"This is it."

"This can't be it."

The white towncar slowed to a stop in front of a dim, water-stained storefront in a row where most of the other shops had been boarded up. The sign, to those able to read obscure kanji, proclaimed it to be The Institute for the Study of Cosmological Harmonics. Robert couldn't even see past the grime.

"Explain to me again," said Robert, "why we need your Psychic Phone Friend's permission to get married?"

"A concession to tradition." Saito gave him a tight-lipped smile. "And Mr. Wada is the most reputable man in his line of business. He even works for the government, on occasion. Do you remember when the Prime Minister refused an audience with the President of the United States?"

"I got tired of hearing talk show hosts make jokes about it, yes."

"He did so on Wada's advice."

Inside, The Institute was even less promising than it had looked from the outside. Its walls were lined with bookshelves, but the books themselves were anywhere but: spread open on collapsible card tables, flung over the arms of mismatched chairs, stacked in piles on the floor. The scent of mildew mingled with cheap air-fresheners and stale coffee. Behind a counter, an unshaven man in thick glasses sat, smoking and reading a gossip magazine. He didn't look up when they came in.

"Wada-sama," said Saito. He bowed, even if it was only slightly.

"Ah, Mamoru. You're late."

If that man was indeed Fumio Wada, intercessor to the rich and famous, he didn't look like a wielder of arcane power. He looked like a post office clerk. Robert crossed his arms and didn't step closer until Saito took his arm and gently tugged him forwards.

"And this is your intended, I presume." Wada removed his glasses, wiped them on his shirt, and put them back on to take a closer look at Robert. He frowned. "You said he was born in November, Mamoru?"

"You saw his birth certificate."

"You showed him a copy of my birth certificate?" said Robert. " - And good evening, Mr. Wada; it's a pleasure, I'm sure."

He didn't look fazed by Robert's sarcasm. "If I don't have the accurate date of birth, it's all pointless. Would have never thought you could be a Water sign just by looking at you, though." Wada shook his head. "Those eyes. All Air, if you ask me."

"Mr. Fischer has many dimensions to his personality. Most are not readily apparent," said Satio, patting Robert's shoulder. "I am sure you can appreciate that."

"Certainly. You might as well come in, then; we've got much to do."

Wada ushered them past the counter and into his office, if it could be called that. There was a unmade cot in one corner of the room, and a hot plate with a collection of canned food stacked beside it.

"If he's famous," Robert whispered, although he didn't particularly care if Wada overheard him or not, "then why is his office such a dump?"

Saito shrugged. "Mr. Wada has many clients besides myself who would be willing to provide him with a more comfortable working space, but he refuses - "

"'Comfortable.' It's not the nature of the liminal spaces to be comfortable," he said. He tossed his cigarette butt into his empty glass of soda, and lit a new one. "I work here because I can't work anywhere else." He knocked an armload of books from the table, and spread out a large sheet of paper - some sort of chart - in their place. Besides being it being in Japanese, and besides it being written in minuscule handwriting, it bore a curious resemblance to an electrical circuit diagram; an maze of inductors and resistors. Still, Robert could recognize the kanji that formed Saito's name in a few places, as well as the katakana he had taught him that spelled his own.

"So." Wada took out a red pen and tapped it a few times against the paper "We are here to select a date."

"And to hear your advice regarding the marriage," said Saito.

"Wait," said Robert. "He gets to choose the date for us?"

"It's traditional for marrying couples to see a uranishi for help in deciding their wedding plans. Mr. Wada will only find us the most auspicious date. " Saito's smile became slightly more tense. "We discussed this before, if you are not remembering -

"How can he possibly know when it's best for us to get married? The fact that he's supposed to be psychic aside, I mean."

Wada cleared his throat. "As far as my advice goes, I don't think you have much of a need of it. You've chosen all right. You will be mostly ordinary, except for the parts where you won't. Rest yourself in that knowledge." He paused to ash his cigarette. "But you can tell your intended to avoid drinking and to watch his weight. It wouldn't do for him to fall into any bad habits."

