#ugeharu

Ugetsu blinked at the note taped on the front door looming in front of him. A party? Mafuyu hadn’t mentioned anything about a party when he had asked Ugetsu to come over.

Stiffly, he stood in the unfamiliar staircase and listened for any party-related noises from the apartment. But his only answer was the background humming of the hallway. Hesitant, he toyed with the idea of texting Mafuyu some excuse. He could always give his birthday present some other time.

Before he let the temptation get too big, he pressed the doorbell and a sharp buzz rang in the apartment. He had made a promise, after all.

Perhaps, with any luck, he had arrived before the party.

When the front door swung open and Ugetsu found himself face to face with a short-haired blonde not-Mafuyu, two thoughts immediately entered his head. First, despite Mafuyu’s directions and the note on the door, he must have accidentally come to the wrong place.

The second thought – swiftly following its forerunner – was a cold shower of recognition that froze him in place and dropped the bottom of his stomach.

“Oh”, a soft sound escaped him before he could trap it inside.

It seemed the blonde man had arrived at the same discovery as him. Gaping at him slightly and his amber eye wide as saucers, he stood in the doorway.

Ugetsu wanted to flee. As soon as possible, by any means necessary. An earthquake. A meteor. A secret trapdoor under his feet.

No, he thought, I can’t look back. If I look back, I’m lost.

“Uhh…,” the blonde man said, emerging from his stupor fist, “ahh, you must be – ”

“Yes, hi,” Ugetsu interrupted him. “I’m here to drop off Mafuyu’s present.”

He held out a white rustling paper bag with I ❤️ NY printed on the side. The man glanced at it but wouldn’t reach for it.

“He told me to come here.”

Don’t look back. This was his trial by fire. He had taken a fourteen-thousand-mile trip to another continent to not look back.

“Haruki,” a familiar deep voice carried from behind the blonde man, “who is it? If it’s the neighbors, I already told them to – “

Akihiko’s face appeared over the man’s shoulder. Under other circumstances, Ugetsu would have laughed at how his eyes widened and mouth slacked open. Under circumstances that didn’t involve Akihiko’s arm casually around someone else’s waist.

Haruki.

So, that was his name. A soft name for a soft face.

“Anyway,” Ugetsu said, feeling how his words cut the thick air, “here.”

Again, he nudged the paper bag towards his audience, now doubled in volume and social discomfort.

“It’s for Mafuyu. I have to get going, my ride is waiting downstairs.”

There was no ride other than his own car, but no one needed to know that.  

Akihiko looked at the gift bag dangling in Ugetsu’s outstretched hand like it was a foreign object from outer space. Ugetsu wanted to exclaim at the stupid look on his face.

Please, just someone take this damn thing and let me go.

Forces of nature. Astronomic events. Mr. Secret Trapdoor Handler.

If he had to stand here for much longer, he would look back. That night. The hand leaving his. The invisible vines strangling him and blurrying his vision.

“It’s alright.”

Ugetsu looked up at the blonde man’s – Haruki’s – gentle voice, just now realizing his gaze had slid to stare at the linoleum floor. Haruki gave him a small smile and pushed Akihiko’s arm off around his waist.

“You should join us. I’m sure Mafu-chan has been waiting for you.”

“It’s fine, really. My ride…”

The smile softened when it reached the amber eyes. There was something about it that unexpectedly loosened the squeeze around Ugetsu’s chest a little.

“At least have some cake and drinks. There’s plenty.”

Ugetsu glanced at Akihiko. All he received was s shrug of shoulders.

“Then,” he said, squeezing the handle of the gift bag, “I guess, for a moment.”

The heavy front door clanked shut behind his back, sealing him in comfortable homely warmth. Distant chatter carried from the apartment. The entryway had been nearly overtaken by a messy assortment of shoes. Most of them looked like something high schoolers would wear. Stiffly, Ugetsu toed off his pair and tried to leave them somewhat neatly on the edge of the chaos.

“Sorry, we’re out of slippers,” Haruki said with an apologetic smile. “And it’s a bit messy everywhere with the kids around.”

“No, it’s – “

Ugetsu loathed the hesitance in his voice. He cleared his throat and straightened up.

“It’s fine. I don’t mind.”

Akihiko snorted.

“You could say that again. Really, you should see this guy’s place.”

His jibe was rewarded with a frown from Haruki.

“Come on now,” he said and shooed Akihiko along the hallway, “you were supposed to help the kids with the karaoke machine.”

Ugetsu stifled a cringe.

“You better keep the microphone away from Akihiko. I doubt his vocals have improved since high school.”

The annoyed glare Akihiko threw at him restored some of the lost confidence in Ugetsu. He still got it.

The apartment looked like a color bomb had gone off. Bundles of bright balloons floated from the ceiling. Strips of colorful streamers dangled off the furniture. Hanging over the window was a big pastel banner that screamed HAPPY BIRTHDAY at Ugetsu’s face.

“Mafu-chan,” Haruki said, “there was someone looking for you at the door.”

The buzz of the conversation died down, and a crowd of curious gazes was glued to him. Mafuyu’s eyes widened.

“Ugetsu-san,” he said, his whole being visibly brightening, “you could make it.”

Ugetsu found himself smiling.

“Yes, despite your vague directions. You almost missed your present and souvenirs from the Big Apple.”

He handed the gift bag for the umpteenth time. He could almost see the small stars glittering around Mafuyu’s face when he cradled it in his arms.

“Thank you, Ugetsu-san.”

Compared to his entrance at the door, his debut in the living room was mercifully less stress-inducing. A small herd of teenagers was sitting on the sofa and crowding around the coffee table.

