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  “It took me quite a while to get the hang of this, you know,” Orihara had said with a rueful sigh when he saw Kento pull it off.

  On Saturdays and Sundays, Kento practiced for five or six hours at a time. Orihara seemed a little exasperated, but he assisted Kento for as long as time allowed him.

  “But you have to keep up with your studies,” he did add as a warning.

  “Then, can you tutor me, too?” Thus, Kento now also had his very own tutor. “Sorry. I know you need to study, too,” he apologized. Even he realized how intrusive he was being.

  “Don’t worry about it,” Orihara said, his eyes softening into a smile. “It’s been a while since I played guitar, and I’m enjoying it. And besides, if your grades go down because I pulled you into playing the guitar, it’s partly my responsibility.”

  “Do people ever tell you that you worry too much about other people?” Kento asked. He was happy that Orihara was being so kind, but he felt like he would end up taking advantage of his support. But then again, how long would he be able to enjoy Orihara’s company? The though occurred to him one night while Orihara was looking over his homework. He felt a throbbing pain in his heart.

  “Hey, how long are you going to work at this clinic for?” he asked, looking at Orihara’s handsome face before him. The man was reading a book while brushing up the hair falling across his forehead.

  “How long? I’ll always be here.” Orihara looked up and smiled at him.

  “But what about when your uncle gets out of the hospital?”

  “I’d just be going back to where I used to work at N. University Hospital.”

  N. University Hospital wasn’t too far from here. Kento was a little relieved.

  “Aren’t you going back to Kanazawa, though?” he asked again, anyway.

  Orihara narrowed his eyes a little. “I won’t go back. I’ll always stay in Tokyo,” he said firmly.

  Thank goodness. Kento, filled with relief and joy, pounced on Orihara.

  “What’s gotten into you, all of a sudden?” Orihara said, looking slightly caught off-guard.

  “Nothing,” Kento said quickly. Thank goodness. If he’s going to stay in Tokyo, I’d be able to see him anytime.

  Thanks to the knee support and poultice, Kento barely felt any pain in his leg lately.

  When he went to the infirmary for the first time in a while to get more poultice, Nurse Fujimoto greeted him with a smile.

  “It’s been a while, Kento,” she said. “I remember you used to come almost every day to get poultice. I’m glad you’re refraining from exercise. It was the right thing to do.”

  Kento scratched his head sheepishly. “I guess.”

  Just as he was about to leave with a bag of poultice, Kento remembered something.

  “Oh, since I’m here, would I be able to get some extra Band-Aids?” His diligent practice with the guitar had left him with cracked fingertips.

  “Oh dear. What’s happened to you this time?” Fujimoto sounded worried. Kento hastily opened his palms and showed them to her.

  “I’m learning guitar from Dr. Orihara. I think I practiced a bit too much.”

  “Goodness me,” Fujimoto said blinked in surprise. She took a box of Band-Aids from the medicine shelf, and cocked her head slightly as she looked at Kento. “Dr. Orihara playing guitar… what a surprise.”

  “Why?” Kento asked out of casual curiosity.

  “I thought he’d completely quit guitar and running ever since that incident.”

  “That incident? You mean when he got hurt?”

  Fujimoto looked troubled as she lapsed into silence.

  “Yes,” she said eventually. “But Dr. Orihara must be quite fond of you, teaching you guitar. Maybe he feels like he’s gotten himself a little brother.”

  Kento was a little hurt at Fujimoto calling him a little brother. He had always thought of himself and Orihara as equal friends.

  “Am I like a little brother to him?”

  “Well, of course,” Fujimoto said with a laugh. Her next words made Kento freeze. “He only has an older brother, so maybe he’s always wanted to have his own little brother.”

  “Older brother?” He had never known Orihara had an older brother. It had never come up in their conversations. He had assumed all along that Orihara was an only child, like him.

  “Dr. Orihara has an older brother? I’ve never heard that before.”