Robert's previous experiences with the metaphysical had been limited to the time when his godfather had married his therapist, a slight, mild woman Robert had briefly called Aunt Saundra. "Oh, no - Please don't touch those, sweetheart; thank you," he remembered her saying, pulling him away from a tray of quartz crystals on the windowsill. "You see, they've been collecting negative energy all week, and I wouldn't want you to have bad dreams." Robert was six years old, and he thought believing in magic rocks was stupid. Still, she had admonished him so gently, he decided he liked her anyway. Aunt Saundra was eventually replaced by Aunt Gretchen, a dour Teutonic tennis instructor, but she left her statuettes and bottles of vitamins and mismatched earrings all over Peter Browning's penthouse, in such unlikely places that they were still finding them years later.

He did not like Wada.

"And as for the date..." Wada tapped a spot on the chart, then circled it with his pen "The first of March. It's a Sunday."

"March?" said Robert. "It's usually still cold outside then, isn't it?"

"Oh, it's absolutely terrible. The worst," said Wada.

"It's also sooner than I was expecting, which is why I was hoping to wait until at least June - "

"June? No, summer will be too late. Put it off until June, and I highly doubt you'll be getting married at all." Wada took a draw on his cigarette and waved away the smoke. "Expect to overcome greater challenges than bad weather."

"You know, Mr. Wada," said Robert, "I'm a bit surprised that you think it's acceptable to talk to me like - "

Perhaps fortuitously, Robert was interrupted by the sound of the shop bells. A television actress of some renown stood in the doorway, shaking out her umbrella. "Oh. Is Fumio-sensei still busy?"

"Just a moment, Sanae, my dear," Wada said. "The wedding couple still has a few unresolved dilemmas."

"I'll just wait right here, then," she announced, taking a seat on the mustard-yellow sofa. Everyone else was silent while she fidgeted with her lavender faux-fur muff, inspected her fingernails, and looked back up. "So, what were you talking about?"

"I think this meeting is concluded," said Saito. "I will call you if anything else comes up."

Wada nodded. "If not, I will see you at eight o'clock on the first."

Robert looked at Saito. "You don't mean - "

"As Mr. Wada is fulfilling the traditional role of our mediator, he will be attending the ceremony," he said.

"Well. I'll inform the hotel," said Robert, "as this brings our guest list to a total of one."

He would have liked to walk out of the office in a huff, but as he was turning up the collar on his coat, he caught the actress's eye. She had a small smile and a soft expression.

"Congratulations," she said.

Robert had seen a few episodes of the show she starred in. It was rerun in the evenings, late enough that he had come across it while looking for something to fall asleep to. She played the kindly nurse, dramatic foil and love interest to the short-tempered doctor who fought the system and saved the day. It's my job to save patients. It's not my job to stand by you, he remembered her saying, during one of their weekly altercations in the operating room. I stand by you because I have chosen to. Robert had rolled his eyes at that masterpiece of screenwriting, but when Saito had offered him the remote, he shrugged. "There's not anything better on."

So, Nurse Kimiko had just blessed their marriage. At least Robert felt he could trust her more than he could Wada.

"This one is very nice," the shop attendant said in a sedate, measured voice. She handed Saito a ceramic sakazuki, a low sake cup. Saito smiled, obviously charmed by its craftsmanship, and passed it to Robert. It was tactile, pleasantly heavy to handle, finished in carmine red. He could feel it retain the warmth of Saito's hand.

"No," he said, setting it down.

She gave the barest hint of a sigh, and then selected the next box. It held a set of thin porcelain cups washed with the palest air-blue glaze, so delicate he had to look closely to see the watermarked white blossoms around the rim. "Anemone flowers would be suitable for a wedding in early spring. They symbolize sincerity."

"No flowers," said Robert. "No flowers, no butterflies, no turtles, no pictures of any kind. It's juvenile."

Robert knew he shouldn't be proud of it, but taking his headache out on someone else was helping, if only slightly. The saleswoman - Yui, by the name tag pinned to her bouclé blazer - probably didn't know enough English to know exactly what he had said, although anyone would have been able to guess his intent from his sour glare and flippant tone. Her smile remained in place. "Well, there are a few others - "

"Do you have any antique sets?" asked Saito, cutting in.

