Title: Shiro no Kanata e [白の彼方へ]
Chapter: 1-4, To The Whiteness Far Beyond
Page: 034 – 059
Author: Masaki Hikaru
Illustrator: Takamine Akira
Publisher: Charade Bunko
Year of Release: 2007
Disclaimer:
Masaki Hikaru is the original author of this work, and this is a fan translation. Feel free to re-post this elsewhere if you like but please credit this site. I did buy the original copy of this book, along with the rest of the series, so it’ll be great if you can support her by buying her books.
This work contains BL, or homo-eroticism.
There is some (…???) writing in this chapter, especially near the end. I racked my brains and spent a fair amount of time looking through a thesaurus for better words and expressions and adding a sneaky word or two so that the text wouldn’t sound too cringe-worthy but it is not my place as a translator to change the source material, not too much, at least. This part of the BLCD was emotionally charged and impactful, credit definitely goes to Midorikawa Hikaru for this, but somehow the novel… didn’t do the same for me. Too many things explained. Not enough left to imagination. Not sure what you think.
And it didn’t strike me when I first listened to the BLCD, but jeez Asada here seemed like a total creep. Sorry Kazuhiko-san!
Note:
As I have no formal training in translation theory nor am I an expert in Japanese (nor English, for the matter), I cannot guarantee the quality of this translation work, but I promise I did my best.
Do give the BLCD a listen (Nakamura Yuuichi x Midorikawa Hikaru, Inoue Kazuhiko) if you can.
Chapter 1 – 4: To The Whiteness Far Beyond
The Northern Alps are a series of mountain ranges that stretch through the Toyama, Gifu and Nagano prefectures, and they attract many climbers to scale its peaks. Amongst them is Mt. Tsurugi-dake, a mountain that many climbers aspire to climb one day, and also a mountain that someone once spoke about passionately about to Asahi, even though Asahi held no interest in mountain climbing whatsoever.
That person… Hashida Ryou, spent all the money he made at his part-time job on climbing equipment and would go on trips to the Japanese Alps once he could spare the time. He had been a member of the mountaineering club since high school, and had conquered most of the Southern and Central Alps. By then, the number of mountains he had scaled exceeded the number of fingers he had to count them on.
Ryou and Asahi attended the same college, but they were from different faculties and school years. Since their paths did not cross in school, they came to become close friends only because they did the same part time job.
Though Ryou had a large build, there was not a violent bone in his body; he was a gentle, mild mannered giant. Asahi was attracted by this personality of his, and during the first summer in the first year of college he confessed his feelings. Ryou had paused for thought, before gruffly saying “I like you too.” To Asahi, who fully expected his feelings to be unrequited, that was the happiest day of his life.
Yet Ryou was far more enthusiastic about going into the mountains than on dates with Asahi, and while Asahi thought himself ridiculous, he found himself getting jealous. Whenever Asahi sulked, Ryou would apologize. Ryou would also ask Asahi to go with him on his trips, but Asahi, being stubborn, has never once acquiesced to his offer.
“… Asahi, there is a mountain that has the same name as yours, but written with different characters. Let’s go see it together.” Even now Asahi could recall the smile he wore when saying this. It was the guileless smile of a child, one that belied the fact that he was three years older than Asahi.
And in winter that very same year, Ryou disappeared into the mountains he loved while on an expedition to the Northern Alps, never to return.
According to the members of the expedition, Ryou had stepped through a snow cornice, an overhanging edge of snow on a ridge, and plunged into the valley. Close to a hundred and fifty people participated in the search for him, but a two week rescue mission only yielded his pickel. Even the extensive search that was conducted after the snow had melted in the following summer did not recover his body.
Even now, somewhere deep in the mountains lay Ryou, in deep slumber.
At that time, Asahi was unable to accept the fact that he was never going to come back. The funeral had no body, and he couldn’t abandon the hope that Ryou might just suddenly show up one day. And so he waited.