Ugetsu relaxed his shoulders and let a cloak of practiced calm settle over himself. One-on-one audiences were one thing but crowds he could handle.

“Uh, well, then,” Haruki said, looking around the room. “You need a seat! It’s a bit crowded, but – ”

Suddenly the concentration of people stirred into an awkward shuffle. The couch was cleared vacant except for one boy with dark hair that curled slightly at the tips. Silently he dragged himself to the corner of the sofa, leaving the opposite end for Ugetsu to reign over.

The rest of the kids settled on the floor in a half-circle. One of them – a boy with a poor dye-job that reminded Ugetsu of pudding – kept shamelessly staring at him.

“What would you like to drink?” Haruki chimed. “We have sodas and coffee. And tea. And water too, of course. And – though I’m not sure if it’s really…I think we have some beer, too, if you prefer something more…”

“Coffee is fine,” Ugetsu cut in, taking pity on him. “Preferably with Jim Beam, but I’m fine with black too if you’re fresh out of bourbon.”

Visibly relieved with a task at hand, Haruki gave a nervous-sounding little laugh and headed to the kitchen. Ugetsu wondered if he was silently regretting inviting him in already.

“I’ll get the cake,” Akihiko said and followed suit. “Might as well cut it now that everyone is here.”

And so Ugetsu was left in the midst of teenagers. Mafuyu seemed to have floated off somewhere in his thoughts and was absentmindedly tracing the I ❤️ NY slogan on the paper bag. Next to him was another dark-haired boy. He kept casting quick glares between Ugetsu and the surface of the coffee table. Ugetsu noticed he had strikingly blue eyes.

“So,” Pudding Head broke the silence, “who are you?”

Amused, Ugetsu arched his eyebrows at the tone that seemed to pay no heed to the fact that Ugetsu was older than him. He liked the kid already.

“I’m a friend of Mafuyu’s.”

The kid tilted his head in appraising.

“He’s never mentioned you, though.”

Ugetsu smiled.

“Oh? I was about to say the same about you.”

Mafuyu stirred back to the present and looked up from his gift.

“Ugetsu-san is a violinist,” he said as if that explained what was needed.

Pudding Head’s eyes widened.

“Violin? Like Beethoven and stuff?”

“Yes,” Ugetsu said, a bit coldly, “and stuff.”

“Are you any good?” Pudding Head asked.

Before Ugetsu could deliver a well-edged reply, Mafuyu beat him to it.

“Ugetsu-san just won a big competition in Russia. What was the – ” he trailed off, and the dreamy look returned to his eyes.

“Tchaikovsky,” Ugetsu filled in, glancing at Pudding Head for good measure, “and stuff.”

The kid leaned forward. His lively eyes were now gauging him with new intensity. Even Baby Blues had decided he was more interesting than the coffee table. Broodylocks seemed the only one not phased but was listening on silently.

“We’re on a band together,” Pudding Head went on and nodded at Broodylocks next to Ugetsu. “Me and Shizu-chan – ah, Shizusumi.”

Ugetsu glanced at the brooding boy. Yes, he definitely looked like a Shizu-chan.

“Uenoyama is helping out, too. A little. For a while.”

Baby Blues nodded solemnly. Ugetsu suddenly realized he remembered him from the live shows. So, this was the genius kid that Akihiko had sometimes talked about. Besides Mafuyu, of course, he added silently in his head.

“So,” Ugetsu asked, “are you any good?”

It seemed the question pleased Pudding Head. Gearing up to boast, he folded his arms and grinned confidently.

“We won a big competition, too, just recently. And we have a music video coming. And a big gig.”

The confident grin sharpened into a more challenging one as the kid tilted his head back and ever so slightly looked down on Ugetsu.

“You should come and see us.”

“We got an offer from a record company, too,” Uenoayama said, frowning at Pudding Head before going back to glaring at the coffee table. “But we’re still thinking about it.”

Pudding Head huffed and rolled his eyes.

“You better not keep them waiting for too long, you know. You’re not that special.”

The other boy stiffened visibly. He whipped his glare on full force at Pudding Head who – to his credit, Ugetsu had to admit – didn’t even flinch.

“I don’t remember asking for your opinion!”

Pudding Head’s grin turned almost predatory.

“That’s not how I remember it. Oh, Hiiragi what should I do?” he said, mockingly exaggerating a troubled tone and gestures. “Hiiragi, how do you know? Hiiragi, I’m so confused! Hiiragi, how are you so good at this?”

“I never you said you were good!”

Ugetsu made a mental note of Pudding Head’s name, Hiiragi, and tuned out the bickering. It sounded like it was merely just starting. His gaze roamed the apartment.

The wooden paneling and floorboards made him feel like he was enclosed in a homely nest. A chestnut, he thought absently. This is what a nest made out of chestnut would be like. The overall atmosphere was very – he searched for a suitable word – approachable. The room breathed. Nurtured. Everything seemed cared for, and they radiated that same energy back.

It certainly fit someone called Haruki.

So, this is where Akihiko had stayed back then, Ugetsu thought, quite not able to keep a note of bitterness at bay. No wonder.

No, don’t look back. You will get lost.

“Haruki, does this need more oomph?”

Akihiko’s voice caught Ugetsu’s ear from the kitchen. Instinctively, his gaze followed.

Don’t look. If I look –

The two of them were standing side by side at the counter. Akihiko was holding out a spoonful of dip. A bit taken aback, Haruki tasted carefully before nodding his approval. Akihiko grinned and swiped at the corner of Haruki’s mouth with his thumb.

