Despite the lively streets and the vibrant energy of Tokyo, there was a profound sense of loneliness that lingered within Hiro, an emptiness that seemed to echo through the spacious rooms of his modern home. He had grown accustomed to the silence, to the coldness that seeped into his bones no matter how warm the weather was outside or in. His body was cold, and at some point, his emotions and his life had started to echo that sentiment.
Closing his eyes, Hiro felt the warmth of the familiar pillow beneath his neck, a stark contrast to the chill that pervaded his existence. Thoughts of Tamaki, a sudden and unexpected presence in his life, stirred within him like a whirlwind of emotions.
‘Tamaki…Shinto Tamaki,’
‘A problem he hadn’t woken up expecting to encounter. A solution, an answer to every prayer, every chant, every broken hope he had held onto for years. He didn’t want to let that sliver of hope back in. He had obeyed all the doctors, tried all the meds, and done all the steps. He had done everything.’
‘He had followed through on everything, despite every little frustration, and step backward. Despite days, weeks, months, and years with little to no change at all.’
Hiro grappled with conflicting feelings of hope and skepticism, unsure whether to embrace this newfound ray of sunshine or guard himself against further disappointment.
It felt scary to him to wait again.
His life had been filled with waiting, waiting for the world to finally make sense to him. For his body to stop being broken.
As tears welled up in his eyes, Hiro hid his face with the back of his hand, struggling to contain the surge of relief and gratitude that threatened to overwhelm him. For years, he had endured the endless cycle of waiting and coping, hoping for a reprieve from the perpetual chill that consumed him. And now, in the midst of his darkest hour, Tamaki had appeared like a beacon of warmth and understanding.
‘I was done with it always being sweater weather. And just when I wanted to give up. Just when I was starting to wonder if this is all there is to living life. If I really needed to go on like this. You appear. And you do the possible. You are my savior. And yet, you are weird and just a bit strange. I don’t know if I can understand your motives for saying yes at all. You don’t like me, but you stare so intensely and that gaze in your eyes…’
He held up his hand to the air. They had held hands for over a minute, and his fingers tingled with the warmth still in one hand. He could feel it in the other, but it didn’t seem to affect it as strongly.
Questions swirled in Hiro’s mind as he pondered the enigmatic connection between himself and Tamaki. The warmth that lingered in his hand, a tangible reminder of their brief but impactful encounter, sparked a curiosity that bordered on obsession. Hiro yearned to unravel the mysteries of their connection, to understand the mechanics behind the exchange of warmth and the depths of Tamaki’s generosity.
‘Just how does this work? When I touch you, and you touch me. The body part that came into contact warms up, and it seems that when he held my hand briefly before, there was less warmth than when we intertwined our fingers just now for a minute. So, does the length of contact matter to the outcome? Does how we touch matter too? Does it have to be skin-to-skin? How long does it last?’
‘Why does it even work at all? And who are you that you would so readily agree with my demands and not have any of your own? Just why are you so easily going along with the flow of everything, despite the change in life it would bring to you.’
That thought of it being skin-to-skin sent a tingle of intrigue into his heart.
He turned over and stared at the wall and brought his hand to his chest, hugging it to him.
‘Warmth, I can’t believe my hand was warm.’ He closed his eyes and let out a soft little sigh.
As Hiro turned over in bed, lost in contemplation, a soft knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Startled, he feigned sleep, hoping to avoid an awkward confrontation with Tamaki. ‘What is he doing in here? Doesn’t he have manners? If this is his habit, I will have to set some ground rules. He can’t just come into my space.’
He heard something make a small sound behind his back, but he didn’t stir, hoping that Tamaki would think he was asleep. Having a nap mid-day.
The door clicked, and he heard Tamaki’s receding steps and then the sound of his door closing.
Hiro turned over and looked at the little stand beside the bed, there was a small round jar, with a small note beside it.
He picked it up.
I noticed your skin was a bit dry; I use this to keep my hands from getting calloused as I play, it’s a good cream and you only need a little. Tamaki
Hiro stared at the note, perplexed. He dropped the note down onto his lap and grabbed the jar. Opening it up. It was a creamy sort of yellow color and smelled faintly like coconuts. He closed the lid.