As time went by, those who knew Ryou in college graduated, found jobs, and started to grow distant. Fewer and fewer people spoke of him, but Asahi didn’t lose heart and continued to wait. It was at the end of April in his final year of college; the year that he became the same age as Ryou when he went missing, that Asahi saw the news of the opening of the Tateyama-Kurobe Alpen Route. Since the accident Asahi had avoided anything related to mountains but when he saw the news on television, he couldn’t sit still.
The first place he stopped by after leaving the apartment in a hurry was a large bookstore in town, where he burned into his brain whatever superficial knowledge he could find on Tateyama and its surrounding areas. Then, Asahi went to a sports store and bought entry level climbing shoes and clothing, and the very next day he was on a train.
The hunt for employment in the past few months had thoroughly exhausted him, and to Asahi this might have been a form of escapism.
The entrance to the newly opened Tateyama-Kurobe Alpen Route was bustling with people even though it wasn’t Golden Week yet; there were people holding skis and snowboards coming and going. Asahi alighted at Shinano Omachi Station followed the signs for tourists to take the bus and trolley bus to Kurobe Dam.
He casted a sidelong glance at tourists engaged in jovial banter as he walked in silence to Kurobeko Station, where the cable cars depart from. Asahi did not look around and enjoy the views of the historical buildings en route. By the time he reached Murodō via the cable car and ropeway, it was already late afternoon.
Despite the fact that it was almost the end of April, snow was still piled up as high as his chest. Asahi was taken by surprise by the number of buildings there were in the area.
There were shops and modern steel-concrete buildings that offer accommodation. It was a place that looked exactly like the tourist attraction it claimed to be. All Asahi knew about the Northern Alps was that it was a mountain range that was difficult to traverse, and the sight took the wind out of his sails. He could only stand there in a daze.
A group of middle aged women weaved past him while throwing him annoyed looks for being in the way. All of them were lightly dressed and carrying a rucksack each; it was clear they weren’t here to scale mountains but to hike in the nearby woodlands. Heavy clothing wasn’t necessary now that you could reach a part of the mountains that had an altitude of two thousand meters without walking much of the way. With a start, Asahi realised he was also dressed the same way. He had on a mountaineering jacket but was carrying nothing but a small rucksack.
Slowly, the sense of weightiness started to leave his body.
“… What did I come here for?” Asahi murmured to himself.
What did he hope to achieve, after spending more than half a day in transit to reach this place? He felt as if the demon that possessed him to get on a train to Tateyama had left him, and he was now coming back to his senses.
The snow capped mountains that lay before him were a spectacular sight, but Asahi had not the heart to enjoy the view. How long did he stand there, gazing dazedly at the mountains? He could not know.
Then someone tapped him on the shoulder, and Asahi jumped in fright. When he turned to see who it was, an old man of small stature, a stubborn line in his jaw, and with a huge haversack on his shoulders stood peering up at him. He didn’t know this old man.
“You. Have you settled your accommodation for tonight?”
“…?”
Asahi struggled to come up with an answer, and the old man snorted.
“Don’t tell me you intend to go into the mountains at this time of the day. But of course you can’t be going back now since you came all this way so I suppose you intend to stay the night somewhere and start the climb tomorrow? Are you climbing Tsurugi? Or Oyama?”
Where was he going to spend the night? Asahi had hopped on a train on impulse without looking that far ahead. He looked around for an answer, but found none. After all, he had no idea what he should do or wish to do.
When he did not reply, the old man continued, nonplussed.
“If you don’t have a place to spend the night, you can come sleep in my hut in Masago. I intended to move some goods up there tomorrow, and was hoping to find someone who can assist me. If you help me with the move I’ll let you stay the night for free. What do you say?”
Asahi’s confusion deepened after hearing the old man’s strange, sudden proposal. But why should he turn him down? He had no other plans anyway.
The old man must have seen affirmation in his facial expression, for he went: “It’s a deal, then,” even before Asahi said anything. It would appear that he was a man of little patience. “I would love to say that we can set off now, but you’ll have to wait for me for a bit. I just remembered that I have some errands to run.”
