Authors Have Parties Too

g u r a b i t e s h i y o n .
n e t
Ver. 1.0 thistle
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Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: It’s Gravitation and so obviously shonen-ai. Rating: OT, mostly for th
at reason plus some language. Also obvious; it doesn’t belong to me. Gravitation a
nd its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I am simply a devotee. I ap
preciate criticism: please read, enjoy, and review.
*~*Authors Have Parties Too?*~*
*Part 1: Invitation and Preparation*
[Friday evening]
“Eiirriiii . . .” Shuichi’s whining had a way of penetrating the skull and cutting str
aight to the nerves.
“Aggh. Stop that! Why would you even want to go? I don’t want to be there.” He leaned
back in his chair, pushing away from the laptop. Why had Mizuki even sent the da
mned invitation? His editor knew how much he hated that shit. He didn’t enjoy bein
g around people in general. Fellow writers were an entirely different can of wor
ms.
“But, Eiri, I didn’t even know you had other author friends.”
“I don’t,” he said from clenched teeth. He lit a cigarette and tossed his lighter onto
his desk. Shuichi smirked at him from his place on the stool next to his desk.
Eiri knew that look. It said, I can see through you. Okay, he admitted to himsel
f, I don’t have *many* author friends. He ran a hand through his hair, brushing it
out of his eyes. “Why did you pick up the mail today, anyway?”
“I’m supposed to be getting a package-- but don’t change the subject!” Shuichi waved the
post card under his nose. It had a picture of books on the front with a big num
ber twenty-five super-imposed over it. “Mizuki-san even hand wrote it. She wants y
ou to come.”
Eiri stood and snatched the postcard from his lover’s hand. “No! Who gave you permis
sion to read my mail, anyway??” He stomped out of the office, knowing Shuichi woul
d follow him. He was seriously annoyed. Mizuki had probably sent a postcard on p
urpose, hoping Shuichi would read it. He dropped the card into the wastebasket,
walked down the hall and shoved the living room door open; heading for the kitch
en.
“Awww, Eiriiii, it’s a postcard! I didn’t open your mail— just looked at it. Besides,” Eir
i could hear the smirk in Shuichi’s voice, “it was addressed to me, too.” He turned ar
ound in surprise only to see the singer holding the retrieved postcard. Mizuki w
ill pay for this, he thought. He nearly bit through his cigarette in irritation.
There would be no getting out of it now. Shuichi proudly pointed to his name on
the invitation, skipping in front of him to show it off.
Eiri brushed past the boy. With long strides, he reached the kitchen and grabbed
a beer from the ‘fridge. Popping the top off, he took a long drink and leaned bac
k against the countertop. Shuichi sat on the island countertop, swinging his bar
e feet and lightly kicking the cupboard door. The postcard was in his hands and
he was reading through it again, smiling triumphantly. Damnit, he already thinks
he’s won, Eiri thought.
“The 24th . . . that’s a Saturday, isn’t it? Will it be formal, do you think? Are the
book publisher’s parties like NG’s CD release parties? Probably not, those are prett
y casual, and they can get kind of wild . . . I think it will be fun for you to
talk to other writers. You don’t do that very often, do you? Of course, you don’t ta
lk to anyone much, anyway, but you should definitely go! It’ll be good for you!” Shu
ichi bounced off the cupboard and wrapped himself around Eiri’s torso. “We’re going, r
ight? What will you wear? Black, probably. Should we go shopping? You should wea
r more color.”
He sighed. Listening to his lover’s chatter soothed him in an odd way. When Shu wa
s babbling, all was right with the world. He shook his head. It was still incomp
rehensible to him how the singer could carry on long, one-sided conversations wi
thout a pause or an obvious breath. He set his beer aside and hugged the boy. “Alr
ight, we’ll go. Now release me so I can go get some work done.”
Shuichi let go of him immediately, throwing his arms into the air. “Yay! We get to
go to a party!” He started hopping and dancing around the room. “You’re taking me to
a party!”
“Keh. Settle down, brat. Today is only the second. The party isn’t for another three
weeks.” Eiri grabbed the beer and headed back to his office.
His lover hugged him again quickly, briefly impeding his progress across the liv
ing room floor. “I know, but I’m so excited! You come to NG’s Christmas parties, but t
hat’s because Seguchi-san and your sister invite you, and you don’t go to the releas
e parties, usually, and I’ve never been to an authors’ party. They must not come aro
und very often. That makes this extra-special, right?” Shuichi’s voice was muted by
closing the living room door. Eiri was relieved that he hadn’t been pursued. Appar
ently, the excitement of the party was enough to keep Shuichi happy for now.
The author rubbed one hand across his neck. He would have to speak with Mizuki.
If Shuichi found out how many of these invitations he refused, he’d have trouble.
He would have to make sure that Mizuki did not make a habit of addressing mail t
o both of them, either. That was sneaky. His editor knew how easily he said no t
o her, and she also knew how hard it was for him to refuse Shuichi. Still, I gue
ss twenty-five years is an important milestone for a publishing company, he thou
ght. He sighed again. Maybe I’ll get sick on the 24th and I won’t have to go . . .
***
[Saturday afternoon]
The following weekend, Eiri found himself shopping with Shuichi. Why? Why did I
agree to this, Eiri wondered. Why was it such a big deal to Shuichi to have new
clothes to wear to this damned party, anyway? This was the eighth clothing store
in the two-story mall they had entered and they’d barely made it down one arm of
the building. Shuichi had tried something on in each one of the stores. Eiri was
carrying three shopping bags already and only one was for himself. Shuichi had
absolutely insisted on buying colorful clothes for him. Considering Shu’s ideas ab
out color, the choices he made for Eiri weren’t too bad. I might even wear them, h
e thought. He slouched in the tiny chair poised beside the dressing room mirrors
, desperately wanting a cigarette.
Shuichi popped his head out of the changing room. With a big smile, he jumped ou
t of the booth and spun around, showing off this latest fashion. Eiri wasn’t certa
in how he’d managed to put the pants on. “Do you think these are too tight?” Shuichi a
sked earnestly, holding up his shirt and rotating in front of the three-way mirr
ors.
Eiri controlled himself admirably. “Yes.”
Shuichi glanced at him in a moment of surprise, telling Eiri without words that
he hadn’t controlled his voice as well as he’d thought. A wicked smile chased the su
rprise off his lover’s face. “Should I buy them anyway?” Shu’s eyes flashed, teasingly.
That look, combined with the pants made Eiri instantly horny. Sometimes he hated
how Shuichi could do that to him. He tried for nonchalance; shrugging, he said;
“Your choice.” He imagined Shuichi wearing those pants when they were alone, later
. . . then he frowned, eyes narrowing suspiciously. “You wouldn’t wear those to the
party . . .”
Shu smiled knowingly, “No? You’d don’t think they’d be the hit of the party?”
Eiri growled, “Come here.”
Shuichi laughed and danced back into the booth, shutting the door. “Oh, no! I stil
l want to try on a couple more things.
Fuck it, non-smoking or not, he needed a cigarette. He lit up. After a few minut
es, Shuichi came out of the dressing room in an honest-to-gods suit. It surprise
d him. He looked . . . adult. Well, technically, Shuichi was an adult; he just n
ever acted like one.
“What do you think? I could wear this to the party, huh?” He looked a little uncerta
in, tugging at the jacket hem and shifting his shoulders.
“It fits you well,” he said non-committally. The pale blue-grey looked good with his
blue-violet eyes and didn’t clash with the pink hair. Eiri wasn’t sure he liked the
grown-up look on his hyper-active young lover. The tight pants were definitely
a better look for him. He’d never seen Shuichi in anything this conservative. Come
to think of it, the singer didn’t own any clothing that could be considered conse
rvative that wasn’t totally casual.
“You should buy it,” Eiri said. “The shoulders are a bit too wide for you, but they do
alterations here, don’t they?” Shuichi nodded and bit his lower lip. “I’ll find a tailo
r,” Eiri volunteered. “I have to find a place to put this out, anyway.” He gestured wi
th the cigarette.
“Eiri, you shouldn’t be smoking in here!” Shuichi’s protest was half-hearted. The younge
r man knew how pointless it was to argue with him when it came to his habit. Sin
ce they were the only ones in the dressing room, Eiri kissed him deeply to give
him something else to think about while he found a tailor. Knowing the effect hi
s kiss would have, Eiri thought smugly, that’s revenge for teasing about the tight
pants. He followed up the previous thought with; He’s so cute when he blushes.
***
The night of the 24th came around and Eiri was healthy. Damnit. So was Shuichi,
although Eiri may have trouble peeling him off the ceiling when it was time to g
o— figuratively, of course. He’d had lunch with that imbecile, Sakuma Ryuichi. The i
diot was still flying high from the idea of a new duet Sakuma had planned to sin
g with him. Add to that the excitement of the party this evening and ‘hyper-active’
was just too mild a term for Shuichi’s state of mind, energy level, and enthusiasm
.
Maybe I should thank Sakuma for taking the brat out of here, Eiri thought. I don’t
think I could have tolerated this all day. Shuichi was sitting on the couch, dr
essed in his new suit, legs tucked under him, toes in the cushions. Surely he’s no
t an adult. He can’t even pretend to be an adult, Eiri thought, condescendingly. S
hu was loudly singing along with a music video on the TV and bouncing erraticall
y. Eiri watched his lover briefly from the darkness of the doorway. Shu looked a
bout two years old rather than twenty. Eiri must have made some sound, because S
huichi’s head snapped toward him and he jumped up.
“Is it time to go, Eiri? I’ll shut the TV off . . . ” He did, continuing his babble. “I
was just watching this new video an—”
“Let’s go.” Eiri turned away and reached into the closet to grab his coat. It was abou
t sixty degrees and raining lightly— around average for May. Eiri pulled out his k
eys and slipped on his shoes. Shuichi had had to buy new shoes, to go with the s
uit. Sneakers just wouldn’t cut it. Fortunately, shoe shopping had taken a lot les
s time than clothes shopping. With a bound, Shuichi landed his feet in the shiny
new shoes left by the door.
“Okay!” The kid declared. “You look good, Eiri. I like that red jacket. It’s so much che
erier than black! What do you think the party will be like? I’ve been wondering al
l week, ya know?” Shu didn’t bother with a coat. They stepped out and Eiri locked th
e apartment while Shuichi continued his prattle. “Does everybody just stand around
talking about writing? Is there much to talk about like that?” Eiri thought it wa
s a rhetorical question, so he didn’t answer. “Or maybe they just stand around looki
ng sour?” Shuichi smiled at him and poked him in the ribs.
His lover’s implication was clear: Eiri would be required to socialize. Grrrr. Shu
ichi laughed at the growl that trickled out of him, clinging to his arm happily
on the way to the car. It was so hard to be annoyed with that bratt when he laug
hed like that, Eiri thought.
As far as Eiri was concerned, book signings were a “necessary evil” to promote his w
ork, but these kinds of get-togethers churned his stomach. Having Shuichi with h
im would either liven the boredom, or . . . more likely, Shuichi would do someth
ing that mortified him in front of his publisher, editor, and peers. He punched
the key fob with his thumb to unlock the car doors.
This would be the first time he introduced Shuichi to people in his professional
life. It was . . . a little intimidating. Surely, nearly everyone had seen or h
eard about the media ambush on TV wherein Eiri had admitted the nature of his re
lationship with Shuichi. Still, he had never allowed any open discussion about i
t with others. After all, his book appearances were professional, and he made su
re any interview did not include questions about his personal life. This party w
as supposed to be a social occasion. As such, some might consider it ‘open season’ f
or nosy personal questions.
Shuichi could always read him. Climbing into the car, the singer became serious.
“Are you worried, Eiri? I’ll be good, really. I won’t embarrass you.” He buckled his se
at belt and looked at the floor, saying, “It means a lot to me that you’re taking me
with you.”
Eiri noted that Shuichi’s usually messy pink hair had been combed. It still slid i
nto his eyes, though. The kid had even offered to wash out the pink coloration,
to make a better impression. Eiri had told him not to bother. In truth, he had b
ecome used to Shu’s odd-colored hair and its fruity, herbal scent. Eiri remembered
Shu’s original hair color, but . . . it didn’t suit him anymore. Eiri, himself, had
always refused to dye his hair black to appear like a ‘normal’ Japanese. It would b
e hypocritical to ask his lover to change himself for something as petty as an o
ffice party.
Both men defied more than one social custom on a regular basis. There really was
n’t a great need for either one of them to conform, either— especially when they wer
e so successful being themselves. Besides-- the two of them had been public news
for some time and Shuichi mattered much more to Eiri than public opinion. Eiri
started the car and backed out into the street. “I know,” he responded quietly. Othe
rwise, I wouldn’t be going.
***
Review Authors Have Parties, Too?

Powered by Storyline v1.8.0 © IO Designs 2002
g u r a b i t e s h i y o n . n e t
Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: Obviously, it doesn’t belong to me. Gravitation and its characters are
the property of Maki Murakami. I am simply a devotee. I appreciate criticism: p
lease read, enjoy, review.
**Authors Have Parties Too?**

