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Kōhei's been missing for two days when Toshinori finds him lying in the underbrush on the mountain. He stirs slightly when Toshinori tries to find his pulse, blinks through the smeared remains of dried blood that the rain had mostly washed off, and makes a confused, pained sound that Toshinori thinks is his name.
He stops trying to find Kōhei's pulse and instead cups his face, trying to orient him. "Shit, Kō, lookit me."
"–Toshi?" Kōhei mumbles.
"Yeah, it's me."
Kōhei's eyelashes stop fluttering; he leans hard into one of Toshinori's hands. "Th'nk fuck."
He gets Kōhei the help he needs to get down the mountain safely, and he never once suspects that Kōhei died up there and something else is alive behind his eyes now.
Not even once.
Yuki knows something's up immediately. She doesn't know what, exactly, but it's not one of those feelings you can reasonably ignore.
Ever since she was a kid, she's been hearing things that aren't there, and her Auntie said it was the family gift, since they'd been patrons to this area for centuries. Apparently her little cousin Asako has the gift too, so at least she's not the weird one of the family. (Or not the only weird one, anyway.)
This being said, when she steps into Kōhei's hospital room, focused on making sure Hikaru hears her and understands that jumping on his father like he usually does at home is not okay here, her sentence trails off into silence once she crosses the threshold. Because there's something else in the bed.
That's the only explanation, the only one that makes sense. Because Kōhei's sitting there, propped up on too many pillows and gently redirecting Hikaru's weight when he climbs up on the bed anyway to tackle his father, but what she's hearing is coming from there too. So maybe something came back down the mountain with him? Maybe it was at the hospital already, or in the ambulance, or in this very room, and climbed up with him in the absence of anyone to object.
The hearing gift is all well and good if you know what it is you're hearing, but Yuki can't very well say she does know what she's hearing, right now. It's soft, unobtrusive, but still noticeable, like water pipes in an old house, or the wind outside during a storm.
And it doesn't speak. Most of the things she hears speak, so she gets a good idea of what they want.
But this thing is just there, with Kōhei, with Hikaru, burbling like a creek, content to be here, even if Yuki isn't.
Maybe it doesn't realise she knows it's there. Maybe she should wait until Hikaru's out of harms way and they're back home and then she can address it. Yes, she thinks shakily, that's what I’ll do.
"Yuki," Kōhei calls from the hospital bed and she jolts out of her thoughts, still just standing in the doorway. "Ya look like ya've seen a ghost."
Not quite, she thinks. Close, though.
"Mighta been," she replies, summoning up all of her remaining anger about the situation, "if Toshi hadn't taken his fool ass out to find your fool ass."
He looks sufficiently cowed by that. "I owe him big time, I know."
And it would be Toshinori, wouldn't it? While Yuki was home, trying to keep Hikaru distracted, trying not to descend into panic, Toshinori and the other village men got to traipse about searching for Kōhei. Every time she'd tried to leave Hikaru with her father-in-law or neighbours, they'd shoo her home and tell her she'd be no use with the state she was in.
And what state is that, she'd replied to Kōhei's father, anger boiling just under the surface.
He muttered something about hysteria, and Yuki had to go and punch her mattress for a few minutes before she didn't feel like she'd punch him the next time she saw him.
In any case, it makes sense it was Toshinori. Ever since they were kids, they were close, and Yuki's wondered on it a few times, if they're closer than everyone assumes, if she missed something somewhere down the line, if Kōhei's been faking everything with her all these years but
No. No, it's not that. Or if it is that, then he hasn't been faking anything, he's just felt all that for her at the same time as Toshinori, and maybe if he told her so she could be at peace with it. Maybe.
(She thinks maybe Satoko wouldn't be so forgiving, but that's Satoko's right.)
Yuki shakes the thoughts from her head and tries to focus on the here and now.
At first it’s like nothing happened. He’s laughing and joking, as tender and warm as usual.
And then she notices him looking around at everything with an interest in his eyes he’d learned to hide years and years ago. She hears him asking the nurses who come by questions he ought to know the answers to, making jokes of far worse calibre than he has for at least five years. He sticks his tongue out at Hikaru when the boy tells him his hospital gown looks boring, and watches with what looks like sincere interest as his IV is removed.
