Gravitation Fan Fiction ❯ The Long Weekend ❯ Chapter 2 ( Chapter 2 )

[ Y - Young Adult: Not suitable for readers under 16 ]

Chapter 2


Mika greeted him with a hug, and he started a little at the contact. It must have been because of
Sanjiro.

"What's the matter with you? Why are you jumpy? And how come you're so cold? You feel like
ice."

"A friend dropped me off at an intersection and I had to walk. He couldn't stop, since he had to
drive on to Mito."

"One of your school friends?" Tohma commented as he took Tatsuha's coat. "He must come from a
rich family, if he has a car already."

K was also here, drink in hand, apparently having been invited to dinner by the Seguchis. The
American paused in mid-drink at the sight of the newcomer, and narrowed his eyes.

Tatsuha felt uncomfortable. The American had an unusually piercing stare.

"Could you excuse me for a moment?" Tatsuha asked. "I have to dump my backpack and
everything."

"Don't take too long," Mika said. "Kumiko has dinner waiting for us."

Tatsuha headed for the bathroom. All through his vigorous walk he was aware of how sore he was.
He locked the bathroom door, took off his backpack, and pushed his jeans and underwear down. He
was surprised to see blood on the underwear, and scowled.

\\Idiot, that can happen, remember?\\

He daubed at himself with some kleenex, and sighed. Why was he still bleeding? It must have
been aggravated by the fast walking he had done. Fortunately, there was a spare pair of briefs in his
backpack. When he thought he had the bleeding stopped, he changed into the new briefs. It was
then that another involuntary memory came floating back.

\\All right,\\ Sanjiro had said, gesturing in front of Tatsuha's eyes with the cigarette tip. \\You don't
like my little game, do you? You owe me something else in its place.\\ And he'd pulled out of
Tatsuha's ass, and finished himself off in the teenager's mouth.

And Tatsuha had let him. He'd been trembling by then, to Sanjiro's relish. After coming, the driver
had promptly roused again, even harder. The second time Sanjiro used his mouth had taken forever.

\\Sanjiro, standing, smoking, rocking with pleasure, reaching down from time to time to thumb the
burn mark, causing faint whimpers in the choking throat. Tatsuha's eyes had been closed, and he
felt the occasional fall of ash against his eyelids, sliding down his cheeks to land inside the hollows
of his collarbones. You're wearing my necklace, Sanjiro had joked, stroking his finger along the
ash.\\ Hey, kid, \\he'd said, taking Tatsuha's face in his hands,\\ let's just skip that Tokyo stop
entirely. My cousin has a place in Hokkaido, nice and isolated in the mountains. Your family can
spare you for a while.

All the way to Tokyo, Sanjiro had tried to persuade him to stay, and it had taken all of Tatsuha's
pleading to make him stop. Sanjiro had almost driven on past the city. When he'd let Tatsuha out,
the teenager had been ready to fall to the concrete and kiss it in relief.

As he stared down at the tissue, wet with fresh blood, he remembered the taste of Sanjiro. It had
been disgusting, his own blood and---.

\\Stop,\\ he told himself sharply. He tried to block the memory, but the taste wouldn't leave his
mouth.
The next moment Tatsuha was on his knees, vomiting into the toilet.

When he next became aware of anything besides foggy-brained heaving, he was contemplating the
curdled remains of his school lunch, mingled with Sanjiro's bodily fluids. Hurriedly, he flushed
everything down the toilet before the sight made him vomit again.

Great, now his mouth tasted even worse. He rinsed his mouth out at the sink and ripped through his
backpack for his toothbrush, using it to scrub every nook and cranny, every membrane as well as his
teeth, using gobs of toothpaste. When his stunned tastebuds couldn't detect anything except mint
flavoring, he quit.

Then he raised his head, and looked at himself in the mirror over the sink. God, he looked awful.
His face was red and sweating, strands of damp black hair sticking all over his forehead, cheeks, and
nose. His dark eyes were glassy. There was even toothpaste in his hair. His shirt sleeves were
soggy from the faucet, his jeans wrapped around his ankles. And he was bleeding again, ruining the
new pair of briefs. The vomiting must have started things up again down there.

Tatsuha snarled, and lunged into his backpack for a fresh change of clothes.

A knock came on the door, and Tatsuha startled so violently that he bumped a towel rack right off
the wall. It clanked to the tile, the screws flying across the floor.

"Is everything all right in there?"

It was K's voice.

"I'm fine," Tatsuha managed to reply. "I just---ate something that disagreed with me at lunch."

Then he had to clamp his hands over his mouth to stop the demented laugh trying to emerge.
Tatsuha hadn't meant to say THAT. A crazy little giggle squeaked out around his fingers, anyway.
God! What must this American be thinking by now?