"I don't want something that's been previously owned," said Robert. "It's supposed to be our wedding. Why would we use someone else's old dishes?"

"If nothing we currently have in stock is to your liking, you may place a custom order," said Yui, still smiling. Robert found himself annoyed by this display of impeccable professional courtesy, and he wondered exactly what it would take to get her to crack.

Saito shook his head. "Unfortunately, we do not have time for that. The wedding is in three weeks." He made a motion to lay his hand over Robert's, but he pulled away. "We were hoping to leave with something today."

"I see. There is one," she said, although her hand hesitated over the box. "It is a bit more expensive than the others..."

The others, if Robert's mental currency conversion was correct, cost somewhere between the price of an exquisite suit and an acceptable car. He wondered how much more expensive a piece of china could possibly be.

"Let's see it," said Saito.

She opened the box, revealing a set of cups in deep jade green. "This is a one-of-a-kind set. It was personally designed and handmade by our founder. Would you like a closer look?"

Robert shrugged. "I don't see anything wrong with it."

"You hold it like this," said Yui, removing the smallest of the set, and resting in his cupped hands. "And when you drink, you take small sips."

"Three of them, from each of the three cups. It's a number that can't be divided in two," said Saito. "It symbolizes the unbreakability of our union."

"Well. That's nice."

"The ceremony is called san-san-kudo. Three-three-nine-times. Triple happiness."

There were subtle iridescent shades in the glaze. Every way he turned the sakazuki, it was a little different. "What does this mean?" Robert asked Saito, pointing to the character imprinted on the bottom of the cup.

"'Eternity,'" he said. "Fitting for a marriage cup, yes?"

He set it down.

"Is that what the cups you used for your first wedding said, too?"

"Robert - " said Saito, very close to being exasperated. " - Can you really not tolerate any of these?"

"I don't think you should ask me about what I'm tolerating. You might not like the answer." Robert stood up. "I think I need a bit of fresh air, so I'm leaving the final decision to you. You have experience choosing these, after all." He bent over to hiss in Saito's ear before collecting his coat. "Try to pick something I'll like."

Saito found him fewer than fifteen minutes later, at a cafe down the street called Pagliacco. He was carrying a package wrapped in glossy white paper, tied with red twine. When Robert looked up but didn't acknowledge him, he sat down heavily, with a sigh.

"Are you feeling any better?"

"I wasn't aware there was something wrong."

Saito motioned a waiter over, and they spoke in Japanese too quick and muffled for Robert to make out clearly. The young man raised his eyebrows and nodded quickly at everything Saito said, as if he meant to act up a enthusiastic portrayal of excellent customer service. It mostly came across as him being harassed and terrified. He turned on his heel and all but fled towards the kitchen.

Saito shifted the box beside him. "Do you want to see what I picked out?"

"It'll be a surprise."

He stared at it for a moment before putting it back. Across the aisle, their waiter was laughing too loudly at some other customer's joke.

"My wife and I married when we were very young. Before I became wealthy." Saito looked towards the window, where Robert was staring, to see if there was actually anything out there that was worthy of attention. "It was she who divorced me."

"For what?"

"She said I had changed."

"Well, people do that." Robert wiped a spot off the table. "Do you intend on changing again anytime soon?"

The waiter returned, bearing two coffees and a slice of cake. He dropped the order and left quickly, as if their prolonged silence was some kind of important conversation he was intruding on.

"That is for you," said Saito, pushing the plate towards him. "You have been looking a bit thin lately."

Robert didn't touch it. He laid his arm against the table, and put his head down on it, while Saito held his cup of coffee and observed the steam rising from its surface. Anyone walking past might have thought that they were two people in love, enjoying a quiet moment together.

It was Saito's idea to devote one of their lunches to visiting their venue, so they left work one afternoon and went to Asakusa Shrine. Inside, it was dim and sonorous, smelling of cedar wood and five hundred years of incense. Robert had never seen any place in Tokyo that wasn't crowded, but most people had other places to be at three o'clock on a Wednesday afternoon. The ones that were there were quiet, but not silent, walking close to each other and talking softly.

