spindle

01

“Is he married?” asked Miss Shizuka.

With her dark curls kept neatly in a bob near the nape of her neck, rosy pink cheeks, and large doe eyes, Miss Shizuka was the picture of cherubic innocence, a flagrant juxtaposition against the scandalous query she was currently posing. Although she had previously paid scarce attention to Chitose, who was always stationed far from the rest of the staff, ever since Chitose had started coming into work an hour early to help Suzumura-san prepare for the evening service Miss Shizuka seemed to have begun warming up to him slightly. Much to Chitose’s eternal chagrin, however, he soon discovered that Miss Shizuka was one to enjoy sidling over while he was doing the washing-up or polishing the glassware with the sole goal of springing unexpected questions on him as and when the fancy took her. Sighing, he gingerly set the cloth and wine-glass he was holding in his hand down on the countertop and swivelled around to address her.

“What is it this time? Who’s getting married?”

“No, you dummy, I’m asking you if he’s married. Your naval officer friend.”

It took Chitose a few beats to realise that she was referring to Hanada-san. He groaned. 

“How would I know that? I’m not the keeper of his personal life.”

“Well, surely he must have told you? Or you would have asked?” While she spoke Miss Shizuka was coquettishly twirling a strand of raven hair around one finger. “Aren’t you curious about it?”

“Why would I be curious,” snorted Chitose, confusedly noting the sour twang in his voice. “Unlike you, I don’t have a habit of sticking my nose into other people’s private affairs.”

Behind Chitose came the sound of light, girlish giggles, and Miss Harumi bustled over from where she had been seated cracking walnuts into a bowl to take Miss Shizuka’s arm in hers genially.

“Oh, Shizu, leave him alone. Don’t you let her bother you, Chitose. Shizu here has been going all stir-crazy ever since that young man we met at the theatre stopped responding to her letters.”

Miss Harumi and Miss Shizuka grew up in the same small town, and had agreed to travel together to the big city in search of better opportunities as well as the chance to dress up in the latest hat and skirt styles a few summers ago. The two of them lived together in a tiny room not too far from where Chitose stayed, and Miss Harumi would sometimes knock on Chitose’s door with extra snacks or a few rice-balls she had made, because she found Chitose “too scrawny” and believed that “he should eat more.” Miss Harumi was decidedly plainer looking than Miss Shizuka, but she had a merry mouth that always looked like it was laughing and a cheerful spark constantly dancing in her eyes, so Chitose had decided early on that he much preferred Miss Harumi to her friend. He flashed her a reassuring grin and turned his attention back to the wine-glass.

Beside him, Miss Shizuka gave Miss Harumi a friendly pinch on the arm.

“Harumi, stop butting into my conversations. I’m trying to learn something important here. Well, Chitose? Do you think he’s married?”

“Why would you want to know,” exclaimed Chitose, feeling more frazzled than usual for some strange reason. Perhaps all the late nights he had been keeping were finally catching up with him. “Didn’t Suzumura-san tell you to stop flirting with the customers a while back?”

“Well,” pouted Miss Shizuka, as Miss Harumi clasped one of her hands in hers and playfully swung their enjoined fingers around in the air, “I think he’s very handsome. And tall too.”

“We’re the same height, though,” pointed out Chitose.

“Oh, you wouldn’t do! You’re too young. And I don’t want to marry a pianist. I’d starve to death.”

“Well,” scoffed Chitose, his ire starting to rise, “Miss Shizuka, if I were a lady of your calibre, I wouldn’t go around trying to get all friendly with a military officer, either. What if he died? What if he found someone else when he gets posted overseas? That’s way too many unknowns to account for.”

“That’s not really the point.” Miss Shizuka was drawing shapes on the dusty wooden flooring with one shiny patent-leather shoe as she spoke. Chitose narrowed his eyes at her, and she lifted her chin towards him in a display of defiance. “I’ve heard they get paid well. And the government probably pays you a sum of money if they die overseas, as compensation. Also, he’s really handsome.”

“Don’t be like that now, Shizu. Chitose’s not that bad looking either.”

“I suppose, if you like men who look like girls in the evening lamp-light.”

Seeming rather exasperated herself, Miss Harumi gave the messy bun she had tied her thick glossy locks up in a quick tousle. “Well, Shizu, if losing your husband to the war doesn’t bother you, I’ve heard it’s common for military types to keep mistresses nowadays.”

