Chapter Text
Part of being Japanese is living with small obsessions. The perfect cup of tea, the perfect flower arrangement, the perfect performance. Other fixations belong to everyone at once: cherry blossoms, fireworks, festivals. Akihiko always thought he was mostly desensitized to those. Yet when Haruki asked for a photo of autumn leaves for their new EP cover, Akihiko didn’t hesitate. He would get the best autumn leaves photo for his precious band, and for that, nothing better than a walk around Kyoto in late October.
Even though he has lived in Kansai for years, Akihiko doesn’t really leave Osaka, unless he must. If he’s not in Tokyo to rehearse with the band and see Haruki, his days off are spent practicing or staying home in Osaka. The change of scenery is welcome.
As he sits on the train, he remembers his first trip to the old capital, during middle school. They traveled by coach from Tokyo, and when they finally reached their destination, it was not the temples and gardens that impressed him most, but a story the history teacher told. They were walking on a path by a narrow canal, lined with trees, their canopies like a roof embroidered with light. The teacher said it was known as the Philosopher’s Path, after a famous philosopher who walked it every day, thinking. Young Akihiko found it odd that someone could name a place just by walking, but he imagined himself playing his violin here every day. Maybe they would rename it the Violinist’s Path after him one day, or perhaps he should find a nameless path and make it his own.
Kyoto Station is a chaotic swirl of people, luggage, and echoing announcements. He pulls out his phone and finds that it will take about an hour and a half on foot to reach the Philosopher’s Path. He shrugs. He always liked to walk anyway.
It’s still early, and the way the sun gently blooms into something vibrant reminds him of a walk home from band practice years ago. Akihiko will always remember it as the day he fell in love with Haruki. Walking together, exhausted and giddy, felt like a new dawn after the long night of his non-relationship with Ugetsu.
He has asked himself countless times over the years if he moved on too fast. It took him ages to leave that basement, and when he did, he jumped into someone else’s arms almost immediately. Had he waited longer, things might have turned out differently, but there had been a certainty in that moment that had made him see everything so clearly. Unburdened by the oppressing weight of those walls, with new motivation, he would be the best version of himself, worthy of Haruki, of his uncomplicated love and endless care. Well. It worked out, to some extent.
He stops along the way to take out his camera and play with the settings. He bought the DSLR secondhand a few years back. It was a good model, from a coworker who was relocating overseas. Since then, it has provided a welcome distraction from music, though his compositions lack variety. Still, when Haruki saw his first attempts, he laughed and said, “You really are a jack of all trades.”
It’s close to midday when he enters the Philosopher’s Path and starts working in earnest. Tourists come and go, but it’s not as crowded as the temples or main streets. The air is warmer now, carrying the faint scent of damp earth and fallen leaves. He captures sunlight filtering through the canopy of leaves, scattering gold onto the water below. His shutter clicks in quick succession. He is mainly shooting the foliage in its riot of colors, but he also captures some close-ups of mossy stone lanterns, thin bridges or smooth round stones.
He starts to sweat, so he stops to take off his jacket and drink from his water bottle. He has more than enough material for the others to choose from, so he carefully returns the camera to his backpack. He snaps a quick photo of the leaves with his phone and shoots a text to Haruki: “Mission accomplished 👍.”
Haruki replies almost at once with a cheering emoji.
Akihiko smiles.
What next? Lunch, then maybe a coffee. A friend from Osaka told him about a shop with good secondhand vinyl. Maybe he can go there after.
He shoulders the backpack and is about to move along when something catches his eye. A few meters away, sitting on a stone bench and so at odds with the merry atmosphere, is a lone figure dressed in a black suit, stark against the background of yellow and auburn. Messy brown hair, slender, delicate facial features. Distinctive, even with half his face hidden behind dark wayfarers. It could be a stranger, he tells himself, but he knows instantly that it’s a lie. He knows this person’s appearance like the palm of his hand. Or at least he did once.
What is Ugetsu doing here? Why is he wearing a suit? Why does he look so lonely?
Unbidden, another autumn scene juxtaposes.
Two boys walking in a park. One breaks away to step on dried leaves. There was always something sadistic about him, even as a child, when he liked to crush bugs with a rock, or so he liked to say. The boy looks back from his chaotic onslaught with a bright smile. The other boy cannot help but take a photo of him. Akihiko remembers his own heartbeat then, rabbit-fast, when he realized he was looking at the most beautiful person he had ever seen. It feels like another life. That photo is buried under years of accumulated data now, but he never brought himself to delete it.