They waited in line in the offering hall. When it was their turn, Saito clapped his hands twice, and bowed deeply. Robert imitated him, although admittedly with far less grace.

"What are we doing?"

"Getting the gods' attention. Asking for them to witness us."

He slipped a handful of bills into the wooden box. Robert rolled his eyes a little at the amount. "Good to know that the usual methods still work on gods."

Saito smiled a little, and swung the bell rope. It made a deep, echoing sound.

"Now, we pray."

"For what?"

"Anything that you want."

They stood in silence for a few seconds. Robert stole a glance at Saito, who stood with his head bowed and his eyes closed. His expression was solemn. He wondered what he was thinking. He closed his eyes, and tried to come up with something. Dear sirs and madams: I suppose my fiancé has already told you about the wedding, and I'd hope he'd ask that you ensure our health and sanity and all of that, he thought, so if that means I get a prayer left over, I'll just ask you to please make sure the florist calls back by Monday. I'd really appreciate it.

Their rehearsal dinner, if it could even be called that, was uneventful. Saito had let the words kekkon-shiki slip while he was making small talk with the waiter, and the young man had returned with a complimentary bottle of champagne. Robert was left feeling more flushed and talkative than he should have after only two glasses, until he remembered he hadn't drunk alcohol since they had seen Wada. Snow was falling as they left the restaurant; enough to stick to the street in some places. As soon as they got back to the hotel, they had fallen into bed.

Saito moved to kiss the nape of his neck again, but Robert shrugged him off. "You should go. Get some sleep."

"I can sleep here..."

"It's bad luck. We're not supposed to see each other before the ceremony."

This earned him a short laugh, but Saito nodded. "Will you be all right?" His hand lingered in Robert's hair. "You seem nervous."

"I probably won't sleep tonight," Robert admitted. "But I'll have some time to think."

"Pleasant thoughts, please." Saito kissed him once on each cheek - oddly reserved, oddly chaste, considering where his mouth had been a few moments before. "I will see you tomorrow, then."

"Right. Tomorrow."

Saito smoothed the covers over him before he left him, turning the light out as he went. Robert laid there for a moment, before he gave into the fact that he couldn't be still. He got up and went to the closet, where his clothes - received just that morning, couriered from Savile Row - were hanging.

He ran his fingers over the pearl-grey wool. Married in grey; you will go far away, he recalled, and wondered if he had chosen a fulfilled prophecy, or if it meant a flight back home to Sydney in the future. Magical thinking was a dangerous path to meander, but he found himself unable to step back. To be on the safe side, Robert had ordered shoes that buckled, after his driver had made an offhanded comment about how one shouldn't approach the altar with knots in his clothing - it made conflict in the marriage. "All sorts of crazy superstitions. And that's not even the worst one," he had said. "Tear your clothing? The marriage will end in death."

And for no reason at all, he saw his mother, having just tripped and fallen over her enormous white gown, staring sadly at a tear in the lace.

He had no idea whether or not it had happened, but it still made Robert want to cry.

He crossed the hallway, throwing open the door to Saito's room. The lights had been turned out, and he was in bed, probably sleeping. The look on his face when he realized someone was standing over him confirmed that Robert probably looked as crazy as he felt.

"Mamoru."

" - What? What's the matter - ?"

"The day you die, I'm going to die, too."

"Robert - "

"That means your estate will be without an heir, and your debts will go unsettled, and I guess your grave will sit there, forgotten and untended, until it falls into shambles. So, I'll be failing my duties as your faithful spouse in that regard. But I don't think it's unfair, since the same things are all going to happen to me while we rot in the ground together."

"Robert - "

"I'm not asking for your permission. I just wanted to let you know."

Saito sat up slowly, rubbing his eyes. His mouth moved silently several times, but he stopped himself before any sound came out. Finally, he shook his head as if to clear it, and managed a few words. "Get in bed. You'll catch cold."

" - Is that really what you have to say to me? After that?" Robert was aware of his hand at his temple, and realized how close he was to actually tearing his hair out.

"Get in bed and we'll talk, then." Saito sighed. "Unless you would rather be left alone."

