Subaru remembers the first time he’d seen the name and photo of Sumeragi Naoki. Kamui had called him and asked him to meet, saying that the Sumeragi family had sent a package by express courier to Kamui’s apartment that morning. Subaru had insisted Kamui go to class and not worry, and had given him a time and an address of a café near Kamui’s university.
It had snowed that day, a gentle cover of white to match the foamy lattes and delicate Christmas cake Subaru had ordered for the two of them. Upon arrival, Kamui handed the envelope to him promptly, but Subaru ignored it. His family may have sent the package urgently, but it had still been sent to Subaru’s old apartment. Only after he’d gone home had Subaru opened the envelope.
His first thought, upon seeing the dry corporate profile, was that Naoki was older than he’d expected. He hadn’t seen the name before, either, and wondered if the family had been trying to keep Naoki away from Subaru, or if they’d been so desperate to find a new Head they would settle for an unknown.
They have worked together for more than a year and a half now. Still, Naoki always meets him at the location of a job. Subaru once extended the offer of driving Naoki, but had been rebuffed. (“I wouldn’t dream of inconveniencing you, Thirteenth Head,” Naoki had said.) Sometimes, like when he tells an empty house he’s leaving, Subaru wonders what their family told Naoki about him.
Other times, like when he spots Naoki’s Yamaha motorcycle as he arrives, he thinks Naoki is simply rebelling for the first time in his life. In these moments, he can’t help liking Naoki no matter how much he shouldn’t.
“Good afternoon, Subaru-san,” Naoki says.
“Afternoon,” Subaru replies.
Subaru rings the doorbell and their client, the Nakamura family, greets them. Subaru asks Naoki to lead the questioning while he takes a look around, but he doesn’t see anything unusual. By all appearances, they are a happy nuclear family in a tidy suburban house. Naoki is professional, but doesn’t extract many details. Subaru listens with half a ear as the family explains their normalcy that has only recently been marred by minor disturbances, such as living room being overturned in the morning, the heater breaking, or the washing machine overflowing.
They leave the house and walk to a nearby park. Naoki is still shy about sharing his opinion, uncertain of its value, and Subaru still occasionally has to prompt him.
“They’re happy,” Naoki says. “Unburdened.”
“What do you think?” Subaru asks.
Naoki doesn’t respond, and Subaru only notices after a couple steps that Naoki has stopped walking entirely. Subaru turns around and waits. After a long pause, Naoki says, “They seem too much like a family in a TV commercial.”
“I’m surprised you were allowed television,” Subaru comments.
At this, Naoki makes a face, and looks more the seventeen he is than Subaru has ever seen him. He waves his hands frantically and exclaims, “I didn’t say anything.”
Subaru can’t help but laugh lightly, and Naoki looks shocked by it. “I heard nothing,” Subaru says.
“They weren’t kidding when they called you a rebel,” Naoki says, wide-eyed. Subaru doesn’t think that’s what the family meant, but it’s safer to let Naoki assume.
He leads Naoki through some ideas, and after a few minutes Naoki decides to ask around the neighbourhood because that’s what a detective would do in a crime drama. (Subaru wonders how Naoki ever survived the main household.) They knock on several houses, Naoki making inquiries with his friendly demeanour and Subaru standing stoically in the background.
It arises that the Nakamuras had a mother that had recently passed away. “Never respected her,” a neighbour had whispered viciously. “She gave her son and daughter-in-law everything and they sent her away.”
They return to the Nakamura house. Subaru can tell Naoki is seething, so he takes the lead and politely asks the family to take leave so that they can perform an exorcism.
When the grandmother’s spirit appears she simply asks for a shrine in the house. Subaru knows what Naoki will decide upon, what he once might have decided upon. Naoki looks to Subaru, and in the face of Naoki’s uncertain hope Subaru can only nod to agree. Naoki does not exorcise her, and instead promises the spirit that her family would maintain a shrine and that he would visit her family grave personally.
Once they return, the living family are clearly unhappy with Naoki’s instructions. In the face of Naoki’s forceful insistence and Subaru’s cold disregard, however, the two adults do not argue. They are willing to set up a shrine if only to maintain their personal peace. Subaru doesn’t think the arrangement will last.
“Was that okay?” Naoki asks once they’ve left the house. His uncovered fingers fidget in the cold morning air.
“It was acceptable,” Subaru says, and sees Naoki’s face fall. Sighing, he decides to give Naoki the advice he needs, rather than the one he believes. It takes optimism to be a protector, rather than a defender. “It’ll be fine. If you can respect each person you meet, everything will turn out fine.”
Subaru can make sure Naoki will never have to know otherwise, not for at least a few more years.