“O- oh,” stammered Chitose and Miss Shizuka in unison.

“Yeah, you know that popular series about love suicides that’s currently running in one of the bigger literature magazines, the one with the blue cover? I’m sure the author based them off people she knew in real life.”

“Harumi,” called out Suzumura-san from where he stood rearranging bottles of wine in a cabinet, “Are you done with the walnuts yet?”

“Ah, I completely forgot about the darned things.” A guilty grin creeping across her face, Miss Harumi gave herself a quick brush down before pushing briskly past Chitose and Miss Shizuka into the kitchen in a flurry of apron strings, white lace, and flyway strands of hair. “Coming!” she yelled.

Suzumura-san’s grey grizzled head poked around an intricately carved cabinet corner as she did so. “Chitose and Shizuka, we open in thirty minutes. The two of you look sharp, now.”

On Chitose’s way to the piano Miss Shizuka caught hold of his left arm and shook it around beseechingly.

“Won’t you ask him for me, Chitose? Please please please.”

“No, I absolutely shall not,” sniffed Chitose. “Ask him yourself.”

“I can’t! It’s not proper of a lady to ask a gentleman something as personal as that. Besides, I’m kind of scared of him. Especially when he’s standing right at the piano not moving an inch while glaring at you daring you to play a wrong note.”

“Erm,” said Chitose, feeling rather awkward all of a sudden. “I wasn’t aware he did that.”

“Well, he does, and it gives me the heebie jeebies sometimes. Please, Chitose? I’ll buy you a cake from the café across the street.”

It was a simple enough question, and a small selfish voice in Chitose’s heart agreed that it had been quite a while since he had the money to purchase anything sweet. He had indeed been hankering for some cake lately. Shrugging, he gathered his score-books in his arms and shuffled the loose pages around, deliberately playing up the role of the nonchalant assistant as a preliminary precaution against the increasingly tangible possibility of Miss Shizuka thinking him too eager or agreeable.

“Well, alright then. But I get to choose the flavour.”

“Wow, really? Thank you! You’re the best!”

She flung her arms across Chitose’s shoulders, wrapping him into an embrace perfumed faintly with the sweet scent of talcum powder before she grabbed the broom she had been using and began twirling it gaily in one hand like a conductor’s baton, all the while humming a lively tune to herself as she skipped away to the back of the room. Chitose allowed himself a despondent sigh as he watched her go, a familiar dull ache beginning to pound at his temples. He really should start practicing putting his foot down more often.

02

What Miss Shizuka said about Chitose’s looks had stung a little, but it was a comment he was used to hearing. Unlike Hanada-san, Chitose was pale, sickly, and frail, and Chitose’s aunt had commented multiple times in his childhood that she was sure Chitose would have grown up to become the village beauty had he been born a girl. Unfortunately for Chitose, most young ladies his age preferred strong, muscular, masculine types more akin to Hanada-san and the rest of his compatriots in the navy, and Chitose glumly thought to himself that he would have been a hard sell to any young lady even if he had taken up a more respectable occupation instead of being a bar pianist. 

Out of the corner of one eye, Chitose could see Hanada-san’s ramrod straight figure planted firmly at his usual spot, arms folded primly across the top of the piano as he watched Chitose play. Chitose was not aware that Hanada-san took his jazz hobby so seriously, even going to the extent of picking out mistakes in music that he was not paying for. Nevertheless, he supposed that Hanada-san was a strange person who did not quite play by the rules of regular human logic to begin with anyway. Miss Shizuka passed by with a tray of drinks, furtively motioned towards Hanada-san with one finger, and scurried away with her load. Chitose rolled his eyes in response, and was preparing to turn the page of his score-book when he caught Hanada-san’s eye during a brief upward glance.

There was an unfamiliar air of perplexity about Hanada-san’s usually stoic features, and Chitose belatedly reflected that Miss Shizuka and himself still had a long way to go in terms of being subtle. Noticing Chitose’s attention on him, Hanada-san raised one eyebrow questioningly at Chitose, and as he shook his head at his friend and looked back downwards at the inky black chords hopping across the page Chitose could feel a small smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. It was rather puzzling how Miss Shizuka was afraid of Hanada-san, because Chitose thought he was a friendly enough person once one got used to his lack of expressiveness. If anything, Chitose was rather certain Miss Shizuka and Hanada-san would have gotten along rather swimmingly if she had ever gotten enough courage to speak to him directly before this. Chitose was privately of the view that Hanada-san could do much better by marrying someone with a more traditional mindset instead of a girl as flighty as Miss Shizuka, but stranger things had happened and a union between two sharply contrasting personalities would hardly be a completely unheard-of occurrence in Chitose’s book.