– lost, I will get…lost.

Unable to take his eyes off, Ugetsu watched Akihiko’s arm find its way around Haruki’s waist again. Blushing, Haruki brushed a strand of blond hair behind his ear. He was saying something Ugetsu couldn’t make out.

“Ugetsu-san?”

Mafuyu’s voice snapped him back. The bickering around the coffee table had quieted, and everyone was looking at him. Mafuyu studied him closely.

“Hmm? What?”

“I asked if you found the record store you talked about in New York?”

“Ahh, that, yes.”

“Who buys records anymore?” Hiiragi said. “Just download an app.”

“If I ever want to fill my head with bubblegum instead of music with soul, I’ll be sure to ask for your app recommendations.”

Hiiragi bristled.

“What?!”

“Oi, let’s cut the cake!” Akihiko called from the kitchen.

Hiiragi threw Ugetsu a death glare, but Shizusumi led him away by the shoulders.

The kids crowded the dining table that was groaning with all kinds of snacks and treats. Chips and dips, gummy bears, sour candies, small sausage rolls, soda bottles. In the middle of it all, laid a square cake like a great whipped cream island topped with diced fruit.

Wisely Haruki and Akihiko took over the distribution of cake. Ugetsu heard Mafuyu say he preferred a corner piece because it had the most whipped cream.

After that, things started to get exceedingly out of control.

Ugetsu caught Akihiko’s wicked grin which turned out to be the one and only warning. But by then, it was already too late. With a shift swipe, Mafuyu’s precious corner piece came down in his face with a faint smack.

The whole room fell silent. Haruki froze in a horrified grimace. Uenoyama’s blue eyes widened comically. Hiiragi looked both surprised and impressed. The only one who once again didn’t seem phased was Shizusumi who was calmly forking down his own piece of the cake in the background.  

“Happy birthday, kid,” Akihiko said.

He clapped Mafuyu’s shoulder briskly, and a small piece of cake dropped off on Mafuyu’s hoodie. Ugetsu pursed his lips to keep from laughing. Eerily silent, Mafuyu scooped off some of the whipped cream covering his eyes.  

Akihiko’s grin faltered a little.

“Oi, Mafuyu, you want a napkin or – “

Splat.

Akihiko froze mid-sentence when Mafuyu mushed a handful of cream over his face. Ugetsu nearly chewed through his tongue to hold back his snort of laughter. Mafuyu didn’t seem to think such niceties were needed. He threw his head back in open-mouthed, whipped cream laughter that rang bright and sweet in the room.

Gradually, Akihiko’s whipped cream mask begun to quiver. Carefully he blinked. His tongue darted out to swipe at the fluffy smears.

“Good aim,” he said, a grin in his voice.

Haruki finally stirred from his wide-eyed horror and sprung to action. He snatched a roll of paper towels and started to hand out thick tufts.

“Honestly,” he said, frowning but not really sounding angry, “do that in someone else’s kitchen, both of you. Here, Mafu-chan, let me help you, you’ve got some in your – Akihiko, stop eating it off your face, use a napkin!”

Carefully, Haruki wiped Mafuyu’s face, holding him still by the chin to keep from making the mess any worse. Akihiko was scrubbing his face with a handful of napkins. Hiiragi and Uenoyama seemed to be edging to an argument again. In the background, Shizusumi was quietly carving himself a second chunk of the cake.

Ugetsu watched the chaos unfold from the sofa, wondering if this would be an appropriate gap for him to go on his way.

“You like the corner piece, too, right?”

A shadow was suddenly looming over him.

Akihiko stood there holding two cups of coffee and balancing plates loaded with cake on top of them. Gingerly he landed the dishes on the coffee table and sat next to Ugetsu. He caught a waft of the familiar aftershave.

Don’t look back. If I look back, I’m lost.

He cradled the steaming mug in both hands. Wafts of the strong aroma tickled his nose. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Akihiko fiddling with his cup, his fingers tapping lightly against the ceramic.

“Thanks for coming,” Akihiko broke the silence first. “Mafuyu kept checking his phone the whole night. I had a feeling it was you.”

Ugetsu hummed down at the dark surface of his coffee. He was glad he had come, too. Truth be told, he had missed Mafuyu.

Rain and snow were never far removed from each other. Offsprings of two different seasons. It took water to understand another water.

“Someone needs to tell him that highway isn’t a direction.”

Akihiko chuckled and rested his coffee mug on his knee. A familiar habit Ugetsu recognized.

But he shouldn’t look back. He needed to stop tempting the path he had set for himself.

“So, how was it? New York.”

“Dirty, expensive, and rude.”

“Your kinda place, then.”

“Exactly.”

At the dining table, Hiiragi was explaining something while conducting his animated speech with a fork. Mafuyu still had smears of whipped cream in his hair. Haruki was carving him a new piece of cake from the corner.

“So,” Ugetsu said, “he seems nice. The gentle and pure type.”

The topic made his heart pound in his chest. What was he doing? He didn’t want to talk about this, about him. He wasn’t supposed to be looking back.

Akihiko’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed a mouthful of coffee. The mug came to rest on his knee again. His thumb smoothed the arch of the handle.

“He is.”

“Do you love him?”

The question was out before Ugetsu could shove it back down his throat, and he silently cursed at himself. But Akihiko didn’t flinch at his frankness. For a while, he just quietly looked at Haruki fuss in the middle of the kids.

“I do,” he finally replied.

Ugetsu glanced at him. He noticed there was a smudge of cream under his chin that had gone unnoticed.

“Good.”