In the present, Ugetsu takes off his sunglasses and tilts his head up to gaze at the branches overhead. Maybe he came here to think, like that philosopher. Akihiko finds himself moving, careful steps, as though not to scare a skittish animal. He should just walk away. Like he did once.
Bye bye, Akihiko.
The farewell he was not supposed to hear, spoken so low and from so far away that he could not possibly have heard it. But he did. And it almost made him turn back and bury his only chance of escape.
Everything is different now. He doesn’t have to walk away. He doesn’t want to. It doesn’t feel right.
“Hey,” he says when he is close enough to be heard.
The elegant neck turns, slow, recognition washing in.
“Aki?” Ugetsu’s voice is small, rough.
“You okay?”
Ugetsu looks back to the water. “Jet lagged.”
“Concert? I didn’t hear—”
“My grandfather,” Ugetsu says, cutting in, “passed away. I came for the funeral. Father is negotiating a treaty in Geneva, so I had to come instead.”
He makes it sound clinical, as if he were running an errand.
“Sorry to hear that.”
“It’s fine,” Ugetsu answers mechanically, but he looks anything but.
“Were you close with him?” Akihiko probes.
During their time together, Ugetsu never really spent time with his family. He cut them off, preempted their ability to shun him for his choices, carved a life on his own. Akihiko didn’t even know that Ugetsu’s family was from Kyoto. They seemed scattered around the world, and only ever appeared sporadically. Nevertheless, the man sitting before him doesn’t just seem tired or inconvenienced. He looks really sad.
“After he retired from politics or lawyering or whatever he did,” Ugetsu starts, voice slow but shaky, “the old man came to New York for a while. He said he wanted to see what I liked so much about America. He had money to spend, so why not?” Ugetsu makes a dismissive gesture with his hand, as though acting out someone else’s mannerisms. “He rented a ridiculous apartment in Upper East Side and would call me there just to play for him and chit chat. He was living the life… until he got sick.”
A drifting cloud dims the day. Cold rises from the water.
“Can I sit with you?” Akihiko asks.
“Hm, suit yourself.”
He rounds the bench and sits half a body away, keeping a safe distance. Ugetsu sits like a young boy, straight back and hands flopped on his lap. Lifeless.
“It must be hard.”
Ugetsu shrugs. “He was ninety. That’s probably more than I can hope for.”
Akihiko never liked it when Ugetsu said things like that.
“Have you stopped smoking?”
Ugetsu gives him a look. “No. Have you?”
“No.”
A small chuckle, the first sign of humor since they met. “Then you’re not one to talk…”
Akihiko smiles ruefully. “Maybe we should, though. Quit.”
Ugetsu shrugs, not deigning to answer. “How about you, Aki. What are you doing here?”
“I came to take some photos for our band’s new EP.”
“Oh. You’re still recording.” That seems to brighten him a little. “If only you had a more prolific songwriter, you could have established yourselves ages ago.”
Akihiko laughs despite himself. If he can still decode this man, that barb is Ugetsu for ‘your band is actually not so bad’.
“Well, you know that kid…”
A small smile lifts the tip of Ugetsu’s lips. He was always fond of Mafuyu.
“So you came all this way just to take photos?”
And there it is. He could lie now, omit the details of his current life, but why? Is he ashamed of what he has achieved? Just because it’s not as much as Ugetsu has? It will never be. Ugetsu is a genius. Akihiko made peace with that long ago.
“I live in Osaka now,” he says. “I work for the Kansai Orchestra. I just made first violin this month.”
“Aki” The word comes out breathy, surprised. The sound plucks a chord in him, stirs a feeling in his chest he didn’t know was still there.
“You didn’t give up on the violin,” Ugetsu says, and for a moment his somber mood lifts and Akihiko is looking at the boy he met in high school, the boy who stole his heart.
“And congratulations, by the way” Ugetsu adds, quieter now. Akihiko follows his lowered gaze and realizes that Ugetsu is looking straight at his ring finger. At the ring on his finger. Shit.
“Uh, it’s not really… it’s more of a joke. Haruki calls it the pest repellent.”