Asahi nodded, and the old man disappeared into a nearby building that had snow piled up so high against the walls that only a third of its height could be seen. The old man was much smaller in size and carrying a far heavier bag than Asahi but his gait was steadier. Asahi thought about how the hut he was referring to must be a sort of lodge in the mountains that he owned. When he emerged a short while later, the old man urged him to walk faster as they began to walk down a snowy path; where people trampled on most often, the snow had turned to ice.
Then the old man said to him, as if he had just remembered to ask: “Right, I haven’t asked you for your name. My name is Sakata and I manage a tiny lodge in Masago-sawa valley. What is yours?”
“I’m… Izawa Asahi. I’m a fourth year college student.” Asahi was beginning to feel short of breath. Even though the conversation was sporadic, Asahi was finding it hard to keep up. It must be the fact that he was used to walking roads paved with concrete and taking the bus, he decided. As he struggled to catch his breath, the old man turned back to look at him, with no trace of exertion on his face.
“Young ‘un, you tired already?”
“Oh no… I’m fine.” It’s hard to admit that he was tired when he must be over sixty and Asahi was twenty one.
Asahi’s breathing became more and more ragged as they went, and he noticed when Sakata slowed down for him. Yet it was still strenuous for Asahi even with the slower pace, and he could only gawk at the middle-aged men and women who overtook him on the path, treading lightly as they went, and curse his own lack of physical stamina.
“Excuse me… For how long more do we need to walk?”
Thirty minutes had passed since they started on the path. He felt pathetic needing to ask, but he needed to know. The old man briefly glanced back at him.
“If I were by myself I’ll reach before it gets dark but with you we won’t make it. If we stop by Tsurugi-sawa and sleep there for the night… yeah. That’ll be another two hours by foot,” was his tactless reply.
“…”
Two more hours, walking like this? Asahi was the one asked but he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge the reply.
“We’ll need to do an upward climb from hereon. Put on your crampons if walking gets too difficult,” said Sakata as he looked back at him once more.
Asahi titled his head in puzzlement. He didn’t know what crampons were.
“You mean you don’t have any on you? Good grief!”
Grumbling under his breath, Sakata took something out of his haversack. He then bent over and demanded that Asahi lift his feet. When Asahi obliged, he scraped away the snow on the soles of his feet and affixed some soft of claw-like contraption on the soles his climbing shoes. His shoes now become running spikes that dug into the snow as he walked, making walking much easier.
“You should find it easier to walk.”
“Sorry… thank you.”
In response, Sakata sniffed, seemingly in embarrassment.
At first, Asahi worried about whether Sakata would be okay now that he was using his crampons, but after awhile it was clear that he did not need to. Sakata was used to walking on snow covered paths and was adept at finding good footholds to tread on, and Asahi only needed to focus on following him.
When they finally arrive on the flats, Asahi looked at the sight that unfolded before him—and gasped. There were many tents set up on the flats, and their bright colours against the whiteness of the snow made them look particularly beautiful.
As he stood there captivated by the sight, Sakata tapped him on his arm and pointed to a large building nearby —the size of the buildings in the mountains still amazed Asahi—and said, “We’ll be going in there,” and Asahi nodded.
–
“Hey Asahi, wake up, we need to leave. The helicopter will be here soon.”
Someone shook him gently and called his name, and Asahi sleepily opened his eyes and stared at an unfamiliar ceiling as he briefly wondered where he was. Then Sakata’s frown enter his vision… right. The private rooms were full when they tried to check themselves into a lodge last night, so they just found an empty space in a communal area to lay down and didn’t care who laid down next to them.
Asahi, who wasn’t used to sleeping with people huddled around him, couldn’t sleep a wink and only started to doze off after dawn broke.
He looked around, puzzled by the silence, and realised that everyone around him was gone.
“Where is everyone?” He asked, stupefied, and Sakata burst into laughter.
“Those who were headed for Tsurugi left when it was still dark! Here, have some coffee and nibble on this. That’s all we have right now, do bear with it. I’ll make sure you get a good breakfast once we unload everything off the helicopter.”