Furthermore, if it counted for anything, Chitose was sure that Hanada-san and Miss Shizuka’s children would be relatively handsome-looking, because his personal objective opinion was that Hanada-san was quite an attractive man. He snuck another look at Hanada-san just to be sure, but this time Hanada-san’s attention seemed to be elsewhere as he stared straight at something or someone standing near the back half of the room.

It was none of Chitose’s business what Hanada-san wanted to turn his eyes upon with such intensity, so he gave his head a good toss to clear it and continued playing.

At ten o’ clock Hanada-san was nowhere to be seen, so Chitose bade goodbye to the rest of the staff and gruffly yanked on the shiny brass knob to the exit, the snippy gusts outside barely assuaging the agonising clot of disappointment shifting around underneath his ribcage. He did promise Miss Shizuka that he would help her enquire about Hanada-san’s marital status and had been planning to do so once he was done with work, but strangely enough Hanada-san had not stayed behind to chat with Chitose like he usually did, and had grabbed his coat off the rack and left in a most uncharacteristic hurry the moment the clock chimed the hour.

As Chitose turned around to pull the door shut an arm shot out from the trailing shadows lying underneath the eaves and vigorously shook him around by the shoulder rather unceremoniously.

“Will you be free tomorrow?” said Hanada-san. “It’s a Sunday.”

Somewhat rattled by the sudden turn of events, Chitose spluttered in surprise and tried to pry Hanada-san’s fingers off his arm, but Hanada-san was evidently prepared for this and held on even tighter. Snorting derisively, Chitose decided to settle for plucking the edge of his coat-sleeve out of Hanada-san’s grasp.

“Can’t you just ask like a normal person?” he snapped. “Are you planning to quit the Navy and audition for a role in a horror film?”

“Stop changing the topic,” frowned Hanada-san. “Well. Are you free?”

“Oh,” said Chitose most scornfully, “Miss Shizuka would not like what you’re doing right now. But yes, to answer your question, I’m free.”

“Who’s Miss Shizuka? The girl you were pulling faces at just now? What’s she got to do with this?”

“What is this, a job interview?” Chitose hated being interrogated and he was even less keen on telling Hanada-san more about Miss Shizuka, especially seeing how he was getting all defensive about her for whatever reason Chitose could not quite fathom at the moment. “Hey, if you’re not interested in having a normal conversation I can just leave right now.”

Rather puzzlingly, Hanada-san seemed to droop a little at that. “I was thinking maybe we could go somewhere together. But you don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Had any of Hanada-san’s squad-mates been passing by at that moment Chitose would have grabbed them by the collar and hauled them over for a good questioning regarding what their platoon had been up to lately, as Hanada-san was behaving awfully out of sorts today. Feeling his brows furrow with worry, Chitose reached out a hand and slapped it lightly on Hanada-san’s forehead.

“Of course I’d like to. Are you alright, though? Are you feeling unwell? Your temperature seems normal as far as I can tell but do you want me to accompany you to the doctor’s tomorrow?”

“I’m fine,” replied Hanada-san. “I’m not sick.”

“Yeah, right. You don’t sound fine. You sound like you have a fever and are going insane. Tell you what,” said Chitose, “we can go to the beach tomorrow, instead of whatever you were planning. I’ve heard going to the beach is good for sick people who don’t want to see the doctor. Something about the sea breeze is what they say.”

“Okay,” said Hanada-san, an oddly meek inflection in his voice.

“You really don’t look that well if I’m being honest. Here, I’ll walk you home. It’s getting late and I don’t want to be getting into trouble for leaving a Navy officer passed out in the cold.” Chitose had been to Hanada-san’s lodgings a few times to listen to some records on the phonograph in his room, and was fairly confident that he had a decent inkling of which turns to make and which streets to cross by now. He offered a hand and Hanada-san took it silently, all the while giving Chitose a very strange look as they trotted away into the gradually deepening night.