Clutching the jar and the note in his hands, Hiro grappled with conflicting emotions, unsure how to interpret Tamaki’s unexpected act of generosity. Beneath the layers of skepticism and doubt, a glimmer of hope flickered within Hiro’s heart, a tentative belief that perhaps, just perhaps, there was more to this newfound connection than met the eye. As he carefully stowed away the jar and the note in the desk drawer, Hiro couldn’t shake the feeling that his life was about to take an unexpected turn, guided by the warmth of Tamaki’s presence.
‘Why are you being so kind? Kindness is never free.’
Hiro slowly shut the drawer on the little objects and his newly tumultuous emotions, hoping the closing of the drawer could do the same for the stirring confusion in his heart and mind.
~Tamaki~
The bed enveloped him in a soft cocoon, a stark departure from the worn mattresses of the hostel he called home. It cradled him like a cloud, offering a brief respite from the harsh realities of his life, and had been every bit as soft as it had seemed from first inspection. As Tamaki lay there, his phone chimed, disrupting the tranquility with an incoming message.
My friend said that you can help out at the market tomorrow at five, do you still want the job? If not, he will ask someone else. It’s only a few days, though, the text read, prompting Tamaki to consider his options. He hesitated for a moment before tapping out Okay and pressing send.
Placing his hand over his eyes, Tamaki couldn’t shake the feeling of disbelief at the unexpected turn his day had taken. Returning to the hostel to retrieve his belongings was a mundane task but something he would have to do later for sure. He probably should have done it first, but the proximity to Hiro had thrown him off guard. Never did he imagine himself in such close quarters with someone like Hiro, whose world seemed worlds apart from his own. He was content with observing Hiro’s beauty from a distance, and Tamaki grappled with the realization that their worlds were fundamentally different.
An hour passed, and Tamaki opened his eyes, finding an unanticipated sense of relaxation washing over him. Despite the inner turmoil stirred by his encounter with Hiro, there was a fleeting moment of peace amidst the chaos of his thoughts.
He picked up his phone to see a missed text. Actually, my friend said he needs help today too if you are free. Or if you are busking and busy, let me know. He needs someone at four.
Checking the time on his phone, Tamaki noted that it was three thirty. He calculated that he could still make it to his destination if he caught the next train. The area was only a twenty-minute ride from the stop preceding the market; if he hurried, he might just arrive on time.
Concern crept into Tamaki’s thoughts as he realized that the message had been sent almost an hour ago. Was it possible that someone else had already taken the opportunity?
Opening his banking book, Tamaki glanced at his balance: one thousand nine hundred yen.
I will be right there if it isn’t too late.
Okay, perfect.
Tamaki rose from his seat on the bed, slipping his wallet into the back pocket of his jeans before swinging open the door to the room. He briskly descended the stairs, his steps purposeful as he made his way to the front of the house. Seated there, he began the process of putting on his shoes.
From the top of the stairs, Hiro’s voice interrupted his preparations. “What is your phone number?” Hiro said.
“050-9391-4415” Tamaki responded. He turned back to look at him Hiro nodded.
“Where are you going?” Hiro asked.
“To work,” Tamaki replied, finalizing his shoelaces. He rose once more, giving his shirt a shake before turning towards the door. As his hand grasped the handle, Hiro let out a sigh.
“Why?” Hiro’s voice held a note of genuine curiosity.
Tamaki turned, his expression darkening into a frown. “Because I have to.”
“But your wrist. Besides, didn’t I say you would have a place to stay and food to eat?” Hiro’s concern was evident in his tone.
Tamaki swallowed his pride, struggling to articulate his reasoning. “I need money for more than food and shelter.”
“How much? I can lend it to you if it’s for something important,” Hiro offered.
“I don’t need your money,” Tamaki retorted, his tone firm.
“But you said you didn’t have a regular job, you said busking was your job,” Hiro persisted, seeking understanding.
“Just because I don’t have a conventional job doesn’t mean I don’t need to earn a living. I take odd jobs from my friends whenever they’re available,” Tamaki explained, his frustration evident.
“But those kinds of jobs are not easy, especially with your wrist,” Hiro pointed out, voicing his concern.
Tamaki sighed, his resolve unwavering. “Wrist or no wrist, I still need to survive.”
“I don’t understand. I’m offering to help,” Hiro insisted, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s just money.”
Tamaki scoffed at the simplicity of Hiro’s offer before turning and walking out the door.
“It’s just money? Yeah, just money.”
‘As if that isn’t the most important thing in the world outside air.’ He thought.