*Part 2: Party Time*
[Saturday night]
Eiko Publishing had rented a reception hall in a posh downtown hotel complete wi
th valet parking, a tuxedo-ed host to point the way to the hall, a full bar, a b
uffet of hors’d’oerves, and a pianist to play soft music. There was a microphone and
podium at one end of the room, next to a prominent display of recent, award-win
ning books artfully arranged. Tables and chairs had been placed about the room i
n a typical pattern. They were a little early, but there were currently about fo
rty people in the room. There was probably enough space for over 200. In the nex
t ten minutes, the room would fill. Japanese always tried to be on time. There w
as no such thing as ‘fashionably’ late.
Mizuki saw them first. “Yuki-san! Shindou-kun!” She waved from a spot near the buffe
t. She was standing with two older gentlemen in business suits and ties.
Eiri moved toward her. Shuichi waved back with a bright smile and followed. One
of the men excused himself before the two of them reached Mizuki. Eiri thought h
e saw a look of contempt cross the man’s face before his back was turned and he mo
ved away. Eiri didn’t recognize him.
“Allow me to introduce my fiancé, Fujimaru Sano.” I didn’t even know she was engaged, Ei
ri thought. They greeted each other, bowing respectfully. “I’m so glad you both came
,” Mizuki gushed. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear red, Yuki-san, you look very ni
ce.” Shuichi grinned at him meaningfully.
Eiri pulled out a cigarette, muttering, “Thanks.” She didn’t comment on Shu’s uncharacte
ristic suit. Wasn’t that funny? Maybe she couldn’t think of anything to say that did
n’t insult his usual style of dress? Eiri lit up. Thankfully, he hadn’t seen any non
-smoking signs in here. To change the subject he asked, “Who were you speaking wit
h a moment ago?”
“Oh, that was Miyamoto-san. He’s one of our non-fiction best-sellers. His latest boo
k was a history of architecture in Kyoto. It’s on the display table, if you’re inter
ested,” she offered.
“Hm. What’s with that, anyway?” He nodded toward the table and podium.
“There will be some announcements later, to honor the company’s most prominent autho
rs.” She winked.
He raised an eyebrow at her. He’d better not be required to make a speech. He hate
d public displays. This may be less-than-public, but still . . . He never felt a
ny need to be honored for the tripe he wrote.
Apparently sensing his ire, Shuichi distracted him. “Eiri, let’s get something to dr
ink, okay? Excuse us.” The kid grabbed his arm, pulling him toward the bar. Eiri s
hook him off after two steps, but followed. He really is trying to be good, Eiri
mused. He isn’t running or bouncing across the room, either.
The hall was filling up now and Eiri could see the cliques start to develop. The
re; the non-fiction authors— he recognized a man and woman he had met before, spea
king with Miyamoto. By the bar were the cookbook folks, loudly discussing the vi
rtues of cooking with saffron. The stuffy-looking group of men in high-fashion s
uits were the publishing executives. He thought that the giggling group of young
women seated at a large round table were secretaries. One of them was pointing
toward Shuichi with wide eyes.
“What would you like to drink, Shindou-san?” The bartender asked as he approached.
Shuichi opened his mouth but Eiri put a hand on his shoulder speaking for him, s
aying firmly, “Orange juice. I’d like a martini, please.” He usually drank beer, but t
his was a special occasion. He could drink something different once in a while.
The bartender glanced at them both and started preparing the drinks.
Shuichi looked at Eiri, pouting a little. “I wasn’t going to get anything alcoholic.
Really.”
The bartender handed over the drinks and smiled at Shuichi. “If I may say so, sir,
I really like your music.”
“Uh, thanks!” Shuichi said. He beamed at the young man, who bowed politely and respe
ctfully. When the man stood up, he wore a big smile.
How did Shu have that kind of effect on people? Eiri wondered. He knew how to ch
arm people with words when he had to, but his Shuichi could always put others in
a good mood, just by being around them. Even me, he thought. “Are you hungry?”
“Naw.” Shuichi shook his head. “Would you introduce me to some other people? I only kn
ow you and Mizuki-san, here.”
Eiri looked around. Who might Shuichi get along with? “Ah. You see that guy over t
here with long black hair? In the green shirt? That’s Hitori Izumo. He’s a biographe
r. I know he’s written free-lance articles on Nittle Grasper…”
“Yuki-sensei!” A woman in a soft pink suit stepped directly in front of him, cutting
off his path to Izumo. She put one hand on his arm, familiarly. She was pretty,
in an artificial way. Her short hair had been styled and firmed in place by che
micals. She wore a lot of make-up and walked in her own cloud of cloyingly sweet
perfume. Her dark eyes shined with the glassy look of the hopelessly enthralled
. She had been interested in him for a long time. “How’s your latest book going?” She
pointedly ignored Shu, turning diagonally in front of the singer, as if to edge
him out of any conversation.
Eiri moved to displace her hand and gestured to his lover. “Yakamoto Megumi, Shind
ou Shuichi,” he introduced. “Yakamoto-san is another romance novelist,” he added to Sh
uichi. Eiri inhaled deeply from his cigarette, amused at the woman’s brief, crestf
allen expression. She adjusted her posture to include Shu, grudgingly. Eiri didn’t
answer her question.
“Uh, nice to meet you,” Shuichi said, filling the silent pause.
“Uhm. Nice to meet you, too,” Yakamoto said sullenly. “Aren’t you… in a rock band?” As if s
e didn’t know, Eiri scoffed. She was probably trying to tie Shu into a conversatio
n just so she had an excuse to stay by Eiri, where she could try to work her wil
es on him. Fortunately, Shuichi was more interested in speaking with Izumo.
“Yes, Bad Luck,” the kid answered. “Our latest single, ‘Airplane’, hit number one last wee
k.” Shu’s bright smile worked such wonders. Megumi’s responding smile looked kind-of s
ick, though, when she glanced up at Eiri. Did she catch some hint of the indulge
nt pride he felt for Shuichi? The singer’s voice changed a little, becoming brusqu
e. “Excuse us; Eiri was going to introduce me to other people.” Was the kid bristlin
g?
Eiri blew out smoke and moved around Megumi. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly to Shu as
they crossed the floor. “I’d never have anything to do with her.”
Shuichi glanced at him with mild surprise. He was so easy to read, with his emot
ions bared to world and his big eyes giving away his every thought— yet he always
seemed surprised that everyone could read him. Hmmm. Reading him and understandi
ng him are definitely two different concepts, though, Eiri reflected. They made
their way over to Izumo.
The other author was not quite as tall as Eiri, putting him somewhere under six
feet tall. He wore a tailored, pinstriped grey suit with a bright green shirt th
e color of spring leaves and shiny black dress shoes. His long black hair was mo
stly pulled back in a loose ponytail that left long strands of hair falling onto
his shoulders. The hair style reminded Eiri of Shuichi’s friend, Hiro. Izumo had
a long thin face and sculpted bone structure. His green eyes registered interest
as the two of them approached. The man set his drink on a nearby table, freeing
his hand and offering it, American-style. “Yuki-san, nice to see you again.”
Eiri stuck his cigarette in his mouth and transferred his glass to his left hand
to shake hands. The man’s grasp was firm and dry. He had long, thin fingers, Eiri
noted. “You, too,” he greeted. “This is—“
“You’re Shindou-san, of Bad Luck,” Izumo interrupted, turning to Shuichi. “It’s a pleasure
to meet you.” He offered his hand again and Shuichi took it, shaking hands tentat
ively.
“Thanks! Nice to meet you, too,” Shuichi said. “Eiri said you’ve written about Nittle Gr
asper?”
“Oh, yes. Years ago . . . I interviewed Seguchi-san a couple of times for magazine
s. Now that they’ve reunited, I considered writing a book about them. I wanted to
fill in the three-year gap, for fans, but I couldn’t get Seguchi-san to agree. He
said Sakuma-san wouldn’t want to talk about it, either.” With a half-smile, he asked
, “Has anyone approached Bad Luck about a biography?”
Uh-oh, Eiri thought. I hope I didn’t make a mistake, introducing them. Shuichi loo
ked a little flustered. “No…” he responded, cautiously.
Izumo laughed. “Don’t worry, someone will. You’ve been on top of the pop-charts steadi
ly for the last . . . hmm . . . about two years, right?” He shook his head a littl
e. “Someone’s probably writing a biography about you or your band now. It’ll sell, aut
horized or not.” Izumo waved a hand, dismissing the idea, “Right now, I’m working on a
biography of a Warring-states-era warlord. It’s just a piece of history that inte
rested me.”
“Um, ‘authorized or not’?” Shu repeated in confusion. “If someone writes it, doesn’t that m
ke him author-ized?”
Shuichi’s stupidity is showing, Eiri thought. “Idiot,” he drawled. “Authorized means ‘appr
oved’. If you don’t approve of it, it’s unauthorized.” He took a drink.
“Damn! The tabloids are bad enough, Eiri. What awful things could they print in a
whole book?” Shuichi’s eyes began to water.
Not here, he thought. “Don’t think like that,” Eiri scolded him coldly. “Most biographie
s are all about the good things.” He glanced at Izumo, silently asking for help.
“That’s true,” Izumo added quickly. “Most biographers would ask about the music— how you w
ere inspired to write each song, what brought the band members together— that kind
of thing. While I’m sure some of that is very personal, most of us don’t want to ge
t a reputation for mistreating or betraying the people we write about.”
Shuichi sniffled, looking at both men. He stepped closer to Eiri, almost unconsc
iously. “Sorry,” he said to the floor. “I didn’t mean to insult you, Izumo-san,” he said q
uickly, looking up to see if the man had taken offense.
“Not at all. I think you have reason to be cautious.” He smiled affably, “I think I’ll g
o visit the buffet. Excuse me.” He nodded to them and moved away, sliding between
tables.
He has a point, Eiri considered. No one had approached Eiri about a biography be
cause as an author, he guessed he was expected to write his own auto-biography.
He had no intention of ever doing that. Not directly, anyway. Little pieces of h
is life were always finding their way into his writing. He crushed his cigarette
out in an ashtray and had another swallow of his drink while Shu contained hims
elf.
Eiri had been in the limelight before Shuichi had come into his life, but the si
nger had added another dimension to the media blitz. If someone did write a biog
raphy about Bad Luck, how much would they pry into his life? Eiri resolved to ch
eck into Eiko Publishing, to see if there were any such book proposals floating
around. If there were, then he would decide what action needed to be taken.
“Why don’t we just sit down?” Eiri suggested. Shuichi nodded. “People will come to us to
talk, you’ll see,” he told the kid. Shuichi nodded again. He was biting his lip. “Sto
p worrying about it,” Eiri commanded.
Shuichi looked up at him again. “I’ll try,” he said in a small voice. “You hungry?” Eiri s
hook his head no. “I’m going to go get some food.”
Eiri pulled out another cigarette. Shuichi jumped up, but quickly controlled his
first inclination to bounce or run. Eiri could see the effort it took for him t
o walk like a normal adult. It made him want to laugh. He toned his reaction dow
n to a smile before it escaped. He hoped the singer wouldn’t take too long. Eiri d
idn’t want to be swamped by the secretaries.
He crossed his right leg over his left knee, slouching in the chair and puffing
on his cigarette. He idly looked around the room and moved the table’s ashtray clo
ser to himself. It seemed that Shuichi was the one who’d be swamped by the secreta
ries. Eiri smirked, watching the women converge on the singer. The crowd of fema
les had appeared around Shu as soon as they saw that he was by himself. I won’t re
scue him until he needs it, Eiri thought. Scenes like that had been happening mo
re often, lately. Almost two years of rock hits, Eiri mused. He still writes shi
tty lyrics, Eiri thought, but the public sure eats ‘em up. He could hear Shuichi’s m
elodic laugh over the subdued din of conversation.
One of the senior executives came before him, bowing, and cutting off his line o
f sight to Shuichi. “Yuki-san, I’m glad you’ve come.” What was his name? Eiri considered
the man before him. His face was lined from age and stress. He had thin white h
air and wore a very expensive suit. The man pulled out a chair and sat beside hi
m, in a rigidly upright posture. “You are this company’s most prominent author, you
know. I’m aware that you usually don’t come to our gatherings and I just wanted to t
ake a moment to personally thank you.”
Eiri raised an eyebrow. What did the man expect him to say? Was it a ploy to fla
tter and then ask for a favor? “You honor me,” Eiri temporized. It wasn’t likely he’d bl
ow-off a request from senior management . . . Well, within reason, Eiri amended.
The man smiled, transforming his face from pale, aged leather to that of a pleas
ant grandfather. “We’ll be making some company announcements in a few minutes. Would
you be willing to have some publicity photos taken, in honor of Eiko Publishing’s
25th anniversary?”
Eiri shrugged. At least he wouldn’t have to give a speech, unprepared. “That would b
e fine, sir,” he replied. Mizuki should have warned him. Maybe she hadn’t known?
“Good, good.” The old man slapped his knees and stood. “I see your friend is returning
,” he commented, “enjoy the party.” As the man walked away, Eiri could see Shuichi mak
ing his way back to their table, carrying two small plates. He was stopped and s
poken to often enough for Eiri to be able to finish his cigarette by the time Sh
uichi returned. Eiri sat back, content to watch the room, as the kid came closer
.
Shuichi put one plate in front of him. “Look! Strawberry shortcakes,” he said, excit
edly. “I know they’re your favorite. They’re really good, too. Try one,” the singer urge
d.
Eiri took another sip of liquor. Shuichi’s own plate was half crumbs. He wondered
how the younger man had been able to eat from his own plate while both hands wer
e full. He hoped Shuichi hadn’t just sucked the hors’d’oerves directly off the plate.
Eiri waited for Shu to tell him about the people he’d been talking to, because Shu
ichi talked about everything. Using his fingers, Shuichi ate a small, puffy past
ry in one bite and watched him back. Eiri bit into the strawberry shortcake and
was rewarded by Shu’s smile. The dessert was good. He ate some more. For Shu, Eiri’s
acceptance of the food was his cue to jabber.
“The secretaries here are really nice. I didn’t know how many authors like Bad Luck,
either! A lot of people already knew who I was!” Eiri thought that made perfect s
ense. Not all writers were veritable hermits, like he was, after all. If any of
them listened to radio or TV, they would have heard of Bad Luck and Shindou Shui
chi. Shuichi himself just never seemed to grasp his own popularity. Maybe that n
aivety was part of what kept him striving for ‘bigger’ and ‘better’, blithely unaware ho
w much he had attainted.
Shuichi giggled, catching Eiri’s attention again. “I’m glad I didn’t wear those pants— the
ones I bought last weekend.” Eiri knew exactly which pants he was referring to. “So
meone over by the snack bar already pinched my butt. If those secretaries were a
ny more forward, they might have carried me away. One of them even put her phone
number into my pocket.” He shook his head. “Does that sort of stuff happen to you,
Eiri??”
Eiri looked at him, golden eyes narrowing. He leaned forward to comment, when a
chime rang out over the crowd, calling for attention. Most of the people who wer
e standing swiftly found chairs to sit down in, accompanied by a variety of scra
ping and settling noises. Others moved to stand at the edges of the room so ever
yone had a clear view of the podium.
A young executive called out in his best announcer’s voice, “As you know, we are her
e to celebrate twenty-five years of Eiko Publishing.” Everyone applauded, briefly,
as expected.
The elderly man who’d spoken with Eiri earlier took the microphone. “Welcome, everyo
ne. I’m happy to see such a good turnout for this event. We have had a very succes
sful twenty-five years. This is the result of hard work on the part of our autho
rs, editors, publishers, and staff; we thank you.” He bowed, humbly, eliciting ano
ther brief round of applause.
“We have many exciting ventures planned for the future,” the executive continued. “Fir
st, I wish to formally announce that we plan to expand our company in the new ye
ar. Our romance novels, in particular, have become so popular that we are openin
g a new division. It will be called “Never Ending Dream”. This new division will hav
e all the support of the company’s main branch, but will allow our readers to easi
ly identify our most popular genre of books. Our growth would not have been poss
ible without the work of one man in particular . . . Yuki Eiri!”
I guess that’s my cue, Eiri thought. He laid his cigarette in the ashtray, standin
g up during the applause from everyone in the room. Shuichi was grinning at him
and clapping like a madman. Photo flashes went off. Eiri did not enjoy being sin
gled out like this. The new publishing division was a complete surprise to him.
He didn’t really care who published his books but how had the announcement stayed
a secret until now? Big company changes weren’t usually quiet matters. Indeed, the
re were a lot of surprised faces in the room. Hopefully, the change wouldn’t affec
t him too much. He hoped Mizuki would be part of the new venture. He didn’t want t
o deal with breaking in a new editor.
The old man gestured him to the front of the room. Eiri performed for the crowd:
smiling and shaking hands with the executives, holding still for publicity shot
s, and toasting the company’s future. Did Shuichi ever feel like this? Like an exo
tic animal on stage, paraded out by its trainers to perform tricks? No, it was p
robably different for a performer. The performance was the band’s payoff for hard
work in the studio— a chance to dazzle their fans and reap the praise of a live au
dience. Eiri knew Shuichi loved that aspect of the music business. The kid crave
d the attention.
Eiri felt his real work was done in private; in the cool, (relative) quiet of hi
s office. This . . . this kind of exploitation felt too open. He hated it. He ha
dn’t done anything remarkable and, in his estimation, he didn’t feel deserved of thi
s kind of treatment.
As soon as he was released from the obligation of . . . trashy pandering, he col
lected Shuichi and they left immediately. Why did people pat him on the back ove
r such nonsense? Why did they feel it was necessary? Eiri wondered.
***

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: suggestive situations and language. Obviously, it doesn’t belong to me
: Gravitation and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I am simply
a devotee.

*Part 3: Musings*
[Saturday night]
On the way home from the party, Shuichi was quiet. Perhaps the singer was wary o
f Eiri’s uncertain mood. Eiri had a lot to think about and he was tired. Phony pub
lic performances like that took a lot out of him. It annoyed him how Shu was wat
ching him carefully. “It’s not your fault,” Eiri said harshly, hoping to displace some
of his lover’s tension. He was upset but didn’t want to take it out on Shuichi.
Shuichi nodded. “I could tell you didn’t like it— the attention, I mean. You’re *so cool
*!” Shuichi looked at him with wide admiring eyes. “I would have cracked.”
“Hmph,” Eiri sighed, blowing smoke out the slightly-open window.
“I like it,” Shuichi said, seriously. “I always feel so good when everybody tells me h
ow much they like my singing.” Shuichi was smiling softly, perhaps recalling his o
wn experiences in front of an applauding audience. “Why does it bother you?”
Eiri flicked his eyes to the speedometer, concentrating on not letting his irrit
ation translate into another speeding ticket. He gritted his teeth. “I don’t want to
talk about it.” Shuichi wouldn’t understand what he felt— which was that he didn’t dese
rve the applause.
“Later?”
After a pause, he replied, “Maybe.” Shuichi smiled again and flicked on the radio. A
irplane burst through the speakers. It seemed like the song was on the radio eve
ry five minutes, lately. It was halfway through the third verse. Eiri had alread
y had the track memorized before he’d ever heard it on the radio. He admitted priv
ately that he liked it, largely because Shu had written it for him. It was about
running away. The song had a nice sound to it, which could be attributed to Fuj
isaki’s deft handling of the arrangement rather than Shuichi’s musical composition.
The original tune hadn’t been anywhere near as good, in Eiri’s opinion.
Shuichi burst into song, singing duet with himself. It used to be eerie when he
did that. Now, like the kid’s babbling; it was a comforting sound. It lightened Ei
ri’s mood, which was probably the reason Shu had done it. His lover really was bea
utiful, pouring his heart out in song. Eiri scolded himself to watch the road.
The song ended and Shuichi’s voice dropped into speaking range, talking over the n
ext song seemingly without a pause for breath. “So, you never answered me: *do* wo
men still put phone numbers in your pockets?”
Eiri shook his head and turned onto their street. “Idiot.” He’d forgotten the snappy c
omeback he’d planned to use before. Instead, he said, “you’re the one who does the lau
ndry. Do you find phone numbers in my pockets?” Shuichi frowned and he touched his
chin: a sign of deep thought.
Would that baby-face of his ever wrinkle or get laugh lines? Eiri wondered. Befo
re Shuichi had barged into his life, he hadn’t thought about much of anything long
-term. Now he was looking forward to seeing his lover grow old?? Arrrggh! And th
ere his lover sat, taking his time thinking about it the possibility of Eiri che
ating on him? He narrowed his eyes and glanced at Shuichi, waiting for an answer
.
“Sometimes I find bits of paper in the lint trap, but most of the time, they’re my n
otes that I forgot to take out of my pockets.”
Eiri’s eyebrow twitched into an arch of its own accord. When he said ‘my notes’ was he
implying notes for him, or by him? Shuichi looked as innocent as he usually did
. Eiri parked the car crisply. “Get out,” he ordered snappishly. Shuichi grinned at
him and jumped out of the car, understanding his harsh exterior. The kid ran to
his side and attached himself to Eiri’s arm.
Eiri stomped on his spent cigarette and leaned down, pulling Shuichi into an emb
race and kissing him soundly. “Stupid tease. You’re the only one for me and I’d *bette
r* be the only one for you!” Shuichi squealed and hugged him so tightly that his b
reath was forced out. “Uff. Hey, enough!” Shu eased off and Eiri tousled his fine, p
ink hair. “Let’s go home . . . and go to bed.” Shuichi’s answering smile lacked its usua
l innocence but held plenty of mischief.
***
[Monday afternoon]
“I’m serious, Mizuki, I want some answers,” Eiri said into the phone. “I’ve been trying to
reach you all damn—“
“Yuki-san, that’s an unusual switch.” She sounded distracted. Eiri heard voices and mo
vement in the background. Normally her office was quiet.
“Yeah, it is a switch. Now—“
“I’m sorry, but I’m very busy. Tech support is taking away my computer and I—“
“Why?”
“It’s the move to the new building. Upper management is really pushing this. I can’t t
alk now, but how about we meet at that café at . . . 4:00?” She must have turned fro
m the phone, because her voice faded and she was yelling, “Hey! I’m not done with th
at! Just a minute . . . !”
“Okay, Mizuki, 4:00.” He hung up. Yes, it was rude, but he felt it was justified. He
ll, she probably appreciated him cutting the call short. It sounded like she had
other things to deal with right now. The offices must be chaos. Mizuki was real
ly flustered and she’s one of the most patient souls Eiri knew. He figured she cou
ld explain it all later.
Eiri still had a little more than an hour until four. Shuichi was due home at si
x.
He moved into the kitchen and went about the process of brewing fresh coffee. Th
is new book division was suspicious. It was *announced* on Saturday, and personn
el were moving to new offices on Monday? Bizarre. I wonder if this is actually a
quiet merger? Eiri thought. Had Eiko somehow usurped a smaller publishing compa
ny? That would explain how the editors already had a new office building. Who do
I know that would have the truth of the story, Eiri mused. He decided if the st
ory didn’t appear in the media within a week, he would track it down.
Until then, Eiri planned to focus on the possibility of a Bad Luck biography. Th
e idea of a whole book’s worth of tabloid junk about the band had really upset Shu
. It bothered Eiri, too; more than he let on. The upheaval at Eiko headquarters
would make it difficult to track down information there, right now. Eiri brushed
his hair back, resting his hand on his head. Going to senior management about t
his seemed a little overkill when he still didn’t know if such a project existed.
Of course, he could just write a personal request letter, asking the company to
not release any unauthorized biographies concerning Shindou Shuichi or Bad Luck.
They would probably comply. It would be awfully embarrassing to them if they cr
eated a new book division because of my books and then lost my contract, Eiri th
ought, smugly. Under his current contract, he only had to write two more books.
That fact gave his threat some weight to throw around. I could even put a writte
n stipulation in my next contract, Eiri considered. Yes, I think I will, he thou
ght.
Eiri thought he should do some snooping of my own, too. He pondered the problem.
First, he could ask Mizuki to see what she could dig up, but Eiko certainly was
n’t the only publishing company in Japan. The coffee steamed and Eiri listened to
it trickle into the pot. The smell prompted him to look for a cigarette.
A biographer would want to interview people close to his subject, Eiri thought.
Who would talk, Eiri questioned himself, as he lit up. Maiko, Shuichi’s sister, wa
s the first option that popped into his head. She might be really flattered if s
omeone tried to interview her about her famous brother-- and her mouth was almos
t as big as Shuichi’s! Eiri frowned. Maiko was still in school at this hour. Maybe
he’d call her later and . . . and what? Ask her if anyone had asked her personal
questions about her brother? She probably got those every day from friends and s
chool-mates and happily blabbed all about his life. Tell her not to talk to stra
ngers about Shuichi? Hah! She was about as tactful as her elder brother, too, Ei
ri groused. At least Shuichi didn’t talk to his sister about intimate details.
Maybe Shuichi should deal with her? He was on pretty good terms with her-- as fa
r as Eiri knew. Shu didn’t talk about her much, but Eiri knew he would have heard
all about it, in excruciating detail, if brother and sister had had a falling-ou
t. The coffee pot clicked, setting itself to keep the coffee warm. Eiri grabbed
a mug and poured, inhaling the warm steam and the wakeful scent. The mug was bla
ck with white letters that boldly read, “LEAVE ME ALONE.” It was a gift from Shuichi
. He half-smiled in the (currently) private sanctity of his kitchen and sipped h
is coffee; black and strong. When Shu drank the stuff, he polluted it with cream
and sugar. Eiri held it under his nose, savoring it. This was the way to enjoy
it, Eiri thought.
If could convince Shu to confront his sister, how could the kid question Maiko w
ithout getting himself all upset? Maiko should at least be warned to keep her tr
ap shut, Eiri thought. After all, Izumo had seemed to think that it was only a m
atter of time before a biography came out. Eiri hesitated to even *think* it, bu
t . . . maybe a family visit was the solution? At least Shu’s family wasn’t as dysfu
nctional as Eiri’s. The down-side was that both Shu’s mother and sister were readers
and fans of his books. He sighed and took another drink. I’ll wait to see what Mi
zuki can turn up, he told himself. There was no need to jump to extremes, yet.
Who else might talk? Hiro had a dead-beat brother, didn’t he? Some kind of failed
actor or something? Getting him to talk would probably be a piece of cake; a sim
ple matter of waving money in front of him. Eiri thought the man had some sense
of honor, but guessed the right amount of money could overcome a lot of hesitati
on. Eiri didn’t know anything about Fujisaki. Shu didn’t talk about him much, except
to complain. Did that kid have inconvenient family members, too?
The more Eiri thought about it, the more he felt ill. Life had been so much simp
ler when he didn’t care about anyone. A new thought occurred to him: what if the p
otential biographer went to Tohma for permission instead of directly to the band
? Tohma was a shark and his company did hold certain publicity rights. To him, a
lmost any publicity was good publicity. Tohma would not qualify what material we
nt into print—unless something was printed about Eiri, himself. If Eiri wanted to
protect his Shuichi from some rotten tell-all biographer, he needed to get busy.
The coffee soured on his tongue.
***
Author’s Note: The story grew past its original title, but I’ve left it alone for co
nsistency’s sake.