Teeth still clenched, Robert obliged himself to crawl between the covers on the empty side of the bed. Saito laid his hand on the hollow between his shoulders, although several inches of cold linen remained between them.

"Do you need an aspirin?"

"No."

"A glass of water?"

"No."

"Is there anything I should order for you from the concierge?"

"No, and why are you always trying to fix me?"

"Because you still refuse tell me exactly what is making you so unhappy," he said, his voice raised more than Robert had ever heard it. Saito's hand dropped, and he looked away. "I admit I was... stalling. I did not want to ask what seems like the inevitable question tonight."

"And that is?"

He sighed. "Do you," said Saito, slowly and deliberately, "want to call the wedding off?"

The room was quiet enough for Robert to hear Saito holding his breath.

"Well. It's not like we'd be letting anyone down," said Robert. He rolled his eyes a little. "Not like we have friends who were expecting a party. Not like we have family who wanted to see us take vows of fidelity in the presence of... of God, or whatever."

"We may not," said Saito, carefully. "But we have each other."

"And what does that mean?" Robert laid on his back, staring at the ceiling. "I want to know. What can we promise each other?"

"I suppose it's not the usual. The things they normally discuss at weddings."

"'The usual.' So, I take it that you can't say you're never going to leave me?"

Saito answered him quietly. "One of us will be alone, eventually. It is the nature of life."

"And will you always be there when I need you?"

"Probably not always. Most of the time, and to the best of my ability. That should count for something."

"And do you think I'm perfect?"

"No." Saito looked at him. "No. You are insecure and underhanded and entirely too easily provoked. You resort to deceit and manipulation because you lack the resources to manage your problems. I do not find this acceptable. I do not want to see you continue as you have." He reached for Robert, and even as he turned away, his caress landed softly on his cheek. "I do not think it was fair that you were so harmed."

He reached for him again, and this time, Robert did not pull away.

"And I would like to stop you from harming yourself, but apparently, I cannot promise you that, either."

They laid there, side by side in the dark.

"You've been waiting to say that to me for a while, haven't you."

"The thought crossed my mind occasionally."

Robert sighed, as if he had been carrying something heavy for a long time and had just set it down. "I'm sorry."

"For what?"

"I don't know. I just am." He ran his teeth along his lower lip. "Sorry for waking you up."

"Not for that. Never be sorry for that," said Saito, laying his arm around him. "My spouse is in a privileged position to disturb my sleep whenever he desires. That is a promise."

The next thing Robert was aware of was the light. It was different from other mornings, in that it had a sort of dense, fuzzy quality to it; like it was more concentrated, whiter light than he had previously known. After experiencing it from behind his eyelids for a few moments, he opened his eyes.

The world outside the window was blanketed in snow.

And he was getting married today, wasn't he?

He sat there, staring at it for a moment, until something warm caught him by surprise. Saito's hands were on his shoulders, and his breath was in his ear. "Don't turn around."

" - What?"

"You told me we weren't supposed to see each other, didn't you? So I haven't already sabotaged our marriage."

"I suppose not," said Robert. "We're not married yet, though."

"Then take this," he whispered, kissing him, "For good luck. And I will see you soon."

Soon.

"I'll hurry."

Saito let go of him. He could hear him humming a line of a certain Billy Idol song as he headed off to the bathroom.

Robert eventually made his way to the lobby, where a familiar haze of cigarette smoke surrounded one of the armchairs. "Record snowfall. Power outages all over the city. Airport in complete chaos." Wada put down his newspaper and smiled. "It's quite beautiful, isn't it?"

It was.

In the shrine, they knelt together and received nine sips of sake. It burned his throat a little, but warmed his stomach. Please, he thought, not entirely sure who he was asking, or what he was asking for. And thank you.

"You see?" said Saito, twisting the ring that had just been placed around his finger. "It was nothing to be afraid of. Nothing about us has really changed."

"Not much," Robert agreed. "But a little."

Outside, Wada waited for them, lifting a red umbrella to shield them from the snow. Robert stole one last glance behind them. The wind was blowing, and the snow had begun to drift, but their two sets of footprints were still visible. However temporary it was, there was a record that they had walked there, side by side.