Yuki…Yuki remembers him when there was little guarded about him like this. She remembers him at ten, at four. She’s known Kōhei most of the time she’s been alive, even if they didn’t always move in the same circles, even when they were in different classes and clubs, even when Kōhei seemed to shed the former familiarity of being friends since they were toddlers to put the moves on her by the lockers every chance he got.
Yuki’s known him, even from afar, in all his iterations, all his various forms, all the bits of him she liked and disliked, the things he grew out of and the things he didn’t.
So Yuki gets the sense that, either the doctors sincerely misjudged how badly this incident has messed him up, or something worse happened to him up there that has him acting unlike the man she’s been married to for the last decade, and more like the boy she squashed the advances of in junior high.
She doesn’t want to give into paranoia; who would? She wants to give him every benefit of every doubt she possibly can, because she loves him, because she trusts him, because even when he does lie to her, he has his reasons, and it hasn’t ever hurt her too badly or too deeply before. Yuki wants to act like she’s not noticing anything odd or off, because she wants to believe he’ll be back to normal after he gets some proper rest in their bed. Hands tight on the steering wheel, stopped at a traffic light, she imagines that he’ll sit up when she comes in to sleep later, and he’ll kiss her brow like he always does and say, Yuki, what’d I ever do without ya? Don’t wanna think. (It’s always something reverent and kind and slightly vague like that, because he never really says I love you the way other people do.)
But she does notice, and she is paranoid, and she doubts (not in the way that benefits him), because it’s just not who she is to ignore these glaring signs, and he knows that. Or he did. He used to.
Yuki took that for granted.
Nevertheless, she gets them all home in one piece, and she sets him up in bed even as he protests about feeling just fine, and she sends Hikaru to Satoko’s place with last night’s leftovers in a tupperware container as a paltry apology for the late notice.
And sure as shit, the kid’s been gone a mere quarter of an hour before Satoko texts incoming. sorry. Ten minutes after that, Toshinori’s on her doorstep, head ducked, fidgeting awkwardly the way he always does when Kōhei isn’t there to be a buffer.
Yuki’s known him just as long as she’s known Kōhei, knew Toshinori would turn up as soon as he knew Kōhei was situated at home, because he would never be able to rationalise an excuse to visit in the hospital that made sense to him — even though he was the person who fucking rescued Kōhei in the first place! — but he would be able to rationalise coming here. She was betting on this outcome.
Yuki ushers him inside and putters about uselessly in the kitchen, listening to their faint voices through the walls. Kōhei’s laugh has her gripping the edge of the countertop like it’s the only thing keeping her from breaking down.
What if she’s right? What if that’s not Kōhei anymore? Hikaru’s daddy, her husband, dead and alone in the rain, and something else wearing his kind, laughing eyes, his easy smile, answering to his name, content to let them believe the man they love survived whatever waylaid him up there.
What does she do, then? Protecting Hikaru is, of course, paramount, but what does that entail? How does she even confirm any of her suspicions without placing anyone in potential danger?
(What if she’s wrong, and she treats Kōhei like a stranger — or worse, a monster — when he needs her trust and support the most? Would he still feel he needs the shelter of her love, then? Or would he fly to Toshinori finally, like he’d so obviously wanted to do that summer after graduation when she finally accepted his advances?)
Floorboards creak in the hall, and Yuki comes back to herself, mostly.
“I know ya ain’t leavin’ without a goodbye,” she calls as Toshinori slinks by in the hallway. He stops, caught, and turns towards her, expression sheepish. Yuki gestures for him to come in.
“How’d he seem?”
He shrugs, “Vague, a little disoriented.”
Yuki hums, concurring with the assessment.
“He fell asleep a minute or two ago, so I thought I’d let him rest.” Toshinori slides his hands into his pockets. After a moment, he asks, “How’re you holdin’ up?”
Yuki isn’t sure how to respond at first. How to summarise every chaotic, messy feeling that’s kept her on her feet since late the night before? “Sick to my stomach, honestly,” she says eventually, voice tight, grip on the counter tighter. “He scared the shit outta me.”
Toshinori nods.
She doesn’t have the luxury of having anyone else to ask, so she puts aside her discomfort and says, “Can I ask ya somethin’?” Looking a little surprised, he nods again. “Does he seem…strange to ya? Not just concussed. I mean, like, different.”
