#ultimate 5

A Blind Cat

　　This was before they made it official.

　　That day, Shimazaki came to Minegishi's apartment. Minegishi, as if letting in a stray cat, said nothing and let him stay.

　　Shimazaki could have been back in his own place in the blink of an eye. But he still swaggered over to Minegishi's bathroom—almost deliberately—and "borrowed" it for a shower. In fact, he'd already "borrowed" Minegishi's toilet, his kettle, his fridge; he'd even once brought over an induction cooker and, in the tiny space that wasn't suited for cooking at all, put on a little show of making dinner, then smugly washed the dishes in Minegishi's sink.

　　Like a cat that has to leave its scent wherever it goes, he rubbed himself against everything in Minegishi's apartment. The situation was clear: sooner or later, he'd rub his way onto the bed in Minegishi's bedroom—but not today.

　　It wasn't today's story.

　　That day, Shimazaki took a shower in Minegishi's bathroom. Minegishi had explained beforehand which bottle was which, so Shimazaki wouldn't just grab things at random since he couldn't read the labels. Shimazaki listened, but Minegishi had the feeling he might not need the explanation at all. He'd never fully understood Shimazaki's sensory abilities.

　　While Shimazaki was in the bathroom, Minegishi sat quietly on the sofa reading a plant field guide as the sound of running water came from the bathroom, punctuated by the occasional clink.

　　About twenty minutes later, Shimazaki finally emerged from the bathroom. As the door opened, a wave of steamy air wafted out, carrying the familiar scent of Minegishi's bath products, mixed with an unfamiliar, somewhat pungent male body odor that wasn't Minegishi's. Shimazaki came out wearing drawstring cotton pants, bare-chested, his hair hanging over his forehead, dripping wet. In his hand was one of Minegishi's old towels:

　　"Can I use this?"

　　For a moment, the thought flashed through Minegishi's mind to tell Shimazaki to get lost and use his own stuff. It wasn't that he was actually angry or anything. He just knew he could say it. And he needed to savor the taste of that power. The way Shimazaki needed to spread his scent everywhere.

　　In the end, he said, "Sure."

　　…

　　Shimazaki wiped his hair with the towel, then his face, then slipped his fingers under the cloth and rubbed a circle inside his eye sockets.

　　Through Minegishi's psychic aura, Shimazaki could feel his gaze—much like the aura itself: calm, steady, brimming with energy yet never showy, like some ancient towering tree. The gaze circled Shimazaki's face.

　　"What?" Shimazaki asked, knowing full well.

　　A normal person, caught staring at a blind man, would probably fluster an apology or scramble for an excuse. Shimazaki, on the other hand, would just smile a little, wearing a knowing look. But since it was Minegishi, no reaction was ever normal anyway.

　　"I'm looking at your eyes," Minegishi said.

　　"Oh? My eyes? Where?" Shimazaki joked, but the aura gathered around his face tightened. Minegishi clearly didn't appreciate the joke. Shimazaki smiled easily and decided to switch tracks. "Do you want to see what they really look like?"

　　"What do you mean by that?"

　　"My eye sockets."

　　"What do you mean? I've seen them plenty of times."

　　"Well, that's not what they really look like. That's just me using my powers to cover them up, make them look cooler. But they're not actually like that." Shimazaki grinned. "Not that I've seen them myself, of course. Wanna take a look?"

　　Minegishi's aura extended—aha, that caught his interest.

　　"I do."

　　"Just a warning, everyone says they're pretty gross. Give me a second."

　　Shimazaki covered his face with the towel and blinked, as if trying to blink something away. Then he lifted his head again and slowly opened his sightless eyes. Just as he said, they were no longer two abyssal black voids—no longer a lightless depth. Now his eye sockets were simply… two shallow indentations where eyes should have been.

　　He felt Minegishi hold his breath.

　　Even if things followed the script from here, Shimazaki wouldn't mind—by "script," he meant the other's aura pulling back, accompanied by disgust and fear, yet unable to resist a trace of fascination, as if drawn to the grotesque deformity. Oh, he knew that gaze well. It was like the intense attention, laced with disdain, that always gathered around him whenever he stirred up trouble.