The coffee was strong and scalding when he took a careful sip. Just the way he liked it.

“What about you?

“Hm? Oh, I don’t think Haru-chan and I are there yet. We just met.”

Akihiko rolled his eyes.

“You know what I mean.”

“I’m too busy for love,” Ugetsu said with a dramatic sigh. “I barely have room in my calendar for an occasional beau.”

Akihiko frowned at him, mid-sip.

“What happened to Mr. Viola?”

Ugetsu had broken things off with the violist before the competition in Russia. The guy hadn’t been exactly surprised or even argued for staying together. He supposed not returning any calls or messages for two weeks put a wet blanket on romance.

“He said that my Tchaikovsky sounded pitchy. There’s no way I would let the guy in my bed on the back of something like that.”

“Naturally.”

Akihiko kept fiddling with his mug, his eyes cast on the coffee table. Ugetsu realized he was a furniture-glarer, too. Like Baby Blues.

“Just,” he said to the table, “don’t go off some deep end on your own. Or something. I know how you can get.”

For a moment, Ugetsu was taken aback. He hadn’t expected this.

“Me?” he said, mustering up a lilt. “I have competitions to win. I’ve also been wondering about remodeling the basement. Or maybe even get a new place. Or a houseplant, I haven’t decided which one yet.”

When wouldn’t raise to the tease, Ugetsu let the jest fade. He knew he was full of it, too. With a sigh, he looked down at his coffee, realizing he seemed to be of the same cloth as the furniture-glarers. He wondered if mug-starers were a rare species.

“Don’t worry, I’ll catch up to you on the being happy department. Just you see.”

Akihiko’s look softened, and the corner of his mouth curved into a small smile. It reminded Ugetsu of a certain autumn park years ago. Similar but not quite the same.

“Good.”

Uncharacteristically not finding anything witty for a comeback, Ugetsu fumbled for the plate of cake. His fork sunk into the soft pastry as he tore off a piece, covered almost entirely in thick whipped cream. Moist sweetness burst on his palette. Small surprises of fruit and berries popped off on his tongue.

“I saw your competition a while back. Fourth place?”

“Shut up. I was just a bit rusty.”

“A bit? It sounded more like you had suddenly forgotten your middle finger existed.”

With irked vigor, Akihiko stabbed his slice of cake.

“Your trap could stop existing sometimes.”

“But it did remind me of your Brahms,” Ugetsu went on, pondering. “From high school. It sounded like you had actually thought it through.”

“Gee, thanks,” Akihiko grunted around his mouthful of cake, “nice to hear it didn’t sound like I was just swinging it.”

“But the solo was shaky at best. If you don’t do something about that bowing, then you better get comfortable at the fourth place.”

Just as Akihiko was about to let Ugetsu know, in no uncertain terms, where he could shove his bow, the kids started drifting back from the kitchen. They sprinkled around the coffee table with various snack-souvenirs. Shizusumi reclaimed his old spot at the deep corner end of the sofa.

Haruki cast an unreadable glance at Ugetsu and Akihiko sitting next to each other but went quickly back to hosting.

“Why don’t we open your presents next, Mafu-chan?”

A small stack of various gifts appeared in front of Mafuyu on the coffee table.

“Ours first!” Hiiragi declared and shoved a medium-sized rectangle gift at Mafuyu. “It’s from Shizu-chan and me.”

Shizusumi stirred in the corner.

“Happy birthday,” he said.

Ugetsu realized this was the first time he heard him talk.

They had gotten Mafuyu a pair of new headphones. Ugetsu recognized the brand; it was the latest, top-of-the-line model. He had been eyeing them not long ago, too.

Mafuyu frowned.

“I thought you said you were going to buy these for yourself?”

“You need them more,” Hiiragi said with a shrug. “It’s time you upgrade already.”

Mafuyu traced the plastic window of the package.

“Hmm.”

“What? You don’t like them?”

“No, it’s not that…I was just wondering if they sold these in blue.”

“I told you,” Shizusumi said.

“What’s wrong with orange?!” Hiiragi roared.

“We went through all the stores down the station. Blues were out of stock everywhere.”

Mafuyu blinked at them before flashing one of his soft Mafuyu-smiles.

“Actually,” he said, “I think I like the orange better. Thank you, Hiiragi, Shizu-chan.”

“Mine next,” Uenoyama cut in and lifted the biggest gift out of the pile.

Judging by the shape, it looked like a book. Only it was the size of a pillowcase and seemed to weigh a small housecat. Mafuyu tore the wrapping and peeled out a colorful, shining book cover. The Greatest Guitarists of All Time. CD-edition. A selection of notes with instructions included.

Mafuyu blinked at the heavy tome, his eyes shining.

“Uenoyama-kun,” he breathed out. “This…”

Abashed, Uenoayma frowned and glared at his old faithful, the coffee table.

“So you won’t have to keep borrowing mine,” he said. “Not that I mind, but you really should have your own.”

The brand-new binding creaked when Mafuyu lifted the thick cover and leafed through the shining pages with colorful pictures. Hungrily, his eyes scanned the instructional illustrations and bars of notes.

“Ohh,” Haruki said, peeking at the book. “I think this is the new improved edition. The previous one didn’t have the CDs. Be careful taking it home in the cold, Mafu-chan, so they won’t crack.”

There were three gifts left on the table. Ugetsu’s paper bag, a small soft-looking pastel package, and a blank white envelope. Haruki picked the neatly wrapped pastel present and offered it to Mafuyu.

“Mine isn’t as impressive,” he said, “but I hope you’ll like it.”