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: It’s Gravitation and so obviously shonen-ai. Also obvious; it doesn’t be
long to me. Gravitation and its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I
am simply a devotee. I appreciate *all* the criticism: please read, enjoy, and r
eview. Thanks!

*Part 4: In Need of Facts*
[Monday afternoon]
Eiri arrived at the café early, but he had finished his coffee and couldn’t find any
thing to watch on TV. Tohma hadn’t been taking calls. His secretary claimed he was
out of his office this morning. There hadn’t really been time to get involved wit
h his latest book again, since he had a tendency to loose time when he wrote. In
stead, he killed time at the café. The temperature was in the mid-seventies and he
sat outside, smoking and surreptitiously watching a lovers’ spat. It gave him ide
as for his writing-- although his version would involve infidelity and a fatal d
isease. Mizuki was ten minutes late.
“I’m very sorry I’m late, Yuki-san,” she plopped into a chair and settled her valise at
her feet. Eiri thought she looked harried. She sounded a little breathless, too.
She usually wore a feminine-style business suit with a skirt and double-breaste
d blazer. Today she looked almost casual in a muted green pants suit with the ja
cket unbuttoned over a white blouse.
He waved to the server. “Whatever,” he told her dismissively. Service was prompt; sh
e ordered a Coke and he ordered another beer.
“So, I see you don’t have another submission ready. What would you like to talk abou
t?” She knew he was all business around her.
“Actually, I should have something for you by tomorrow. However, I wanted to talk
about the new division. How much did you know about before the party?”
She shook her head. “It was a surprise to most of us. Apparently, a few of the sen
ior editors had word of the plan before the announcement, but they were ordered
to keep quiet.” Mizuki tucked a fall of short, light brown hair behind her ear and
leaned her elbows on the table, setting her chin on her hands. “I didn’t know they
were going to take publicity shots of you, either. Did you see the article in th
e ‘Tokyo Times’ entertainment section?”
He shook his head, ruefully. He didn’t need the attention. He didn’t read the paper
regularly and neither did Shuichi. Most music industry news was covered in ‘Music
Review’ or ‘Pop Beat’. Reviews of his own work were generally covered in ‘Literary Times’.
He didn’t really care what other people thought, anyway.
His editor shrugged. “The article didn’t say very much.” She pursed her lips. “It’s very .
. . interesting over at HQ, today. The new building is just down the street— towa
rd the news stand on the corner— number 4012. They were putting up a large pink-le
ttered ‘Never Ending Dream’ sign on the front, today. You can’t miss it, but it’s the bu
ilding with the all-glass foyer that’s been empty for the last three months.” He nod
ded recognition. “My office will be on the 3rd floor.” Mizuki shook her head. “It’s real
ly amazing how almost everything is all prepared. It’s like the entire building wa
s just waiting for people to fill it. I’m not exactly sure what’s going on, but ther
e’s a big kick-off meeting over there on Wednesday at 11:00. Supposedly, there wil
l be an executive there to answer questions and fill in the details. The company
is going about this all backwards, if you ask me.”
Eiri nodded agreement. He knew Mizuki would tell him everything she could with l
ittle prompting. However, it sounded as if Eiko was keeping everyone in the dark
until Wednesday. Weird; very weird, Eiri groused. “The other reason I wanted to m
eet was to ask . . . uh, a favor.” He grimaced.
Mizuki’s eyebrows hit her hairline. “Yuki-san? A favor . . . ? If I can help . . . ” H
er black eyes looked too wide with surprise.
Their drinks arrived and Eiri crushed his cigarette in the ashtray. “Yes. Could yo
u find out if there are currently any proposals for a biography about Bad Luck o
r Shindou?”
Mizuki sipped her Coke. “I can ask, certainly,” she replied. Settling back in her ga
rden-style chair, she asked, “Is there some rumor you’re tracing? Did you hear someo
ne mention the idea at Saturday’s party?”
Eiri sighed. “Not exactly. I’m just . . . ” Being cautious? Watching out for my lover?
Curious? Hah. Mizuki nodded again and gave him a pert, knowing smile. He had a
drink. When did she gain the right to be so knowledgeable about my personal life
, Eiri wondered in annoyance. Okay, Eiri thought, she’s been my editor for . . . f
ive years, already? Damnit, maybe she is entitled, he thought, grudgingly.
“I’ll ask around, quietly,” Mizuki said. “I don’t want to see Shindou-kun hurt, either. Th
e two of you are good for each other.” She hurried on, knowing he wouldn’t like her
impudent remark, “I won’t be able to get much else done tomorrow, anyway, until my c
omputer’s hooked up again. They plan to run phone-line checks tomorrow at the new
building, too.” She sighed. “It’s a mess.”
He was frowning darkly, but muttered a passable, “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” she said, brightly. “You said you’d have something ready for me by tomor
row? How are the latest chapters shaping up?”
They spoke briefly about the status of the book while she finished her Coke. The
y planned a meeting for Wednesday evening so she could update him about the comp
any’s new division, any information she found, and give him the new office phone n
umbers. She also reminded him about the book-signing appearance scheduled for to
morrow afternoon. It was a special promotional grand-opening for a prominent boo
k store chain. The store was paying a considerable amount of money for the privi
lege of having Yuki Eiri there, too. He always drew crowds. The last time he had
attended one, the book store ran out of copies of his latest book. His fingers
had been sore for days after, from all the unaccustomed writing he’d done with a p
en.
Mizuki left the café and Eiri stayed to finish his beer. Since he wouldn’t be home t
omorrow at dinner time, he wanted to make a little effort to spend time with his
lover tonight. Bad Luck was going on tour again in another week and a half. Eir
i hated the needy feeling that took him over, urging him to spend extra time wit
h Shu while he was here, at home, in Tokyo. This feeling seemed to prick him mos
t just before tours cropped up. He realized it was a pre-curser to the lonelines
s that set in when the singer was absent.
It was becoming a predicable, cyclical routine between them. This time, the band
was due to be gone for a month before coming back here. Then, they would contin
ue the tour for another two months. Eiri always debated with himself whether or
not to go along with the tour. There were pros and cons for going and staying. I
f he stayed . . . he did work best in silence, and he often finished a lot of wr
iting. His peace of mind couldn’t tolerate unending silence anymore, though. Tohma
, Mika, and Tatsuha checked up on him constantly when Shu was gone, too. They al
l acted as if he was incapable of taking care of himself. Okay, he admitted to h
imself, they have reasons for doing it, but they don’t need to be so annoying abou
t it.
On the other hand, if Eiri traveled with the band, he never slept well; transfer
ring to a different hotel room every night. He never accomplished much writing o
n the tour bus, either. Not writing left him with nothing to do all day, except
entertain Shuichi. The biggest reason *to* go was that they both functioned bett
er when they could be together. It was a weakness that he hated and Shuichi thri
ved on. Maybe I’ll go with them for the second stretch of the tour, Eiri considere
d. By the time he was done with the beer, he had just about enough time to get t
ake-out and get home before Shu came home.
***
[Tuesday night]
Eiri cringed when he opened the apartment door. Shuichi’s distinctive loud wailing
echoed through the apartment. He hurriedly shut the door and locked it. He *rea
lly* didn’t want to deal with this tonight. He was tired. His hand and fingers hur
t from book signing. He was hungry, too. He had been hoping for a massage.
How that idiot could have heard Eiri’s entrance over his own bawling was a mystery
but as soon as Eiri turned away from the door, the wailing got louder and Shu t
hrew himself into Eiri’s arms. “It’s aw-aw-aawful,” he sobbed. “M-M-izuki said . . . WAH!!”
Eiri’s emotional wreck of a lover blubbered incoherently against his chest, waddin
g the writer’s suit coat up in his small fists. Eiri held Shuichi—mostly out of refl
ex because he’d been knocked backward into the door with the force of Shu’s spastic
welcome.
Eiri wanted to hang up his coat and take off his shoes and tie. He wanted to rel
ax. It wasn’t going to happen unless he took control over the situation. “SHUT UP!!”
Shuichi snuffled and hiccup-sobbed a couple more times before he backed off. “I’m so
rry,” he said in a small voice. He wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweatshir
t which was much better suited for soaking up tears than Eiri’s designer suit.
“Idiot! Let me in the door. Let me put my coat away and take my shoes off, first!”
“I’m sorry,” Shuichi whimpered. “I’ll get you a beer!” He scampered away.
Eiri shook his head and rubbed his temples. This did not bode well. The shoes ca
me off and the coat found its way into the closet. Eiri loosened his tie and too
k the opportunity to change clothes. He put on a pair of loose, black pajama pan
ts and an unbuttoned over-shirt. At least he’d be comfortable while Shuichi cried
on him. Mizuki must have turned up a biography. There wasn’t much else that she wo
uld say to upset Shu.
When Eiri came into the living room, Shuichi was sitting on the floor with his b
ack against the couch. On the table, he’d set out a dinner of rice and sushi, beer
, a pack of cigarettes, and a lighter. Shu’s eyes watched him hopefully, timidly.
Eiri knew that pleading look. It asked for forgiveness, even though the singer d
idn’t need to apologize. He is adorable when he’s being so submissive, Eiri mused, b
ut a flip of mood can reveal his stubborn strength. Eiri loved that side of the
bratt, too. Eiri settled onto the couch and Shuichi immediately laid his head on
the writer’s leg, wrapping arms around his calf. Eiri ran his fingers through his
lover’s fine pink hair, knowing the touch would calm him down.
“Okay. I’ll eat and you can tell me about it,” Eiri said. He picked up the plate. Flex
ing his abused fingers, he grasped the chopsticks and dug in.
“The message is on the ‘machine,” Shu started. “She— Mizuki said . . .” He sniffled a littl
and started again. “Mizuki said that Miyamoto guy is writing a Bad Luck biography
. She said it-it’s not good, ‘cuz for some reason, the guy doesn’t like you a-and . .
.” Shuichi degenerated into tears again.
Eiri rolled his eyes and set aside his dinner. He’d only had two bites. “Forget it,
Idiot. Come here.”
Shu looked up at him with wide, wet eyes. His nose was running, too. “But you’re not
finished with—“
“Let me take care of it.” Shuichi nodded and climbed into his lap, fitting himself a
gainst his lover like a long, heavy overcoat. Eiri combed his fingers through Sh
uichi’s hair, releasing the scent of the herbal shampoo the kid used.
“Eiri, she said it was bad. She wouldn’t say that if she didn’t mean it.”
“I know.” Miyamoto, eh? Why would a popular non-fiction author have a grudge against
him? As far as Eiri knew, he’d never even met the guy before Saturday night’s party
. After a few minutes, Shuichi’s breathing steadied and his grip relaxed a little.
Eiri could tell he was falling asleep. Idiot probably wore himself out, letting
his emotions loose and his imagination run wild until I came home, Eiri thought
. He held Shuichi against him, leaning forward to grab his dinner.
Eiri knew he had the clout at Eiko to block Miyamoto’s book, but it wouldn’t prevent
the author from taking his manuscript to another publisher . . . unless Eiko ha
d already bought the publishing rights, paid him an advance, or if his contract
stipulated exclusive association with Eiko. Maybe Mizuki’s message would have some
other useful information. Eiri had his personal request / threat letter all typ
ed up— just to be prepared, he’d told himself when he wrote it. He’d send it, or maybe
hand deliver it tomorrow.
Eiri’s rice was cold by the time he ate it. He gave up on it and leaned forward ag
ain, holding Shu, so he could reach the cigarettes and lighter, along with the a
shtray that sat in its usual place on the table. Shu must have emptied it for hi
m. He was glad the younger man had had the foresight to set these things out for
him. Shu often came across as a klutz and a screw-up, but he was really very ca
ring and considerate. Eiri might not say it, but he appreciated it. He lit up. E
ven the TV remote was within reach, on the couch cushion. Eiri punched it on, au
tomatically turning the volume down. Shu had a tendency to listen to the TV at a
much higher volume than Eiri liked. Predictably, the TV had been left on the mu
sic video channel and Shuichi stirred against him when music first burst from th
e speakers.
Shuichi was warm and cuddly against him. Eiri almost wished he could sleep in th
is position and not wake up sore. Hmph. So much for my massage, he thought, disc
onsolately. In the morning, Eiri would have to coach Shuichi and tell him what t
o say regarding the biography. If he didn’t, Shu was likely to start a panic among
his band mates and NG staff members. Then, Hiro and K would come over here, kno
cking on the damned door . . . or knocking it in— either looking for information o
r blaming Eiri for making Shuichi depressed. He didn’t need that shit. Eiri hoped
he would be able to speak with Tohma, tomorrow.
***

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eview. Thanks!