For a while, the ring actually did its job, preventing unwanted advances from people he encountered. Akihiko lived in Osaka and Haruki lived in Tokyo, and they met on weekends. Well, some of them. Akihiko’s days off as a performer rarely fell on Saturdays and Sundays. Their time apart began to stretch. Haruki was his friend before becoming his lover, so they had no problem keeping the conversation going remotely. But that’s not all there is to it.
Sometimes, when he came back from a performance to his tiny apartment, to a lonely night, nostalgia got the best of him and he watched videos of Ugetsu on YouTube. He smiled, cried, smoked, hummed along. Maybe it was a way of punishing himself. Look at what you will never reach. Look at what you lost. Or maybe it was just plain longing. Because leaving the basement was necessary, but leaving Ugetsu was the hardest thing he ever did.
“Bzzz.”
The sound Ugetsu makes pulls him out of his musings, but its meaning flies over his head. The man gives him a deadpan look. Then it clicks.
“The pest repellent.”
Ugetsu’s eyes shine with mirth.
Akihiko chuckles. “Very funny.” But he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. He should have removed the ring. There’s no point in it now.
“Will you stay in Japan long?”
It takes a few moments for Ugetsu to answer.
“I don’t know.” He pauses. “There’s some paperwork left to do. Isn’t it strange? When someone dies there are so many practicalities and people to deal with. For a while your mind is busy with all of that. When it’s over, the emptiness sets in.”
Ugetsu’s feelings always used to travel through a bow. Hearing him give them words makes Akihiko feel a certain way. How much changed while he was not looking?
“Do you feel like that now? Empty?”
He doesn’t know why he asked. It was uncalled for. Maybe he has a sadistic side himself.
“I—” Ugetsu stops himself.
“Sorry I asked. I’m such an asshole.”
Another cloud comes in and Ugetsu shivers.
“Are you cold?”
Akihiko’s jacket is on his lap. He doesn’t need it. He usually runs hot.
“I’m fine.”
“Let me—”
He draws his arms around Ugetsu and places the extra layer on his shoulders. Their eyes meet and for a moment neither looks away. They breathe like that, once, twice. He wants to ask, Can I hold you? He knows he’ll be rejected.
It’s Ugetsu who breaks eye contact.
“Akihiko, can you do me a favor? My phone died.” He shows the black screen. “Everyone’s at the house making guesses about the old man’s will. I want to book a hotel. I don’t want to go home tonight.”
“Of course.”
“Do not prepay. I’ll pay at the hotel.”
“Okay.”
Practicalities. They hold the broken pieces together for a while. If that’s the comfort he can offer, then so be it.
“Any preference?”
He pulls out his phone and opens the booking app.
“Anything but a ryokan. I’ve had enough of old houses.”
He scrolls slowly so Ugetsu can look. They lean in, Ugetsu’s breath brushing his cheek. Akihiko stops watching the screen. He watches the wave in Ugetsu’s hair, the faint sheen of it, the glass-like quality of the skin behind his ear, the little stolen hoop hanging from the cartilage. He noticed it years ago, on an instagram shot, and never dared to think about what it meant.
His hands ache to settle on those shoulders, to pull Ugetsu to him. His thumb stills on the screen and Ugetsu takes the phone, impatient.
“These are all for businessmen. I can smell the testosterone from here,” he says, flicking up.
“How about this one?”
“Tourist trap.”
The quick dismissal makes Akihiko smile.
“The Hyatt? More your style.”
“Exposed concrete and straight lines,” Ugetsu considers.
“Hm.” Like the basement. Their basement.
“It looks fine. I think I’ve stayed there. Book it.”
“Rich kids,” Akihiko mutters, to fill the space, another gap.
Ugetsu taps in his data and hands the phone back.
“Thank you, Aki.”
He pockets the phone and Ugetsu stands. He sways a little.
“When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday. I’m not sure.”
He sighs. Maybe Ugetsu has changed. Some things have not.
“Come on, let’s get lunch.”
They finish the Philosopher’s Path slowly. A few times he considers asking for a photo. The DSLR in his bag grows heavy then. It would make a better image than that old phone shot, but he would not catch the same smile. Not today, not from a grieving man who no longer loves him. Some moments cannot be repeated, even surrounded by a blaze of leaves.
“What are you looking at?” Ugetsu asks, catching his gaze.
“Nothing. Just thinking this place is beautiful.”
“It is,” Ugetsu says, smiling faintly, as if he has not noticed that Akihiko’s eyes have been on him all along.
“You could go to Thailand,” Ugetsu says after a beat. “Or somewhere in Europe if you feel like splurging.”