Gently, Mafuyu undid the strings that dug into the softness. A pair of colorful mittens emerged. For the most part, they were yellow but had stripes of orange, red, and blue laced in. On the back, there was a knitted white snowflake.

“You’re always bare-handed,” Haruki said. “It made me cold just looking at you.”

Mafuyu pulled the mittens on and admired them, wiggling his fingers inside.

“Thank you, Haruki-san. I’ll be sure to keep these away from Tama.”

The corner of Haruki’s mouth twitched, and he glanced at the mittens worriedly.

“Uh, yes, I’d appreciate that. Happy birthday.”

“I didn’t know you could knit.”

Ugetsu nearly flinched at Akihiko’s voice suddenly rumbling next to him.

Haruki shifted and kneaded the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Well, my grandma taught me and my sister. She always said that if you can do something yourself, you should.”

Akihiko leaned in to take a better look at the mittens that Mafuyu was helpfully showing off.

“You should knit something for me, too. I could use new gloves. And socks.”

“I want mine black,” Uenoyama piped in. “Or dark blue.”

“I’m not your knitting machine!” Haruki said. “Don’t just start placing orders.”

“Who’s this from?” Mafuyu said and clumsily picked the blank envelope.

“It’s mine,” Akihiko said.

“Such beautiful wrapping job,” Ugetsu snickered.

“It’s the thought that counts. And you’re one to talk with your paper bags.”

“It’s a gift bag. Not to mention a cultural reference.”

“It’s a printed logo on paper.”

“It’s one of a kind. Not everyone has a bag like that.”

“So, you’re telling me that’s not one of biggest New York cliches you could buy?”

“Just see which one will get chucked to the trash after this.”

“We recycle. That envelope is going to save the world. Your bag was probably made in some sweatshop in a jungle.”

“I won’t apologize for having a sense of style, unlike – “

“Ah!” Mafuyu exclaimed. “Now, I can buy the new pedal!”

Ugetsu’s eyes widened at what Mafuyu was holding up in his mittens. A gift card to a music shop. No, the music shop. He recognized the logo of the store.

In their first winter of going out, a couple of their classmates had cut the strings of Ugetsu’s violin. It had been the peak of torment after someone had seen them kissing in the music room. He still remembered how it had felt like a piece of himself had been violated.

The next Saturday, Akihiko had taken him to buy new strings to that store. After that, it had become Ugetsu’s go-to shop.

“I didn’t really know what to get you,” Akihiko said with a shrug. “So, I figured you could pick something for yourself.”

“Thank you, Kaji-san. Now, I can get the pedal that I wanted.”

Akihiko smiled and nodded.

“Good. Happy birthday.”

“Then,” Ugetsu said, “mine next.”

Curious, Mafuyu rummaged through the gift bag. He pulled out a white T-shirt with I ❤️ NY printed on the front and – he blinked at what had dropped on the coffee table – another gift card to the same music store.

“I’ll see your gift card,” Ugetsu said, glancing at Akihiko in triumph, “and raise you a piece of New York.”

“You mean you matched soulless cash and topped it with some tacky tourist crap?”

“Come on, now,” Haruki said with a tentative smile, “it’s not a competition.”

“But if it was…,” Ugetsu trailed off, taking a sip of his coffee.

“You know – “ Akihiko started, whipping to glare at him.

“Well, then!” Haruki said, the level of merry and volume of his voice increasing. “Mafu-chan, should you try the shirt?”

Mafuyu began to wiggle the shirt over his hoodie. With some help from Haruki, his tousled hair eventually emerged through the neckline. Smiling softly, Mafuyu smoothed the front of the shirt with his colorful mittens.

“Thank you, Ugetsu-san. It’s a perfect fit.”

“It’s culture, so make sure not to wash with the pinks,” Ugetsu said, his heart suddenly vibrating with warm and fuzzy. “Happy birthday.”

Akihiko cleared his throat and set his coffee mug on the table.

“Time to break out the entertainment. I wanted to get something memorable, but Haruki rejected all my good ideas, so – “

“Half of them were illegal ideas!” Haruki exclaimed. “The rest were just…morally questionable.”

“So, we’re stuck with Karaoke Revolution.”

That didn’t seem to disappoint a roomful of musically gifted kids with a strong competitive streak. Except for Broody Locks, of course, though he did hoist himself to the edge of the sofa. Hiiragi was quick to demand the first go which drew some resistance from the others.

Haruki began to pick up the remains of the gift wrappings and scrunch them un in a tight ball.

“Did you get the console hooked up?” he asked.

The console whirled as it swallowed up the game disk. The animated logo of ‘Karaoke Revolution’ flashed across the television screen.

“Yeah, no problem. You’re talking to someone who has taken care of everything even remotely electric you can find in a household for years.”

“Karaoke?” Ugetsu said, eyeing the console suspiciously. “That’s a bold choice in an apartment.”

“It’s fine,” Akihiko said, “I took care of the neighbors.”

“Would you stop saying it like that,” Haruki groaned.

“Well, I did. And by the looks they gave me, I doubt they will complain.”

Haruki looked like wanted to cover his face with both hands and weep.

“I knew I shouldn’t have sent out the guy with blonde hair and piercings.”

“No, Haruki-san,” Mafuyu said, holding the mic. As the birthday boy, he had rightfully reserved the first place for himself. “For threatening jobs, I think Kaji-san is exactly the one you send.”

“I didn’t say anything about threatening!”

“I didn’t threaten anyone,” Akihiko defended himself, flicking the buttons of the console controller, “I just informed them. Mafuyu, what genre do you want?”

