Chapter Text
In retrospect, Koujaku was angrier at himself than at anyone else.
He'd wanted to believe his friendship with Aoba was stronger than it apparently was. But a few months after the fall of Platinum Jail and the death of Toue, without any warning or explanation, Aoba simply disappeared from Midorijima entirely. One day he was there, if somewhat distracted, behind the counter at Heibon Junk Shop like always; the next, he wasn't, and Haga-san wouldn't say more than that Aoba had decided to no longer work there. The ambiguous phrasing of that bothered Koujaku.
He was already annoyed that he hadn't been able to help Aoba inside Platinum Jail. He had been detained by a few of Akushima's men, hauled down to the detention center -- along with Clear and Noiz, the former looking confused and bewildered and the latter sullen as ever -- to be questioned in regards to Aoba's whereabouts and intentions. When none of them could answer or be charged with anything, they'd been shoved out onto the street again.
(Koujaku was just glad he'd been able to talk to Clear beforehand and make sure the kid knew to not tell where Aoba was. They might not know for sure that he'd made it into Platinum Jail, but they didn't need to share where he planned to go.)
The fact that Mink hadn't been rounded up with the rest of them bothered Koujaku, too. But there was nothing they could do except wait -- Koujaku staying near Tae just in case Akushima decided to try and pull some shit, threatening an old woman who might not be helpless but wasn't in the best physical shape to defend herself these days.
Oval Tower came down. Toue was reported dead, his butchered body found in the rubble. Aoba stumbled home hours later, covered in dust and looking shellshocked.
And there was nothing Koujaku could do to help him. That was the worst part. He couldn't even touch his friend anymore. Aoba flinched away from him the first time Koujaku rested a hand on his shoulder, and that, combined with the lingering bruises decorating Aoba's pale skin, made Koujaku seethe as he wondered just what Mink had done to Aoba in there. It had to have been Mink. The big man had kidnapped Aoba only days before the whole incident, had beat him up for whatever reason he deemed necessary.
Koujaku wanted to support Aoba. When he tried to ask about what had happened, though, Aoba shook his head, turned away from him.
"He went through something in there," Tae said, one evening. It was just the two of them; Koujaku had come over for dinner and to check in on both of them, but Aoba wouldn't come down from his room. "He won't tell me about it, but it damaged him."
Koujaku stared at the steaming cups of tea on the table before them. "I can't get through to him," he said softly. "We used to be able to talk, but now..."
Tae shook her head. "Whatever it was," she said, "it was more traumatizing than you or I would be able to help him with. To help him through. I want him to talk to a professional, but..."
That processed a little slower in Koujaku's mind; then his head snapped up. "You mean a shrink."
"A psychologist of some kind, yes." Tae finally took her cup and sipped at her tea, her eyes shadowed. "I've seen something like this before. His mother, Haruka... she was -- not treated well -- by her parents. I brought her here to live with me."
Koujaku vaguely remembered Aoba telling him about this. Not the abuse, but that his adoptive mother wasn't actually Tae's daughter but a close relative. The complicated family history had struck him as slightly odd; now it made more sense. "I see," he murmured.
"But we can't force Aoba to get help," Tae went on. She set her cup down abruptly, looking up at Koujaku again. "All we can do is be there for him when he needs us."
"Whatever I can do, I will," Koujaku promised, and he meant it.
Aoba had gone back to work at Heibon; Koujaku saw him around, running deliveries, and always made a point of stopping to check on him, doing his best to maintain a level of friendliness without being too intrusive. He invited Aoba out to hang with Beni-Shigure on their drinking nights, or even just to spend some time doing something relaxing. Every time, Aoba declined -- more polite than he'd ever been with Koujaku before -- claiming he was busy, or tired, or that he'd catch Koujaku next time.
Months of being put gently aside were starting to get under Koujaku's skin. He wondered if he should force the issue somehow. Whatever Aoba had endured in Platinum Jail, at Mink's fists (or worse), he couldn't put Koujaku off forever.
And then he disappeared.
Koujaku went straight from Heibon to the Seragaki house. Tae answered the door as if she was waiting for him, invited him inside, put water on for tea. Her entire demeanor was so subdued that Koujaku found himself worrying if something had happened to her, too.