It was not until well after Chitose had dropped Hanada-san off and had reached the bottom of the stairs to his own apartment that he remembered that he had neglected to help Miss Shizuka ask her question amidst all the kerfuffle that evening.

03

Hanada-san was looking rather disagreeable wrapped up in a thick scarf and a dark mantle which he was wearing over the rest of his outfit. Chitose thought he was rather envious of how many items of warm clothing Hanada-san owned, and concluded that perhaps Miss Shizuka was right and the Navy was indeed a generous organisation when it came to the matter of remuneration paid towards its enlisted personnel. Chitose himself had nothing but the grubby coat patched in several areas he wore to work every day in addition to a set of well-worn kimono and hakama pants with the fabric thinning in several spots to rely on for warmth, and he grouchily stifled a sneeze while winding his layers more closely around himself.

“On hindsight,” he grumbled, “it was a stupid idea to come to the beach this early in the season, wasn’t it?”

It was hard to discern Hanada-san’s expression over the scarf that was covering most of his face, but Chitose fancied that he saw his eyes soften for the briefest of moments. “It’s alright. I feel better already just being with you.”

“That’s good to hear. My aunt would have had a good laugh at me for bringing someone to the beach when the weather is this cold, because there’s absolutely nothing to do here.”

“We can pick up shells or pebbles. I used to do that with my younger sister when she was little.”

“Oh, is that what people do at the beach? I wouldn’t have known. My hometown is in the mountains.” Huffing, Chitose stuck his hands into his coat pockets as he stomped around on the spot in an attempt to warm himself up. “Do you like the sea, Hanada-san?”

“Hmm. It’s alright I guess. I see it every day.”

“Well, you see me almost every day too.”

“This and that are different,” trailed off Hanada-san, sounding unconvinced by his own words for once.

They strolled on side by side in companionable silence until the memory of his failure to carry out his assigned mission the previous night struck Chitose like lightning on a clear day. He stopped dead in his tracks and wheeled decisively around on his heel to face Hanada-san.

“Oh, right. Before I forget. Hanada-san, are you married?”

“What,” sputtered Hanada-san, quite justifiably taken aback. “What are you asking that for?”

“It’s not me asking,” shot back Chitose defensively, “it’s Miss Shizuka from the bar who is asking. She says that she thinks you are very handsome.”

“Um,” said Hanada-san. “Thank you.”

“Huh? I was talking about Miss Shizuka…” Chitose was growing quite flummoxed by the situation himself. “To be fair, I do think you are very handsome, too. Objectively speaking. Not saying that just because we are friends.” 

“It’s okay, I get it,” replied Hanada-san. Chitose could almost have sworn that there was a smile in his voice, but Chitose was not adept at reading the emotions of other people. 

By and by Hanada-san coughed and tugged his scarf further up his face.

“I’m not married,” he said.

“Okay. What about a mistress? Do you have a mistress?”

“Do I have a what.”

“Erm, no! I’m not the one asking! No wait, I mean, I’m asking to be safe! Miss Harumi said lots of military officers have mistresses!” It was just as well that the two of them were by themselves, because Chitose was now becoming aware of a rapidly growing urge to dig a hole in the sand to jump into. He ran his hands over his face and let out a frustrated noise. 

“I’m just asking. For Miss Shizuka. For the record, it would bother her very much if you had one,” he mumbled lamely through the gaps in his fingers.

There was a long, excruciating pause before Hanada-san let out a hearty chuckle and ruffled Chitose’s bangs affectionately with a hand.

“Don’t worry. I don’t have a mistress, nor am I similarly engaged in any other way.”

“That’s a relief,” said Chitose into his cupped palms. “Miss Shizuka will be happy to hear that.”

“Ah, about that. Could you please help me pass a message to Miss Shizuka informing her that I’m very flattered by her interest, and that I am sure that she is a nice enough girl, but I will rather regrettably have to turn her down?”

This was astonishing. All things considered, Chitose firmly believed that Miss Shizuka would be a good candidate for marriage provided that one was able to disregard or somehow put a stop to her slightly frivolous tendencies. He raised his face and squinted at Hanada-san. “Huh? Why?”

“It’s because I have someone I like already,” said Hanada-san.

“Oh…” said Chitose.

“Yes,” said Hanada-san.