*Part 5: Blackmail*
[Friday morning]
Eiri happened to be getting coffee when the phone rang, so he answered it. When
he did, he saw the message light blinking. The little digital message alert said
he had six messages. He frowned. He must have been deeply involved in his writi
ng to be able to ignore the phone six times. This morning, he had finally gained
the focus he needed to work. True, he’d had a lot on his mind this week, and the
majority of it still wasn’t resolved, but his focus probably had more to do with e
arly-morning wake-up sex than any thing else. He smiled, self-satisfied. He hadn’t
produced as much writing during the rest of the week as he had this morning.
“Eiri speaking.” It had become necessary to identify himself first, since he had bee
n on the receiving end of some disturbing, one-sided conversations with Sakuma R
yuichi.
“Finally!” Mizuki’s voice was full of relieved triumph. “I have to warn you: since you s
topped that book, Miyamoto’s been on the rampage. He was about half-finished with
his book, according to his editor, Tsuzuki-san. He took the news badly and he’s re
ally pissed.”
“Why should I care?” He said, coolly.
“. . . Well, he can’t cause you any trouble on the book-end of things, but . . . he
has a reputation for having quite a temper. Tsuzuki-san told me that most of the
book was being done from source-research; facts on public record, old interview
s and TV appearances, pulling together information from articles other people ha
d written— that kind of thing. However, an entire chapter of his material must hav
e come from someone close to *you*, Yuki-san. It . . . wasn’t very flattering.”
“. . . I see.” If Tatsuha is responsible for this, I’m going to throttle him, Eiri tho
ught.
“I thought you should know as soon as possible.”
“Yes, thank you, Mizuki. Good day.”
“You’re welcome. Good day.” Was there a hint of surprise in her voice? Was it so rare
he was civil to her? Naw.
Eiri still didn’t know the real story about his publisher’s new book division. When
he and Mizuki had met on Wednesday evening, his editor’s description of the compan
y meeting sounded more like a pep-rally than anything professional. The executiv
e had spent most of his time handing out new business cards and a bunch of pens
and paraphernalia sporting the new division’s logo. There hadn’t been any constructi
ve answers to the motives behind ‘Never Ending Dream’. Eiri was still planning to de
al with this mystery— just not right now.
He kept the handset and touched the phone hang-up lever. He started to dial Tats
uha’s cell phone when the front door slammed, jarringly. A second later, his siste
r waltzed into the living room, banging that door open, too. “EIRI!!” Mika hollered.
With a grimace, Eiri practically threw the handset into its cradle. He stepped i
nto the kitchen doorway, and growled, “What do you want?”
“Eiri.” She smiled evilly and slipped off her sunglasses, stowing them in her design
er hand-bag. That was the smile she gave him when she achieved a rare check-mate
against him. “Father would like you to visit him.” She made a casual, graceful gest
ure to brush her long hair back over her shoulder.
He narrowed his eyes at his sister. She was always playing errand-runner for the
ir father. Trying to get him to visit the family temple was not normally a cause
for her to smile, though. Pull teeth and hair, maybe, but not smile. She had no
reason to look at him like that unless he didn’t have a choice. “Coffee?” He asked gr
uffly.
“That would be nice.” She kept up her evil smile and settled on his couch, keeping h
er knees together tightly in her very short, black mini-skirt. Her high-heeled b
lack boots left stab-wounds on his rug. He grimaced at her rudeness for not remo
ving her shoes at the door and he went back into the kitchen, filling his mug an
d another with coffee. What kind of blackmail did she think she had on him this
time? He brought Mika the second coffee mug and sprawled next to her on the couc
h. He set his own mug on the end table and scooped up his lighter, while locatin
g cigarettes in his shirt pocket. Like asking her to show her poker hand, he sai
d, “What have you got?” He lit a cigarette and dropped the lighter into his pocket w
ith the rest of the pack.
She sipped the coffee, still smiling. “Father won’t let Tatsuha come to Tokyo until
you visit.”
“Pffft. And why should I care?” He exhaled smoke and set his right ankle on his left
knee. What kind of lame threat was that? “The old geezer couldn’t keep Tatsuha home
if he wanted to, anyway.”
Mika’s smile got wider, and toothier. “He can and he will.” She hummed a little. Ooooo
, she’s really pleased with herself over this one, he thought. He watched her sip
the coffee some more. “What would happen if Ryuichi-kun couldn’t see Tatsuha?” She ask
ed, rhetorically, silky-sweet.
He frowned. “Make your friggin’ point.” He guessed where she was going with this. It w
ould be a new low for her. She hadn’t had this kind of leverage against him before
Shuichi came into his life, but she had always excelled at exploiting his few w
eaknesses.
“Fine. If Ryu-kun can’t see Tatsuha, he’ll start driving everyone crazy. Tohma’s out of
town--” That explains why he’s not taking calls, Eiri thought. “—So he’ll have plenty of e
xtra time to visit with his friends . . . ” Like Shuichi; Eiri silently finished h
er implication. She took another sip of coffee, humming again. Oh, she was in a
fine mood. He could feel his jaw tightening. “Poor Ryu-kun,” she said mockingly, “he d
oesn’t like to be alone. Did you know that? Hmm. Who would he spend his time with,
when Tatsuha’s not available to play with him?” She tapped her long, red-lacquered
fingernails against her jawbone in fake contemplation.
Mika and Tohma suit each other, he thought, they’re both sharks. He blew smoke in
a long sigh. It *was* check mate. He didn’t want Ryuichi taking up Shu’s time; espec
ially right before another goddamned Bad Luck concert tour. He didn’t want that mo
nster in his house, either. The last time Shu had invited him over, he’d colored o
n the wood floors with marker. Damn, damn, damn! Oh, there were a few ways aroun
d it but in most circumstances, it would be less painful to visit Kyoto.
He would have to go there for at *least* a day. Shuichi probably would not be ab
le to get time off, since everyone was working hard to set up for the concert. N
G had hired a choreographer this time around and Shu had been bitching about it.
That probably meant the kid still needed a lot of work, as far as the choreogra
pher was concerned. Shuichi was scheduled to visit the Shindou family after work
tomorrow, anyway. Eiri had planned to go with him, but considering today’s visit
from his sister, plans would have to be changed. Damnit! I am going to kill Tats
uha for this, he thought.
“What does the old man want, anyway?” Eiri was defeated. He may as well accept it.
“He didn’t say,” Mika said flatly. She finished off the coffee and placed the mug on t
he table. She really didn’t know? Odd.
Eiri raised an eyebrow at his sister. “Are you planning to be there, too?”
Her evil smile turned into a full-blown grin. “Of course I am! Both of my brothers
and my dear father at the family temple, while my loving husband is away . . . ”
Her laugh is just as black as her twisted heart, Eiri thought. He snorted. She m
ay as well admit that she just wants to watch the show . . . and the fireworks t
hat are certain to follow, he thought, ruefully.
***
[Saturday afternoon]
Shuichi had not been happy about the change in plans. Eiri wasn’t, either. Shu wan
ted to go with him. He couldn’t get out of work, and when he’d tried to cancel dinne
r with his folks, his mother had laid a thick guilt trip on him and he’d caved in.
He promised Eiri he would be in Kyoto by Sunday. Neither one of them thought th
at Eiri would get away from family before then.
Now he was on his own in Kyoto. He wasn’t going to change into a kimono— just to emp
hasize his interest in making this visit temporary— until Mika had informed him th
at his father would not see him unless he did. He’s getting a lot of mileage out o
f this one, Eiri thought as he reluctantly dressed in his traditional under kimo
no, kuro-kimono and haori [1], setting aside the Western-style clothes he prefer
red. Afterward, he went to find his father.
To Eiri’s great surprise, his father was at the back of the house, sitting and dri
nking tea with . . . Miyamoto! The shoji [2] had been opened so the two men coul
d look over the garden. They were chatting like old friends about *temple archit
ecture*. At that moment, several isolated bits of information fell into place. A
pparently, Tatsuha wasn’t the one who needed killing.
***
[1] Kuro = black. This is the kimono Eiri wears when he’s home. The haori is the m
en’s half-jacket worn over the kimono on formal occasions or bad weather. Eiri’s kim
ono looks to me like the men’s version of a tomesode— which married women wear. It i
s black with small family crests on it— but I couldn’t find any special name for the
men’s version. The under kimono has a special name, too, but it’s essentially the s
hort, plain white kimono that is worn under the outer kimono and typically slept
in.
[2] Shoji are the door/walls of wood and covered with rice paper in a traditiona
l Japanese home.
***

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w. Thanks!

*Part 6: Tartuffe*
[Saturday]
Eiri approached the room where his father and a guest were drinking tea. The Ues
ugi patriarch made a great show of introducing his eldest son to Miyamoto Ranmar
u-san. Eiri appraised the man. He looked older than Eiri’s father. He had sparse,
faded grey hair on top of a round head, narrow black eyes, a lumpy aged nose, wi
de pale lips and a jowly jaw line. As Eiri had seen him in before, he wore a con
servative grey business suit, white shirt and dull, understated tie. Eiri only n
odded to acknowledge the introduction, being purposefully insulting. “The two of y
ou seem awfully cozy,” Eiri said. Kneeling, he gave a temporary impression of beha
ving.
“Eiri,” his father cautioned. Doubtless, he knew better than to trust Eiri’s ‘good’ behavi
or. In a more natural tone Eiri’s father added, “Ranmaru-san stayed here while doing
research for his last book on—“
“--traditional Kyoto architecture,” Eiri finished. His father glared. Miyamoto’s face
turned red and blotchy. “So tell me, Miyamoto, what made you try your hand at pop
music biography?” To anyone who knew him, those shining, intensely golden eyes wer
e a vibrant warn-off.
Even the old monk knew the signs of a winter storm in his son. “Eiri, why don’t you
have some tea?” Eiri did not answer, but focused his burning, icy stare on Miyamot
o.
Miyamoto was oblivious to his own danger. “I don’t have to defend my work to you— a *r
omance* writer!” Miyamoto practically spit the words, like he would disavow a chea
p, back-alley prostitute who had propositioned him. “And you! You would meddle in
my *legitimate* writing career— for what! For that gay pink—“
“STOP,” Eiri’s father commanded with calm, quiet control.
Eiri found himself standing. He didn’t remember moving. He must have taken a step
forward, too. His blood was hot. A wash of sparks sped through his body, making
his skin tingle as they left. Someone had hurt his Shuichi once and by god, he w
ould not allow it to happen again. “Excuse me,” he said blandly and he stepped out i
nto the garden. The cool grass felt good on his bare feet. He pulled cigarettes
and lighter out of his sleeve and made his way over to the carp pool.
His father could not see what kind of viper his guest was. The two old men proba
bly shared enough common interests that the Uesugi patriarch could not be made t
o see reason. Eiri rubbed his head, tousling his hair. The damp wind helped clea
r his mind. Had Miyamoto meant to provoke him? Mizuki had warned him that the ma
n was known for his bad temper. Eiri laughed at himself, silently. He’d nearly ass
aulted the ass after an almost-comment about his Shuichi. It certainly hadn’t been
the personal slights to himself; he could care less what the man thought of his
writing. Is Miyamoto a danger or just a windbag? Eiri wondered.
Eiri had smoked most of one cigarette when his younger brother came and sat on a
rock at the pool’s edge. He was in full monk attire, smoking. “That guy’s a total pri
ck,” Tatsuha said quietly. “I hate it when he’s around.” He blew smoke in a near-perfect
imitation of Eiri. The prayer beads around his wrist clicked softly when he mov
ed. “He puts father in an even more-traditional mind set. I think that guy is a li
ttle older, too.” Tatsuha’s voice turned sulky, “I figure he’s the reason I’ll be stuck in
fucking Kyoto on my day off.” He pouted darkly. “I was planning to spend the day wi
th Ryu-kun, too.”
Eiri tossed his cigarette onto the damp, sandy edge of the water. “I’m here. I think
that lets you off the hook.”
Tatsuha glanced up at him from the corner of his eyes. “Blackmail, eh? How does my
being in—oh.” He was quick to put the facts together. “Where is Shu?” He looked alarmed
. “Tell me he’s not spending time with my Ryuichi!!“
Eiri snorted. “He had to work today, and then he’s having dinner with his parents. H
e’ll be here tomorrow, probably early.”
Tatsuha smoked some more, settling down. “That might be interesting,” he commented q
uietly with dark warning tones in his voice.
“Hm?”
“Damn Ranmaru-san.” Tatsuha put his cigarette out by stabbing it into the wet sand a
nd he stood up. From the other discarded butts tucked in the sand near the rock,
Tatsuha had done it before. He looked sideways at his brother again. “This isn’t th
e usual sort of visit, is it?”
“Doubt it,” Eiri said. He knew his eyes flashed angrily as he spoke, but he couldn’t c
ontrol it. “I blocked a Bad Luck biography that sanctimonious asshole was writing.”
Tatsuha raised an eyebrow in surprise. Sometimes, Eiri felt like he was looking
into a negative image mirror when he looked at his younger brother. His coloring
was all pale gold where Tatsuha’s was black. Other than that, the two of them cou
ld pass for twins, right down to their voices. “Would Shuichi being here be better
or worse?” Tatsuha mused, aloud.
Eiri asked himself the same question, making it seem a as if he was voicing his
own thoughts and speaking to his own reflection. “I don’t think he’d stay home if I as
ked. Bad Luck goes on tour in about a week.”
“Yeah,” Tatsuha sighed. “I know. Ryu’s going along for the first two weeks of it.”
Eiri frowned and dug into his sleeve for another cigarette. Shu had neglected to
mention that fact. Or had he? He had gone on at length about the duet they had
recorded this week. Maybe this was related? A soft, low growl slipped out of him
as he lit his cigarette.
“Yeah,” Tatsuha agreed. “I know.”
Eiri blew out smoke and put his lighter away. He hated being jealous of Ryuichi.
Not only was the man was twice Tatsuha’s age, he was a complete and utter hare-br
ained idiot. Tatsuha and Ryuichi seemed devoted to each other— not that there was
any question of devotion on Tatsuha’s part! No, the question was where Ryuichi’s int
erests lay. Reluctantly, Eiri granted that the man was a powerful singer, but th
at was about his only selling-point, in Eiri’s estimation. It annoyed him to no en
d that both his brother and his lover were enamored of that child-in-a-man’s-body.
Eiri trusted Shuichi, but being with the young singer had left Eiri vulnerable
to so many things: socialization, black mail, protective urges . . . and emotion
s. Like jealousy. Damnit.
When Shu arrived, would he stay away from Miyamoto? Would he want to? It was qui
rky the way Shuichi would either confront adversity head-on, no-holds-bared, or
curl up and hide for a week. Usually he only hid when the problem involved very
deep emotions that confused him. Eiri decided that Shu was more likely to rush t
oward confrontation in this situation. He smirked. Eiri’s father had been confront
ed by Shuichi before. The bratt had won that day, succeeding in permanently brea
king off Eiri’s arranged marriage to Usami Ayaka, but Eiri wondered who would come
out the winner next time.
Tatsuha said thoughtfully, “You know, Shuichi almost gave Father a heart attack wh
en he—“ He was bringing up the same incident Eiri was recalling but Eiri cut him sho
rt.
“Maybe this time the old man will follow through and die,” he said coldly.
“Maybe he could get rid of Miyamoto,” Tatsuha corrected, watching Eiri slyly.
“Hmph.” Maybe an encounter would only give Miyamoto ammunition for his poisonous pen
. “We’ll see,” Eiri said darkly.
Tatsuha laughed and Eiri looked at him. Mischievousness danced in his brother’s ey
es. “I don’t want to miss it,” he said.
Eiri narrowed his eyes at his brother. “Yeah, Mika came to watch, too, but I thoug
ht you had a date,” he said pointedly.
Tatsuha chuckled wickedly. Eiri wondered if he had learned that from their siste
r. “You think I’d leave Ryu-chan all by himself in Tokyo? Tohma’s out of town, and her
e we all are. . . ” He gestured to their surroundings, his kimono sleeve flapping
in a light breeze. Tatsuha smirked and put his arm across Eiri’s shoulders. “I’ll just
give him a call and he can come with Shuichi!”
Eiri had to admit to a certain . . . prurient fascination with having both obnox
ious singers visit the temple together. Not only would it upset Father, Eiri tho
ught, smiling, but if my guess is correct, it will infuriate Miyamoto . . . mayb
e enough to make him leave. The Uesugi brothers laughed together conspiratoriall
y until Mika came to investigate.
***
Dinner that night was formal. A chill rain had chased the brothers inside for th
e afternoon. Eiri had managed to hide with, er, sink himself into a book during
that time, but he was informed that he must attend dinner. Mika usually got away
with non-traditional clothes, but the required formality even extended to her t
onight. Eiri hadn’t known she owned a tomesode with the Seguchi crests. He didn’t th
ink he’d seen her wear a kimono since she wore a shiromuku [1] for her wedding.
Their father was really making a point of honoring his guest. His children, on t
he other hand— particularly his sons, did their best to end, stifle, or thwart all
attempts at conversation in order to maintain a very cold silence. Tatsuha is r
eally good at this game, Eiri realized. The younger monk’s experience in conductin
g funeral rites gave him plenty of horrid stories to turn conversation toward. T
he amount of grim, depressing detail he could extricate from a scene was . . . i
mpressive. Morbid, too. Not to be out-done, Eiri simply invented tragedies he co
uld relate to otherwise happy topics. Mika was exasperated with her brothers. Th
eir father glared at them, balefully. He hated it when the two of them showed a
united front against him. Tatsuha and Eiri were the only ones who ate with any a
ppetite. The others picked at the perfectly prepared food. Eventually they gave
up trying to speak. Both brothers were gleefully anticipating a much more cheerf
ul and entertaining breakfast tomorrow. Mika knew *something* was up.
After dinner, the table trays were cleared and a staring contest began. The stoi
c Uesugi patriarch finally started reprimanding his sons in front of his guest.
Miyamoto watched the whole thing like a ball game he had bet money on. It was on
ly a replay of the same old arguments; ‘Eiri, shave your head or die your hair bla
ck’, ‘Lose the earring’, ‘Move back home.’ Eiri was pretty sure the old man had given up o
n the ‘get married’ argument. He wasn’t sure about the ‘as eldest son, you must be prepa
red to take over the temple’ bit. His father didn’t bring up either topic, this time
around. To both of them, the old man said, ‘Give up smoking!’ It was a signal for b
oth men to light up. The old man was a hypocrite on that score, since he smoked,
too.
To Tatsuha, their father started a relatively new rant, ‘you should be thinking ab
out marriage prospects.’ He also brought up Tatsuha’s grades and the possibility of
going to University. The whole family could practically recite the script. They
had the arguments and the come-backs nearly memorized. Ironically, the routine c
leared the tense air and left everyone feeling mildly annoyed.
With smoke hanging in the air and the chill rain still coming down, Mika lit lan
terns in the room and fetched the koto [2] from storage. She must be desperate t
o change the ambient mood and temperature in here, Eiri thought. Mika didn’t play
the instrument very often and probably hadn’t practiced in years. She could only p
lay a few traditional pieces well, but it always pleased their father when she d
id play. Eiri guessed she reminded Father of their mother. Her impromptu concert
let them all off the hook until morning.
After the patriarch turned in for the night, Eiri went to his room, too. He didn’t
think he’d be able to sleep, so he read a little more. He never went to sleep thi
s early at home, but to his surprise, he found himself yawning. He turned out th
e light and tucked himself into bed, a little sad that the sheets were cold and
there was no one here to warm them. Until morning, he reminded himself. A smile
crept across his face in the dark and Eiri covered it with a blanket.
***
[1] Essentially a traditional bridal costume; shiro = white, thus, an all white
kimono ensemble. The tomesode was explained in the last chapter’s footnote.
[2] It’s a traditional Japanese musical instrument; a thirteen-stringed zither, ab
out 2 meters long and made of Paulownia wood. It is plucked using picks on the t
humb and first two fingers of the right hand, while the left hand can be used to
modify pitch and tone.
***
Author’s Note: I loved writing this one. It’s my favorite chapter so far. It just ma
kes me think about what kind of hellions the Uesugi children were as a trio! If
all three decided to make a concerted effort for or against something . . . look
out! BTW— Did anyone get the Moliere title-reference?