"No, no, I'm quite all right," she'd said. "It's just--"
Tae had taken a breath and let it out, her shoulders slumping. She was still at the counter, facing away from him, as she went on, "Aoba decided to leave."
"He what--?" Koujaku half-stood again; Tae shook her head and turned around, and he sank into his seat once more as she went on.
Apparently, in the months since the collapse of Platinum Jail, Aoba had been searching everywhere for Mink. He hadn't told Tae this until two days ago, but he'd been out in the north quarter, hunting down the remaining members of Scratch and anyone who might know where Mink had gone. He'd given her a summarized version of the events that had occurred in Platinum Jail, as well: that he and Mink had both hurt each other (he'd refused to elaborate on how, but Tae suspected Scrap was involved), that Mink had planned to murder Toue and then kill himself, that Aoba had desperately tried to prevent Mink from taking his own life.
"We know Mink succeeded in at least part of his plan," Tae said, her voice heavy, "but Aoba was obsessed with the idea that Mink was still alive. And he decided that he wanted to travel and find where Mink came from. I couldn't talk him out of it, so I gave him what money I could..."
"You let him go?" Koujaku heard the tremor in his voice, the anger.
"I didn't have a choice!" Tae slapped the table so hard the cups jumped and rattled. "He was going to go whether I let him or not! What was I supposed to do, chain him down?"
Koujaku dropped his head. She was angry, too, as was her right. For all they'd wanted to help him, neither of them was able to give Aoba what he needed.
The kettle beeped, and she stood up to pour water into the prepared cups. Outside, some children ran down the side street, screaming with laughter and yelling to each other. Koujaku remembered how that had once been himself with Aoba. His chest squeezed. He missed those days.
By the time the tea was ready, the house was silent again. Koujaku curled his hands around his cup and stared down into it.
"He has his Coil and Ren with him," she said softly. "He'll be all right."
His throat worked, but Koujaku didn't say anything, only sipped at his tea.
Time went by.
It was stranger than he'd thought it would be, living on Midorijima and going about his daily life without Aoba around. He cut hair like always (though he cut back on the home appointments and eventually stopped those altogether), dealt with other Rib gangs, went out drinking with Beni-Shigure, hung out with Mizuki (once he'd gotten out of the hospital). All of it was the same, but it all felt colorless, flat, dull. The vibrancy had gone. He even caught himself stopping by Heibon, although Haga-san had found someone else to work part-time in Aoba's place and Koujaku couldn't seem to get used to the sight of a different face behind the counter.
Koujaku continued to check in with Tae, as much to keep her company as to see if she'd heard from Aoba. At first, the reports came in with some regularity; Aoba was making his way across Europe, where hitchhiking and backpacking wasn't too difficult. A couple of months into his trip, he caught a plane to the States, and his calls and e-mails came less frequently. He mentioned taking a bus through mountains that reminded him of Japan (the Appalachians, Koujaku discovered later when he looked up a map to try and track Aoba's travels), traveling across flat lands covered in crops, related how far apart everything was.
Then, at some point, the messages just stopped.
Koujaku tried hard to put it out of his mind. Aoba must have found his destination. He had told Tae before he left that he was seeking high mountains, steeper still than the ones he'd first passed over, a place of pine trees and snow and stillness. Surely it couldn't take that long to discover the place he'd seen in Mink's mind. Koujaku tried not to think about the alternative. Aoba was tough. He could defend himself in a fight.
When his mind started running to all the ways people could die in a country as reportedly homicidal as America was, Koujaku went out and hit a training dummy with his sword until exhaustion claimed him.
He'd lost track of how much time had passed since Aoba had left, but it had been at least a year, if not more. He was starting to think about going back to the mainland. While Koujaku was proud of what he'd done with Beni-Shigure, he could leave that to Hagima or Kou and feel no regrets. He'd miss Tae, of course, and Mizuki, and even Clear, who continued to pop up all over the place -- often when least expected. Noiz was still around, too, though Rhyme had suffered a setback when Toue died and had taken some time to rebuild. Not that Koujaku cared.
When he saw the blue hair on a slender figure down the street, Koujaku thought he was hallucinating.