Asahi drank coffee from a paper cup and pushed the energy bar that was handed to him into his mouth, while still half asleep. He was then made to change in a hurry and leave the lodge, zipping down the same snowy ravine he climbed up last night while wearing Sakata’s crampons. The fact that Sakata did not slip on the ice and could effortlessly traverse the slopes despite not wearing crampons baffled Asahi to no end.
“We’ll reach in about an hour and a half… We don’t have much time to spare.”
Sakata’s pace seemed to quicken, and it took all of Asahi’s willpower to keep up with him. He was starting to wonder why he was trying so hard in the first place.
Eventually, they saw a small lodge in the distance.
“Is it that one?” asked Asahi hopefully.
“Yes,” was his simple answer, and Asahi breathed a sigh of relief. It was true that he had no choice but to stay focussed anyway as he might slip on ice if he did not, but he couldn’t remember the last time he had to do something physically demanding.
“Great, the helicopter isn’t here yet. Asahi, once we put down our backpacks we’re gonna build a heliport. Help me with it!”
“Huh… A heliport?”
Initially, Asahi thought that he was joking, but Sakata was not. They threw their rucksacks into the hut through the open front door and used shovels to pack snow together by beating downwards on it, until the snow became flat, hard ground for a helicopter to land on. After that, they put up poles with red cloth tied to them to demarcate the area.
Presently, the sound of propellers could be heard in the distance, and Asahi lifted his face and gaped at the helicopter that flew towards them. He continued to watch in a daze as Sakata proceeded to undo the cargo net on the helicopter that had landed on their makeshift heliport. The net was mostly filled with cardboard boxes and propane gas cylinders.
“That will be all. Please contact us again should you need anything else offloaded.”
“Yea, great work today.”
The helicopter pilot looked vaguely harried but came out of the helicopter to exchange brief conversation with Sakata, and shortly after a much lighter helicopter disappeared into the sky.
“Asahi! Help me with this.”
“Y-Yes, coming.”
Feeling slightly overwhelmed, Asahi hastened to help with the carrying of the cardboard cartons into the lodge, as Sakata seemed far too busy for his questions right now.
Rice and vegetables were put in storage, and the lodge, which Asahi was told had been shut for a few months, was to be cleaned—there were a thousand things to do, and by the time they were done it was almost dusk.
If Sakata hadn’t found Asahi at the station, he would probably have to do all of it alone—and Asahi shuddered at that thought. He had propped himself up wearily against a table, sipping on sweet ginger tea that Sakata made for him. Sakata must have worked at least three times harder than he did, but he seemed perfectly fine.
“Great work today—you can rest now,” was what Sakata said to him, but Asahi felt like he wasn’t much help at all. In fact, he dropped boxes and slipped in the snow enough times just now to be considered a hindrance, instead. Yet when Asahi was labouring away he had no time to think about anything else at all.
He turned his attention to the view outside the window. The mountains lay before him, blanketed by snow for as far as he could see. It was a scene right out of a painting, and it didn’t feel quite real.
“Good evening, Sakata-san.”
The sound of the door opening broke Asahi’s reverie. At the door stood a large man in navy mountaineering wear, and it wasn’t clear how he looked like under the pair of sunglasses he was wearing.
“Oh, do have a seat,” said Sakata. “Would you like coffee?”
“Yes please, sorry for the bother,” answered Sakata’s acquaintance, as he took off his jacket and stepped into the hut. When he sat next to Asahi, Asahi could feel cool air emanating off his body.
Then the man then took off his sunglasses.
“Hello,” he said, affably. “Are you Sakata-san’s son…? Oh, you seem too young for that. But then again you look too old to be his grandson. Are you a guest of his?”
He didn’t look very old; he was fairly good looking in a rugged, manly way and seemed to be in his late twenties. His earnest gaze never left Asahi’s face as he spoke but he also looked vaguely troubled.
What an interesting man, Asahi thought.
“Here’s your coffee. Shouldn’t you be introducing yourselves?” rebuked Sakata as he set a mug in front of them.
“Right.” The man nodded, sat a little straighter and turned to Asahi. “My name is Asada Takafumi, and I am a mountain ranger from the Fujiyama Prefecture Police department.”
