest of reasons, the cashier frowned. “Watermelon.”
“Alright, an order then, with…” Sadiq squinted at the bright menu overhead. “…pearls.”
Hassan, who was listening with mild interest, set to work on the drink while Herakles computed the bill.
“Eighty yen.”
Herakles’ ire amused his brother greatly. “Something wrong?” he asked in their native tongue, reserved for conversations they didn’t want other people to understand.
“Somehow this guy annoys me,” Herakles answered.
Shit. Holy shit.
Sadiq felt surprise swell alarmingly in his throat and paid the bill with a mischievous grin blossoming on his face. He could barely keep himself from erupting into raucous peals of laughter. This was precious. Absolutely precious. He took the fruit shake from the counter and slowly eased the straw from the cashier’s fingers, much to Herakles’ annoyance.
“Too bad, kid,” he replied in their language. “’Cuz I think yer cute.”
Hassan laughed at the look of open shock on Herakles’ face and Sadiq walked away, feeling like a man who won the lottery, or scored an extra hot date. Who’d have thought the pair spoke Greek? It was a language he surely wasn’t foreign to and one that spelled a bit of home for him. The coincidence he’d be hearing it in Osaka of all places was so unbelievable that he could only laugh. Very loudly.
There was no way this visit was going to be his last.
♠ there are days for more stories, mine has yet to be told
“Geh! You’re here again. Don’t you have work?”
It was 12:45pm, peak hours, at Fruit Blends and Sadiq Anan stood beside the cashier, surveying the line of customers with a haughty grin. Hassan turned to look at who Herakles had suddenly rebuked, but who else would it be, really? He smiled to himself as he continued to mix the orders lined up.
“I am working, kid. I’m always workin’. Y’can’t confine me in an office y’know,” Sadiq returned easily.
“I wish I could,” Herakles said, punching in items, printing receipts and receiving payments.
“Hey hey, flash yer customers a smile. Y’wouldn’t have these nice people here t’think yer antagonizin’ me..”
“Antagonizing you!” Herakles breathed in disbelief after greeting the next customer in line. Hassan laughed, earning them curious stares from those waiting. “You’re the one disturbing my work. If you’re going to stay here, at least buy something and help me earn money,” Herakles sighed.
“Can’t,” Sadiq said simply. “Can’t be buyin’ food when I’m workin’”
The Greek handed out the shakes and waved a few customers off before rolling his eyes. “What are you doing? I can’t imagine anyone with a job to have as much free time as you do.”
It was true, Hassan observed. After they first met the Turk, he came by almost everyday at the oddest times and well, hung out, for lack of a better word, not that Hassan minded. Sadiq reminded him of his more jovial uncles back home more than anything else. Although Herakles may be genuinely annoyed by the man but Hassan doubted that. Under the insults was comfort. He couldn’t explain it, but it was the type of comfort only family could give, especially having been removed from home for so long.
“I do Sales at ZY International.”
“Sales, huh,” Herakles remarked absently. He had vaguely heard of the bank but not much else besides. “Who’re you stalking?”
Sadiq gave him a wry grin. “Y’really have somethin’ against me, dontcha, kid?”
“Not going to put shady businesses past you,” Herakles said before greeting the next customers in line and taking their orders.
Sadiq looked around the stretch of Dotombori, idly watching the Saturday noon crowd. He was indeed waiting for a client to interview, but what piqued his interest more was the fact that Arthur had told him a certain Honda Kiku passed by the street to shop. Since it was a weekend, Sadiq wanted to try his luck.
The kindergarten teacher intrigued him. He was certainly cute, the type Sadiq liked. But in the rare chances that Arthur told him to fetch the boys instead of Francis, he found the teacher had an air of beautiful mystery and reserve he had an irresistible urge to break. Honda looked quiet on the outside but Sadiq would like to place this quiet as more of an unreachable loneliness, if only to say that he’d be the man to address that. The Turk was a romantic at heart, after all.
“A client I s’ppose,” he sniffed.
“Bullshit,” Herakles said cheerfully, making Hassan and Sadiq look at him.
The latter raised both eyebrows. “An’ what makes ya say that, brat?”
“My brother and I have seen countless people wait along these streets. You’re waiting for a lover.”
Sadiq gave a laugh, loud and bark-like. “Yer a real sweetheart, kid. Y’are.”
Herakles huffed, leaning on the counter, having finished attending to the moment’s customers. “So does he come by often?” he asked as Hassan finished washing the blenders and joined them, book in hand.
“I do hope so,” Sadiq said casually. “I’d look like a real idiot if he doesn’t.”
Herakles laughed. “You already do,” and after a pause added. “You really aren’t working today, are you.”
But before he heard Sadiq’s answer, Hassan nudged his elbow and pointed to the clock. 1:15pm. Honda Kiku would be passing by from his shopping.
No, Herakles wasn’t one to pine. He had grown fond of a few people whose routine he built through the frequency they passed by the fruit shake stand, to the point he came to anticipate their arrival. Kiku was similar. Herakles simply enjoyed seeing the teacher and cherished the moments they’d exchange a smile, a wave or a greeting. He considered him a friend, the kind that one made in sure, steady increments.
“Huh. Why didn’t we pick those up earlier?” came a lively voice from the murmur of the crowds.
“I forgot,” answered a familiar, lower, more subdued one. “I only remembered it now.”
“See, brother, you really are getting old!”
“Am not. It’s honestly been a while since I cooked nabe the way Yao did. Besides, you didn’t either.”
“Hyung-nim did say it was optional. But we should get it since its summer and it’s fresh.”
“Aaah, we shouldn’t have bought the watermelon. My arms are killing me.”
“I didn’t know you had a weakness of bargains.”
Herakles, Hassan and Sadiq watched curiously as Honda Kiku and Im Yung Soo walked past, arms laden with weekend groceries. A telltale leek peeked out from one of the plastic bags, suggesting the pair would be preparing a homemade lunch.
“Good afternoon, Honda-san,” Herakles greeted as Kiku stopped to rearrange his bags.
“Ah, good afternoon, Herakles-san-“ He caught sight of Sadiq and have a small ‘eep’ of surprise. “He-hello.”
Sadiq raised both eyebrows again, this time in interest. “Hello to you too.”
Yung Soo and Herakles exchanged puzzled, somewhat suspicious looks. Then something clicked with the way Kiku reddened and fidgeted with his bags and the way Sadiq cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. Client he says, Herakles thought and shoved the Turk forward, making him stumble closer to Kiku.
“Uh, how are you?” Sadiq asked pleasantly.
“I’m…I’m fine, thank you,” Kiku answered and caught Yung Soo bouncing excitedly, trying his hardest to keep quiet. “This is my brother. He’s visiting from Seoul.” With that, the Korean skipped to the counter to order a drink, obviously brimming with giddiness. Herakles took his order.
“Ah, nice to meet…him,” Sadiq said. “Y’don’t look like th’ type t’have a brother though. This is...” he said, pointing to Herakles. “Well he’s a fruit shake vendor.”
The Greek shot him a withering look at the lame joke and Kiku hid a laugh behind his hand. Sadiq positively glowed inside, much to his own surprise. He found he wanted to see more of his expressions and took a breath.
“D’you need help with those bags?”
Kiku recognized a come on when he heard one. His heart pounded wildly in his chest. He glanced at Yung Soo for some sort of approval and a bit of an apology and sighed with relief when his brother nodded excitedly.
“I hope you won’t mind joining us for lunch in our thanks.” The sun slowly rose in Kiku’s horizon and he found it immensely refreshing.
Sadiq smiled. “I wouldn’ mind tha’ at all.”
to the Epilogue