“I see. That’s great. Congratulations.” Chitose was not sure how people normally responded to their friends confiding in them something as personal as their romantic affections for someone else. “I think it’s awesome. I’m happy for you,” he added for good measure after some hesitation.

Hanada-san put his head on one side, his brows furrowed in puzzlement. “Aren’t you going to ask me who it is?” he inquired. 

“Why should I? It’s none of my business.”

 The world was spinning around Chitose. He was severely out of his depth. As he tried desperately to calm the uncomfortable churning in his gut Chitose reflected that he was feeling as if someone had just fed an entire encyclopaedia’s worth of information directly into his brain, and was currently waiting for him to tell them how he felt about the whole experience. The one good thing about Chitose’s immediate predicament was that he was not feeling quite as cold anymore, because the tips of his ears were burning with a most unfamiliar heat.

Hanada-san said nothing. Chitose said nothing. Eventually, Hanada-san exhaled softly, and with an expression that was stonier than what he usually wore turned away from Chitose to continue picking his way over the rolling sandy plains.

“Alright then. Suit yourself,” he said. He sounded rather crestfallen.

Chitose had screwed up. He was so sure that he had screwed up. He wanted to kick himself in the shin, or to apologise to Hanada-san for not giving him the reaction that he had wanted from him, but it was still highly uncertain whether Chitose was even reading the situation correctly in the first place. In front of Chitose stretched Hanada-san’s footprints, the heels of his boots etching a pair of prim rectangular impressions sunk deep into the sand as Hanada-san trudged steadfastly onwards, the hem of his dark mantle whipping around in the wind in a melancholy manner. He struck a lonely figure against their bright white surroundings which gleamed starkly in the late afternoon sun, and Chitose was impulsively reaching his fingers out towards Hanada-san’s hand to take hold of when it occurred to him how certain types of people might not take well to being comforted by physical touch whenever they were angry. He sheepishly withdrew the offending digits and balled them into a fist by his side. If Hanada-san noticed, he mercifully made no comment about it.

After racking his brains for an alternative solution, Chitose decided to go with something more unconventional.

“Hanada-san,” he called out. “Give me your hand.”

“What,” snapped Hanada-san, as he stared down Chitose with a rather severe air.

“Just give it to me. That’s right. The other hand, too.”

“What are you trying to do,” retorted Hanada-san. “I can get angry too, you know.”

“I’m trying to cheer you up,” said Chitose.

“Well, it’s not working.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.” Chitose was getting slightly nervous, but he was determined to commit to the bit nonetheless. “Hold on tightly, now.”

Years later, Hanada-san would confide in Chitose that there had been a few points in time during their long acquaintanceship with each other when he found himself growing quite convinced that Chitose was losing his mind after being stuck in a bar playing the piano for way longer than the recommended amount of time, and this particular incident was one of them. Chitose privately disagreed. The ends fully justified the means, after all.

As Hanada-san gawped in bewilderment and a few curious seagulls landed on the stretch of beach behind Chitose while cocking their heads for a better view, Chitose took hold of both of Hanada-san’s hands, and using Hanada-san’s weight as an anchoring point proceeded to swing himself in a wide arc around the other man.

Hanada-san looked like he was unsure about how to rearrange his facial features by the time Chitose looked back up at him with a triumphant smile. 

“What was that for,” he deadpanned.

“My Big Sister Yoko always did this for me as a kid. She said it would get the blood flowing to my brain or something like that. And then she got engaged and stopped doing it for me.”

“That’s…unfortunate.”

“Yeah, it was. I was really sad when she stopped. She always did it with her fiancé instead. She looked way happier twirling around him too,” sniffed Chitose disapprovingly. “I assumed that it was because it’s more fun twirling yourself with someone taller, so I’ve always wanted to do this with another person around my height.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be cheering me up instead,” snorted Hanada-san, but there were the vestiges of a smile beginning to form in the creases around his eyes.

“I can twirl you too, if you want. I’m not very strong though, so don’t blame me if you fall down or we both fall down together.”

“No, it’s okay. You can try twirling yourself around me again. Just to see whether it helps with cheering me up, too.”

On Chitose’s second circuit around Hanada-san he felt a slight tug on both his hands, and he skidded to a stop to glare at his friend accusingly.

“I knew it. You’re still angry at me! You’re trying to make me fall down!”