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: It’s Gravitation and so obviously shonen-ai. Some swearing and very st
rong implication of male/male sexual situations, in this chapter, but nothing gr
aphic. Of course it doesn’t belong to me. Gravitation and its characters are the p
roperty of Maki Murakami. I am simply a devotee. Please read, enjoy, and review.
To those who have: Thank you!!
*Part 7: Chaos in Kyoto*
[Sunday morning]
A loud commotion woke Eiri. It was comprised of two very loud, happy voices, sin
ging and . . . the sound of furniture being moved across the floor . . . ? Eiri
rolled out of bed and dressed in his kimono again. He ran one hand through his h
air. The digital travel clock in his room read 7:10 am. Bleeech. He headed for t
he source of the noise.
He didn’t get very far before Shuichi threw himself into Eiri’s arms, knocking him d
own and causing him to sit in the hallway, hard, with a hollow thud. Shuichi str
addled him, hugging him tightly. “I missed you,” the kid whispered into Eiri’s ear, sn
uggling. He clapped a hand over the sensitive ear, casting his rambunctious love
r an offended look. The herbal scent of his hair and the deeper, clean scent of
his body enveloped Eiri. Shuichi giggled.
“Na no da?” Ryuichi peeked around the wall. “Where’s Tat-kun?” He asked in a child-like vo
ice. Eiri and Shu both pointed. “TAT-SU-HA!” Ryuichi sang at the top of his (very co
nsiderable) voice. Eiri winced. The older singer stepped over the two men on the
floor and slid open the indicated room door.
Miyamoto choose that moment to peek out his own door. “What is all this racke…t?” The
grey-haired author took in the pink-haired boy sitting in Eiri’s lap on the floor,
and the wild-looking adult male with the pink stuffed bunny in his hand, pounci
ng on a sleeping monk. Miyamoto’s eyes grew big, he spluttered, and shut the door
with a clap, as the wooden frame of the shoji struck the door frame. Eiri could
almost swear that some of the other author’s grey hairs had gone white before his
eyes.
Shuichi burst out laughing and Eiri chuckled a little. Ryuichi was laughing, too
, but shutting the door to Tatsuha’s room. They could both hear Tatsuha’s just-awake
voice, faintly, over Ryuichi’s squealing and giggling. Shuichi looked at Eiri ver
y seriously and said, “Ryu’s really ticklish.”
Eiri grabbed his lover’s chin and kissed him. “I’m glad you’re here,” he said quietly. Shu
ichi’s eyes shined, filling with water. The kid grinned and nearly squeezed the br
eath out of him.
“Me, too!” He squealed. With spandex shorts on, Eiri could tell how happy he was. Sh
u shifted his body around a little, rubbing their groins together teasingly. Tha
t was dangerous in a loosely-tied kimono.
Eiri pulled Shuichi’s arms off his body and kissed the singer’s nose. Ug, Eiri thoug
ht, we have only been apart for one day and we’re acting like . . . Eiri stopped h
is thought trail. They would be wrecked in no time if he didn’t go with the Bad Lu
ck tour. He changed the subject. “Now what were the two of you doing that made so
much noise?” Eiri figured he may as well try to minimize any damage.
Shuichi looked sheepish. “Well Kuma— I mean, Ryuichi, wanted to bring presents.” Eiri
hated it when anyone spoke about a stuffed toy as if it was animate. “I told him h
e didn’t need to, but Kuma— ah, Ryu-kun— insisted that it was lucky. Um . . .”
Eiri sighed. “Let’s go see.”
Shuichi bounced up like a spring and pulled his sweatshirt down around his hips
in a vain attempt to cover his erection. “Okay. Um, Eiri?” Eiri looked up at him fro
m the floor, holding a cigarette against his lips. “Was that the guy who wrote—“ Shuic
hi was pointing to the door Miyamoto had peeked out of.
“Yes,” Eiri hissed. He lit his cigarette and got to his feet. Shuichi looked confuse
d. “He’s a friend of my father’s, I guess.” Shu still looked uncertain. Eiri put his han
d on Shu’s back to propel him forward. “Let’s see if we can find some breakfast, inste
ad, okay?”
Shuichi perked up at that. “Yeah! We’d better fix a lot, though, ‘cuz Ryuichi and Tats
uha are gonna be hungry in a little bit!” Shuichi looked at him over his shoulder,
winked and dashed off to the kitchen. Eiri shook his head. Shu was right. There
was no longer the sound of childish laughter from Tatsuha’s room. The voices were
definitely those of two adults, now. Eiri snorted. Ryuichi was no better at bei
ng quiet in bed than his Shuichi. He followed his lover to the kitchen.
The kitchen was the only truly modern room in the building. The floors were tile
over wood, instead of traditional tatami mats. [1] There was a modern refrigera
tor, an old-but-modern stove, plenty of cupboards and lots of counter space. Shu
ichi was gathering pans and dishes. “Eiri! Can you make one of those American-styl
e breakfasts, like you sometimes do for me? I saw lots of eggs in the ‘fridge. Ryu
ichi would really like that. He told me he likes scrambled eggs. I can make some—“
“YOU won’t do anything, except carry the dishes, Idiot.” Eiri tied his kimono sleeves
back with a ribbon of cloth. “Yes, I can make American-style breakfast,” he said ind
ulgently. It actually sounded good to him, this morning. Shuichi jumped backward
to sit on the counter, away from the stove. Eiri leaned against another counter
, finishing his cigarette before he cooked. “How was your trip here?”
“Oh. Not very much fun,” Shuichi replied contritely. “Sakuma-san drove.” He drives?? The
very thought of Sakuma behind the wheel of a car disturbed Eiri. “You know how hi
s face gets all scary?” Shuichi pulled his face with his fingers. “He was all seriou
s, concentrating. He said he likes riding better, but K-san said, ‘NO! Do you know
what time it is!’” Shuichi did a credible imitation of his manager’s voice. “—and he got
all mad ‘cuz we called him, but the car rental place didn’t mind, since they’re open a
ll the time, and it was really easy . . .”
Eiri smoked his cigarette, listening to Shuichi carry on. He was glad that Sakum
a took driving seriously. Then Shu’s rambling caught his attention again, “. . . but
the shrine didn’t fit too well, and we kinda scraped the paint, trying to get it
in the trunk—“
“The what?”
“Ryu calls it the ‘trunk’— you know, the boot? The back of the car, where the bags go—“
“Idiot! I know what the trunk is! Did you say *shrine*?”
Shuichi stopped kicking the cupboard. “Yeah . . .” he said cautiously. Eiri rubbed h
is forehead then put his cigarette out. “It’s not too garish, or anything,” Shuichi ru
shed to defend whatever urge had prompted the two of them to transport a shrine
in the trunk of a rented sports car. “Ryuichi looked at some that were really brig
htly decorated, with lots of gold paint and designs, but this one’s not like that.
It’s one of those wall-mounted cabinets you’re supposed to put stuff in to honor yo
ur family ancestors, ya know?” Eiri looked at him, disgustedly. He may not look li
ke it, but he was Japanese and knew exactly what Shu was talking about. He may n
ot act like it, but he was still a qualified Buddhist monk, too. Shuichi certain
ly didn’t need to explain such things to him. Shu misinterpreted the look, though.
“Hey! I told him he didn’t need to bring presents, and he knew we were coming to a
temple and all—“
Eiri shook his head again. “Dummy,” he said calmly. That explained the sound of furn
iture being dragged around. They had probably scuffed up the tatami mats, too. “Do
n’t worry about it. I’ll let my father deal with it.” Maybe the old man would even hav
e a use for it, Eiri thought. It was a really generous gift; those things weren’t
cheap. “You get the eggs out; I’ll cook. You can start the coffee, too. The coffee m
aker is in that cupboard.” Eiri pointed.
Shuichi smiled brightly again, probably relieved Eiri wasn’t upset with him. He pu
lled out the coffee pot and set it up. Eiri asked Shu about the visit with his f
amily, knowing the simple question would keep Shu talking for . . . a long time.
The essence of the monologue that followed was: everyone was fine.
Eiri was tending eggs and chicken-sausage when Mika entered the kitchen, yawning
. She was back in her usual attire of a mini-skirt and blouse. Her hair was a li
ttle messy and she wasn’t wearing any makeup, but she looked more like herself tha
n she had last night, playing the role of a dutiful, traditional daughter.
“Good morning, Shuichi-kun,” she said, unsurprised to see him here. She sniffed, wri
nkling her nose. “What’s that awful smell?”
Shuichi stopped his chop-stick drum beat and humming to respond. “Good morning, Mi
ka-san. It’s not an awful smell! It’s American-style breakfast. . . . It’s just differ
ent.”
“Uhg! How can they eat that stuff first thing in the morning? How can you? Can’t we
have some tuna, or something?” She poked her head into the refrigerator.
“You can fix some for father and his guest, too, then,” Eiri told her. She grumbled,
but complied.
“ICE CREAM!”
Mika froze in place for a moment. “No,” she whispered. Eiri turned in time to see he
r eyelid twitch. Oh, sweet revenge, he thought. “He’s really here, isn’t he?” Mika asked
Shuichi, forlornly.
“Yep,” Shu chirped happily. “Ryu-kun and I came together!”
Mika threw back her head and groaned, but her noise was kind-of lost against Ryu
ichi’s chant of, “ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM, ICE CREAM . . . !” It got louder until the old
er singer arrived in the kitchen with a squeal. Ending his chant, he went to sea
rch the freezer. Tatsuha came in behind him, dressed in jeans and t-shirt, smili
ng widely. Ryu pulled his head out of the freezer, shaking it sadly. “No ice cream
for Kumagorou, no na da,” he announced.
“But Eiri’s so sweet, he made American-style breakfast for us!” Shuichi said to cheer
him up.
“Oh, yum!” He inhaled the cooking smells happily. Mika rolled her eyes. “Tat-kun, we c
an have eggs and sausage for breakfast!” Ryu grabbed Tatsuha’s hands and danced him
in circles. Tatsuha didn’t look too sure about eggs for breakfast, but he was will
ing to try it. Mika lit a cigarette and poured coffee for herself. She looked li
ke a shock victim. Eiri dished out breakfast. The other two people in the house
should be joining them shortly . . . for one reason or another, Eiri thought.
About the time the breakfast trays had been set out, and everyone was settling d
own to eat, the Uesugi patriarch appeared. “More guests, I see,” he said flatly, kne
eling before his tray-table and settling his robes.
“Good morning!” Ryu and Shu crowed, nearly in unison. The old monk looked at all of
them. Ryu was so close to Tatsuha, he was practically sitting in the monk’s lap, a
nd there was a lot of casual touching between the two of them. Between Eiri and
Shu was the palpably close warmth and comfort of an established relationship. Mi
ka sat alone, across from her brothers and their lovers, eating quietly. There w
as no sign of Miyamoto.
“Good morning,” Uesugi replied. He frowned, “What is that smell?”
“American breakfast; eggs and sausage,” Mika grumbled. “Don’t worry, father, I fixed tun
a for us and Miyamoto-san.”
The patriarch sighed. “I just spoke with Ranmaru-san. He has decided to leave. Eir
i, he came to me, hoping we could dissuade you from blocking his book.” The old mo
nk frowned and held up his hand to forestall interruptions. Eiri had guessed the
purpose for bringing him to Kyoto when he first saw Miyamoto here. “I still disag
ree with what you did, but I’m not blind, yet. I can see what this boy means to yo
u.” He sighed and looked around the room again. “My two sons; disappointment after d
isappointment. You both crush my hopes for the future and blatantly flout tradit
ions . . . Yet, both of you are happy.”
“My lovely, dutiful daughter . . . ” he continued, in a doting tone of voice, turnin
g in her direction. Mika looked up. Their father’s face was sad. “You have always do
ne the right thing, and you are alone.” He shook his head. “I’ll leave you youngsters
to your . . . breakfast.” He picked up his plate and left the room.
“Wow,” Tatsuha breathed, mirroring Eiri’s thought. Shuichi leaned over and hugged Eiri’s
left arm. Eiri reached across his body with his right hand, to touch Shu’s hand o
n his arm.
Tears trickled down Mika’s cheeks. “Excuse me,” she choked out. She left, wiping at he
r eyes. Her food was mostly uneaten.
“Where *is* Tohma?” Ryuichi asked. Eiri looked at him in surprise, one eyebrow archi
ng up. Usually Ryuichi knew where Seguchi was, even when no one else did, or whe
n Tohma didn’t want him to know.
Shu let go of Eiri’s arm to give Ryu a look of surprise, too, jaw dropping in disb
elief. “You don’t know??” Shu questioned him. Ryuichi shook his head. “Really??”
“Kumagorou?” Ryuichi asked his stuffed rabbit, bringing it up from the floor beside
him. He twisted the pink rabbit’s little head back and forth. “Kumagorou doesn’t know
either,” the singer confirmed.
Eiri wondered if Mika knew where her husband was, or what Tohma was up to? It wa
s unlike him to be gone for a whole week without telling anyone.
***
[1] Tatami mats are the bamboo floor squares in a traditional Japanese building.
They actually lift off the supports and stuff is stored between the floor and t
he ground. (Thus, the hollow thud sound when Shu knocked Eiri to the floor.) Tha
t’s part of the reason the Japanese houses look so sparse, too—everything’s kept under
the floor. Modern homes have non-removable flooring and can make use of more fu
rniture that is heavy or solid, and Western-styled.
***
Author’s Note: Has anyone been wondering about Tohma?? What about those pesky unan
swered questions, like what *is* the deal with the publishing company? What *has
* Tohma been doing this past week? What other sorts of presents did Ryu bring? .
. . and is that really the end of Miyamoto? Keep reading. ;]

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: It’s Gravitation and so obviously shonen-ai. Of course Gravitation doe
sn’t belong to me— its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I am still simp
ly a devotee. Please read, enjoy, and review. To those who have: Thank you!!

*Part 8: Concluding Kyoto*
[Sunday]
With four people to clean up, the breakfast dishes had been washed and tray tabl
es stowed away quickly. Eiri and Tatsuha sat on the back porch, legs hanging off
the ledge, smoking in companionable silence. Ryuichi was chasing a couple of bu
tterflies and laughing. Earlier, he had scared the carp in the pool, by splashin
g through it. Shuichi was sitting by the pond, frowning and scribbling in a note
book. Occasionally, he would stop and tap his pencil in rhythm, sometimes closin
g his eyes in concentration. Eiri understood the lightning strike of inspiration
. Watching Shu write made him itch for his laptop.
“You should go talk to Mika,” Tatsuha told Eiri again. It was like a children’s game o
f ‘you do it’, ‘no, you do it’. They had each been trying to convince the other to confr
ont or comfort their elder sister. They had already agreed that Ryu and Shu woul
dn’t be acceptable as brother-substitutes or diplomats.
“Fine!” Eiri exhaled smoke and stood up, tired of quibbling. He paused by the open e
ntrance into the house. “You think she’s had enough time to herself?” He asked Tatsuha
. Shuichi must have been keeping an eye on him, or he caught Eiri’s movement in hi
s peripheral vision because he looked up, as if clouds had obscured the sunlight
from him. Shu noticed Eiri’s gaze and waved, watching him for a moment. Eiri prev
ented himself from smiling. Shu went back to scribbling.
“Just get it over with. She might need someone to scream at,” Tatsuha added quietly.
“Right,” Eiri agreed. “You get to pick up the cigarette butts, then.” He walked in and w
ent to his sister’s room. It was quiet inside, but the door was shut. “Mika?”
“I wondered who would come.” She sniffled. “Come in,” she said with resignation. Eiri wo
ndered if her reaction was because she didn’t want to be bothered, or because it w
as him. He pulled the door open and shut it behind him. Mika was sitting on her
rumpled sleeping mat and there were still wet tear-traces on her pillow. Her eye
s were red and puffy. Eiri sat on the floor next to her. He pulled out what was
left of his pack of cigarettes, silently offering her one. “No, thanks,” she said. S
he hugged her pillow across her stomach. Eiri figured his sister would crack fir
st if he didn’t say anything. He located an ashtray on her desk, rose to snag it a
nd she spoke again. “I suppose you want to know where he’s gone.”
“Nope. I don’t care,” he said honestly.
Mika sighed heavily with the hint of a sob. She tried to make light of herself,
saying, “Did you draw the short straw?” Eiri shook his head. They both knew he wasn’t
about to say something mushy about caring for his sister. “It hurts,” she confessed.
“Father…” tears trickled from her eyes and she held her chin up. She looked at him, b
leakly. “My marriage with Tohma was always treated as a business deal. I accepted
that, because I do love him.” She grabbed a tissue and blew her nose. She tossed t
he tissue toward the trash, missing the basket. She slumped. “I was holding on to
the fact that I had done my proper duties; as a daughter to contract a beneficia
l marriage and as a wife. . . ” Her voice broke.
Mika sagged forward and Eiri moved slightly, to hold her head on his lap. Her fa
ce was hot and he could feel her tears soaking into his kimono. He hesitated to
comfort her. He didn’t remember ever doing this for her before. He wondered if Tat
suha had? Mika had always taken care of herself while watching out for her broth
ers. Cautiously, he reached out and smoothed her hair back from her face. It was
n’t the same sort of gesture he made for Shuichi, but there was some similarity. H
is sister cried brokenly while he pet her.
Eiri tended to think of Shuichi as his weakness, but Shu had given Eiri the stre
ngth to do this for Mika. In an odd way, it felt . . . satisfying to help Mika.
With her pushy ways, she intruded into Eiri’s life, again and again; attempting to
‘help’ him by bullying him into doing what she thought was best. Most of the time,
she had been wrong. Now, Eiri was just here for her and that may be just what wa
s needed. It certainly didn’t solve any problems, but it comforted her against adv
ersity. He wasn’t sure how long he sat with her.
After a while, Mika pulled back. Eiri thought she had cried herself dry. She ble
w her nose again, this time getting the used tissue into the basket. She looked
at him, smiling bitterly. “Tohma’s on vacation. Nittle Grasper was taking a break. B
ad Luck doesn’t go on tour for another …well, Thursday, right?” Eiri nodded. “He plans t
o be back Thursday. Work wasn’t too busy.” That didn’t seem right, Eiri thought. Setti
ng aside the fact that he didn’t take his wife with him on vacation; why would Toh
ma not tell any of his family, friends, or band-mates where he would be? It didn’t
make much sense, until Mika spoke again. “He’s found someone who makes him happy.”
Now what? Eiri wondered. His father had been right. Mika had followed the rules
and she was miserable. Eiri and Tatsuha fought conformity and gained happiness.
It was completely against what tradition taught them all. A part of him said, ‘Mik
a knew what she was getting into’. He didn’t feel any need to avenge her, nor any re
ason to punish Tohma. Eiri couldn’t think of anything he could do for his sister. ‘A
t least he’s discreet’ would not be a helpful thing to say…
“Eiri? Mika? Are you in there?” Shuichi called from the hallway.
“Idiot. What is it?” Shu’s soft footsteps came closer.
“Want to open presents? Ryuichi-kun . . . um, he’s kind of anxious,” Shu said from the
other side of the door.
Eiri knew there was a world of understatement in that. He looked at Mika. She sh
rugged and made a slight, sideways nod of her head. He took it for ‘yes’. “Okay, we’ll c
ome in a minute.”
“Okay!” Eiri heard the hollow patter across the floor as Shuichi ran off.
“You go. I’ll clean up and be there shortly,” Mika told him. He nodded and stood up, p
utting the ashtray back on the desk. She stood, too. “Thanks,” she said quietly. She
ran one hand across his upper arm and turned away. He left.
In the hall, he realized that his right foot had fallen asleep and his kimono wa
s wet from Mika’s tears, so he changed into black pants and a loose, white shirt.
He transferred his lighter and cigarettes into the shirt, too. The clothes made
him feel more like himself. What would it take to restore Mika to herself? He fe
ared it would take something that only Tohma could give her. As generous as he w
as with his wife, Eiri wasn’t sure if Tohma was capable of giving her more love th
an a friendship.
***
With both energetic singers bouncing around the room, unwrapping presents became
an interesting show to watch. It seemed that Ryuichi had done his shopping at t
wo stores: an antique dealer and a professional costume shop.
Mika was given a beautiful rhinestone tiara that picked up and refracted light,
nearly making her glow. It made her happy, even though it was completely impract
ical. Ryuichi called her ‘Queen Seguchi’ and Tatsuha played along, waiting on Mika a
nd asking if her highness would like anything else? She hit him.
The Uesugi patriarch had been very pleasantly surprised by the presentation of t
he shrine and a set of jade prayer beads. When the present-opening degenerated i
nto Tatsuha and Ryuichi dressing each other up from a trunk of costumes, the old
monk departed, claiming temple duties.
Shuichi was given several boxes of strawberry pocky. He was ecstatic— but it was o
nly a slight elevation from his usual level of hyper activity. Most of the time,
Shu was incredibly easy to please.
Ryuichi gave Eiri a katana and wakizashi, complete with display stand. In his ch
ildlike voice, wearing a hairy grey wolf’s mask, Ryuichi explained that the swords
were used by samurai who protected their clan and family. Tipping the mask back
, he winked at Eiri. Then he put the mask back into place and bounced away, sing
ing to his stuffed rabbit, gruffly. Like a wolf, Eiri guessed. Shuichi joined in
the singing and pretty soon, the room filled with the sounds of a campground-li
ke sing-a-long.
Eiri did not sing. Instead, he considered the swords, pulling the katana from it
s sheath and inspecting the blade. The hilt alone was about a foot long, wrapped
in black cloth, pattern-twisted. The blade was a little longer than two feet, c
urving slightly and finishing in a diagonally-edged blade tip. [1] The blade was
really beautiful; finely polished steel with a raised hamon temper line down it
s center. The sheath was unadorned; smooth, black, lacquered wood. The tsuba was
a plain metal disc separating hilt and blade. The weapon was breath-taking in i
ts simplicity and violent purpose.
Living in a temple and training as a monk didn’t encourage sword study or weapons’ t
raining. Buddhists were schooled to strict non-violence. Eiri smirked. He knew w
hat his balance of karma looked like. He had a long way to fall in his next life
. Eiri had studied Japanese swords and armor once for a book he’d written, set in
the Sengoku o-Togi Zoushi [2]. He liked this katana. It was a very nice example
of its kind. He sheathed it, considering the role of family protector. He suppos
ed it was true. It brought his mind back to Mika’s problem.
Eiri had emerged from his past, thanks to Shuichi. In many ways, he had grown up
since then. He had become . . . more human and less like the cold snow of his s
elf-imposed namesake. It was one of the reasons that he had asked Shuichi not to
call him Yuki anymore. It was no longer who he was. Eiri had thought that Mika
had grown up a long time ago, but maybe she had just chosen a different way to h
ide in childhood.
Shuichi’s face was suddenly two inches from his own; large, merry, blue-violet eye
s filling his vision. Eiri jerked back, instinctively. Shuichi kneeled in front
of him, grinning. He probably would have jumped into Eiri’s lap, if Eiri hadn’t been
holding a sword. The writer set it aside and his lover took that for an invitat
ion, sitting on him and wrapping legs around his waist. “Yes?” Eiri said coolly.
Shuichi laid his head against Eiri’s shoulder, wrapping arms around his neck. “I’m hav
ing so much fun,” he said, “but I want to go home and be with you.”
“Idiot. You are with me,” he teased warmly, putting one arm around Shuichi’s back. He
knew what Shu meant.
“Mmmm,” Shu answered, nuzzling Eiri’s neck. “*Just* you . . . and me.” Shu’s breath brushed
his skin.
“Stop that,” Eiri scolded. He looked around the room, self-consciously. Mika was lau
ghing over Ryuichi’s and Tatsuha’s antics with the costume trunk. Shuichi nibbled Ei
ri’s neck, causing nerves to fire and those fires spread. Eiri dumped the singer o
nto the floor. With a glance, Shuichi knew he wasn’t truly angry and the kid laugh
ed. Eiri growled, causing Shuichi to laugh more. The others were oblivious. “Get y
our stuff. I’ll say my good-byes,” he instructed.
Shuichi bounced up. “Goody,” he said. “Shall I put our stuff in your car?”
“Okay. The keys are—“
“—in your left-hand coat pocket, I know.” Shuichi gathered up the swords and pocky and
took them away. Warning Shu to be careful was probably a waste of his breath, s
o he didn’t bother.
Eiri approached his sister. She was still wearing the shining crown. “We’re leaving.
If . . . if you need me . . . ” he started, awkwardly.
She looked surprised. “Thank you. I’ll see you on Thursday, for the kick-off concert
, right?”
Eiri nodded. “Shu wouldn’t let me miss it.”
She smiled a little. “I’ll be okay,” she lied, giving him a reassurance he neither nee
ded nor believed. “See ya.”
“Bye, Tatsuha, Ryuichi,” Eiri said. Ryuichi waved Kumagorou in the air at him, not b
reaking his song.
“I’ll see you Thursday, Aniki. I can stay over, right?” Eiri nodded. Tatsuha and he co
uld be lonely together . . . if Eiri decided to stay home for the first part of
Bad Luck’s tour.
Eiri went to the temple to tell his father good bye. The old man was lighting in
cense. “I’m going home, Father,” he announced.
Old Uesugi nodded. He stood and turned toward his eldest son, setting a hand on
Eiri’s shoulder. He frowned. “I pray for you all, but look after your sister, Eiri.” I
t was possibly the most practical request the old man had made of him since he’d m
oved out. Well, besides the old saw, ‘quit smoking’. That was practical, but there w
asn’t any chance the old man would ever see it happen. “And quit smoking!” Hypocrite.
***
[1] Okay, so I’m American. I work in feet and inches even though *I know* metrics
are used every where else in the world. One foot = 30.48 cm; and the length of t
he whole blade: 91.44 cm. Incidentally, the katana information is true and tsuba
= hilt guard.
[2] This is alternately called the ‘feudal period’ or ‘warring states era’.
***
Author’s Note: It was kind of a ‘downer’ chapter, so I tried to liven it up a little a
t the end. I hope I succeeded. I wanted to show how Eiri’s become more accessible
to others— not just for Shuichi. Shu still gets the biggest benefits of Eiri’s good-
side, though. I was also able to put in my reason behind using ‘Eiri’ rather than ‘Yuk
i’.
About Tohma: apparently, there are some Tohma-haters out there, but I think he h
as his place. I don’t *like* him, but I feel like he is a deeply neutral, gray-are
a; neither good nor evil.