  Fujimoto’s troubled look came back at his question.

  “Well, yes. Yes, I suppose he’s an older brother.” Her sentence ended in a vague way. Fujimoto busied herself with the task of folding cut gauze into quarters. “But they’re very far apart in age, which was probably why they didn’t have a lot in common. Maybe that’s why they didn’t talk much.”

  Kento was perplexed by Fujimoto’s explanation, which sounded more like an excuse, but he made a point of not pushing further. He was more surprised that he hadn’t known all this time that Orihara had an older brother. Kento realized for the first time that he really didn’t know much about Orihara.

  Kento went back to his dorm room with his poultice and Band-Aids in hand, and lay down on his bed.

  He said his hometown was in Kanazawa. Yes; he also vaguely remembered Orihara saying that his family owned a hospital. But Orihara had never talked about his parents, much less his older brother.

  Maybe it’s because he thinks there’s no point in telling me. It was true, to an extent. But Kento had told Orihara about his family, his school, his management office ? everything. Orihara had always smiled kindly and listened.

  Maybe I was too busy talking about myself to listen. Perhaps that was it. He was such a kid for going on and on about himself without even trying to listen to the other person.

  I want to know more about him! Yes; he wanted to know more. The impulse suddenly surged in his heart. He wanted to know everything about Orihara ? wasn’t that what being close meant? I think of him as a close friend, but maybe he doesn’t feel that way about me. That was a sad thought. Kento sprang up in bed. He realized he wanted to get better at guitar because that would put him on equal footing with Orihara.

  Kento was also curious about Orihara’s friend from high school. He didn’t know the friend’s name or face, but he knew Orihara had played Beatles songs on the guitar with him as a high-school boy.

  Kento felt a little prick in his heart.

  Once December rolled around, Kento began to spend all of his time at Orihara’s place. Tomoya was busy both preparing for his own debut and touring with DZ. He barely returned to their dorm room anymore.

  When Tomoya was around, Kento often fled to Miyashita Clinic to avoid the awkwardness, but now that he wasn’t around, it was somewhat lonely. Being alone in the room made him feel like he had been left behind, and that made it unbearable to stay.

  One night, Kento was preparing to go out with a mind to go to Orihara’s place, but was called down and told that someone was on the phone for him. Kento went to the dorm head’s room to take the call. It was his mother, calling from London.

  “They always tell me you’re out, and you never call. You must be really busy. Are you really that tied up with lessons and work?” she said in a somewhat exasperated way.

  “Kind of,” Kento lied.

  “Will you visit me during the winter break?”

  “No,” Kento said flatly. He wanted to practice guitar with Orihara, and in that instant, he had an epiphany. He realized Orihara was the person he wanted most to be with.

  “I know I don’t have to worry about getting into university since I’ll just get bumped up internally, but you know, I haven’t been studying much since I’ve been away at the agency most of the time. I don’t want to be kicked out just for failing school. That’s embarrassing. I want to take time to do some serious studying.”

  Kento was almost appalled at himself for how easily the lies slipped off his tongue and how guilty he did not feel about them. I guess it’s true when they say being in love m
akes you start lying. Not that he was saying that Orihara was his lover, or anything.

  His excuse about studying seemed to convince his mother instantly.

  “You should come during your spring break, then.”

  “I will. Bye.”

  He would just have to think of a new reason to say no once spring break rolled around, Kento thought to himself, mentally sticking his tongue out as he hung up the phone.

  The name for the new group that Tomoya was a part of was going to be called Chronos. They were planning the group’s first performance during the winter break concert tour. News of Chronos had already been broadcast on variety shows and music shows on TV. Although they had yet to even release a CD, their popularity was already quite strong.

  Understandably, it pained Kento to hear about all of the glamour. Once winter break started, he threw himself into practicing his guitar at Orihara’s place. He pointedly made an effort not to watch any TV shows.