“No, I wasn’t.”

“Yes, you were! I felt you pull on my hands!”

“That wasn’t what I,” began Hanada-san before he was sent stumbling clumsily forwards by Chitose squaring his shoulders and yanking on Hanada-san’s hands with every single ounce of strength stored within his skinny, unathletic frame.

“You're terrible! I trusted you! Why else would I let you twirl me?”

“My apologies, but I don’t remember agreeing to twirl you in the first place. You were the one who started it.” Thanks to Chitose’s continued efforts Hanada-san had gotten his neatly-pressed clothes all rumpled and was in a rather sorry-looking state indeed. As he spoke, he gave Chitose’s hands another firm tug and Chitose yelped, sending a cloud consisting of sand and dried seaweed and a rather annoyed crab billowing upwards into the air as he hopped a few paces towards Hanada-san while trying his best to maintain his balance.

“You watch out,” said Chitose as threateningly as possible, fully aware of the fact that it was a losing battle on his end. In any case, the wide smile currently spreading across his face would ostensibly be making for an even less convincing act overall. More than anything, Chitose was just glad that Hanada-san had decided to be friends with him again. “Just you wait. I’ll get you someday.”

Hanada-san laughed. “I’d like to see you try,” he said.

And that was that.

On their way home, Chitose and Hanada-san stopped at the port to look at the ships docked in the harbour winking their glowing green-and-red eyes in the fading evening light.

“I told Miss Harumi that we could see the stars clearly where I come from, and she said that it didn’t matter, because the port lights are as pretty as the stars anyway,” said Chitose. “I still prefer the actual stars, though, but these aren’t too bad either.”

“You’re right,” mused Hanada-san. “They are pretty when you look at them like this. That’s my battleship by the way, that large grey one all the way over there.”

“Cool,” replied Chitose absently. He cleared his throat. “How long will you be staying here, by the way?”

“Hmm. Not sure. We just go whenever the higher-ups tell us to go.”

Humming thoughtfully, Chitose stuck half of his body over the railing he was currently leaning on. 

“That’s sad,” he said. “I’m going to miss you when you’re gone.”

“I’m still here, you know.”

Rather than the immediate future as they knew it, Chitose was referring to something looming further over the horizon that would surely come to pass once Hanada-san’s superiors inevitably decided that more manpower was required to push the frontlines of the Empire's territory forwards. That said, it would be too insensitive of him to remind Hanada-san that he was presently working for people who would send him to his death without a second thought, so Chitose elected to keep these thoughts to himself. Covering up the nagging unease quietly pulling at his heartstrings with a theatrical yawn, Chitose stretched out all his limbs like a sleepy dog and hopped briskly down from his perch, prodding Hanada-san in the side with a finger as he did so. “Let’s head back. I have work tomorrow and I need to figure out how to break the bad news to Miss Shizuka before that.”

Hanada-san pinched the bridge of his nose. “Surely you exaggerate. It can’t be that difficult. Just tell it to her straight.”

“Hanada Isamu,” sighed Chitose with the patience of a thousand saints. “You don’t just tell girls things straight. She might go ballistic if I told it to her straight, and I have an ageing mother with a broken hip in the countryside to provide for.”

“That’s not a problem at all. I can be the one telling it to her directly.”

“Are you crazy? She would be devastated. Well, at least if I were a girl who liked you and you rejected me in such a straightforward manner I would be absolutely destroyed.”

One corner of Hanada-san’s mouth made an almost imperceptible twitch upwards. “Oh, would you?”

“Yes, I would. I would lie down on the floor sobbing for twenty-four hours without getting up.”

“Well, thank you.”

“That wasn’t meant to be a compliment, but sure. You’re welcome.”

When they parted ways at the junction outside the bar, Chitose flagged Hanada-san down with a wave of his hand. 

“Once the war is over,” he suggested cautiously, “you can come back here and visit me, and we can look at the port lights and walk on the beach together again.”

Underneath the golden rings of dim light cast by the flickering street-lamps, Hanada-san’s crimson eyes glittered with a curious, indistinct sentiment.

“Yes,” he said. “That sounds nice.”