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684

*Part 9: Back in Tokyo*
[Wednesday afternoon]
Eiri was disgusted with himself. He still couldn’t decide whether to travel with B
ad Luck or not. He had to decide by tomorrow. Shuichi had packed his stuff last
night. He had cast Eiri significant looks while he did it, too, until Eiri had y
elled at him and gone for a walk in the park. When he returned, his suitcase had
been set out, open, near the dresser. Shu had been asleep. Even the main charac
ter in Eiri’s book was waffling. One moment Eiri was sure he was strong enough to
be alone for a month. In the next moment, he was just as certain that he couldn’t
be alone for more than a day. Compromise at one week? Tatsuha would be around Th
ursday and Friday. That would only leave five more days in the week. That was do
-able, right? Arrgggh. When had become so dependant??
He saved and closed down the word processor program with the latest chapter of h
is book. He’d been picking at it for the last hour— re-reading it and changing a wor
d here or there. He just hadn’t been *adding* to the story. Why? Because he couldn’t
keep his mind on it. DAMN IT. He lit a cigarette and accessed the internet.
First, he scanned his e-mail. Hmm. One from Mizuki, one from Shu, and a bunch of
junk mail. He clicked on the one from Shu. It was a comic strip about music. Sh
uichi had probably thought it was hysterical. Eiri shrugged. Next he checked an
on-line news site. As he scrolled down the page, a minor headline caught his att
ention, ‘Eiko Publishing Swallows Competitor’. He clicked on the link and read the a
rticle. It claimed that Eiko had taken on the debt and holdings of the Mikuno Bo
ok Company for an undisclosed price. The reporter cited speculation from differe
nt sources who disapproved of Eiko s decision, claiming that the lesser company’s
debts had been too big for Eiko to absorb and said there was little to be gained
from the deal. The article concluded that Mikuno was now being called ‘Never Endi
ng Dream’ as a new division of Eiko.
Eiri did a search for a Mikuno Book website. He dead ended in a ‘page not found’ mes
sage. He checked the Eiko website, to see if they had anything new to say to the
public. Their ‘news’ page only featured new and upcoming book releases. He went bac
k to the e-mail. Mizuki had sent him three links and she had pasted an ‘attention
all employees’ message at the bottom. He scrolled down, reading. It was basically
a request for Eiko personnel to not speak with the media.
The first link took him to a stock-watch site. Eiko stock had fallen over the co
urse of the week. The second link was a pessimistic article about the new divisi
on. A publisher, cited there, said, “In the business of publishing, it is suicide
to pin profitability on the hopes of a single author.” From the context, Eiri was
pretty sure that person was referring to him. Contemptible moron, he thought der
isively. Eiko actually had a large group of romance writers; he was simply the m
ost prominent. The third link brought up a database style document. It was title
d, ‘Authors Transferred to Never-Ending Dream’. Authors were listed alphabetically.
Eiri recognized some of them, either from meetings or conventions, or book cover
s. He was certain that some of them were new to Eiko. He saved the document to h
is hard drive. He sent a reply to Mizuki thanking her for the information.
So, it looked like Eiko had bought out Mikuno and turned it into Never Ending Dr
eam. There was nothing wrong with that; it must happen all the time. Big fish sw
allow the little fish and that’s the way of the world, right? Eiri drank some coff
ee. In his opinion, it was risky for Eiko to take on a lot of debt in exchange f
or the smaller company’s holdings, but it wasn’t without merit. He wondered just wha
t factors influenced taking on Mikuno. Did they have better distribution, a pape
r mill, a better printing factory? He would watch the situation. It still felt l
ike he was missing a piece of the story. If Eiko failed, he’d just have to find an
other publisher.
He was about to disconnect from the internet when his mail alert beeped. It was
another message from Mizuki. It said, “You’re welcome. A bit of advice for your main
character: have him go ahead and do it. Then he can have adventures and you can
torment him. If he doesn’t go, the whole book would be about him being depressed
and mopey. Besides, you already did a character like that in ‘Fear of Fate’.” Eiri sno
rted. Sometimes Mizuki was a little too wise about what went on in his head. He
disconnected and shut down, setting his glasses on the desk. He was out of coffe
e and needed a break.
---
When Shuichi came home, Eiri’s suitcase was packed. The two cases sat beside each
other near the door and would be obvious to Shu when he came in. Eiri would pack
up his computer tomorrow. He wasn’t likely to get anything written between now an
d tomorrow night’s concert-- since Shu would be home during the day— but he could tr
y.
He was sitting on the couch, surfing TV channels when he heard the door open...
there was the sound of Shu’s bag hitting the floor, then, “TADAIMA, EIRI!” Shu came sk
idding into the living room, sliding on sock-feet. “Eiri! You’ll come!?” Shu sat at hi
s feet, settling between his legs and laying his head on Eiri’s lap. “I’m SO happy,” he
squeaked, hugging his calf.
Eiri rolled his eyes, and placed his cigarette between his lips to free his hand
to run it through Shuichi’s pink hair. Shu sighed happily, closing his large, exp
ressive eyes. Eiri leaned over his lover to put his beer down and turn the TV of
f. When he sat up again, Shuichi crawled up his body to straddle him, tucking hi
s head under Eiri’s chin. Eiri held his cigarette, blowing smoke. He sighed in tem
porary contentment, knowing the quiet wouldn’t last for more than 10, 9, 8, 7…
“Hiro won the bet,” Shu said slyly. Eiri grunted. “There was bet down at NG about whet
her you’d come with us for the first part of the tour. If you don’t change your mind
again, then Hiro wins the bet.”
Eiri brought his cigarette to his lips and inhaled. He wasn’t sure if he should be
offended that people were making bets about his decisions or if he cared at all
. Okay, he decided quickly, I’m pissed! They had no right! Why does everyone think
they know what goes on in my head! “Who bet?” He asked.
“Oh, just about everybody. Shu sat up and held out his fingers, ticking off names;
“Tohma, Noriko, Hiro, Fujisaki, Sakano didn’t bet but K did, and Tomino,” the choreog
rapher, Eiri’s memory supplied, “and Hikaru—“
“Stop. Was Hiro the only one who thought I’d go?” Shuichi nodded. Hah. I guess that sh
ows how much they know about what I’m thinking. “You didn’t bet?”
Shu’s eyes got big and he violently shook his head ‘no’, followed by a breath-shorteni
ng hug. “I don’t try to second-guess you, Eiri! I love you. I’ll accept whatever you d
ecide. I *want* you to come, but . . . I know other things are important to you
and that I can’t always have you to myself and you—“
Eiri kissed him. It was the most effective way to shut him up. He also wanted to
do it. It was a deep, passionate kiss. Without words, it should tell his little
lover how much Eiri felt for him; how important the kid was. Eiri intended to p
ull back, but Shu pursued, chasing his lips and licking them, raising himself up
to reach Eiri’s face and molding his body against his lover’s. Shu sucked gently on
Eiri’s lower lip and the writer responded by holding Shu’s head and taking the youn
ger man’s breath away. He pulled back, letting go just long enough to remind him, “Y
ou have me all to yourself now, Idiot.”
Shu answered with a grin, stripping off his shirt and reaching for Eiri’s shirt bu
ttons. When Shu had the shirt open, he ran his hands up from Eiri’s waist, spreadi
ng his fingers over every inch of the writer’s chest and sliding his fingers under
the shirt where it still clung to his shoulders and pushing it off his arms. Ei
ri obliged him by leaning forward enough to finish removing the shirt. Shu trail
ed his fingers over Eiri’s bare arms, caressing his skin.
Eiri consumed Shu’s lips and ran his hands over Shu’s back. Goosebumps of anticipati
on sprang up on the younger man’s sides. Shu’s hands reached for his pants. Pressed
together, half-naked was how K found them. The kissing stopped.
“OH! Excuse me,” the tall man said in English. Eiri looked up in surprise and deep a
nnoyance. Long bits of blond hair hung around the man’s face, loosened from the lo
ng ponytail that sprouted from the back of his head. He wore sun glasses, a whit
e shirt tucked into khaki slacks, a blue tie at half-mast, a shoulder holster wi
th a large pistol, and a rifle, and a sub-machingun.
Why is this man standing in my house and why does everyone I know walk in and ou
t of here and use this house like it’s a train station!! “GET. OUT. NOW.”
Eiri moved one hand to prevent Shu’s hands from completing their self-appointed mi
ssion. Shu blushed, realizing they’d been interrupted. He had a look of shock on h
is face before he sagged, putting the top of his head against Eiri’s bare chest.
“Sorry, I can’t do that,” K said. Switching to Japanese, he announced, “I’m going to stay
here and protect Shindou-kun.”
Eiri frowned. “From what?” He hoped that the gun-toting lunatic couldn’t give him a go
od reason.
Shuichi chuckled weakly, turning toward his manager. “Uh, K-san, uh . . . you don’t
need to . . . be here.”
K frowned at the boy and strode forward, offering Eiri a piece of paper, pulled
from his pocket. “Yes, I do,” he replied.
Eiri took the paper and read it. It was a death threat. He had to admit that tha
t was a good reason. He asked K, in English, “Who knows about this?”
K shook his head. He answered in Japanese, “It just came to NG studios. We’re arrang
ing body guards for the tour, but until then, I’ll be here.” K grinned, drawing and
chambering a round in his favorite handgun.
***
Tadaima = I’m home. Standard response should be Okaeri = welcome home.
***
Author’s Note: This is kind of a holding chapter, setting up for the next action.
I hope it’s enjoyable, anyway. Sorry to set up a lemon and mess it up for them, bu
t that’s life!