"Are you sure?"

"Yes! Go away, please."

"I'll tell Mika you're not feeling well, then."

"No! I'll be out in a little bit. And I'll be okay for dinner, so don't eat my portion." This last was
said as jauntily as possible. When Tatsuha heard footsteps moving away, he studied the fallen towel
rack. He knew he had a penchant for getting into trouble, but he'd really outdone himself today.

He found a metal nail file of Mika's in a drawer and was able to screw the towel rack back into the
wall with it. Then he cleaned the toothpaste out of his hair and changed his clothes. Hopefully, this
would be the last of the bleeding. Finished, he studied himself in the mirror again, praying he would
look presentable. The face looked almost normal, but the expression was unusually grim.

\\All right, little boy. So you had sex with that driver and you didn't like it because it was rougher
and more frightening than you expected. Now you're upset. DEAL WITH IT, Tatsuha. You got
out of it reasonably intact, and you're not a crybaby. Never were one. You didn't even try to tell
him no, did you?\\

Tatsuha retrieved his backpack.

\\Aw shit, it's not like I could have jumped out of a moving truck.\\

But the worst of it was, Tatsuha had actually enjoyed it for a while, at least until that damn cigarette
had shown up. Sanjiro's initial thrustings and gropings had sent Tatsuha right over the edge in the
first couple of minutes. No wonder the driver had thought him persuadable.

He unlocked the door, and made his way down to dinner.

((((((((((((((())))))))))))))))


In deference to K's legs, they were eating Western-style tonight, on chairs. Tatsuha was seated
opposite the American, who was showing Tohma a new gun. Seguchi, though he cared little for
weaponry, was taking a polite interest in it.

Normally, Tatsuha wouldn't have minded the gun much, but . . . right . . . now . . . .

The chamber slid open with a murderous clack. Though the gun was empty, the noise made
Tatsuha's heart stop for a second.

What if Sanjiro had had a gun? That would have been .

"Don't do that at the dinner table!" Mika scolded. "This is supposed to be a pleasant family meal.
What do they say in Texas? Check your guns at the door, Winchester."

"Sorry," K replied. "I get a little carried away when I buy a new toy." He holstered the pistol, while
Kumiko, the Seguchi family cook, carried in the meal. Tatsuha noticed that Kumiko, who was grey-
haired and grandmotherly, was careful to hand K's dishes over the American's shoulder, as if trying
to avoid K's arc of frontal range.

"What's this?" K asked, a phrase he used to preface practically every Japanese meal.

"Salmon roe, herring roe, shiitake mushrooms, cloud ear fungus, and seaweed salad," replied
Tohma with relish. "One of my favorite meals."

K looked askance at his serving dishes. Everything was either unpleasantly wet, sticky, and
glutinous, or it was black and appeared half-rotten.

"The white stuff's rice," Mika added with an evil grin.

Normally this was one of Tatsuha's favorite meals too, but today . He picked at his rice, ignoring
the other dishes.

"So how is your father?" Tohma asked.

"Standing barefoot in the snow again," Tatsuha complained. "That's how he caught the friggin'
pneumonia in the first place. I've had to run the temple all this week while he's been in the
hospital."

"Run the temple?" asked K, eyeing him.

"Yes, I'm a Buddhist monk, though I'm still in school. It wasn't easy doing both at the same time."

"A BUDDHIST MONK?" K repeated.

"Yeah." Tatsuha was used to this reaction, but for some reason K's amazement irritated him more
than usual. The American was still looking at him with incredulity.

"So how was business?" Mika asked.

Tatsuha sighed. "Busy as hell. Old people have been plopping dead all over Kyoto this week. I've
been doing funerals solid." He glanced at the still-staring K. "The Japanese tend to marry Shinto,
but bury Buddhist," he explained. "I wish it were the other way around. Sounds like those
counseling courses that Dad wants me to take are going to be useful. I've been having to deal with
all these sobbing families." Tatsuha had actually been better at consoling mourners when he was
younger---or less aware of how terrible he was at it. Even he, the glib Tatsuha Uesugi, had found
himself running out of things to say to people this week.

"So, you're a college student?" K asked.

"Uh, no. High school. I'm 16."

"16?" K blurted.

\\What is it with this guy?\\ Tatsuha wondered. \\I'm beginning to feel insulted.\\ "I'm really glad
I've gotten out of Kyoto this weekend." The thought of a decent bed in Mika's warm guest room
sounded wonderful. Tatsuha had just finished a week of dozing on uncomfortable hospital couches
and chairs, and he needed to do some catching up on his sleep.

"So what are your plans?" Tohma asked.