How many times had he imagined he'd seen Aoba? More than he cared to think about it. It had always been someone else with vaguely similar hair, always dyed, sometimes with not even a remotely similar style. It didn't matter. He'd catch sight of the hair, and his heart would trip and start to race, blood roaring in his ears even as he realized that of course that wasn't Aoba, it was a woman of similar height or a guy who happened to be wearing a white jacket or someone else with lilac hair that just looked blue in the light.
His hands went still in the middle of the haircut. He blinked. He stared.
Somehow, against all probabilities, Aoba stood on the sidewalk at the corner. His hair was longer than ever; Koujaku saw decorations woven into it, though he couldn't make out details from half a block away. While he was lean and lanky as ever, he wore a different coat -- something that looked like suede, natural materials with fringe along the arms. His boots were different, too, but a familiar blue Japanese Spitz-type Allmate stood by his feet.
"Koujaku!" Beni yelled in his ear. Koujaku flinched. He'd stopped mid-hairstyle, comb and hairdryer held loosely in his hands. The customer, a sweet young woman who'd always been patient with him, was watching him, eyes full of confusion.
"Just a second," he said, setting everything down on the tray to the side of the chair. Heart in his throat, Koujaku pushed past the others waiting for their turn, racing across the street in between a couple of cars and down the sidewalk--
Aoba's face turned toward Koujaku's. The world tilted and then reshaped itself around him.
It was Aoba, of that there was no doubt: there was no other face like that, not in all the world, not with those hazel eyes and that particular smile, framed by that aqua-turquoise-cyan fall of hair decorated with feathers and beads.
"Aoba," Koujaku breathed.
He heard his own name shouted in astonishment, and then Aoba slammed into him nearly hard enough to knock him over. Koujaku swallowed hard. His arms came around those narrow shoulders, careful not to touch Aoba's hair or disturb its new style. He could feel Aoba shaking against him. At their feet, he distantly heard Beni joyfully greeting Ren, but everything beyond Aoba seemed unimportant, irrelevant. Koujaku's eyes stung; he tried to blink back the emotional reaction.
I love him, he thought out of nowhere. How did I never realize?
Then the other voice spoke, and Koujaku went from warm to chilled in an instant.
"Red," it said. Koujaku looked up into the eyes of the only man he'd ever met who was taller than him.
His vision seemed to shift and blur. He knew this stranger -- did he? Didn't he? A giant of a man with broad shoulders, golden eyes, deep brown hair draped in long soft waves around a stern face, a frown beneath a straight, slender nose...
It all resolved in a stunning instant. Koujaku thought he might have fallen over if not for Aoba still clinging to him.
"Mink."
"We were looking for you," Aoba said as he finally released Koujaku and stepped back, seemingly oblivious to the tension between the two men. "Oba-chan said you were still doing your haircutting on the street, so -- are you in the middle of something?"
Behind him, as if the volume on the rest of the world had been turned back up, Koujaku heard voices calling his name; Nanako, the customer he'd been working on, was generally too shy to raise her voice, but the others who'd been waiting had no such compunction, and a few of them were yelling, like children denied a treat, that he had work to get back to. Koujaku swallowed; he wanted nothing more than to talk to Aoba, even if Mink was right there, but he couldn't neglect his customers.
"It's all right," Aoba said, and reached out to give Koujaku's arm a squeeze. A sharp memory returned: Aoba flinching away from his touch when Koujaku had tried to comfort him, after Platinum Jail. Things had changed. "Go on, we'll meet up with you at Oba-chan's later, all right?"
With a dazed nod, Koujaku turned, his eyes meeting Mink's again before he started back toward his clients. He distinctly remembered Mink having blue-green eyes before. Just how much had changed? Why did the world suddenly feel off-balance, skewed, when seeing Aoba should have made him feel whole again?
Koujaku shut down shop after finishing Nanako's hair. He refused to accept payment from her, since he'd nearly abandoned her mid-style, and told the others that he'd get back to them another time. The usual protests rose, but he didn't care. He was too preoccupied to even think about work anymore today. As he put everything away, Beni fluttered around his head, chiding him in his usual strident tone.
"Enough," he said finally. Beni settled to his shoulder with a disapproving hmm.