  But one Sunday, Orihara turned the TV on during their meal. On the screen were the three members of Chronos, along with DZ.

  “It’s too bad. You had a good chance to be a member,” Orihara said hesitantly, watching Kento’s face carefully.

  “Yeah, well….” Kento said vaguely as he ate the scallop carpaccio and penne casserole that he had cooked with extra effort tonight. “I don’t really mind it anymore. It’s more fun for me to be with you like this.”

  And he meant it. Kento almost surprised himself. He had loved dance so much, and it had been his life’s calling. He realized for the first time that the pain of not being able to debut didn’t sting his heart as much as it had used to.

  “I’m sure the chance will come around for me to debut again. I wouldn’t want it to take away the time I have with you, anyway.”

  “What are you saying?” Orihara said in exasperation.

  “Well, it’s true.”

  Kento was a little agitated at the strong emotions coiling inside him. The time they spent together, their everyday conversational exchanges, had become more important to him than anything.

  Trust? Respect? It wasn’t just that; Kento felt overwhelmed by the fact that there was indeed some other feeling there that he could not express in one word. He hastily changed the topic.

  “Well, when I debut I’d rather do it alone. The Beatles went solo in the end, too.”

  Orihara seemed hard-pressed to make an argument.

  “You’re right, they did.” He put his fork down with a saddened face. “I wish they’d get back together, but that’s never going to happen.”

  Kento was relieved when the conversation changed to The Beatles, Orihara’s favourite topic.

  “I’ll be famous one day, too, like The Beatles.”

  Orihara’s eyes softened. “I’ll be looking forward to it,” he said.

  Chapter 7

  In Tokyo, it often snowed until just past the first week of February. On this day, snow was seen fluttering in the air since afternoon.

  A cold day like this called for oden ? stewed vegetables, eggs, meat, and fish cakes in clear broth. The decision was already made in Kento’s mind the moment the snowflakes began to drift in the air. Just as he always did after school, he went back to his dorm room to finish his homework, and headed out right afterwards to the supermarket to buy the day’s groceries.

  When he arrived at Miyashita Clinic, he announced to Orihara in the consultation room that they were having oden tonight.

  “That sounds delicious. I think that’s what I’ll make tonight, too,” said Nurse Nakagawa as she took the receipt from him and handed him the cash from Orihara’s wallet, which she was took care of.

  Orihara looked out the window. “Mrs. Nakagawa, you can go home early before the snow starts to accumulate,” he called to her.

  Nakagawa was putting her coat on and getting ready to go home when the phone at the reception desk rang.

  “Doctor, it’s from a patient.”

  The call was from an elderly lady called Okumura, saying she had a stomach ache but would take a while to get to the clinic because snow was falling. Orihara thought for a while before he answered.

  “Ms. Okumura, I’ll head over there myself,” he said, and hung up the phone.

  He then began to put away ampoules and medicine inside his house-call bag.

  “Mrs. Nakagawa, would you be able to drop me off at Ms. Okumura’s place? I’ll take a taxi back.”

  “Not a problem.”

  “You can count on me to take care of the place while you’re gone,” Kento said proudly. “I’ll whip up some delicious oden while you’re out.”

  Once the two of them left, dead silence fell around the house. It was as if the falling snow was blotting out all the sound around them. He felt like he was in a house nestled deep in the mountains, far away from civilization.

  The room was filled with the gentle hissing of the oden simmering and its mouthwatering aroma. Kento was plucking the strings of his guitar absently.

  The ringing of the telephone broke the silence in the living room. Kento approached the old-fashioned rotary phone.

  “Wow, he still uses this?” Perhaps he didn’t have a choice, since it personally belonged to Orihara’s uncle, who was over seventy. Kento picked up the receiver.

  “Yes, you’ve reached Orihara.”

  There was a pause before a man’s deep voice answered over the line.

  “Is Yuri there?” he asked.