"Record shopping, of course! The stores here are better than those in Kyoto, and there's even the
microscopic chance I'll find a Ryuichi Sakuma rarity I've missed, though I doubt it. I own
everything Sakuma-san's ever created, because Ryuichi Sakuma ."

" is a God," Mika and Tohma chorused wearily.

"Hey! I've got you well trained." Tatsuha grinned.

"It's worse than Na No Da," Mika groaned.

Tohma laughed. "You mentioned counseling courses. Has your father been discussing college with
you?"

"Yeah. Since I'm going to be a Religious Studies major, Dad's already picked out all the classes I'll
need. I'll also need some business courses," (here Tatsuha made a face), "for running the temple,
and he wants me to take some classes in psychology as well, for the counseling I mentioned earlier.
He also wants me to audit some classes at Kyoto University, to get me used to college level work
before I go. Looks like I've got my life all sewn up for me, huh?"

Something inside his stomach did a sickening roll. Tatsuha stopped chewing. Dammit, he thought
he'd gotten over his queasiness.

"Kyoto?" Tohma asked. "I thought you wanted to try for Tokyo University."

"He wants me closer to home. We're still fighting about that. Dad thinks I'll get into Kyoto with
no problem, and I think he's trying to rig something up with Professor Morita, who's a friend of
his."

"He's that famous Sanskrit scholar at the University there, isn't he?" Mika asked. "What is Dad
trying to do?"

"Get me a summer internship with him. Professor Morita is compiling a new Sanskrit dictionary,
and there's a lot of grunt work to be done for it. Apparently Dad doesn't think lying on my futon
listening to rock and roll is a viable summer alternative," Tatsuha added sarcastically.

He fell silent, for his queasiness was growing worse. He tried to will his stomach to settle down.
Why the hell was it returning now? Fortunately, Tohma was speaking to K about some sort of label
deal, so no one noticed his whitening features. He was NOT going to run to the bathroom and make
everyone wonder what was wrong with him. He was a Buddhist monk, dammit, trained in
techniques of meditation, and he wasn't going to let a little queasiness get the better of him.

Unfortunately, he'd never been good at this mind-over-body stuff.

Sake. Maybe a little sake would kill the nausea, or at least numb his blasted stomach into
submission. When no one was looking, he downed his cup and refilled it, waiting for another
distraction in the conversation for a second dosing.

His throat began to tighten, forcing him to try the only sure-fire nausea killer he knew. It was not
one of his Buddhist skills, but something he'd learned as a child.

He held his breath.

After a moment he realized it seemed to be working, though Mika was gradually growing darker, as
if someone were lowering a dimmer switch. His sister began to break up into tiny shimmering
blotches.

Tatsuha's next awareness was of opening his eyes to a tuft of rush grass in the tatami flooring. His
right leg was still draped awkwardly over the chair seat.

"Oh my God!" Mika was yelling.

She sounded scared, quite unlike herself a moment before. What had happened?

Now there was Tohma, kneeling over him. What was all the fuss?

"Are you all right?"

At least his brother-in-law's voice sounded calm. Tatsuha's vision picked out a broken sake cup by
his hand, tilted on its side. Sake was soaking into the flooring, he noted idly. Mika would be pissed
about that.

"Tatsuha!" Tohma said more loudly. "Can you hear me?"

\\I wonder if this is what they call delayed reaction.\\

The teenager sat up with a jerk. He had fainted and fallen right out of his chair. K was pulling the
chair back to give him room, and there was Mika, climbing over her husband in her panic. She
clutched at Tatsuha's face, feeling for fever.

"I'm all right," Tatsuha protested. Damn it, he'd blown it. How was he going to convince them that
he was fine? "It's just a little ." A little what? Too much sake? No, Mika'd be furious if he
claimed drunkenness. He'd fallen asleep? No, she'd think he'd worked himself into exhaustion.
Caught something at the hospital? No, she'd promptly check him right into one. He had no good
excuse for fainting, and he couldn't tell them why he'd been holding his breath.

"I'm fine mumph!" He hadn't seen Kumiko with that thermometer.

"You stay quiet until I've got your temperature," Mika insisted. Now K was taking him under the
shoulders, and Tohma was grabbing his legs. They lifted him over to the couch in the living room
and laid him down on it.

"I'm all right," Tatsuha protested around the thermometer. He was embarrassed. They were
hovering over him, though K seemed to have disappeared somewhere.

"Your color is terrible," Mika fretted. "You're sick. It must have been the hospital. They always
have super-mutant germs there. I think you need to see a doctor."

"Hey!" Tatsuha snatched the digital thermometer out of his mouth and held it up. "I'm fine! See?
No fever."

And indeed, Mika couldn't see anything wrong with the number. A few moments later K
reappeared, and he stared hard at Tatsuha.

"I think I might have a touch of food poisoning," Tatsuha admitted. He had to have some excuse.
"My stomach's a little unsettled."

