Touya Akira rolled his eyes as he pulled out yet another empty Ramune soda bottle from under the couch. Honestly, Shindo…! His roommate seemed to think that since they had hired a maid to come once a week to clean that this somehow gave him the right to throw his trash on the floor whenever he pleased. It's just plain rude, that's what it is…! There were some things that Touya was just never going to condone when it came to Shindo, and his blatant disregard for the work he created for other people was one of them.
They had been living together for about a year now, and despite their obvious differences in character (Shindo being a lazy slob was just one example), it had actually worked out pretty well. Most of their fights now took place behind closed doors rather than in public over the goban, which as far as Touya was concerned was a great improvement. He hadn't given their public spats much thought until one day when they were pictured on the front of Weekly Go literally throwing Go stones at each other. His father had taken one look at the picture and shook his head. That had been enough to make Touya take the problem seriously.
Those days were mostly behind them now, and their professional lives were for the most part neatly separated from their private lives, which was a relief for Touya. Now if I could just get him to clean up after himself, we'd finally be getting somewhere…
Touya moved the couch to make sure he had gotten all the wrappers and crumpled up kifu. He spotted a scrap of paper sticking out from behind the painting on the wall and reached to tug it out, shaking his head. How on earth had he gotten something stuck back there…?
Strangely, it would not come out. Upon closer examination, Touya realized that it wasn't a kifu at all: it was several pages of notebook paper folded up, which was somehow taped or clipped to the back of the painting. A shiver went down his spine. What was this? He almost put it back without looking. Really, it was none of his business. It was clearly something private of Shindo's.
After all, the painting it was attached to was no ordinary work of art. The Heian era replica had cost Touya three month's worth of wages and a good deal of coaxing of his father to procure it for him, but it was totally worth it, because Shindo had burst into tears when he'd given it to him last Christmas. Touya still didn't know exactly why the image of the dancing figure with his long flowing hair and eboshi hat was so special to Shindo, but he had caught him more than once staring at the original in the museum downtown, as if in a trance. Shindo had never offered an explanation and Touya had never pressed him, knowing how emotional he was about it. When he had received the gift, the only thing Shindo had been able to bring himself to say was, "How did you know…?"
Touya prided himself on having given the perfect gift, because there wasn't a single day that went by in which Shindo did not look at that painting and smile. He could never be sure, but Touya swore that he had come home and found Shindo talking to the painting. There were even times when he would look pointedly at it during their arguments as if he expected it to come to life and support his side.
Whenever they played Go in the living room, Shindo absolutely insisted that he himself sit directly in front of the painting, facing Touya. One time Touya had sat with his back to the figure and gestured Shindo to sit opposite, just to see what would happen. Shindo had looked like he was going to jump out of his skin. His eyes kept flickering from Touya to the black haired figure and back again, as if the two of them were conspiring against him. He had seemed so genuinely freaked out that Touya had given in without argument, a rarity.
No, there was definitely something about that painting that Shindo held sacred, and it wasn't Touya's place to pry. It was like his father said, "A man's suffering is his own." It simply wasn't right for Touya to read whatever Shindo had written privately and taped to the back of his beloved painting.
Except… If Touya had a fatal flaw that he was willing to admit to himself, it was his insatiable curiosity. He never could leave well enough alone. Shindo's secrets had been tantalizing him for so long: it was infuriating. The kid had such a big mouth - Touya had been convinced that after they moved in together it would be just a matter of time before he knew everything. Yet Shindo was remarkably tight lipped when it came to three things: his relationship to sai, his famous forfeited games when he first became a pro, and this painting.
You didn't have to be a genius to figure out that the chances that those three things were related were very high. If this painting didn't have something to do with sai, Touya would eat his favorite argyle sweater. And now the painting wants to spill its secrets to me. He couldn't help it: curiosity won out. Just one little peek. Shindo wouldn't ever have to know…
The mismatched pages seemed to have been put together from different notebooks. Various colored inks peppered the text and Shindo's handwriting seemed to have changed from page to page as well. Whatever this was, Shindo had been contributing to it for quite some time, longer than the painting had been here, definitely. Touya hesitated once more: this was clearly private writing of Shindo's, like a diary or something, and Touya really, really shouldn't…
Nevertheless, this is what he read.
THINGS I NEVER ASKED HIM
What was it like to look out over the world at night before electric lights were born?
What was it like to look up at the stars? Were there more of them, back then?
Was the sea black at night? Black as pitch?
What was it like before the noise of trains and busses and airplanes? How quiet was it?
What was it like, when everyone ate only raw fish? Did you ever even eat cooked meat, even once? Did you ever wonder what it tasted like?
What about ramen? Did you really never eat ramen, not ever?
Did rich people really paint their teeth black? Eww! That's so gross!
What was it like, when the written language changed, and hiragana and katakana first came?
What was it like, when people wrote poems to each other to express their love? Did you ever write a poem? Did you ever fall in love?
What was it like to drown in the river? Did you feel it happening? Did you feel your soul leaving your body? What was that like?
Was the river black when you drowned in it? Did it mingle with all of your soft black hair?
Does it hurt to die? Should I be afraid?
Where do we go when we die? Am I going to come back here, like you, and wander for a thousand years?
Were you really searching for the Hand of God, or were you searching for your own salvation? Did you ever find it?
Why would God send you back down here? Wasn't that mean of Him?
Were you ever angry at God? Were you ever angry at me, for finding you? Did you ever wish I would die so you could move on?
Did you look at the world with childlike wonder for my benefit alone, or was that just a part of you that I never understood? Do you have any idea how much I miss that? How much I miss you?
Did you put on a cheerful demeanor just for me, to mask your own suffering? Was that hard, day after day?
Were you bitter about what had happened? Were you miserable inside? Why didn't you tell me?
Did you try to tell me, and I wouldn't listen?
Are you in a good place, now?
Will I ever see you again?
Why did you leave me?
Why did you leave me?
Why did you leave me?
Why did you leave me?
Why did you leave me?
Why did you
leave me?
The
last question was repeated over and over again on several pages, in
several different colored inks: Why
did you leave me.
In some places, the ink was splotched as if tears had splashed on the
page.
Hikaru…
Touya took a deep breath. So this… this is… what is this?
He was suddenly very angry with himself. He shouldn't have meddled. A man's suffering is his own. To think that Shindo had been carrying all of this, all this time…
Putting it out of his mind, he folded the pages up neatly and replaced them back where he had found them, tucking the edge up under the painting so that it didn't show. I have no right to ask him. I had no right to read that and I have no right to ask. I shouldn't have looked. I shouldn't…
He resumed gathering up soda bottles and candy wrappers at a rapid pace. None of my business, none of my business, none of my… A Ramune bottle slipped out of his hand and smashed onto the kitchen floor. The little crystal marble started to roll free under the fridge, but Touya snatched it up. Shindo would be excited, he was always trying to figure out how to get the marble out…
Did you look at the world with childlike wonder for my benefit alone, or was that just a part of you that I never understood? Do you have any idea how much I miss that? How much I miss you?
Touya sat down hard on the kitchen floor, put his head in his hands and wept.