“I need a smoke,” Haruki whimpered, rubbing his forehead in suffering. “Maybe holler out an apology or something if I see the neighbors...”

“Why does Mafuyu get to choose the genre, too?!” Hiiragi said. “He’s going to pick something impossible. I just know it!”

Deadpan, Mafuyu looked at him.

“Surely, you – of all people – can handle any genre. Right?”

“Sorry,” Akihiko said, “birthday rules. Mafuyu gets to pick.”

“Just nothing too loud, okay?” Haruki reminded over his shoulder before stepping out to the balcony.

“I think this is my cue to take my leave, too,” Ugetsu said and stood up.

His legs had gotten stiff from sitting. Blood rushed to his head from the sudden change in altitude.

“Really?” Mafuyu said, looking disappointed like a puppy who was left home. “Already?”

“Sorry, my limit goes at karaoke.”

“Do you need that ride?” Akihiko said. “My bike’s here, I could drive you.”

It had been a while since the last time Ugetsu had sat on Akihiko’s bike. He still remembered the weight of the machine between his legs. The exhilaration of pressing against Akihiko’s broad back as they leaned into the corners. But that seat behind him wasn’t his place anymore.

“It’s fine, I’ll manage. I will have a smoke before I leave, though.”

Akihiko didn’t comment, but Ugetsu could feel his eyes on him as he zigzagged through the crowd of kids. He found a pair of familiar dark green crocks next to the door to the balcony. They were still the ugliest things he had ever laid his eyes on.  

The balcony door creaked when Ugetsu pushed it open. Immediately, cold February air rushed in to greet him.

Haruki turned to glance over his shoulder. When he saw Ugetsu coming out, his eyes widened and he started coughing.

“Got any of those to spare?”

Ugetsu nodded at the blue pack of cigarettes.

“Uh, sure,” Haruki wheezed.  

The film of crinkling wrapping was still a bit warm from Haruki’s hands when Ugetsu dug out a cigarette. There was a dark red lighter stuffed in as well. Its flame trembled in the cold air but hung on to its short-lived life honorably.

Ugetsu drew a deep breath, just now realizing how he had been craving for a smoke ever since ringing the doorbell.

“I never really took to the taste of Mevius,” he said, giving the package back. “Seven Stars is my brand.”

“Ah, I see, well,” Haruki said, conjuring up a light tone.

The metal railing was icy cold when Ugetsu leaned on it. He huddled up in his too-thin shirt, trying to wrap himself tighter. A mixture of vapor and smoke swirled out between his parted lips. Haruki cast him a side-eyed glance but didn’t say anything.

Ugetsu wondered what would happen if he just let the silence linger.

“It’s a nice view. You can see the whole sky.”

As if to confirm his words, Haruki looked up. The late-night February sky was dark but illuminated by the sea of artificial lights from the city below.

“Oh. Yes, it’s nice especially in the mornings.”

Ugetsu rolled the cigarette between his fingers. His thumb followed the round edge of the filter tip.

“My place is a basement. You can’t really see much of the outside from there.”

He drew another drag of smoke, let it sit deep in his lungs for a while before letting it escape.

“But I think I prefer it that way.”

Haruki’s shoes scraped against the cement floor as he shifted.

“Uh, well, to each their own, I guess.”

The first beats of Karaoke Revolution carried faintly from the inside. Ugetsu could hear Mafuyu’s vocals. He didn’t recognize the song, but just listening to Mafuyu’s voice helped him relax a little.

It’s okay. Right, Mafuyu? If I look back, it will be okay?

“He seems happy with you. Akihiko.”

Haruki visibly flinched. Like whiplash, he looked at him. Ugetsu noticed his cheeks were a bit rosy – from the cold or the fluster, he couldn’t tell.

“I – uh – ,” he stammered for words, “I don’t…really know if…I mean…”

“I don’t mind talking about him,” Ugetsu dragged on the cigarette and glanced Haruki, “do you?”

For a while, Haruki’s mouth opened and closed but nothing came out. His eyes darted nervously around, and he tucked his hair behind his ear. Ugetsu wondered if he had a nervous habit of doing that. It was kind of cute.

“Well, I suppose it’s – if you want to, then, I don’t…really mind, I guess.”

“Are you sure? It’s your balcony.”

Ugetsu waited. He wanted to give Haruki a chance to take it back and leave.

Going once, he counted in his head.

Going twice.

But to his surprised, Haruki stayed. His gaze settled on the scenery of rooftops in front of them. His hands were fiddling with the pack of cigarettes.

“No, it’s okay.”

Ugetsu blew out the smoke.

Sold to the cute blonde with gentle eyes.  

And so, looking down at the February night stretching over the city – so different yet similar to his view from the hotel room in New York – Ugetsu finally looked back.

“I came to watch him perform that one time after he moved out – when he placed fourth,” he began. “I guess I had to see it for myself. When you guys had your live show, I kind of had a feeling, but…”

Ugetsu swallowed and took a steadying breath. The cool winter air brushed against his cheeks soothingly.

It’s okay.

“I wasn’t completely sure until listening to his violin performance. That’s his sound that I’ve always known the best. But that’s when I fully saw it. He was playing like he used to. Well, not really – he had let himself get rusty. But at the core, it was the same sound.”

He remembered sitting in the packed concert hall. Not knowing what he would hear. Not knowing what he wanted to hear. On one hand, defiance sat heavily on his chest. On the other hand, hope made his skin prickle with nerves.