Mountain ranger—from the police department? Timidly, Asahi answered: “I’m Izawa Asahi. Are you a policeman?”
Perhaps Sakata had called him here. Did he look like someone who was going to commit suicide? He couldn’t bring himself to ask. He would be so mortified if that were true. Asahi thought he was just being his normal self, but he probably looked gloomy and disconsolate to anyone who was looking.
“Oh, I’m not really a policeman. Well… I guess you can call me a policeman who likes to climb mountains.” Asada smiled as he lifted the cup of coffee to his lips. “This is really tasty,” he said to Sakata, who only sniffed by way of answer but looked satisfied.
“… I won’t kill myself,” whispered Asahi almost absent-mindedly as he cupped his mug of ginger tea, which had long grown cold. It was an indelicate way to approach the topic but Asahi wasn’t very good at being delicate. “I… I only wanted to see it for myself.”
The mountain he loved best, the mountain called Mt. Tsurugi-dake. It won’t be dangerous to climb in summer, so come see it with me, Ryou had said, but Asahi never once said yes. That was because he knew that Ryou will be more absorbed in his surroundings that him, his lover, and it was something that Asahi did not wish to see.
Asada and Sakata remained silent, but Asahi could feel their gaze on him. Then the sound of a ringing telephone cut through the silence and Asahi jumped.
“… Yes? this is Masago Lodge,” said Sakata into the phone his usual surly manner, and then proceeded to exchange conversation with the caller in low murmurs. A sigh later: “I’ll go over now. Wait for me,” was the last thing he said before putting the phone back on its hook. For a moment he stood there, looking at Asada.
“Takafumi. I need to go over to the other lodge, so would you stay with him? I’ll have to stay the night there, but I’ll be back by noon tomorrow. Jeez—he’s telling me he can’t get the central heating system to work. What do I do with him?”
Sakata continued to grumble as he shrugged on his jacket and made preparations to leave, and Asahi became even more nervous. Somehow, he felt it would be awkward if he now had to face Asada alone… especially when all he wanted to do right now was to demand an explanation from a mountain ranger he only just met as to why Ryou hasn’t been found.
“I’m fine. By ‘the other lodge’, you mean the one that recently switched managers last spring to the son when his father moved to Hotaka?” asked Asada.
“Yea, that one. I have known his son since he was a boy, but he isn’t very dependable. I’ll be the one to teach him things! Asahi, I’m sorry for the sudden change in plans.”
With that, Sakata pulled his fur cap over his ears and disappeared outside before Asahi could even say anything.
Asada stood, and the rattle of the chairs echoed around the empty hut.
“Your tea seemed to have grown cold. I’ll make another one for you. What would you like? Coffee, black tea, green tea? Or maybe there is cocoa as well, I’m not sure…” His voice trailed off as he brought his mug into the hut’s tiny kitchen.
“Whichever,” said Asahi a tad churlishly, but Asada didn’t seem to mind.
“Okay!” he called from the kitchen.
Being around Sakata was different from being around Asada, and Asahi was starting to feel ill at ease. He mouthed his thanks when Asahi handed him a steaming mug and stared into the dark, unknown liquid in the mug, refusing to meet Asada’s eyes.
Asada broke the uncomfortable silence first.
“You don’t quite seem like someone who likes to climb mountains. What was it that you said you wanted to see?”
There was no taunt in his words, but Asahi could feel something rising in his chest. A little over three years had passed since the mountains which so beguiled Ryou took him away to a place Asahi couldn’t reach but the feeling was as strong as ever. Of course he did not like mountains. In fact, he loathed them! His chest felt like it was overflowing with thorns.
“Someone… Someone I know liked mountains, and I always wondered why, so…” I hate them! Inwardly he spat, but reined himself and tried to focus on coming up with less inflammatory conversation topics.
Asada did not notice his strange behavior, or perhaps he pretended not to notice.
“Yea. I know a couple of men who would marry the mountains if they could! Those who didn’t share their sentiments would probably think they were nuts for risking their lives on those arduous climbs up mountains—but I agree, the lure is real, and it is irresistible.”