"Are we going over to Tae's?" Beni asked.
"Later." Koujaku spared a glance to the corner; he didn't see Aoba's hair or a figure head-and-shoulders above the crowd, so the pair must have moved on. Maybe they were going to check in and visit with Haga-san or see Yoshie-san at Delivery Works. The last thing Koujaku wanted to do was chase after them like a lovesick puppy.
"I can track Ren, if you want."
"I don't. Leave it," he said, and closed his supply bag. "Did Ren say anything about them?"
"Only that they're living in someplace called Colorado," Beni replied. "In a house Mink built. He sounded impressed."
Living together, Koujaku thought. There was something about the way Aoba had been dressed, the way the beads and feathers had been braided into his hair, that went along with the linen shirt and long leather coat Mink wore. Mink had had something in his hair, too; not the false feathers he'd worn when he was previously on Midorijima, but another handmade item with beading, only half-visible in the long, loose strands -- so different from the dreadlocks he'd worn previously.
Mink seemed to be a completely different man now, and so much of that seemed to have influenced Aoba's appearance, too. Koujaku didn't want to think about what that meant.
He let himself wait for two hours before going over to Tae's. Back at his apartment, he showered, cleaned himself thoroughly, made himself presentable. It shouldn't have mattered after the fact; Aoba had already seen him, after all, and he knew Aoba wouldn't care about his appearance in any case. It was like armor. Hair arranged perfectly, every detail of his clothing neat and tidy; he even cleaned his sword and its sheath, freshly oiling and rubbing it all down.
It came to him that he was preparing as if to go out on a date. Koujaku felt something twist inside, like a knife working its way into his guts, when that thought hit him. But he'd missed Aoba so fucking much; he needed this resolution, at least. There was no way Aoba and Mink were staying on the island, not if they had a house and a life back in Colorado.
(Koujaku took a minute to look it up on his Coil and saw that Aoba had found his mountains after all.)
Just like old times, Aoba met Koujaku at the door. For an instant, nothing had changed; he could hear the television on, the sound of someone working in the kitchen, and Aoba was smiling up at him in warm welcome. Then he saw the feathers and braids in Aoba's hair and was reminded that, as much as he might wish it, time had moved on.
"What are you doing standing there? Come in," Aoba urged as he stepped back. "Did you bring Beni? Ren was wanting to catch up with him."
"As if I could keep him away," Koujaku said. Beni, who had been riding on Koujaku's shoulder, needed no more invitation to dart into the house, calling for Ren; Koujaku chuckled as he sat down to take off his shoes.
"It's really good to see you." Aoba leaned against the wall as Koujaku set the shoes aside and stood again.
"When did you get in?" It all felt so fucking banal. Small talk. Koujaku remembered it being like this when he'd come back to Midorijima after a decade, though.
"Last night," Aoba said. He nodded toward the kitchen, and Koujaku stepped up to follow him. "It was a lot of flying, we were exhausted or I would have gone looking for you then."
"No worries."
As he'd expected, Koujaku saw Tae at the stove. To his surprise, Mink was beside her, chopping something up at the counter. Tae's face was pinched in its usual scowl, but she didn't seem upset or as if she was put out by the hands helping her.
"Tae-san," Koujaku greeted her. She glanced over, gave him a nod in return and then went back to what she was doing. Something was frying in a pan; whatever it was, everything smelled delicious.
"Hey," and Aoba was tugging at his sleeve, pulling him into the living room. Though only a door (currently open) separated the room from the kitchen, Koujaku could see Aoba wanted to talk a little more privately.
Indeed, as soon as they sat down on the sofa, Aoba turned toward Koujaku, his smile tempered by some deeper emotion. "I'm sorry," he started.
Koujaku shook his head. "No. There's no need. You're here, and you're well, and that's all that matters."
"No, let me finish, I need to say it." Aoba's eyes had gone dark; swallowing, Koujaku nodded, and Aoba went on. "I'm sorry I stopped sending messages. I didn't mean to fall out of touch. I know you were worried about me. Oba-chan--" Aoba paused, then, and a hand went to the crown of his skull, gingerly pressed there for a moment. Koujaku winced in sympathy, remembering how Tae could deliver a stinging slap like no other.