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684

*Part 10: Thursday*
Eiri woke up in a really bad mood. K’s untimely interruption had soured the previo
us evening— not to mention the bad news he’d come with! Then, Shuichi had had nightm
ares about people shooting at him. Eiri figured he’d had *maybe* two hours’ sleep. K’s
deep snoring was an atrocious sound. A nightmare of his own had woken him last.
His bedside ashtray was full. He needed more cigarettes, damn it. He was sick w
ith worry. He hoped the stress didn’t affect his health so badly that he wound up
in the hospital again. He hated that place. He had planned to spend today doing
something with Shuichi. Now that was spoiled, too. It all added up to a very bad
day.
Shu whimpered beside him, reaching out for him in his sleep. Eiri put his hand o
n Shu’s hair and he settled. How did he remain such an innocent? He wasn’t, really;
he just looked and acted like it. So much had happened to him that could have, *
should have* altered Shuichi’s world view. He just seemed to be able to maintain t
he same childish naivety, despite what had been done to him; a belief that most
people were good or kind. Eiri’s eyes narrowed in sudden determination, watching o
ver his sleeping lover. *I* am the one who is wise to the world and I will make
certain that nothing bad happens to Shindou Shuichi.
Who would want to kill the kid? Eiri considered the problem. Rabid fans? Some tr
aditionalist against pop music? Maybe someone with a prejudice against gays? Miy
amoto? Would he go that far? That idea led to another can of worms, so to speak.
Since Eiri and Shuichi’s relationship was public knowledge, it may be one of Eiri’s
rabid fans. He shook his head. He had witnessed some of the lengths fans went t
o just to see either of them, or to get an autograph. If one of them had become
obsessed and jealous . . . What a tangle.
Then there was the tour to consider. K said that professional body guards were b
eing hired for the tour. Security had better be a big concern, Eiri thought sour
ly. In his mind, there was no longer any doubt that he would travel with the ban
d.
At 7:22, he finally decided there was no longer any point in staying in bed. He
rubbed tired eyes and got up for the day.
---
Eiri was puttering around the kitchen, eating some leftover take-out for breakfa
st, when K came in, wearing wrinkled clothes and looking sleep-mussed. “Coffee?” He
asked, sniffing the air.
“Mugs are there.” Eiri pointed to the cupboard over the coffee maker and leaned back
on the counter, eating.
K poured and drank some coffee. Then he turned around grinning and cheerily said
, “Good morning!”
Eiri snorted disdainfully and said, “’Morning.” He finished off his breakfast and told
K, “There are more leftovers in the ‘fridge. Help yourself.” He glanced at the clock
on the microwave. It read 8:19. “Shuichi should be up soon. I’ll be in my office.” He
put his plate and chopsticks in the sink and took his coffee with him.
“Wait,” K said in English. “Will you be touring with the band?”
“Yes.”
“Oh no! I lost the bet,” he said. He sounded overly cheerful.
Eiri spun on him angrily. “Shuichi gets a death threat and you’re worried about a st
upid bet at work!?!”
“I’m taking that very seriously,” K said, in an authoritative tone. Looking into his e
yes, Eiri could tell it was true. “This morning, we have a team repairing some rec
ent sabotage to Bad Luck’s tour bus. It is not a joke.” He drew his ever-present han
d gun from its holster and caressed it disturbingly. His blue eyes acquired a ma
levolent shine that spoke ill for those who crossed him.
Sabotaging the tour bus was certainly not a joking matter. Security teams were o
nly one step, though. “Have the police been called?” Eiri asked sharply.
“Yes. They have the original note, too. NG is co-operating with them.”
Eiri nodded. “I have some more information for them. Who do I call?” K walked forwar
d to hand him a police detective’s business card from his shirt pocket. Eiri took
it. “Has Tohma returned?”
K shook his head ‘no’. Eiri realized K’s hair was down. He must have taken out the pon
ytail to sleep. “He is supposed to come to his office at 10:00 today. I have left
messages so he will know what is happening.”
Eiri nodded again and retreated to his office. In the hallway, he could hear Shu
singing in the shower. It sounded like bits of SuperDrive, “. . . don’t forget to s
mile again . . . I just want to keep on dancing forever.” Eiri smiled. Amidst a de
ath threat and nightmares of assassins, the kid could sing about smiling and dan
cing. Eiri shook his head. I really don’t deserve him, he thought for the thousand
th time. [1]
About half an hour later, Eiri had sent the police detective, Yoshiro Mamaru-san
, an e-mail with an attached file of information including names of enemies or p
otential suspects complete with any contact information and a short note about e
ach. He had also given the detective Mizuki’s contact information so that they cou
ld talk to her and access his fan mail at the publishing office. Since the media
had staked out the apartment and broadcast its location on national news, a lot
of their fan mail had been coming here. He would have to contact the post offic
e about holding onto it. It probably wasn’t safe to open right now. Besides, they’d
both be gone for at least a week—maybe even the whole month. Eiri sent one last e-
mail to Mizuki, with Yoshiro-san’s contact information and warned her that he woul
d be in touch and why. She’ll love that, he thought sarcastically.
He hit ‘send mail’ about the time that Shuichi came in, yawning. The singer was dres
sed in a black Nittle Grasper t-shirt with the band members outlined in silver a
nd loose shorts with suspenders. He had a towel draped around his neck and Eiri
could see that his hair was still damp. It had that slightly-limp, not-so-fluffy
quality to it that it only attainted when wet, and it was a darker shade of pin
k when wet. Shuichi was humming SuperDrive. He took his place on the stool besid
e Eiri’s desk. Eiri looked at him.
“Good morning!” He said exuberantly. Eiri winced. His ears were always more sensitiv
e to sound when he was sleep-deprived. “Ooo. Sorry,” Shu said in an exaggerated whis
per. “Eiri? Didn’t you get any sleep?” Shu jumped up and stood behind him to rub his s
houlders.
“Not much,” he replied, leaning into Shu’s fingers. Obligingly, his lover dug his fing
ers into sore muscles, coaxing out the tension.
“K said I’m not allowed to go anywhere,” Shuichi pouted. Eiri stayed quiet, relaxing u
nder his touch. “I wanted to go out and now . . .” His voice caught in a sob and he
sniffled.
Eiri pulled away. “Shut up. Don’t you dare cry about not going out!” He was incensed.
How could the younger man not understand the gravity of his situation? Someone w
anted to kill him! Eiri was concerned about his safety at a concert with securit
y teams and body guards. He let his worry loose and lit into the singer, “There is
no way you are leaving here, unless I’m sure you’ll be safe!”
The younger man’s eyes swelled with impending tears, but he was smiling. “You care a
bout me so much!” Shuichi latched onto him, hugging his arms to his chest, while h
is small body spilled over Eiri’s lap.
“Ug! Get off! Of course I care, Idiot!”
K was suddenly standing in the doorway. “I’m glad we agree that no one’s going anywher
e today,” he announced with a smile.
Have I *no* privacy? Eiri wondered angrily. He looked up at K from his desk chai
r/Shuichi prison. “What do you mean, ‘no one’s going anywhere’? I’m almost out of cigarett
es.”
K whistled, polishing his gun. “No one,” he repeated, happily.
“And you,” he said, directing his comment to Shuichi, “Let. Go.” He pushed his lover off
, forcibly. He was in no mood for cosseting. This was bad. He didn’t think he coul
d tolerate K’s barging-into-rooms, Shuichi’s whining and pouting over being grounded
, worry over the death threat, a headache from lack of sleep, and NO CIGARETTES!
It was unthinkable! His stomach tightened in warning of his stress level. He gl
ared at both of the other men in the room and left to find his pills.
Shuichi hit the floor on his butt, but quickly popped up again, wiping his shirt
sleeve across his eyes and nose. “You could call Mika to bring you some cigarette
s,” he offered.
Eiri rolled his eyes. He brushed past K. There was another headache. He hadn’t tal
ked to Mika since Sunday and he felt just the slightest bit guilty about that. H
e consoled himself with the fact that he had told her, ‘if you need me,’ which certa
inly implied that she could contact him. Since she hadn’t, she must be okay. On th
e other hand, he couldn’t think of anyone else who would run the errand for him. H
e frowned.
“You could invite her for lunch?” Shuichi said, following him, testing Eiri’s acceptan
ce of his suggestion. Eiri sighed. The alternative was worse. “Maybe she talked to
Tohma this morning. Wouldn’t you like to know?” Shuichi prodded.
Eiri rummaged around in the bathroom drawer. He couldn’t find his pills, so he con
sidered the question. Actually, he would like to know. “Fine,” he said grumpily. “I’ll c
all her.” He brushed past Shuichi and headed into the bedroom.
“Hey!” Shuichi started. He stepped back when Eiri turned his golden gaze on the sing
er, but Shu stood his ground this time, angrily setting his hands on his hips.
“What?” Eiri knew his voice was cold and tight with pent-up frustration and anger.
Shu frowned back at him, leaning forward to stick his face in Eiri’s way. “You bette
r ask her nicely or she won’t help you out, you know!” Eiri knew he was right but di
dn’t want to admit it, so he glared, and continued his search, looking around the
bedside table. A rattle from behind made him turn. Shuichi was holding his presc
ription bottle, watching him to see if he’d stuck a nerve.
He had. Eiri stepped forward with his hand out, “Give it to me,” he ordered.
Shu’s face crumpled as he place the bottle in his hand. “You’re not taking care of you
rself, again, are you?” The singer sank down, folding his knees up and sitting on
his butt in the doorway and his tears started again. Eiri ate two pills, swallow
ing them dry. “It’s my fault, isn’t it?” Shuichi moaned. “All this is going on and you . .
. you’re getting sick again, aren’t you? Eeeeiiriii!” Shuichi buried his face in his
hands.
Why did Shuichi pick the worst times to have emotional break downs? Never mind;
he has them all the time, Eiri thought. Some of the time, it was just more incon
venient. Like now. He felt so tired, physically and emotionally. He snapped the
medicine lid shut and dropped the container into his pant’s pocket. He ruffled Shu
ichi’s pink hair, in a cursory apology and stepped over him.
He pushed past K, who was standing in the hallway eavesdropping, and he went to
the phone. He dialed, trying to keep his bad mood under control. Gritting his te
eth, he listened to the sharp, digitalized ringing. Mika’s voice mail kicked in. E
iri found it easier to talk to the unemotional, non-judgmental recording. He lef
t a brief message that wasn’t polite, exactly, but neither was it insulting. He ho
ped his sister followed through or he’d . . . damn. He’d only have two cigarettes un
til someone from NG came to pick them up for the concert, or he sneaked out the
window, that’s what!
Only a couple of minutes had passed when the phone rang. K moved toward the phon
e immediately and read the number off the phone’s small LCD screen. “It’s Seguchi-san,”
he said, picking up the receiver.
“Hey!” Eiri was annoyed all over again. K didn’t have the right to answer his phone! H
e moved forward, to take the phone away, but the conversation was too short.
“K, here. . . Yes. . . Okay. See you later!” K set the phone down again. “Seguchi Mika
-san said she will be coming for lunch at 11:00 and she will bring your cigarett
es.” K grinned at him. “What will we be having?”
***
[1] At the beginning of track 15 in the manga, Eiri says, “I don’t deserve anyone no
w. I gave up on deserving anyone a long time ago.” TokyoPop translated it differen
tly in their official version, but I like the fan-trans version cited here.
***

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684
Disclaimer: It’s Gravitation and so obviously shonen-ai. Gravitation doesn’t belong
to me—its characters are the property of Maki Murakami. I am simply a devotee. Ple
ase read, enjoy, and review. To those who have: Thank you!!

*Part 11: Lunch*
[Thursday]
K vetoed ordering food from any of their usual favorite places. His reasoning wa
s absolutely paranoid, conspiracy-theory stuff, but Eiri didn’t argue about it. Th
ere was a large salmon fillet that needed to be eaten up before they left. He de
cided to cook that along with some rice and veggies—those would need to be used up
, too. The last time he’d made a last-minute decision to travel with Bad Luck, the
y’d come home to a vile, rotted mess in the ‘fridge.
While Eiri busied himself in the kitchen, K urged Shuichi into working on his la
test song lyrics. Evidently, the spark of inspiration in Kyoto had produced some
thing worth working on. Shuichi sat at his computer with his head phones on and
Eiri could see him fiddling with the sound construction on his music editing pro
gram. K watched TV. The music video channel, Eiri noted sourly. At least K watch
ed it at a tolerably human volume.
Mika showed up right on time. She almost never bothered to knock or use the door
bell, but this time, the door was locked. She was a bit surprised when K opened
the door with a gun trained on her head, but once over the initial shock, she to
ok it in stride.
“Hello, everyone,” she said. She wore a tight, knee-length khaki skirt today with an
elegantly patterned floral-print silk blouse. It had ruffly cuffs that partiall
y hid her hands and a similarly-ruffly V neckline that obscured her cleavage. It
was a very feminine combination. She’d left her footwear at the door, this time.
Eiri was glad because her sharp heels had left scratches on the hardwood floors.
Shuichi slipped his headphones off, saved his work and shut down his computer. “He
llo, Mika-san. How are you?”
She didn’t answer him, tossing a plastic shopping bag onto the living room table. “H
ere are your cigarettes, brother dear. You’d better pay me back.”
“Yeah, thanks,” Eiri said. “Shuichi?” Knowing what he was asking, Shu jumped up to pay M
ika back for the cigarettes. Eiri wondered briefly whose wallet Shu would get th
e cash from, but it didn’t really matter.
“So, have you spoken with Seguchi Tohma-san?” K wanted to know.
Mika frowned a little. “I have. He jumped to take care of all the *important* deta
ils.” Eiri heard the bitterness in her voice and the special emphasis on ‘important’.
He guessed that Tohma didn’t think his wife fell into that category.
K nodded. Either the man didn’t know about the tense nuances between the two Seguc
his or he purposefully chose to blind himself to them.
Shuichi returned quickly and handed Mika some bills which she pocketed, without
looking at them. The money wasn’t important to her. It was more like keeping score
between siblings: Eiri had done her a favor by listening and being there for he
r when she needed someone, now she was doing him a favor by bringing him the cig
arettes. It made them even but an expenditure of money would upset the balance.
Eiri dished up the food and brought it to the three in the living room. K sat at
ease, perhaps because he knew that Tohma would be personally over-seeing the de
tails when he could not. Shu watched Mika and K, moving his eyes back and forth
between them, uncertainly. His thoughts were so obvious; he wondered how much he
could or should say about family matters in front of K. Mika . . . looked like
she was cracking around the edges.
“Lunch is ready,” Eiri announced, setting two plates on the living room table. “Shu, h
elp me with the rest.” Shu ferried two more plates of food to the table while Eiri
asked their guests, “What would you like to drink?”
“More coffee, please,” K requested.
“Bourbon?” Mika queried, seriously. Shuichi’s eyes widened at her. Eiri just nodded.
“You can get your own,” Eiri told Shu, as the kid set their lunch on the table.
The younger man bounced off to the kitchen, declaring, “I’ll get K’s coffee, too, then
.” The two of them fixed drinks, moving around each other in the kitchen with prac
ticed ease. Shu had juice and Eiri popped open a beer. K and Mika accepted their
drinks. Eiri and Shuichi sat. They all began eating in silence. Shuichi’s eyes ke
pt flicking from one to another, waiting for the tension to break. When he could
n’t take it anymore, he drew breath to speak, but Mika beat him to it.
“Eiri, I don’t want you to go on this tour.”
He shook his head. “Tough. I’m going.”
Mika’s lips tightened. “Your publicist turned up a death threat in your fan mail and
another one was sent to Shindou-kun at NG today. The police believe these lette
rs are all related.” K frowned at her while he ate. Had K known about that?
“So, I’ll be extra safe among the extra security surrounding Bad Luck,” Eiri argued.
Mika raised her voice, “With both of you in the same place, twice as likely to be
in danger!”
Shu started crying. “I don’t want either of us to be in danger! Why does someone wan
t to hurt us? Eeeeiirrrrriiii!”
Eiri looked at his sister and felt his voice drop by a few degrees. “I’m staying wit
h Shuichi.” Shuichi sniffled and sobbed.
Mika harrumphed, but dropped her eyes and started eating again. She knew how to
pick her battles. “Will you please stay back stage?” She looked down at her plate wh
en she said it. Eiri decided that the request wasn’t unreasonable, so he agreed. S
he seemed surprised by her quick win.
Eiri raised his eyebrow at her. “Mika, I’m not suicidal,” anymore, he added silently. “I
have a lot to live for and no intention of dying anytime soon.” His eyes strayed
sideways to his lover, whose emotions had taken a sharp turn. Shu looked at him
with tear-filled adoring blue-violet eyes, chewing on his own shirt. Eiri averte
d his gaze, continuing to speak to Mika, “staying back stage and out of danger sou
nds good to me.” The determination crept into his voice again, when he said, “I want
to be there for Shuichi,” the one I love. If I can prevent any harm from coming t
o him, I will. If anything happens, I must be there, with him, Eiri told himself
.
Mika watched him with a sad, knowing little smile. That look said, ‘I know what yo
u’re thinking. I see your love for him.’ It was also bitterly jealous. She only nodd
ed, acknowledging the unspoken feelings.
Shuichi was not capable of containing himself. He heard the unvoiced sentiments
in Eiri’s words as clearly as Mika had. He just always expressed himself more volu
bly than normal people. “Eiri,” he cried. With happy tears, he threw his arms around
his lover’s neck. “I love you!!”
Eiri squeezed him once, briefly. “I know,” he said warmly. With a note of command, h
e ordered, “Now sit down and eat.” The conversation was a little awkward with K’s blue
eyes watching them intently, but everything that had been said or done here had
already been known to Bad Luck’s crazy gun-toting manager.
Mika tossed back her alcohol and changed the subject. “Tohma said he’d send a car at
5:00 tomorrow to pick the three of you up. Shuichi-kun, you’ll be taken for stage
prep immediately. Eiri, you’ll probably want a book, or something. The concert wo
n’t start until 7:00.”
He snorted. He might bring a book, but he doubted he’d actually get any reading do
ne. Reading required a modicum of thinking and Eiri wasn’t sure if he could spare
any thought for someone else’s inconsequential written words today.
Mika finished eating and sat back. Reaching into the purse at her feet, she loca
ted cigarettes and lighter. “By the way,” she said, lighting up, “I saw something that
may interest you, Eiri.” She reached into her purse again, extracting a newspaper
clipping with a small picture at the bottom. She passed it across the table to
her brother. “Today’s society column mentioned that the grand-daughter of Eiko’s found
er, Kunikida-san, is getting married to a Mikuno Akira.”
Kunikida-san, *that’s* the name of the old guy who thanked me for coming to Eiko P
ublishing’s 25th anniversary party, Eiri thought. He accepted the paper, telling M
ika, “Yes, that is interesting.” Here’s the last piece of the puzzle, he thought. The
picture showed a demure young woman and a young business man sitting together. T
he column noted that Kunikida-san’s grand-daughter, Akiko, was his only heir. Coin
cidentally, Mikuno Akira was the eldest Mikuno and was ‘also involved in the publi
shing business.’ Conspiracy unveiled, Eiri thought, satisfactorily. He made a ment
al note to share the information with Mizuki, later. A wedding and a merger all
in one. He wondered if the publishing company deal was written into the official
dowry documentation.
***
Author’s Note: Well, K. was very quiet, but I guess he was busy stuffing his face
and watching the scene. ;-) The questions are being answered and this fic will b
e wrapping up pretty soon. Are you looking forward to the concert??