Asahi could remember how happy Ryou looked when he was talking about mountains like they were the love of his life, and watched as Asada did the same.
“Is that why you became a mountain ranger?” Why am I making idle talk with this man about mountains?
“Oh, about that… Well. I grew up here, so I am used to the climate. However, it was the year I graduated from high school that I was sure that I wanted to be one.”
Asahi watched with growing discomfort from the corner of his eye as Asada sipped his coffee before placing his mug and an elbow on the table.
“Eh… Izawa-kun. You said your name was Izawa, yea? Have you heard of the saying, ‘If you were going to fall, fall towards the Fujiyama Prefecture’?”
Asahi hadn’t, so he instinctively looked up only to find Asada studying him with a more earnest expression that he thought he would be wearing. Asahi shook his head and averted his eyes once more.
Quietly, Asada continued.
“In 1990, there was a major accident in the Northern Alps. The Fujiyama Prefecture Police’s Mountain Ranger team rescued everyone without a single casualty. That slogan was what the newspapers wrote to praise us for the successful rescue mission. ‘If you were to fall off a ridge somewhere in between the prefectures, make sure you fall towards Fujiyama Prefecture!’ they said. ‘They will retrieve you from any valley you descend to, no matter how deep.’” There was pride and joy in his voice.
Unbeknownst to Asada, Asahi hands had balled into fists below the table. A question was welling up in his throat.
“Only when I finally made the team that I found out that if the weather forbade them to fly the helicopter that day it would have been doubtful that they could have saved everyone, and we were simply lucky that things fell into place for us. But the media made it out to be a great achievement, and since I was a young and hot-blooded teenager at that time, the reporting had a huge impact on me. That was what set me on this path… Even now I feel proud telling people what it is that I do.”
Asahi remained silent. How was he reflected in Asada’s eyes, right now? Perhaps Asada was subtly telling him to find someplace else to kill himself, and not do it in his backyard. Was he overthinking things?
His fists were clenched so hard that they shook, and he was finding it hard to breathe. He knew it was unreasonable to blame Asada for Ryou’s accident but the weight on his chest was slowly crushing him.
“Then…” The words were wrung from somewhere deep inside his throat in a hoarse whisper.
“Eh?”
Asahi lifted his face to look Asada squarely in the eye. “Then… Why wasn’t Ryou-san found?”
He didn’t even know if Asada took part in the search. However, all that pent up resentment had to go somewhere—because he could not be part of it. He wasn’t in the mountaineering club and could not join in the rescue efforts, nor could he mourn with them over a fallen ally. If he was a woman, and could openly date Ryou, it would be so different… However, to Ryou’s family and friends, he was only ‘a close friend that Ryou met while doing part-time work’. No one knew what he lost.
And right now he was taking it out on Asada, someone he only met a few moments before.
Asada looked taken aback by Asahi’s sudden display of emotion, and said nothing.
A deep breath later and some of his composure recovered, Asahi mumbled an embarrassed apology. He attempted to stand, chair scraping against the floor, but Asada’s hands shot out and grabbed both his wrists before he could excuse himself.
“Does Ryou-san refer to Hashida Ryou-kun?” His eyes were burning into his. “Three years ago… on the 29th of December, we received a distress signal from N-University’s mountaineering club. Their leader Hashida-kun who was walking in front stepped through a snow cornice and tumbled into a ravine—”
“S-Stop it. I don’t want to hear any of it!”
Just recalling the depths of despair he had sunk into at the time after the hearing the news made the shaking uncontrollable, and his heart pounded so hard that it felt ready to burst.
With no jest in his eyes, Asada asked: “… Did you like Ryou-kun? Was he your beloved?”
And Asahi’s heart nearly stopped.
“W-Why… would you think so? We are both men.”
Asahi was still shaking in his grip, and there was no way he was going to be able to lie his way out of this one… so he fixed a glare upon him, his jaw clenched. Why was it any of his business? He had no reason to be asking personal questions like that.