As it is the first Tuesday of the month, Subaru drives to Kamui’s apartment in Kabuki-chou. He is in a different seat in a different car, driving past different shops and different restaurants, but the roads and buildings stay the same. As Subaru takes one last familiar turn, he sees Kamui’s silhouette in front of the complex, always already waiting for him and hugging a bouquet of fresh flowers.
They exchange greetings. Kamui makes a face at the lingering smell of cigarette smoke as he climbs in, but has the tact not to say anything. He begins chattering about his practicum placement at a preschool and what his students are doing. The names wash over Subaru as he winds through the streets.
The trip isn’t long, one Kamui could easily and often does make himself. The gates of CLAMP Gakuen open for Subaru’s car automatically; as a major donor he is permanently registered even if he would never come here otherwise. The road to the hospital is lined with unseasonably leafy greens, as is the reserved spot he parks his sedan in.
Kamui quiets as they step out of the car, and only the wind makes a sound as it rustles the leaves around them. Past the automatic doors, the air becomes still and quiet. They wind their way to the elevator and stand in silence as the numbers slowly climb.
The staff in the long-term ward always greet them by name. It is a sign of respect Subaru was once unused to, but barely has time to acknowledge now. The corridors are empty and washed out, pale green accents lending a false cheerfulness. Kamui is half a step ahead of Subaru, at ease with this artificial tranquility, this induced calm. Subaru hates it.
Kamui greets Fuuma as soon as he opens the door. Fuuma is always silent, but Kamui hasn’t seem deterred by that in years. With the grace of long practice Kamui leaves the bouquet in Subaru’s awkward arms and bustles to the bathroom to fill a vase with water. Kamui takes the bouquet and undoes its wrapping tenderly, before putting it in the vase.
“I hope you like these,” Kamui says, as he places the vase by Fuuma’s bedside. He pulls the visitor’s chair from the table, where the cleaning staff always return it, and takes a seat as he begins the story of his past week anew.
After reaching where he left off with Subaru (Sara deciding to colour the sky pink), Kamui turns to include Subaru in the conversation again, but Subaru knows it’s still mostly for Fuuma’s benefit. Every time Subaru is here, watching Kamui lead a one-sided conversation, he doesn’t know if it’s ritual or hope that keeps Kamui coming back every month. He doesn’t know if it’s ritual or guilt that keeps him here, either.
After exactly two hours, Kamui says his goodbyes to Fuuma as Subaru stays silent. They leave Subaru’s car in its spot and head to a nearby café. There’s a sandwich board outside advertising opening week discounts and, once seated, Kamui says that he saw it on a blog and wanted to try it out.
Their server, a girl who is probably also in university, tells them apologetically the food will take a little while to arrive. Kamui laughs and tells her it’s fine, and she blushes. Kamui seems flattered and only a little uneasy at the attention, and Subaru politely doesn’t look and drinks his coffee instead.
“How is Naoki?” Kamui asks once the server has left.
“Better,” Subaru says. “Still reckless.”
Kamui blows on his tea and takes a sip. “I don’t think anyone who was trained by the main Sumeragi household could ever be reckless.”
Subaru shakes his head. “I was,” he says.
“You’re still so careful,” Kamui says, at looks straight at him. “It’s over, you know.”
“Is it?” Subaru asks.
“You’re still here,” Kamui says. “With me. And with Naoki.”
The food arrives, and Kamui changes the subject. He decides he likes the food, but not enough to make the trip. It seems arbitrary, to Subaru, but then he only visits places like these with Kamui or the others or for work. To Subaru, the atmosphere is too noisy with the chatter of young students and couples on first or second dates. He realizes he is probably the oldest person there.
Subaru wonders when, while he was watching, Kamui grew into an adult. He wonders when, if ever, Kamui could take the burden of another curse.
Subaru drives home and parks his car in the driveway. The lights in the house are on, a few automatic ones he had set up a few years after he’d moved in.
“I’m home,” he says. The house stays quiet.
He goes to the bathroom to take off his contacts, and puts on an old pair of glasses. “Have you had dinner? I’m ordering take out,” he says. He thinks he hears the wind outside.
“I had a job today,” he says. “An elderly lady wanted her family to give her a shrine. Would you want a shrine?”
Silence.
“I didn’t think so either,” he says. He himself will get one, if only because propriety demands it, but he hopes that day won’t come soon.
He turns on the television and switches to a drama he’s been following, the one he thinks Seishirou would like. He pulls out a book that he’s been reading. He’s been trying to read more cheerful books nowadays; it’s not quite working but he thinks he feels less alone.
He falls asleep there, in the warmth of his couch.