But in a few strokes of the bow, Akihiko’s violin had opened a channel like a wormhole in Ugetsu’s mind. He was back in the music room. Skipping classes together. The smell of the dusty music sheets. The warmth of the heater against his back. Akihiko practicing with him.

Fighting the burn of tears, Ugetsu had closed his eyes and let the relief wash over him. The Brahms Akihiko had chosen had been his private piece of absolution. It was all still there, still safe in Akihiko; his love for music.

It was the least lonely Ugetsu had felt since Akihiko had moved out.

“That’s when I fully realized,” he said in a low voice, almost more to himself, “he had gotten his music back.”

His heart pounding heavy, Ugetsu lifted the cigarette to his lips. He noticed his hand was trembling a little, and he doubted it was entirely from the cold.

“Have you always played in a band?”

Perplexed at the sudden change of topic, Haruki’s hands ceased their nervous twiddling.

“Yes, I played in my girlfrie – um, with a different group before Given.”

“Do you think you could ever give up music? For good?”

Haruki frowned.

“I…I have never really thought about that. But no, I don’t think I could ever give up music completely.”

Ugetsu smiled a little.

“Good. I hope you never have to. It’s the worst feeling. Worse than death.”

He almost laughed at the way Haruki’s eyebrows shut up.

“Well, maybe not that dramatic,” he admitted. “But something close to that.”

He looked at the dark, vast sky opening above them.

“To me, my music is freedom. I’m not very good at expressing myself, I guess. But music is…transcending. It doesn’t need pesky things like words.”

Now, it was Haruki’s turn to look like he wanted to smile. His eyes softened.

“I know someone else who once said something similar. But I think – from where I’m standing – you’re both doing just fine.”

Ugetsu wet his dry, chapped lips. Immediately, the cold night air attacked the moisture.

“Maybe. Usually, the things I want to say – what I know are true inside me – come out warped and wrong. I hurt Aki a lot like that. Me and my mouth.”

From behind them, Mafuyu’s singing switched to Akihiko’s deep vocals. It had been a while since Ugetsu had heard him sing. Sometimes he had used to hum under his breath to the radio while cooking. He didn’t have perfect pitch, but he easily went with the flow and could summon up an amazing level of poise.

Ugetsu smiled around the stub of his cigarette. Akihiko had always been like that. Walking down a packed hallway in a girl’s uniform and execute the perfect kabedon on the loudest homophobe in the school took poise if anything.

“But that’s beside the point,” he continued. “What I’m trying to say is that Akihiko did that. Gave up his music. And I could feel it was because of me. I would have had to be blind to not see that.”

Haruki went back to remaining quiet, but his hands didn’t return to their restless dance. Ugetsu was relieved. He was getting to the hard part, and Haruki calming down gave him an odd sense of comfort.

“I think,” he went on quietly, Akihiko’s singing in the background, “when two people love each other, they also…change each other. Almost like molding. With us, too. Akihiko changed me, and I changed him in return. And I think some of those shapes we put in each other will never leave.”

They had fallen in love in the music room, but they had gotten to know each other in the basement. On the outside, the basement had looked still and quiet. But inside, there had been one of nature’s most curious transformations underway. Two individual souls rippling against each other, overlapping and exploring.

It was a beautiful and wonderful chemical reaction but also violent and gruesome. To fit together, the souls needed to be molded – bits of them were destroyed, and not all of those pieces were rebuilt.

“But the longer we stayed together,” Ugetsu mused, “there more I realized that I was changing in ways I didn’t want to. I was getting so wrapped up in Akihiko that I wasn’t really thinking about my music anymore. I was chasing him instead. That’s when I got…scared.”

In truth, it had been a far more complicated feeling, but he supposed ‘scared’ was at the root of it. Losing focus on his music had crept up to him in secret and undetected. He had become restless and irritable. An uneasiness had vibrated somewhere deep inside him.

Then it had dawned on him where his relationship with Akihiko was taking him. And where he was taking Akihiko, in return.

His first instinct had been to retreat. Cut himself free. Both of them.

But then he had lingered. The edge of his resolve had dulled until he was merely listlessly hacking at what kept them together.

It wasn’t fair. He loved Akihiko.

Why did he have to choose? Was this the price of loving someone? Could he ever pay it for anyone?

Please, don’t ask this of me, he had wanted to plead. Anything else but this. Not his music.

Ugetsu let out a humorless chuckle.

“The irony was, though, while I was struggling to keep my music, I could see Akihiko giving up his. He was giving me a part of himself that I never wanted him to give up. I never asked for it. But I saw it leaking out of him like there was a hole in him somewhere. And I realized that not only had I put that hole in there, but I was the hole.”

Pressure built behind his eyes, but he blinked it away. He took a shaky drag on his cigarette but found it almost burnt to the filter. The heat of the smolder had crept up to burn his fingers. A bit lost, he blinked at the stub.  

“There,” Haruki said and pointed at a pickle jar at his feet.

The loose lid came off easily. Ugetsu savored the metallic clank against the glass rim. The sound was somehow hollow and full at the same time.

“Could I,” he said and nodded at the cigarettes again, “bother you for one more?”

Hurriedly, Haruki fumbled the pack for him. The red lighter spat a couple of times, but Ugetsu’s hands were too unsteady to get the small flickering flame to lick the end of his cigarette. After his third failure, a pair of cool, warm hands took the lighter from him.

“Here,” Haruki said.

Ugetsu drew on the filter, and the flame took.

“Thanks,” he said, letting out puffs of smoke.

“Ugetsu-san – “

“Just Ugetsu is fine.”

“Then, Ugetsu,” Haruki continued, “can I ask…why are you telling me all this?”