“I apologise. That was just what I thought he was… when I look at you. I won’t discriminate against anyone because of their sexual orientation, so there is no need to try to hide it from me.” Asada expression softened, and he patted Asahi’s arms reassuringly as Asahi stood there, stiff and unmoving. “I’m sorry we weren’t able to find Hashida-kun. These are just excuses, I know, but we looked everywhere we knew. Yet—”
“I know that. I know that Mountain Rangers have done their best. Just now was just me taking out my frustration on you… and I’m sorry.”
And almost as if the thread holding up a puppet snapped, Asahi crumpled into Asada’s arms.
“Sorry. I… I don’t have strength in my legs.”
Why did he come all the way here? He had asked himself the same question many times over the course of the day, but now he was starting to see the truth that he had been averting his eyes from, the half-formed thought in his mind—that he may have wanted to go to where Ryou was. If Sakata had not called out to him at Murodō, what would he have done, and where will he be? Asahi didn’t know.
“Izawa-kun, did you weep for him, after he was gone?” Asada’s voice had grown quiet. Asahi’s hands looked small as it lay enclasped in his.
He shook his head slowly, almost in a daze. “No—because that would mean I accept the fact that he was dead, and that he wasn’t going to come back.”
In response, Asada drew his brows together as if he was in pain. Asahi dropped his gaze onto the pair of hands that held his. He did not understand why Asada was wearing such an expression.
“That won’t do. You have to find an outlet for grief.”
Then he pulled Asahi into his arms. Like he was calming a crying child, he began to pat his back gently. Asahi closed his eyes against the sensation… holding him felt like he was holding Ryou again.
“I feel like a terrible person, doing this when you’re at your most vulnerable—but won’t you let me help you grieve? I’ll help you let out whatever you’ve been bottling up.”
One arm remained encircled around him, and the other seized the back of his neck and tipped his face upwards and instinctively Asahi parted his lips. He was enveloped tightly in his large arms, and Asada was kissing him, a full mouthed kiss with tongue.
Dully, Asahi wondered why he isn’t putting up a resistance, but he couldn’t get his limbs to move—Perhaps it was because Asada’s kiss was gentle, one that sought to comfort him, rather than an expression of his desire.
“Close your eyes. You can even call his name. Asahi…”
His lips left his, and a large hand covered his eyes.
“…”
His lower lip trembled when Asada called his name. Ryou-san—the name formed on his lips, but did not leave them. Instead, he wound his arms around Asada’s large, broad back and clung onto him for his dear life, and in return Asada hugged him back so tightly that it almost hurt. Closing his eyes, Asahi whispered his name, in a voice so soft that it sounded like he never did.
❏❏❏
That night, Asahi gave himself over to Asada’s arms and cried for the first time since Ryou’s death. In retrospect, he might have put himself out like that only because he had no special feelings whatsoever towards Asada.
The next day Sakata returned the hut, and once he saw Asahi he asked, in the most tactless way possible: “So, have you given up on dying?” He then told Asahi about how he thought he was suicidal when he first saw him at the Shinano Omachi Station, since no matter how he looked, Asahi didn’t look like someone who had come to the Alps to enjoy himself.
Following that day, Asahi remained in Sakata’s lodge till the end of the Golden Week holidays. When summer vacation came around Asahi once again returned to pay his Sakata a visit, and somehow got roped into helping Sakata with his work at the lodge.
And at the end of that summer vacation when Asahi was a few days away from returning home, Sakata spoke to him quite suddenly, and in his usual brusque manner: “You’re graduating this year. Have you found a job?”
“No.”
“Then come work for me.”
Asahi didn’t even need to think before saying yes. He had come to love the hut in the middle of the mountains, much more so than the apartment he had stayed in for the past three years. Being in there brought him a certain calm that he never expected it would.
Above all, he felt a tiny bit happy… just knowing that Ryou was sleeping somewhere close by.
And so he spent the next few months getting yelled at by Sakata as he learned how to do his job, Asada would occasionally visit him and they would lie with each other… before he knew it, seven years had passed.
茉莉花の独り言 