"Of course we were worried," Koujaku said, soft. "I think we both ran through every worst-case scenario we could imagine when you went quiet."
Aoba nodded. Teeth worried at his lower lip. "And there's no excuse for that. I mean, obviously, I finally found Mink, and then I was sick for a while -- nothing serious, just a cold and a bit of a fever, but once I got over that, I started settling in there."
He inhaled deeply, then pulled down the collar of the plain henley he wore -- still dark blue, his tastes clearly hadn't varied that much -- to reveal a faceted gem. Shades of blue and green and white were marbled through the facets into which it had been cut; it was wrapped in pleasing curves of silver wire and suspended from a beaded necklace. The gem itself caught the light in subtle ways: it didn't gleam or sparkle, but its surfaces had been polished to a gentle sheen, just enough to reveal the deep beauty of the stone within.
"He made this for you." Koujaku reached out to brush a finger along the wire that curled around the gem, holding it in place and complementing the straight lines of it at the same time. Glancing up at Aoba, he saw he'd reached the right conclusion.
"It's." Aoba's throat worked; he glanced back at the kitchen, all the confirmation Koujaku needed.
"I'm happy for you," he said. Meant it.
"Koujaku," Aoba said, and threw himself at Koujaku, who barely managed to open his arms in time. Koujaku was reminded of all the evenings he'd spent smoking on the balcony outside Aoba's room, shooting the shit, laughing about the dumbest things imaginable. How they'd shared a bed when Koujaku had slept over, how sometimes he'd woken up with his chest to Aoba's back and one arm flung lazily over Aoba. How sometimes Aoba had pressed himself back into Koujaku's arms as if seeking his warmth.
His hand came down awkwardly on Aoba's shoulder, rested there. Another memory seared his brain: when he'd tried to comfort Aoba after he'd come home from Platinum Jail, and how Aoba had flinched violently away from his touch. A year and a half, more or less, had gone a long way towards healing Aoba; time wasn't the only factor, though.
Koujaku's glance took in the kitchen again. Tae had plates out on the table, while Mink was pouring drinks for them. It felt oddly domestic, even though Mink and Aoba had been here for less than twenty-four hours.
As Aoba pulled back from his impulsive hug, he rubbed knuckles under his nose. "Thanks," he said.
Koujaku shook his head. "Nothing to thank me for. I missed you, you know that, but it helps knowing you found somewhere you belong. And someone you belong with."
Aoba's eyes squeezed shut for a moment. "I know it's weird. Him and me. I don't know how to explain it."
"You don't have to." Koujaku reached over and shook Aoba's shoulder gently. "If you're happy, and he's good to you..."
"He is," Aoba said, swiftly, and then his gaze found Koujaku's again. Those eyes had always been sharp; Koujaku fought the urge to squirm. "You're really OK with it?"
"Even if I wasn't--" Shit, where did that come from? Koujaku hadn't even been drinking. "--my opinion wouldn't matter. You've made a choice, you're happy -- you don't need my approval."
"Maybe I do." Aoba sounded almost annoyed. Koujaku couldn't help but laugh.
"You don't need it that badly, if you've gone this long without it." Koujaku leaned forward, took Aoba's shoulders in his hands, his tone easy and light. "But if that's what you want, then you've got the Koujaku seal of approval. And if he doesn't treat you right, he'll answer to me."
He heard a sound, a grunt of amusement, and looked up to see that Mink had come into the room. His eyebrow had gone up, but all he said was, "Dinner's ready."
Aoba shook his shoulders; Koujaku's hands dropped away. He didn't know how to take that; Aoba was smiling as he got to his feet, though, so Koujaku guessed he wasn't in imminent danger of being beaten to a pulp (not as if he wouldn't give Mink a run for his money, at any rate).
After dinner, Aoba and Mink excused themselves. Koujaku opened his mouth, surprised -- they weren't staying here? -- but he caught a glance from Tae and quickly schooled his features into a cheerful smile. "I'll call tomorrow," Aoba told Koujaku as the two were taking their leave. "I still have a ton of stuff I want to talk to you about."
"I'll keep my day free," Koujaku replied. He dropped the smile once the door was closed behind the pair; then, unable to hold it in any longer, he spun back to Tae.