Tamaki made his way to the train station, his thoughts deliberately shifting away from the captivating presence of the person in the house who seemed so out of place in his world. As he approached, he noticed the train doors beginning to close, prompting him to quicken his pace. With a sigh of relief, he managed to slip inside just in time. The bustling world outside blurred past him as he stood amidst the throng of commuters, mesmerized by the sights and sounds that surrounded him.
Normally tethered to his phone, Tamaki made a conscious effort to disconnect from the digital world and instead immerse himself in the tangible chaos of the train ride. The dissonance between his physical surroundings and his mental state left him feeling strangely out of focus, a sensation mirrored in the blurred rush of the passing scenery. When the train finally stopped, his thoughts were not one bit calmer, but at least he had arrived in time. He jogged down towards the night market.
One of his regular odd job places.
‘Just turn your brain off and work.’ He thought.
“Tamaki.”
Turning at the sound of his name, Tamaki spotted his friend Kazuo among the crowd. With a wave, he greeted him. “Kazuo, how are you? I didn’t know you would be here as well.” Tamaki said.
“Mari wanted me to pick up some things for dinner, so I thought I would stop by Grandma Nao’s.”
“Mari-chan making you work hard after work, huh,” Tamaki remarked with a chuckle.
“Yes,” Kazuo agreed. “You are lucky you can’t get married. It’s so much work.”
Tamaki’s facade faltered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a forced agreement. “Mhhm, seems like it.”
“Tamaki-kun, you made it,” Grandpa Nakayama greeted as Tamaki arrived at the loading dock. “I need you to move boxes of fruit from the loading docks to Grandma Nao’s stand.”
Tamaki bowed. “Yes, sir!” he said with a bright smile, then ran off to the loading dock where the trucks came every day and dropped off stuff from the farms outside Tokyo.
“Be careful!” Grandpa Nakayama called, just as he did every time.
“Yes!” Tamaki agreed. He darted off to the loading dock, where stacks of boxes awaited him on the side of the road. As he worked, the older gentlemen sitting on the side of the road engaged him in light banter, their camaraderie providing a welcome distraction from his inner turmoil. Some of the old grandpas were playing a game of Shogi(1). He bowed to them and grabbed the first stack of small boxes.
“You are here again Tamaki-kun,” one grandpa stated.
Tamaki gave them a little bow, and they waved it off.
“I’m telling you Tamaki-kun will be able to solve it before you even blink and you are taking so long on your next move.”
The other grandpas all chuckled.
Tamaki hoisted the two boxes a bit to manage them better. His wrist protested, but he ignored it. It was just a little tinge of pain, nothing serious.
He walked over to them. “He is right, I could have you beat in eight moves or fewer.” Tamaki agreed.
The grandpas all laughed.
“You say that every time, Tamaki-kun.” Grandpa Nakayama said, with a happy little wheeze.
“That’s because it is true every time,” Tamaki said, giving them a cheeky little grin.
Grandpa Nakayama and the rest all howled in response. Grandpa Nakayama’s wheeze and whistle as he laughed grew even louder and more constrained until he burst into a light coughing fit. Tamaki looked at him with worry, but he waved it off. Tamaki smirked.
“Just let me finish my work and I will come back and whoop your butts.” He said with good humor.
grandpa Nakayama waggled his finger at him, but his eyes scrunched up with good humor. Tamaki bowed and jogged off with the boxes.
He worked hard over the next little while running back and forth from one side of the market to the other, moving anything anyone needed help with. His wrist started hurting about halfway through it, but he powered through the pain. Continuing to do his work. It was well past dark when he finally paused, and most of the grandpas and grandmas had disappeared inside the buildings nearby the market, it was far past their bedtime; it was just the vendors out and maybe a handful of shoppers. This market went late, but it was almost closing.
He pulled out his phone. The time read eight o-six. It closed at eight, so there would be a few more stragglers as people closed up, but for the majority, it would remain like this for the next half hour. He went to put his phone back in his pocket when he noticed a little dot with the number two over the texts.
He hadn’t heard his phone buzz. Tamaki opened up his texts.
I made dinner, when will you be home?
This is Mastumori Hiro.
Tamaki smirked. As if anyone else would be texting him that.
He pressed the little dot in the corner and clicked Add to Contacts.
He paused for a second, thinking about it.
Hiro-???
(1) Shogi: Shogi is a traditional Japanese board game similar to chess.
Comments (0)
See all