"Then you need to go to the doctor," said Mika firmly.

"Wait a minute! Let's just wait and see if I get any worse. I've had food poisoning before and
recovered in a few hours. Don't bother."

"I think I know something that will revive him," said Tohma. Seguchi left the room for a second,
and came back carrying a CD case, which he waved hypnotically in front of Tatsuha's face. It took
the teenager a long moment to make out the characters reading, 'Phoenix Rising---Nittle Grasper---
Demos. Not for unauthorized use. Property of NG Records.'

The adrenalin rush brought the teenager up so fast he almost knocked his brother-in-law flat.
"THAT'S THE NEW ALBUM!?!" Tatsuha screeched, grabbing for the disk.

Tohma held the case out of reach. "Wait a second. Do you promise on your honor as a Uesugi and
a monk, that you will not copy this disk or let anyone else listen to it? This is just a demo. The
album isn't finished."

Tatsuha fell to his knees. "I swear! I swear! May Buddha reincarnate me as a balding polka fan in
my next life if I break my oath."

Seguchi hesitated.

Tatsuha turned sloe-eyed, and let his hair fall across his face in a sexy way. Hey, it worked when
Eiri did it. Maybe he should suck on a chopstick in a provocative fashion, too.

But Tohma only laughed. Mika looked incredulous, while K raised an eyebrow. "You're really
desperate, aren't you?" Seguchi asked.

Mika patted her husband's cheek. "He's just using you. You know it's Ryuichi he wants."

Tohma sighed, and glanced at his wife. "At least I come first with one Uesugi." He gazed at his
brother-in-law with the expression of a man who thought he might get his lawn mowed out of this,
but finally decided he didn't have the heart. "All right," he said, and handed the CD over.

Tatsuha kissed the sacred CD with reverence. "Thank you! Oh, thank you." He really did feel
much better all of a sudden.

"I wouldn't mind a few comments about the CD if you can possibly muster some objectivity."

"Are you sure you ought to trust him with that?" K asked.

"Probably not," Tohma replied. "But if he does try to bootleg it, I'll just break his arm."
Seguchi smiled hard at his brother-in-law.

Tatsuha returned the smile weakly, and ran to his bedroom to get his Walkman.

(((((((((((((((((()))))))))))))))))

An hour or so later, Tatsuha's mad living room dance was interrupted by K. A few spins of
Ryuichi's voice had so overcome him that he didn't even notice K until the American poked him.

"I see you've recovered," said K dryly as the sweaty Tatsuha removed his earphones.

"Who wouldn't? Sakuma-san is a God! This is terrific!" Something about Ryuichi's voice always
cleansed his soul when it felt dirty. Sanjiro seemed to matter less, after this. Although his own fear
and stupidity still rankled.

"I stopped to say goodbye," K said. "Oh, by the way, do you happen to have some change? I was
going to pick up some beer on the way home, but nobody wants to take 10,000 yen notes [AN:
about 90 dollars] this late at night."

"I don't think I can change that. Maybe Tohma ."

"A 5,000 yen note?"

"I don't think so. Wait a minute." Tatsuha remembered the money in the back pocket of his jeans,
which Sanjiro had given him. He hadn't even thought to look at it, yet. He dug out the driver's yen,
and removed his wallet for his own money. "Maybe I do," Tatsuha said as he counted it together.

\\3,000 yen? He gave me 3,000 yen? That's a little more than .\\ "Yeah, I can change it."

Wait, what was this?

A strip of paper was tucked into the bills. Tatsuha studied it for a moment, uncomprehending.
Then he made out some numbers.

\\His phone number. That CREEP gave me his PHONE NUMBER?\\

Tatsuha was frozen for a second. Involuntarily, he felt the burn on his shoulder again, Sanjiro
raking it hard with a fingernail. The ashes tapped over his face humiliation, Tatsuha now realized.
He'd been too paralyzed to understand the meaning of it at the time. And that stinking soiled
THING pumping in and out of his mouth.

Sanjiro had thought he'd found the perfect masochist. And wanted to meet him again, badly, for
another session.

Tatsuha snatched the paper up and crumbled it, whipping it into a nearby trash basket in the same
motion. "Uh, yeah," he said trying to keep his face calm. His heart was pounding, his hands
shaking. "I have enough. Here. I think I hear Mika calling me. Nice to meet you, Mr.
Winchester." He tried not to hurry away too quickly.

After the boy left, K stared after him a moment. Then the American fished the piece of paper out of
the trash, and read it.

Just before K left the house, he spoke to Tohma. "I think you need to keep an eye on that kid. A
VERY close eye."

"What for?" asked Tohma.

"I'm not exactly sure---yet."


To Be Continued.