"Did you know about--"
Tae waved a hand at him as she walked back towards the kitchen. There, he saw her, not preparing tea as he'd expected, but uncorking a large bottle of sake.
Koujaku knew where the cups were. He held them for her while she poured.
"Yes," she said at last, once they'd both had a couple of mouthfuls. "When Aoba told me he was coming back to visit. He didn't say it -- I read that marriage is legal there, but they've never actually had an official ceremony -- but the way he talked about Mink..."
Koujaku stared at his cup, then took another sip. The liquor was good, of a quality that made Koujaku suspect Tae had hidden it away for years for a special occasion. This wasn't exactly that, but it would have to do. "It's the last thing I ever would have expected," he muttered. "That... that bastard. After what he did to Aoba." Not for the first time, he thought to himself that he really didn't know Aoba at all.
"Sometimes it's like that," Tae said. Koujaku blinked at her. "I'm not saying it's good, or even right. I do know that sometimes people start from strange beginnings. Whatever happened between the two of them is their burden to carry. Maybe somewhere along the way, it turned into a gift as well."
"That's bullshit," Koujaku said. "I'm sorry, Tae-san, but if someone hurt me the way Mink hurt Aoba, I wouldn't ever forgive them."
"Maybe," Tae said. She threw back the rest of the sake in her cup and poured a refill. "And maybe the circumstances weren't so simple. If we love Aoba the way we claim to, we have to honor his choices."
"Even if they're bad?" Koujaku squinted at Tae. "What if -- and I'm not saying this is what's happening, it's just a, a what-if -- but what if he was with someone who threw him around or beat him up, or... or cheated on him and shit?"
"I think Aoba wouldn't look as happy as he does," Tae said. "I think he wouldn't have come back here, not with that person, and I think you and I would both be able to see it if things were wrong."
Koujaku finished his cup thoughtfully. It was true; though Koujaku hadn't seen Mink and Aoba do more than stand together and talk on the street yesterday, he'd sensed no tension between them. Tonight at dinner, Mink had actually smiled a couple of times -- something Koujaku hadn't ever thought the big man capable of doing -- and Aoba's warmth had practically radiated across the table. In all honesty, Koujaku didn't remember the last time he'd seen Aoba so happy.
It burned a hole in his gut. Mink had done that somehow, whereas Koujaku had missed the chance he'd never even known was there.
He took his cup again -- full once more -- and threw back the entire mouthful. He hadn't noticed Tae refilling it; he gave her a grateful nod, swallowed, and slammed the cup down on the table.
"Now you need to decide what you're going to do about it," she said.
Koujaku raised his head. "What I'm going to do about it?" he asked. "I think it's fairly obvious there's nothing to be done about it. It's already done. Set in stone. All I can do is... be happy for them."
"But you're not," she pointed out, and poured again.
At this rate, they were going to finish the entire bottle between the two of them. Koujaku already regretted the morning hangover his future self would suffer. "Like that matters," he said. This time, he only sipped at his cup.
"You're allowed to be happy too." Tae pointed a finger at him, her eyes narrowed. "Don't forget that."
Tae's words rang in his head like the chiming of his blood in his ears the next morning. He'd never been sensitive to sound except when he was hung over, and everything sounded like swirling agony now.
She'd sent him to get some rest upstairs, which had turned into him collapsing into Aoba's bed. Aoba's former bed; now it was a featureless item, a plain white blanket over clean sheets, none of it even smelling like Aoba anymore. Then again, it had been over a year since Aoba had lived here. His room was cleaned out, tidied up, all the mess of electronics stowed away and clothes long since shipped to America.
Koujaku had fallen asleep in the bed that no longer smelled of anything but detergent, remembered how Aoba would nudge himself back into Koujaku's arms, and fell asleep with his eyes pressed to the pillow in a vain bid to tell himself he wasn't crying (and if he was it was only because of all the sake).
Despite the ringing in his ears and the dry tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth, Koujaku dragged himself out of bed. Tae was still asleep -- her bedroom dimmed against the light -- so Koujaku scrawled a quick note to thank her for the hospitality of the previous evening, stuck it to the fridge, and slipped out the door.