Toshinori seems to think this over, retracing his steps through their most recent interactions, from the mountain to the hospital to the bedroom down the hallway from here. Eventually, slowly, he shakes his head, replying, “Not really?”
And, no, he wouldn’t seem that strange or different, would he? Not to Toshi, who he’d known best at the age he’s acting now. That could only be familiar and welcome to Toshinori, who doesn’t live in this house, who has his own wife and children, who doesn’t sleep at Kōhei’s back every night.
“Yuki?” Toshinori prompts, obviously uncomfortable with her tense silence.
“Did he tell ya?” The question comes out before she can think better of it, rephrase it, hold it back altogether. She wants to know so badly, wants some semblance of certainty back in her life, even if it’s only something small.
“Tell me what?” he replies cautiously.
“Whatever it is that sends him up there every five years. I know I’m s’posed to stay out of it, an’ I’m not askin’ ya to tell me if he did say ya anythin’ about it, but…” she squeezes the stone, now at a similar temperature to her palms. “I just wanna know if he told you.”
He wrings his hands, eyes averted, but he nods. “Yeah, he did.”
“’Course,” Yuki mutters. “Dunno why I’m surprised.”
“I’m sorry.”
She sighs, “Why’re you apologisin’? It’s his secret to tell, an’ I knew ‘bout it goin’ in. It’s on me if I gotta problem with it now.”
“An’ do ya?”
What a stupid question. Yuki pushes away from the counter and tries to keep her voice low as she snaps, “’Course I do! He just went missin’ for two days — he nearly died! I don’t like him bein’ involved with somethin’ that can cause that to happen, an’ I don’t like that he’s prob’ly gonna get Hikaru involved in it one day, but there’s nothin’ I can do to stop it.” Save from throwing a fit he’d only endure and comfort her after, his stance unchanged. She could try to threaten him, she supposes, but nothing she could successfully use as leverage is something that wouldn’t hurt her too. Hell, there’s nothing she could threaten him with that wouldn’t hurt Hikaru in the process, and that’s something she can’t abide.
Toshinori breaks through her feverish train of thought with a soft, “He’s not.”
“He’s not what?”
“Gettin’ Hikaru involved in it. Or doin’ it anymore.” He glances away when she makes a questioning noise. “He was just tellin’ me there’s no point, so he’s stoppin’ it.” Toshinori waves a vague hand in the direction of the bedroom. Her bedroom. He gets more answers from her husband in her bedroom in one visit than she has in ten years. She wonders if Kōhei's ability to speak on it like this is because it’s Toshinori or if it’s just because Toshinori's not her.
Yuki chews a bit of dead skin off her bottom lip. “He just told ya.” Unheard to him: he told you.
“Yeah.”
Outside it begins to rain again, drops pattering against the kitchen window. Yuki closes her eyes and turns away from Toshinori. She pretends her headache is from atmospheric pressure and not the growing need to cry. “Okay,” she mumbles, and even at such a low volume her voice wobbles. She clears her throat. “Good to know.”
“Yuki?”
“S’all good, Toshi,” Yuki says, waving a dismissive hand over her shoulder and choking slightly on the fake laugh she gives, “don’t ya worry.”
Later, in bed, Yuki rolls onto her side, back to her husband, and tries to sleep. The noise is still there, the one no one else seems to be able to hear. It’s quiet enough to not be actually disruptive, but in the quiet of their bedroom, all the lights off, all her worries and fears rising to the surface of her mind in the dark, it is impossible to ignore.
It’s the sound of sea foam frothing and lapping at the tide line before the next wave; the hiss and fizz of a firework before the pop-bang of colour. It’s constant and droning, ever present, like it’s in the bed with them both, like it will always be from now on, a white-noise machine souvenir from his near-death on the mountain.
It takes a while for Yuki to allow herself to sink into sleep, but just on the edge, she realises the rise and fall of the noise is perfectly in time with Kōhei’s breath.
It’s the first real warm day of the spring, and everyone’s picnicking in the backyard when Yoshiki’s odd looks graduate from just looks to action.
‘Kōhei’s washing his hands in the kitchen sink and thinking to himself that if he tries hard enough, he’s sure he can wheedle another mochi off of Satoko before they leave, even though she made them for the kids. When the door to the garden slides open, he glances over his shoulder to see Yoshiki watching him with narrow eyes.