04 – Fin

The staff working at the orchard had been given an entire week off in honour of the upcoming New Year’s celebration, and while most of his colleagues had chosen to travel back to their hometowns in other prefectures to spend the festivities with their family Hanada-san did not seem quite ready to go home yet, and had shaken his head morosely when the question was posed to him. On his part, after some prolonged deliberation Chitose decided that he too was not feeling confident enough to leave Hanada-san all alone by himself under the gloomy, chilly skies of the north, and opted instead to send a greeting-card and some preserved produce to his family by mail instead of heading home.

“Since we’re here already, we might as well take a look around the area,” he said. “Why don’t we visit the beach? They have a beach here, right?”

Hanada-san was sitting in front of the hearth ensconced in an old floral-print quilt with only his head and leg peeking out, a comical sight reminiscent of the daifuku dumplings Chitose’s mother used to make for the guests at their inn. Apparently, the cold made his old wounds hurt and he had never been a big fan of low temperatures to begin with. “Is there going to be a lot of walking?”

“Don’t be difficult, Isamu. We can take the train part of the way and walk really, really slowly.” Hanada-san had requested for Chitose to start referring to him by his first name a couple of weeks prior, and to Chitose’s credit he had managed to get reasonably used to doing so with enough practice. However, old habits do die hard, and Chitose privately opined that regardless of how he would eventually end up addressing him, as far as Chitose was concerned Hanada-san would always be the same Hanada-san in his heart.

“It will be evening by the time we reach the confounded place given how much time it takes for the both of us to get around,” muttered Hanada-san in response to Chitose’s proposal while he hobbled across the room to reach for his coat.

Rather unsurprisingly, the beach was a normal beach that Chitose would have mistaken for the other beach in Kobe that he was more familiar with if he had only been shown a picture of it.

“Well,” he declared, arms akimbo as he surveyed his surroundings. “Looks like this turned out to be a bad idea too.”

While Chitose pondered upon his shortcomings, Hanada-san carefully picked his way over the dunes to stand next to him and take his elbow. The elegant wooden walking-stick in his free hand tapped delicately on the powdery sand, its muted movement accompanying every arduous step he took. “It’s fine. Like I said, I feel better already with you here.”

“When was the last time you visited the beach?” asked Chitose. “Outside of work, I mean,” he added quickly, just in case Hanada-san got into another one of his moods thinking about the war again.

Hanada-san blinked thoughtfully at Chitose from behind his trademark pair of round-rimmed glasses. “I think it was with you, actually.”

“Oh! That’s funny. Me, too.”

“Didn’t your…friend bring you there after that?”

“He did mention it a few times, but I always turned him down.” When he was still alive Yashiro had loved swimming and was always pestering Chitose or the rest of their squad-mates to go swimming in the sea together. While the others were usually happy to oblige, by and large Chitose found himself in the awkward position of being the only one consistently turning him down. Thankfully, following a specific episode in which Yashiro had witnessed Chitose making a rude gesture at the sea during a routine supply run, Yashiro wisely begun leaving Chitose out of their group’s usual swimming excursions not to mention other plans he would make regarding miscellaneous leisure activities conducted near large bodies of water. Chitose leant against Hanada-san’s shoulder affectionately, a fond chuckle as light as the fizzy bubbles in lemonade sherbet escaping through the flutters in his chest. “I thought you said you wouldn’t ask anymore.”

“Sorry,” said Hanada-san.

“No, it’s alright. I think it’s cute.” Smiling, Chitose reached a hand out to twine their fingers together. “I remember we had an argument too, the last time we were at the beach.”

“I don’t recall that happening.”

“Well, you should. You were acting all weird and I didn’t know what I did to offend you.”

“Humph! If you asked me, it was probably because you were bombarding me with all sorts of bizarre questions. Anyone would have been offended.” While he spoke Hanada-san was sulkily poking at a seashell lying beside his feet with his walking-stick.

“Well, I’m sorry for doing that, I suppose. How did we resolve it, by the way?”

“You did this peculiar little spinny thing your big sister used to do with her fiancé while holding my hands.” 

“Oh,” snorted Chitose, “so that’s how you remember it. I thought you would have said something along the lines of feeling cheered by my youthful spirit and whimsical exuberance.”

“I don’t recall thinking anything of the sort. You just made me dizzy and confused.”

If it had been anyone else, Chitose would have flown into a rage and thrown himself at them, fists and all, but he figured that Hanada-san had gone through quite the traumatic experience not so long ago and should be well entitled to making a few jibes at him now and then. He grinned and took a few steps backwards.