He looked at Ugetsu straight on. Not challenging or rejecting, but with the same sincerity as when he had invited Ugetsu to join the party. To think that Akihiko had been around this person for so long, having this shoulder to lean on. He wondered if Akihiko had ever looked at him and thought if only Ugetsu was more like Haruki.

If only it had been him back then and not Ugetsu.

The thought choked him, but he pushed it behind him. For another time.

“Why? I’m giving you a manual, of course. From the previous owner. Akihiko is delicate.”

“Delicate? He doesn’t…look very delicate to me.”

“Ahh, don’t let the piercings and fierce glare fool you. They’re all part of it.”

A small flock of blinking lights slid across the dark sky. An airplane. Ugetsu wondered absently how much tickets to Europe would cost. Rome. Prague. No, maybe Paris. Maybe he could talk his manager into letting him take another intercontinental trip under some violin-related pretense.

“But I guess,” Ugetsu said, “I also thought you looked like the type who would listen to me. Despite everything.”

Yes, maybe Paris. He could drink too much expresso. Sit on a patio, judging people passing by. Get lost in the narrow early evening alleys. Let some French man sweet-talk him thinking Ugetsu didn’t understand what he was saying.

“I’m not sure if, uh,” Haruki said, “if I fully understand the situation. And maybe it’s not my place anyway. But…”

Haruki craned his neck to look at the sky. Ugetsu wondered could he make out the blinking plane, too. Did he ever just want to buy a one-way ticket and not look back?

“But I think I understood at least a little bit. So, I’m glad you told me.”

Suddenly, their wavering, rippling tunes brushed against each other and then met at the same note. Resonation ran through Ugetsu, amplifying and overwhelming. Unexpectedly, the two seeming opposites – spring and rain – had connected and found each other in a cold midwinter night.

Well, I’ll be damned, Ugetsu thought, gripping the railing a bit tighter.

They both flinched when the balcony door creaked open and Mafuyu’s head popped out.

“Haruki-san, it’s your turn to sing.”

“What!?” Haruki exclaimed, swirling around.

“Kaji-san said that co-hosts should do a duet.”

Groaning, Haruki stubbed out his cigarette. The jar lid clanked again, full but hollow. Ugetsu took a deep drag of his cigarette, riding the small burst of endorphins coursing through him.

“Oi, I told you – “

The door cut him off before they could hear more about the reasons as to why there was no way this duet was going to happen.

Mafuyu’s slippers scraped against the pavement when he shuffled over to Ugetsu’s side. He noticed the mittens were finally off. Ironically, he would have probably needed them right now.

“Oh, a plane,” Mafuyu said.

“Did Akihiko send you?”

“Hmm, well, you were gone for a long time. What were you talking about?”

“Nothing. Weather and politics.”

The last puffs of smoke swirled out of Ugetsu’s nostrils when he bent down to put out his cigarette as well. He wondered if he should buy a jar of pickles, too, and save it for an ashtray.

“Is everything…alright?”

“No, I can’t feel my toes anymore. Let’s go back in.”

But Mafuyu wouldn’t budge.

“Ugetsu-san.”

Mafuyu’s tone was stubborn but caring, so Ugetsu stifled his sigh. Expectantly, he waited but the kid seemed to be struggling to find the words. As endearing as the crease of Mafuyu’s brow was, Ugetsu’s feet were freezing in the airy crocs.

“Look,” he said, “I know what you’re probably thinking. Something like maybe you shouldn’t have invited me, right?”

The way the frown deepened told Ugetsu he had hit the nail in the head.

“I was just…I mean…Ngh…”

Ugetsu studied him.

Really, this kid.

“It’s pretty simple, actually. Did you want me here?”

“Yes!” Mafuyu said immediately, with no hesitation. “I really wanted to celebrate with you, but…”

“Then I wanted to be here, too. Everything else is irrelevant.”

Winter breeze fluttered a puff of snowflakes in the balcony and tousled Mafuyu bangs. His frown melted when he smiled at Ugetsu warmly.

“Then, thank you for coming, Ugetsu-san.”

“Good. Now, come on, I want to take these hideous things off my feet already.”

It seemed the status of Akihiko’s mission to convince Haruki of the health benefits of a duet was to-be-continued. Ugetsu was glad he was getting out of the way before he would find himself sitting through that.

Akihiko nodded his goodbyes at him. Haruki seemed to be buried up to his waist in the fridge, trying to make room for all the snacks. Mafuyu in tow, Ugetsu made his way down the hallway. Like a puppy, the kid watched him dress.

“Why don’t you come over sometime next week, and I’ll show you what records I got from New York.”

“Hm.”

“You can pick some if you want to. You should grow your record collection instead just of CDs.”

“Hm.”

“Thank Haru-chan for the cake and coffee for me.”

“Hm.”

“Annoy Akihiko. It’s your right as the birthday boy.”

“Hm.”

“Then, I’m off.”

“Bye-bye.”

Mafuyu was left waving after him in the hallway as the front clanked shut. Ugetsu found himself looking at the notebook page again. A grin played on his lips, he dug a pen out of his breast pocket on a whim.

He was halfway across the parking lot when his phone vibrated. Mentally groaning, he decided to ignore the troublesome thing – he had had enough social interaction for one night. But then he dug it out. Maybe he had forgotten something. It was easier to come back from downstairs than from across the city.

He halted. It was from Akihiko.

Another single-word message.

“Okaeri.”

Perhaps looking back won’t get him lost. Maybe if I look back, Ugetsu thought as he left Akihiko on seen, it will help me find my path instead.