‘Kōhei’ turns back around to find a dish towel to dry his hands with. Yoshiki’s footsteps pad further inside as the door slides shut behind him, and ‘Kōhei’ says over his shoulder, “Say, if ya help me by distractin’ your mama, I’ll filch ya a second mochi.”
There’s a moment of silence, and ‘Kōhei’ turns to find the boy blinking in confusion. “The matcha ones?” he eventually responds, expression creasing further as ‘Kōhei’ nods in agreement. “But you don’t like matcha.”
Shit. “Changed my mind,” ‘Kōhei’ answers, smiling toothily. “Adult taste palettes are very advanced, ‘Shiki. They change all the time.”
Yoshiki turns his gaze on the floor, hands clenching into fists at his sides, but before ‘Kōhei’ can ask him what’s up — since something is definitely up — he looks up and says, “Ya ain’t Hikaru’s daddy.”
A beat.
‘Kōhei’ cocks his head, “Eh? What was that, ‘Shiki? Think I misheard ya.”
The kid continues to frown up at him, clearly unimpressed. “I said ya ain’t Hikaru’s real daddy, are ya?”
‘Kōhei’ swallows, a bit panicked but certain he can recover from this. “Ah. Well, not sure I quite know what ya mean.” He musters another toothy smile and adds, “Think I’m definitely Hikaru’s daddy, otherwise where’d he get that hair colour?”
Yoshiki doesn’t laugh, and he doesn’t look appeased. If anything, he seems more agitated than before. Fuck, ‘Kōhei’ thinks.
“You know what I mean,” the kid says, tone deadly serious. “Hikaru’s daddy went missin’ on the mountain, an’ you came back. You ain’t him, are ya.”
Since the start of all this, the rain and Toshi’s warm hand on his cheek, that first night asleep in bed with Yuki, that first night he was alive, ‘Kōhei’ hasn’t felt sacred. He hasn’t had a reason to. Uneasy, sure; guilty, maybe a little bit— but scared? No. ‘Kōhei’s life is easy and it’s calm and it’s nice, and he has nothing to worry about as long as he sticks to his careful script, this role he’s meant to be playing, this person he’s enjoying becoming.
He’s scared now, though. Yoshiki seems to see right through him, and he’s not afraid to call him out and ‘Kōhei’s really scared about what will change because of this.
“What makes you say that?” he asks slowly, mind racing as he tries to figure out how to convince Yoshiki he’s wrong. He kinda thought if anyone figured it out, he’d just kill them, but he can’t kill Yoshiki, no way.
“Been actin’ strange. Don’t remember things I know I told ya. An’…” Here, he trails off, averting his eyes, like whatever he’s about to say he’s not as sure about. “An’ old lady Matsūra said y’ain’t right.”
Old lady Matsūra, huh? ‘Kōhei’ files that away for later and leans back on the kitchen counter, arms folded. He tries to fix his expression into one of thoughtfulness, and says, “Ya trust her word?”
“She wouldn’t just lose her mind in the middle of the street for nothin’, I don’t think.”
“Right, okay.” Yoshiki’s not wrong about that; whatever ‘Kōhei’ actually is ain’t normal, and if someone can see that then they’re probably well within their rights to lose their head. But he’s also enjoying himself, and he ain’t doing harm, so what’s the point of freaking out? He’s had time; if he was gonna cause mass hysteria and destruction, he’d’ve done it by now. “Ya told anyone else ‘bout this? Thinkin’ I’m someone else?”
Yoshiki shakes his head; ‘Kōhei’ holds back a too-obvious sigh of relief.
“Well, I mean, first off, I’m sorry for scarin’ ya, ‘Shiki.” The kid takes a step back as ‘Kōhei’ approaches, but when he pats Yoshiki’s head he stops and doesn’t move any further. ‘Kōhei’ tentatively decides this is a good thing. “I, uh, I hit my head when I got lost on the mountain — ya know ‘bout how serious some head injuries can be? Make ya forget stuff, sometimes, make ya act weird. It’s kinda scary, especially if you’re a kid, so I don’t blame ya for thinkin’ somethin’ else was goin’ on. I guess body-snatchin’ makes more sense to ya than a concussion, since ya didn’t know ‘bout that before, huh?”