“Well then, why don’t we try it again. Let’s see if it still makes you dizzy and confused.”

“Have you lost your mind? Do you want to fall down that badly?”

“I can twirl myself with one hand instead of two, if you’re worried. I promise I’ll do it slowly.”

Hanada-san did not seem entirely convinced, so Chitose took a deep breath in preparation and shuffled around so that they were both exactly an arm’s-length apart.

“Come on. It’ll be fine. It’s sand so it won’t hurt that much if I fall anyway.”

As he thoughtfully scratched his chin with one finger, Hanada-san remained silent. A tenuous lull stretched out in the frigid winter air between the two of them, and Chitose was resignedly preparing to drop the topic altogether when Hanada-san gave him a single nod.

“Okay,” he said. “I trust you.”

It was a manoeuvre decidedly trickier than what he was used to, as Chitose’s leg was bad and Hanada-san only had the use of seventy-five percent of his own legs, but Chitose swiftly concluded with the aid of some rudimentary arithmetic that it would still work if he used Hanada-san as some kind of pivot and moved at a measured, relaxed speed much slower than whatever he was used to doing with his Big Sister Yoko. He beamed cheerfully at Hanada-san to reassure him, and began to take off in a slow jog.

Halfway through Chitose’s circuit across the sand there came a firm tug on his hand. Equal parts perturbed and amused that Hanada-san was still trying his childish tricks on him a full two years later, Chitose let out an offended grunt and scrambled to keep himself from tipping over, but Chitose was no longer as mobile as he used to be due to his injured leg and Hanada-san was a trained soldier accustomed to lifting items heavier than Chitose was with his arm strength. The surrounding scenery whirled around Chitose in a blur of greys and whites and dark blues as he careened wildly forwards with one step, then two, then three­–

All at once everything stopped moving altogether, and Chitose came to enough to find himself being bundled by both of Hanada-san’s arms into a crushing hug. As Chitose choked and blustered with indignation, Hanada-san sighed contentedly and chastely pressed his lips against Chitose’s left temple.

“I’ve always wanted to do this,” he said.

“You! Where the hell have you been learning all these horrid things from? What do you mean you’ve always wanted to do this?”

“Back then,” murmured Hanada-san, still not letting go of Chitose, “I wanted to do this when I saw how happy you looked twirling around me, too, but I got scared halfway and stopped.”

“Oh, so that’s what that was? I thought it was revenge for making you angry.”

“I wasn’t angry. I was just disappointed.”

“You sound like my father when he was still living at home with us. Do they teach everyone that in military school?” Saying so, Chitose let his own arms snake around Hanada-san’s waist to give him a few appeasing pats on his back. “Alright, alright. You can let me go now.”

“I wanted you to ask me who it was that I liked, but you responded so coldly,” continued Hanada-san, completely ignoring Chitose’s half-hearted protests. “After a while, I decided that I wouldn’t have had the guts to tell you the truth even if you had asked, so I didn’t say anything.”

“Well,” said Chitose, tilting his head to nestle one cheek into the curve of Hanada-san’s shoulder, “you can tell me now. Who was it? I promise I won’t get angry.”

“It was you.”

“Liar,” whispered Chitose.

“I’m not lying. I love you, Ashikaga Chitose. I’ve loved you since the very beginning, when I first saw you playing the piano in that bar.”

“That’s really shameless. That’s a really shameless thing to say.” His heart bursting with a tender swell of emotion, Chitose permitted himself to melt into the embrace as he tightened his hold around Hanada-san. “I suppose I’ll have to take your word for it, then.”

“You can take my word for it,” said Hanada-san, the fingers on one hand lazily weaving themselves amongst the strands of Chitose’s hair. “I haven’t lied to you so far, have I?”

“Not really, but that doesn’t mean I’m letting you off the hook for everything else.”

A small white puff of condensation rose into the space above their heads as Hanada-san chortled good-naturedly, mirth obvious in his voice. “Fine by me.”

They stayed like that for a while. Eventually, Chitose remembered his manners and pulled back briefly to plant a kiss on the corner of Hanada-san’s mouth.

“I love you too, Hanada Isamu,” he said. “I love you too.”

“Once is enough,” smiled Hanada-san, but he returned the kiss anyway.