  “Um, Dr. Orihara is out making a house call right now.” He felt a stir of curiosity at the man calling Oriahra by his first name, but nevertheless handled the phone call professionally.

  “Are you a patient? I think Dr. Orihara will be back soon, but if you would like for him to call back I can take a message.”

  There was another moment of silence.

  “No. I’ll call again another time,” said the voice, and the line went dead.

  I wonder who it was. I didn’t get his name. Oh well, he said he’d call back later, anyway. Then, he realized how much time had passed and went to the kitchen to turn off the stove.

  “Oh, no, I’ve let the broth boil down too much,” he muttered as he added hot water, replaced the lid, and went back to the living room. “He’s taking awfully long. Is he having trouble catching a taxi?”

  Kento was getting hungry, but that was the least of his troubles. He found himself suddenly getting worried.

  “Don’t tell me he’s been in an accident?“

  The rotary telephone rang again, and Kento pounced on it.

  “Hello, you’ve reached Orihara!”

  “Oh, it’s you again.”

  It was the same low male voice, and Kento knew it was the same person from before.

  “I’m sorry. He’s not back yet.”

  The man on the other end seemed at a loss. “You,” he began hesitantly, “what’s your name?”

  “I’m Kento Yamashiro, Yuri’s best friend,” Kento said in the most mature voice he could muster. It might be a little different from the truth, but it was true for him, at least.

  “I see… Yuri’s best friend….” The man continued, sounding somewhat hesitant. “That’s fine, but… is Yuri really not home?”

  “Huh?” Kento realized that the man suspected Orihara of pretending to be out. “He really is away doing a house call,” he insisted. “It’s just that it’s snowing outside, and the roads are probably congested right now.”

  “Snowing? Is it snowing in Tokyo, too?” a surprised voice responded.

  “What do you mean, in Tokyo, too? Where are you calling from?”

  “Kanazawa.”

  Hadn’t Orihara said that his hometown was in Kanazawa? Kento felt a flag going up.

  “Do you happen to be Yuri’s…?”

  “I’m Yuri’s older brother,” the man introduced himself. “I want to ask you for a favour, since you say you’re Yuri’s best friend. Can I ask you to do this?”

  He was so polite about it that Kento didn’t have a re
ason to refuse. He told the man to go ahead.

  “When Yuri comes home, please ask him to answer my calls.”

  Orihara was refusing to even speak to his own brother ? what was that about?

  “Um… are you in a fight?” Kento couldn’t help but ask.

  “No. Let me make this clear before you misunderstand: it’s not that Yuri and I are on bad terms. His guilt towards me is making him go out of his way.” His voice was quiet and filled with sadness. Kento didn’t know what to say back.

  “I’ll call back later,” the man said. “Please convince him to answer the phone when I do.”

  After hanging up the phone, Kento went back to the sofa and picked up the guitar. But instead of holding the pick, he simply ran his fingers along the strings, recounting the phone conversation over and over in his head.

  The snow outside was wet and heavy as it fell in the hazy orbs of light from the lamps at the gates. Their forlorn drifting was almost like that of dead microorganisms sinking into the depths of the ocean where no light shone.

  There was no other sound, save for the occasional heavy thump of snow falling from the branches, and the faint humming of the strings when his fingers touched them.

  When it had just started snowing, he could hear the sirens of the ambulance far away, but even that had ceased. Kento sat alone in silence, waiting for Orihara to return.

  It was about an hour before Orihara finally came home.

  “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

  “I was worried!” Kento couldn’t help but yell as he burst into the doorway to greet him. He moved forward to take Orihara’s bag from him. His hand felt like ice.

  “Look at you, you’re frozen through!”

  “You see, when I went to Ms. Okumura’s house…” Although the woman had said it was a stomachache, upon further questioning she had confessed to feeling tightness in her chest, similar to heartburn. Orihara had feared it might be a heart attack.