Akihiko blinks, then realizes that Ugetsu has been looking at his hand again.
“Oh, no, it is really not—”
“Why not? You could actually marry him, not just wear the ring.”
Akihiko’s stomach twists.
One weekend, about a year ago, Haruki came down to Osaka. Akihiko had a concert on Saturday night, so they didn’t plan much. Show, dinner, make love, watch movies, sleep. That kind of weekend.
When they got home, he told Haruki to turn on the computer while he changed. When he came out, Haruki was watching the video he’d left on pause before going out that morning. It was a recent recording of Ugetsu playing the Kreutzer in Milan.
Haruki looked thoughtfully at the screen. “He’s quite something, isn’t he?” he said. The next time Akihiko went to Tokyo, Haruki still fetched him from the station, still took him out to dinner, still made love to him, but when they parted on Sunday night, he suggested they open their relationship. Akihiko was taken aback. Haruki had never seemed interested in sleeping with other people. He agreed, though. He would stay in Haruki’s life in any way he was welcome. He’s clingy like that.
“Sorry I pried,” Ugetsu says. “You don’t have to answer that.”
They walk a few more steps in silence. Ugetsu stops.
“Akihiko, let’s go our separate ways. Thank you for today. You really helped me.”
What? A minute ago they were going to eat. Why the change of mind?
Before he can answer, Ugetsu walks away, into one of the adjacent lanes. Does he even know where he’s going?
“Ugetsu. Hey.”
Akihiko jogs after him and catches up easily.
“You don’t have a map.”
“I can find my way around.”
He starts to turn away again. Akihiko follows. “Let me walk you to the hotel and order food at the bar.”
Irritation flickers in those stormy eyes. “I can take care of myself.”
Scattered shards. Broken clay.
Why does it always end this way?
Ugetsu’s eyes gloss. He has also felt it, the curse of their endless fights.
“I’m sorry. But please, let me leave.”
“Why?” Akihiko asks desperately. Now that he met Ugetsu again, he doesn’t want to part so soon. He’s being selfish, but he’s also concerned. Ugetsu looks so lonely, so ethereal, like he’s about to blend into the leaves.
“Because I keep ruining your life. You’re clearly happy now. You have the job you always wanted. You have a husband, for crying out loud! You should not be here following me around, questioning yourself.”
The last words come as a barely controlled shout. Akihiko cannot stand it. Their life is so full of misunderstanding. A tragic comedy if ever there was one. His eyes sting. He cannot hold it in anymore.
“You never ruined anything.” His hand finds the back of Ugetsu’s head and he pulls him in, as gently as he can. Ugetsu’s lips part, startled. “It was not you. I was the one who ruined it. I could not accept your brilliance. I was jealous and afraid. I made you feel bad for being better than me. I gave up on my art because I was proud.”
Ugetsu shakes his head and Akihiko feels the unruly strands shift beneath his fingers.
“You did nothing wrong,” Ugetsu says. “It’s not wrong to feel how you felt. We both did what we could in the circumstances we had. I don’t resent you. Never, Akihiko.”
As if synchronized, tears spill from their eyes at once. It’s astonishing how much they can still feel. He brushes the tears from Ugetsu’s eyes with his thumbs. Touching Ugetsu’s face again is strange and familiar at once. The skin is cool and smooth. An eyelash curls on his thumb like a tiny charm. The thought that he could walk away with nothing but this small souvenir finally breaks him. His gaze drops to Ugetsu’s mouth. Ugetsu’s eyes close.
Akihiko kisses him.
“I’m in an open relationship,” he says as soon as they part. He will not let Ugetsu carry more guilt. “Things with Haruki have been cooling for a while. We might go on as we are or we might end it. Either way it’s not on you. Don’t regret this. You’re not ruining anything. You never have.”
Ugetsu’s jaw tightens and loosens. His eyes widen. He looks so beautiful that it takes everything in Akihiko not to kiss him again.
“Okay, Aki. I believe you.”
So simple, said in that boyish cadence. Something warm blooms in Akihiko’s chest.
“Good. Now let me feed you. Another hour and you’ll need an IV.”
“Okay. Take care of me.”
With those words, something closed for years eases open. He can do that. He’s always been good at taking care of Ugetsu. He takes Ugetsu’s hand and unlocks his phone with the other to search for a nearby place to eat. If he can’t find something satisfactory, this little snob will surely complain.