Yoshiki looks up at him through his bangs, expression still unconvinced, but not quite as confrontational as before. “Ya sure that’s all it is?” he asks, and he finally sounds like a kid again, and not like he’s pretending to be an adult. “Old lady Matsūra was sayin’ stuff ‘bout spirits an’…”
“Positive,” ‘Kōhei’ responds. “Nothin’ up there but bugs an’ wild animals. An’ me, briefly.” Yoshiki gives a soft, unamused snort, so ‘Kōhei’ counts that as a win. “An’ even if I was somethin’ different…the last possible people who’d be in danger would be you an’ Hik an’ your family, ya know that, right? ‘Cause I love ya all, an’ whatever took me over or some such would feel that love too, ya know?”
“Enough,” Yoshiki groans, but he doesn’t struggle or try to pull away when ‘Kōhei’ hugs him; ‘Kōhei’ actually feels him inch closer, his arms gripping ‘Kōhei’ back tight.
“I’m serious, ‘Shiki; it’s like you’re my very own.”
“Stop teasin’.” His voice is muffled in ‘Kōhei’s button up, but he can just imagine the way the kid’s face is going red.
“Ain’t teasin’ but I’ll back off. I am sorry for scarin’ ya.”
“S’okay.”
“It’s not.” This isn’t just prior instinct driving him now, this is his real cultivated feelings. Yoshiki’s just a kid, still so young and small and impressionable. ‘Kōhei’ thinks it’s stupid anyone feels afraid or uncertain anyway, but Yoshiki’s too young to worry like that. He feels bad for being the source; he feels bad that he’s lying to soothe it. “Don’t like the thought of ya stewin’ on that for so long, bein’ scared of me. I’m an adult, I’m s’posed to spare ya that kind of grief.”
“You were still recoverin’.”
“Nice of ya to excuse me, but it still ain’t right.” ‘Kōhei’ pulls away and holds Yoshiki gently by the shoulders, looking down seriously. “Ya tell me if anyone else goes tellin’ tall tales, okay?”
“Okay,” the kid agrees, not meeting his eyes. ‘Kōhei’ releases him and Yoshiki starts making a beeline for the backyard again.
“An’ I mean it, ‘Shiki,” he calls after the boy. “I love ya.”
“Yeah, I love ya too.”
“Will ya help me with the mochi?”
“No.”
‘Kōhei’ gives a soft, faux-gasp, hand to his heart (or where it should be, approximately), and says, “Treat him like my own damn son an’ he won’t help me swipe dessert.”
Yoshiki snorts again, and as he goes back outside, he looks lighter, convinced and secure. ‘Kōhei’ imagines having that song and dance of bargaining and convincing over and over again to maintain this facade, and feels tired. But he’ll do it. To keep this life, this joyous life overflowing with love from all sides, he’ll do whatever it takes.
Meanwhile, a man with newly bleached hair runs into his mother at the supermarket. She stammers out a vague apology before seeing him properly and gasping, "Iori?"
The man gives a wry grin, waving a casual hand, "Well, guess that cat's outta the bag. Hiya."
His mother sends her daughter off to fetch something from the aisle farthest away (and item she knows this store doesn't carry, to keep her away longer) and turns back with a baffled frown.
"What're you doin' here, Iori?"
"On assignment, so I can't talk too much about it, sorry." He's not sorry, actually; he's fishing for information, and he's also not officially supposed to be here. They haven't assigned him anywhere since he acquired the bleached hair and the hamster he bleached it for, always with the excuse that he needs to take leave for his help. After all, he can’t be much use to them if he keeps pulling stunts like he did with Riko, can he? But when he heard talk of disturbances in his home town through the grapevine, he recklessly thought, about time I caught up with everyone.
The man doesn't like the methods used by his employers, and his mother might be the only person in town who can help. Better the devil you know, he supposes.
“Anyway, you been busy? Book club goin’ well? Get rid of any nasty impurities lately?”
His mother narrows her eyes. She’s so onto him. Ah well. “Why?”
“No reason.”
She obviously doesn’t believe him. She stares a little longer, and then, like there’s a gun to her head or something, “The mountain’s been awful quiet lately.”
“The mountain?” the man repeats.
“Nisayama.”
Nisayama. The one behind the Indō’s place, the one no one is allowed to hike up. That mountain’s been quiet?
The man gives another grin; his mother frowns. This’ll be interesting, then.