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684

*Part 12: Concert*
[Friday]
K was a nuisance and a menace, as far as Eiri was concerned. All Thursday evenin
g and all Friday morning and afternoon, K had stayed close to Shuichi. Eiri want
ed to spend time with his lover, but he didn’t want to be watched, either. Instead
, he spent his time isolating himself and pushing Shu away. Eiri was certain the
situation wasn’t fun for Shuichi or himself, but K seemed to be in his element.
At precisely 5:00, the expected car arrived. It was a limousine with an escort o
f five professional-looking bodyguards in black suits, white shirts, black ties,
and sunglasses, plus a chauffer. A team of four burly men surrounded Eiri and S
hu, when they stepped out of the apartment. A fifth man stood by the car, watchf
ully. They all moved quickly and alertly from the apartment door to the car and
from the car to the heavily guarded door marked ‘Back Stage’. Shuichi had been whisk
ed away by one pair of guards to be painted, dressed, and fussed over. K went wi
th Shu, probably for a last-minute pep-talk with the band. Eiri’s pair of bodyguar
ds were set to guard the dressing room door, wherein Eiri lounged on a couch, sm
oking. He didn’t know where the fifth guard went.
Tohma sat across from him, sitting up straight with one knee on top of the other
and his hands in his lap. He wore a dark purple suit with pinstripes, a black s
hirt, black half-boots with black side zippers, and his trademark black hat. He
looks happy and healthy, Eiri thought. Seeing his brother-in-law’s smiling face ma
de him feel bad for his sister. There was a strange silence between them. Tohma
had been Eiri’s friend for a long time, and in some ways, Eiri wanted to ask him a
bout the new person in his life that Mika had hinted at. In another sense, Tohma
was betraying Mika. If Eiri admitted knowing this, or discussed it, did he some
how condone Tohma’s actions or share Tohma’s guilt? Past ‘hello’, what could they talk a
bout? While Tohma was on his quiet little get-away vacation, there were all kind
s of things Eiri had wanted to speak with his friend about. Now, most of it fled
his mind, under the stresses of the current events.
Eiri was saved— sort of— when Sakano came in. The producer was having an attack of n
erves. The man adjusted his glasses, and wiped the sweat off his forehead nearly
continuously, using a wide white handkerchief. Directing his frantic babbling t
oward Tohma, Sakaono voiced concerns about everything from a minor sound system
malfunction, to the would-be assassin offing the lead singer in the middle of th
e concert. Eiri gritted his teeth, severely annoyed. He wished he did not have t
o tolerate this . . . nervous wreck of a human being. He would not allow anythin
g to hurt Shuichi! He refused to let morbid possibilities worm their way into hi
s mind.
“Sakano-san,” Tohma said, smiling easily. Tohma stood to pat the producer’s shoulder,
reassuringly. “Everything will be fine. There is a technician working on the speak
er. He said it would be repaired in plenty of time. Someone just pulled a wire l
oose when the cords were tripped over.” Tohma glanced at Eiri. It was probably a s
imple task for NG’s president to notice Eiri’s tightened jaw muscles and a slight tw
itch in the writer’s right eye. “Why don’t you go check in on the opening act, Sakano-
san?” Tohma made it sound like a suggestion, but the producer took it for the orde
r it was.
The man bowed and nodded. “Of course, Boss, right away!”
A moment later, Bad Luck came in, Shuichi leading with a spinning leap. Hiro and
Fujisaki trailed after him. Shu was pumped up with the adrenaline of his impend
ing performance. The other two band members were more subdued than they usually
were before curtain-call. Eiri could tell that all three were trying to get them
selves revved up and put on bright faces for the show tonight.
Tohma smiled at all of them. “You all look great! This will be a terrific concert!”
He patted Shuichi’s shoulder once, saying, “Do your best, Shuichi-kun.” Tohma’s tone alm
ost sounded like a threat, Eiri thought. Shu nodded, confidently holding up a ‘vic
tory’ hand sign. [1] Tohma smiled, his eyes crinkling. “If you’ll excuse me, I need to
find Ryuichi,” he said, and left.
Eiri saw that when Shu moved his head, the kid’s hair didn’t move. Ick. Eiri hated i
t when the make-up people did that to Shu’s hair. He grimaced. He liked to touch S
hu’s hair and it calmed both of them, but he wouldn’t touch it when that goop was in
it. It felt awful; stiff and a little sticky. Shu had also been covered in glit
ter tonight. Even in the moderate glow of the ordinary fluorescent lights, Shu’s s
kin and hair cast sparkles around the room. A quick glance at the others confirm
ed that all three band members had been liberally glittered.
Shu’s concert clothes were normally skimpy, but tonight . . . Mmm. He wore a pair
of black leather short-shorts, a belly-baring, cropped-short, short-sleeved shir
t covered in colored sequins, and a black long coat. The coat’s sleeves were sheer
fabric ending in an opaque shiny black fabric for the cuffs with large sparkly
buttons and multi-colored sequin trim running around the cuffs. The rest of the
coat was the same shiny opaque stuff as the cuffs and the bottom had two rows of
the colored sequins. The open front had more large sparkly buttons that caught
and reflected light. The bottom of the coat must have been weighted or stiffened
somehow to flare out around the calf-hugging black boots with sequin trim aroun
d the tops that completed his ensemble. It really was too bad about the hair, Ei
ri thought, and the other people, because he wanted to touch his lover. A lot.
Hiro and Fujisaki looked good, too, but they paled in comparison to Shuichi’s shin
ing, exuberant presence. Hiro’s long, dark red hair looked like a disco ball it he
ld so much glitter. Like the singer, he wore a shirt of sequins, but his covered
more. He was complaining about it itching when he came in. The shirt was tucked
into relatively ordinary black leather pants and under those; he wore his usual
black boots which had been shined and polished. Fujisaki wore a sequin shirt, t
oo, but it was mostly covered by a short black jacket with silver braid across t
he front. It reminded Eiri of a marching band uniform. The keyboardist wore blac
k pants, too, and black boots along with a black neck collar. Fujisaki’s short bro
wn hair looked like it had been painted with glitter and goop until you couldn’t t
ell that it had ever been brown. It stuck up at weird angles, casting light from
the glitter into onlookers’ eyes. The three of them really would look great on st
age, Eiri thought.
He stabbed his cigarette out in the already-full ashtray. He crooked a finger at
Shuichi and the singer came to him, smiling happily. “Eiri! This is gonna be so g
ood! Did you peek at the crowd? There are already so many people here!”
Eiri smiled indulgently. Bad Luck had been at the top of the pop charts for two
years and it seemed as if Shu never tired of the attention. The singer still pee
ked out of the stage wings or through the curtain to catch glimpses of the audie
nce at every concert. Usually, he did it to look for people he knew in the crowd
, but tonight, Eiri would be watching Shu from the wings. Eiri pulled his lover’s
glittering body into his lap as soon as the kid was close enough to reach. “You lo
ok great,” Eiri whispered, sliding his hands under the coat and groping Shu’s butt.
Shuichi blushed bright red. “Eiri!” The kid laughed and leaned in to kiss him. Shu’s b
ody froze a moment in surprise when Eiri kissed him back, then relaxed as both o
f them poured themselves into the kiss.
“Hey!” Hiro objected, breaking off his quiet conversation with Fujisaki. “Don’t get carr
ied away in here!”
“We have a show to do in a few minutes,” Fujisaki added. “Shuichi-kun needs to be thin
king about his vocals, not—“ Hiro elbowed the keyboardist, cutting him off.
Eiri chuckled, letting Shuichi go. His young lover looked over-heated and his ey
es shined as much as the rest of him. As Shu moved off his lap, Eiri trailed his
fingers over the fabric of the long coat as it slithered off of him.
K walked in, giving everyone a glimpse of the bodyguards clustered in the hall. “F
alling Star is just taking the stage, now,” he told them. Falling Star was the all
-girl band that would be opening for them for the first month of the tour. Eiri
didn’t know much about them. He didn’t think Shu did, either. He had only heard Hiro
talking about them, earlier. “Everybody ready?” His booming voice brooked no argume
nts.
“Yeah!” The band yelled.
K stood there grinning, with his hands on his hips. “We just have to hope that Toh
ma can find Ryuichi before the duet!” The tall American laughed. Shuichi’s grin turn
ed weak. Hiro shook his head.
Fujisaki put a hand to his chin, considering. “Well, we could always save that for
the end. If we re-arrange the song schedule, we could—“
“Don’t worry,” K said in a burst of English. His eyes narrowed and he punched one larg
e fist into his other hand. “We *will* get him.” Shuichi let out a little, ‘eep’. Hiro s
hook his head again and Fujisaki shrugged.
---
Eiri was given a special spot in the wings to stand, flanked by his two appointe
d bodyguards. He was also given a hard metal stool, in case he chose to sit. He
had a decent view of the stage, but he wasn’t allowed to smoke here. Bad Luck move
d into place as Falling Star cleared the stage. From what Eiri could see in the
dim back stage lighting, all four of the young women were cute. They giggled as
they left, chatting to each other in high-pitched feminine whispers.
An MC [2] came out and made a brief introduction. Eiri doubted the man was heard
over the wild screams and chants of ‘Bad Luck! Bad Luck!’ The lights came up; momen
tarily blinding. The band members made their own light show with their flashy cl
othes. They kicked off the show with ‘Airplane,’ to showcase their latest number one
single and moved into older favorites, like ‘Rage Beat’, and ‘Sweet, Sweet Samba’. Eiri
thought ‘Airplane’ had started a little cold. Maybe the band had been too conscious
of the danger of being up on the open stage at first, but they soon lost themse
lves in the music. Shuichi was pure, shining, and beautiful, singing his heart i
nto the music.
Eiri, on the other hand, was turning himself into a wreck. He wanted a cigarette
in the worst way. There were a handful of uniformed policemen in front of the s
tage and one or two wandering around back stage. A line of bouncers kept the scr
eaming crowd at bay and off the stage. Shuichi’s bodyguards stood on the opposite
wing of the stage from him and his two goons. Despite all this trained security,
Eiri scanned the crowds as if he, personally would make the difference. Wheneve
r the body guards moved, or a police radio crackled, he focused on it. Was there
trouble? Had they caught someone with a gun, or found another saboteur near the
vehicles?
Eiri knew he was jumpy. He didn’t realize just *how* jumpy until Tatsuha said, “Anik
i,” [3] and he nearly leaped out of his skin. How embarrassing, Eiri thought. He c
ould usually control himself better than this! A body guard stepped between the
brothers, until Eiri confirmed Tatsuha’s identity.
Eiri sat down on his stool, still wanting a cigarette. He fondled his lighter in
stead. Tatsuha laid an arm across Eiri’s shoulders and Eiri noticed that his young
er brother held the infamous rabbit, Kumagorou, in his other hand. “I suppose you’re
the reason that half of NG was out looking for Ryuichi?”
Tatsuha grinned. “Yeah. That’s why I’m back stage, too. Ryu-kun had reserved a seat fo
r me, but when we got here, he was swept away to makeup and wardrobe. I was swep
t here.” He leaned over some more, to be heard only by Eiri, “What’s with all the musc
le-men? I was frisked twice, getting through here.”
“Death threats. Body guards,” Eiri said, succinctly. Tatsuha whistled. The brothers
watched the concert. As the music continued and nothing bad happened, Eiri began
to relax. He wasn’t sure if Tatsuha’s presence had anything to do with relaxing, or
if his muscles were just tired of being strung so damnably tight, but it was a
comfort to have sympathetic company.
About halfway through the concert’s scheduled run-time, K flashed a hand signal fr
om the other wing and produced Sakuma Ryuichi. The singer was dressed in the sam
e black-with-sequins theme as Bad Luck. Seeing him, Tatsuha said quietly, “I just
want to eat him up!” ‘No! Virtual’ finished in flashing array of lights and keyboard t
hat faded to black.
Dimmer lights came up and a spotlight settled on Shu. “We have a special treat for
all of you!” He smiled and sparkled while the crowd screamed and girls swooned. S
huichi held up his hand for quiet, holding the crowd with his personality. “Sakuma
Ryuichi and I,” more excited screaming, “have composed a duet we’d like to sing for y
ou!” Another spotlight hit the stage and Sakuma made his entrance, moving to stand
with Shuichi. The crowd surged. Eiri jumped to his feet as one of the bouncers
fell down and the sharp report of a gun sounded loudly from near the foot of the
stage. The band members went flat against the stage, as they’d been coached. The
curtain fell, protecting the band from sight.
There was terrified screaming, now, and another shot was fired. Spotlights cente
red on a pile of security, subduing the threat. Everyone could see, in the glare
of the lights that a gun was wrested away from a grey-haired man, face-down at
the bottom of a pile of people. A policeman produced handcuffs and the man was t
urned upright. Miyamoto!
Shuichi came running into Eiri’s arms, crying hysterically and rubbing face paint
onto the writer’s shirt and neck. Eiri didn’t mind. He held his lover, hugging him t
ightly. He almost stuck his fingers in Shu’s hair before he remembered the nasty g
oop. Instead, he ran his hands over Shu’s back, and under the shirt. The kid was s
weaty. The coat had been discarded earlier and Hiro had been right; the sequins
were scratchy. Eiri looked out at the audience. Paramedics and police were group
ed around the fallen bouncer. Eiri mentally shuddered, squeezing Shuichi to him.
That could have been my Shuichi. Thank god it wasn’t. Eiri didn’t know if the bounc
er had seen the danger and moved toward it, or if Miyamoto was just a bad shot.
Either way, Eiri thought, if ever Buddha listened to me, I hope that man’s life is
spared and that Miyamoto is punished . . . harshly.
Over all the noise and yelling, Eiri spoke to his lover, “It’s all over, now, Shu. T
he police are taking Miyamoto away. He’ll never bother us again.” Behind the curtain
, Tatsuha knelt next to Ryuichi, holding him. The other singer had fallen apart
in much the same manner Shuichi had; shocked and scared. “It’s okay,” Eiri repeated, p
artly for himself, partly for Shu. “It’s all over.”
***
[1] I don’t know what they call this V-fingered hand sign in Japan. In America, it
is used for ‘peace’ or for ‘victory’ depending on generation and on the situation. Vict
ory seems to suit, here.
[2] I don’t know if MC is universal, or some American adaptation. . . It stands fo
r Master of Ceremonies. It’s the announcer for a stage performance.
[3] Aniki = an old form of ‘big brother’, just in case you didn’t know. ; )
***

Ver. 1.0 thistle
Author: Aja
Hits: 3684

*Part 13: Epilogue*
[Monday, September 8]
Eiri woke up in his own bed for the first time in over two months. He stretched,
feeling Shuichi shift around beside him. It smelled like home. It was such a go
od feeling! No back aches, this morning, either. Eiri swore that hotel staff stu
ck rocks in the mattresses, chuckling all the while. Ugh. After three months of
touring with Bad Luck, with only a short visit home two months ago, it was a gre
at relief to know that there was no hurry today. The public would *not* be waiti
ng outside the door. They could both sleep in, today. Then again . . . Eiri reac
hed out and trailed his fingers across Shu’s naked shoulder.
Shuichi half-turned, looking at him with sleepy blue-violet eyes and a big smile
. “Mmmm. Eiri?”
Eiri smiled back at him. No face paint, this morning. No hair gook. No glitter.
Just pure naked Shuichi. Eiri turned Shuichi over, pulling him close and kissing
him.
---
It was afternoon by the time they decided to climb out of bed and settle in to b
eing at home again. When they came in last night, they had dumped their luggage
near the door and gone straight to bed. Looking over all of it during the day, i
t was surprising how much they had accumulated. They had each started the tour w
ith one suitcase, plus Eiri’s laptop. Shuichi had two more suitcases now, because
people kept giving him things. For some reason, the bratt felt obligated to keep
most of it. At least he threw away the ladies’ undergarments, Eiri thought. Howev
er, the stuffed animal collection was becoming especially annoying.
Eiri sighed. He didn’t feel like unpacking yet. Tohma had picked up their mail fro
m the post office and it set by the rest of their crap in a big paper bag. Eiri
decided they could sort through it over a leisurely brunch. He cooked and Shuich
i up-ended the bag of mail over the kitchen table. Shu had pretty much sorted it
into ‘mine’ and ‘yours’ piles by the time the food was ready. The kid talked the entire
time, verbally high-lighting names of people who had sent mail. There was a sma
ll stack in the middle of the table made up of things addressed to both of them.
“Shuichi, when you get your juice, would you grab my coffee?” Eiri set the plates on
the table, shoving the mail around a little to clear a spot.
“Sure. Oooo. One from Never Ending Dream, to both of us!” Shuichi remarked, setting
in the center pile. The singer shuffled another three letters in his hands, drop
ping them into his pile. Eiri snatched the pink Never Ending Dream envelope from
top of the mutual pile. Shuichi smirked at him and sauntered over to the refrig
erator for drinks, whistling ‘Time in My Heart’.
Privately, Eiri blamed the last letter from his publisher for all the trouble wi
th Miyamoto. Eiri *would NOT* be going to any more book-related parties with or
without Shuichi! Quickly, he ripped open the envelope. If necessary, he hoped he
could get rid of it before Shu tried to read it. Eiri scanned the flowery-scrip
ted letter, which invited him to a party in his honor, to celebrate Never Ending
Dream’s first book release to be number one on the best seller list. ‘Golden Sands’,
his last book title. He shredded the paper and its flowery script into tiny piec
es in his hands. Are the pieces too small to put together and read, he wondered?
Where can I hide them?
Shuichi broke off his whistling, setting the coffee in a little clearing between
stacks of mail before the writer. “So what was it?”
“It just informed me that ‘Golden Sands’ made number one on the best seller list,” Eiri
said blandly. He was a much better liar than Shuichi. A partial truth was the be
st way to pull it off. “We should bring the trash basket in here.”
“Here,” Shuichi said, sitting and handing him the bag the mail had been kept in. “I’ve b
een using this.” Eiri nodded and placed it between them, and to his right, on top
of some of the mail. He tossed the pink scraps into the bag, making a mental not
e to be certain that this bag found its way to the incinerator before Shuichi go
t too curious. “Why’d you rip it up, then?” Definitely, too curious.
Eiri frowned. “I’ve told you before; I don’t need or want accolades for my work.”
“Yeah, but . . . Eiri, people want to give them to you. Can’t you just, you know, ac
cept that?” Eiri met his lover’s earnest gaze across the table. Shuichi gestured vag
uely toward the hall. “It’s like all that stuff that people give to me. They just wa
nt me to see them. They can’t have a piece of me, because I’m all yours!” Shu grinned.
“They can listen to my music, and they can give me something from themselves. Tha
t’s enough for them, er, most of them.” Shuichi took a couple of bites of brunch, wa
tching him.
The singer was probably hoping to avoid another discussion about rabid fans. The
re had been several over the course of the tour. Eyebrows coming together, Eiri
thought about what he’d said. Sometimes Shuichi’s naivety held unexpected wisdom. “May
be you’re right,” he muttered.
Shuichi’s brows went up. “What was that, Eiri?” Shu mocked him, cupping one hand aroun
d his ear, “Did you say, ‘you’re right’??” Shuichi giggled and grinned at him.
“Shut up.” Shuichi laughed some more.
Once the mail had all been placed in stacks, Shuichi shuffled through his piles
to find the ones he wanted to read first. “It’s from Maiko,” he said, holding it up to
show him an envelope decorated with a strange doodle of . . . a dog? Shu’s sister
had a very odd sense of humor. The kid pulled out a newspaper clipping and a le
tter. He read the clipping first. “Eiri, read this!” Shuichi dangled it in front of
him, so he set down the mail he’d intended to open.
The headline read, “Would-be Killer Gets Maximum Sentence”. Eiri read through it. Mi
yamoto was found guilty and had been sentenced to life in prison for two counts
of assault with a deadly weapon, four counts of attempted murder, and he was cha
rged for assaulting police officer. The judge found Miyamoto to be ‘unremorseful’ fo
r his actions and because of the nature of his crimes; the public prosecutor had
argued that the author was ‘a danger to society’. Mixed with the profuse public out
cry against him, the judge had decided to invoke the maximum penalty. Though the
trial and sentencing had been completed in a near-record time frame for a crimi
nal case, the article noted that Miyamoto was appealing the sentence and the fin
al outcome may take years to settle. It didn’t really matter how long it took to a
rbitrate the man’s appeals. Eiri was confidant that Miyamoto would never get out o
f jail.
“Maiko said everyone’s well and they’d like us to visit when we get back.” Shuichi dropp
ed the note. “I’m glad Miymoto is in jail. I hope he stays there.”
“Me, too. It’s what he deserves.” Shu nodded once in agreement. Eiri wondered if Shu e
ver felt vindictive about Taki’s assault on him. Eiri would have liked to have see
n that bastard get thrown in jail, too.
“Here’s one I don’t recognize, but it’s addressed to both of us.” Shuichi held out another
envelope. Eiri took it. Kazekura? Hm. The return address listed was here, in To
kyo. He opened it and a snapshot photo fell out. It showed a large smiling man i
n a blue hospital gown, tucked into a hospital bed. At his bedside stood a prett
y young lady holding flowers. He passed it to Shuichi and read the note. In a fe
minine hand, the letter thanked them profusely for covering all of Kazekura Tomo
ko’s medical expenses and for sending the flowers. He was expected to make a full
recovery. The picture was of the bouncer that had been shot, three months ago, p
ictured with his daughter.
Eiri passed the note to Shuichi, who burst into tears over it. “That’s SO nice!” Both
of them had wanted to do something to thank the man. Paying his hospital bills h
ad been a simple matter, but important. The flowers had been Shu’s idea. The singe
r sobbed and sniffled, blurring his words. Lots of translation practice on Eiri’s
part allowed him to decipher what Shu was saying. “I’m so glad he’s okay. It says he’s g
onna be fine!” Shuichi climbed into Eiri’s lap, burying his face in his lover’s neck. “I
t could have been one of us. That bullet might have hit . . .”
“Shhh. Shuichi, he won’t hurt anybody anymore. He can’t.” Eiri laid his hand on Shuichi’s
soft hair. “Everything’s okay. Kazekura-san has probably already made his recovery.
No one else was harmed. Miyamoto will never get out of jail,” Eiri said, with the
voice of conviction.
“You’re right,” Shu said with a little more clarity.
“I usually am,” Eiri commented blithely. Shuichi giggled.
***
Author’s Note: I had to do some research on Japanese legal issues to complete this
epilogue. Essentially, capitol punishment was only an option for Miyamoto if so
meone had died, i.e. Miyamoto murdered the security guy. I wanted the poor guy t
o live, so I guess Miyamoto gets life in prison. That’s harsh. It’s worse than death
, in my opinion. (Especially when you look at Japanese prison conditions!) Sorry
, my bloodthirsty fans, but I couldn’t have him hanged. ^_^ Still, he’ll get what he
deserves, eh?
I am messing with the usual legal timeline . . . a sensational trial like this w
ould normally take an absolute minimum of six months, but I wanted it to coincid
e with the end of Bad Luck’s three-month-long tour. Artistic license at work! I ho
pe you liked it.


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