　　But Minegishi's gaze was different. More curious. Intrigued. Almost playful. Like a snake flicking its tongue, testing the scent in the wind. Silently, Minegishi's aura wrapped around him, like a gentle tug inviting him closer, so Shimazaki walked over to the sofa and sat beside him. Up close, he felt that steady gaze even more strongly. It reminded him of the way Minegishi looked at flowers—nothing romantic about it, not the slightest trace of emotion. Just observation. Plain and dull. Like the dry descriptions in those plant guides.

　　It stung, almost.

　　Shimazaki was born without eyeballs. But if he had them, what he was feeling right now would probably be dry eyes.

　　He blinked again and smiled. "Well? Any thoughts?"

　　Minegishi, unexpectedly serious, pondered for a moment. Then, without asking, he reached out and cradled the back of Shimazaki's head, pulling his face closer. Shimazaki went along with it. Minegishi's fingers lightly brushed his cheek as he leaned in for a closer look; they were so close that Shimazaki could even smell his warm breath. Minegishi studied him carefully. His gaze was like a whirl, spinning softly, tickling the inside of his eye sockets.

　　"I thought they'd be round," Minegishi said.

　　Shimazaki knew what he meant. "Yeah, everyone thinks that. When the tissue collapses, the space where the eyeballs should be fills in, so all that's left are these shallow depressions."

　　"Hm."

　　"I never wore conformers as a kid, so the socket shape isn't great. Getting a prosthetic made is a bit of a hassle."

　　"You've worn prosthetic eyes?"

　　"Suzuki had a pair made for me once—pretty expensive, I think. But I didn't like them and 'lost' them soon after." Shimazaki blinked deliberately. "Anyway, I think the usual look is cooler."

　　The corner of Minegishi's mouth lifted slightly. "This doesn't look bad either."

　　"Yeah? What does it look like?"

　　"Mm… pinkish. A little reddish, like the inside of a mouth," Minegishi said. "I can see blood vessels… fine ones. And some white stuff. Not sure what it is."

　　"You can touch it if you want."

　　"You sure?"

　　"Yeah. It doesn't hurt. I wash them too, so nothing collects in there." Shimazaki pressed a finger into one of his sockets.

　　Minegishi hesitated only a moment. Then he placed a finger into Shimazaki's eye socket and felt around tentatively. When Shimazaki didn't react, he pressed with the pad of his finger. It felt completely different from when Shimazaki touched it himself. Unfamiliar. Gentle. Careful. It tickled the bottom of his socket.

　　"Bumpy," Minegishi said.

　　"Yeah."

　　"Kind of smooth… Not like the inside of a mouth. It's dry. Feels more like skin."

　　When Minegishi touched the upper edge of the socket, Shimazaki deliberately twitched the muscles there. Minegishi kept a straight face, but his aura clearly stiffened at the wriggling sensation. Shimazaki grinned, a flicker of satisfaction running through him.

　　"What was that?"

　　"Mm, I don't really know. Probably what's left of the muscles that were supposed to control the eye." Shimazaki said, touching his other socket. "I can move it, but it's completely useless."

　　"Do it again."

　　Shimazaki did it again. Minegishi felt the wriggling ridges inside the socket. This seemed to amuse him. His aura extended again, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly, intrigued, almost fascinated, like a kid who'd just caught a rhinoceros beetle. Weird—who the hell would be interested in something like this? Probably only Minegishi.

　　So that muscle wasn't completely useless after all.

　　"Who else have you shown this to?" Minegishi asked.

　　"No one. Just you."

　　"You just said everyone thought it was gross."

　　"Ah, did I?" Shimazaki's mind raced, but his voice stayed easy. "Eh. Whatever. They were just some nobodies."

　　Minegishi narrowed his eyes slightly—oops, he didn't like it when Shimazaki lied. Luckily, this time he let it go.

　　"There's nothing gross about it," Minegishi said. "They're weird."