Dark Rooms

by Angela

02-10-04

 

Author’s Note:  This story continues past the end of Banana Fish.  I’ll admit right away that I haven’t read past volume nine, so my facts may be hazy or, at times, blatantly incorrect.  When I finally read the end I might come back and edit away my mistakes, if I feel there is enough validity to this story to make it worth the effort.  I usually don’t write stories that are set beyond what I’ve read, but the Eiji/Shunichi pairing was a challenge I was too eager to wait for.  I know it’s an unusual one, but I hope you enjoy it.

 

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Part One

 

It was raining in Tokyo when the plane landed.  Heavy sheets of water distorted the city lights, blurring them through the windows of the cab.  Shunichi turned away from the glass to glance at his companion.  Eiji was exhausted--he slumped in his corner of the back seat, physically drooping under the strain of nearly two days traveling.  Another stress added to that weight--he was still upset over not being able to see Ash before he left.  At the airport before they left New York he’d been jumpy and distracted, peering through the crowd and starting at a certain shade of blond hair.  Shunichi didn’t know if he should feel guilty or not--he and Max had done what they thought best--but the guilt pushed through any sense of justification anyway.

 

As they boarded the plane, he’d reminded Eiji that they didn’t know when Ash would even get his letter, and that it was far too dangerous for him to see them off at Kennedy Airport.  This somehow only deflated the boy further, and Shunichi’s sense of wrongness in separating the two only increased.

 

They arrived at Shunichi’s apartment sometime after midnight.  Eiji didn’t react to the rain as he stepped out of the cab.  He gathered our overnight bags as Shunichi paid the driver and pulled their suitcases from the trunk.  It was good to be home.  He couldn’t wait to get to mixing chemicals in the darkroom, to see what kind of photographs nine months in New York had gotten him.  But first, sleep.

 

He unlocked the steel door and flicked on the light.  Nothing was vandalized or overly dusty--it looked like the landlady came through once a week and cleaned things up, just like she’d promised.  They slid out of their shoes and stepped into the living room.  “Ah, it’s good to be home!”  Shunichi dropped the suitcases near the door and surveyed the apartment.  The heap of unopened mail on the table could wait, as could the flashing red light of the answering machine.  He’d had them turn on the phone service just the day before, and no one knew they were back in town, so it was a bit strange to have messages so soon.  Still, at just that moment, he didn’t care. 

 

“Ei-chan, you know where the extra blankets are.  If you want to drag them out, we can go right to sleep.”  He locked the door and followed Eiji to the other room.  The apartment had three rooms, total, and he had converted one of them--the bathroom--into a darkroom.  The main room--living, dining, kitchen, etc.--was small but serviceable, and the bedroom was almost a closet, barely large enough for his bed.

 

“Thanks for letting me stay, Ibe-san,” Eiji said as he pulled blankets from the top shelf of the closet.  It was too late to disturb his family, and Shunichi suspected that Eiji wasn’t quite ready for the comforts and responsibilities of home just yet.  His usual cheery voice was subdued and his shoulders drooped with more than just weariness.

 

Shunichi stood in the doorway and watched him pull the bulky pillows from their shelf.  He was really something.  Despite his recent injuries, he still moved like an athlete, his arms and legs fluid even in this menial task.  The photographer in him was inspired all over again; almost forgetting the boxes of pictures he already had, he wanted to photograph him.  America had been distracting, what with Ash Lynx and banana fish and the guns constantly aimed at their heads, but now that they were back the familiar wonder kicked right back into place.  Okumura Eiji was amazing and he didn’t even know it.

 

Shunichi took the blankets and made up a bed on the couch.  Eiji followed, rubbing his hands over his eyes.  He took off his shirt and flung it onto the floor before flopping down onto the couch.  “I’m so tired, Ibe-san,” he complained good-naturedly.  “I feel like I haven’t slept in a year.”

 

He was glad that Eiji had the energy even to feign cheerfulness.  It would be hard to be away from Ash after so many months beside him, but Eiji was strong.  Shunichi had no doubts that he’d manage.  He was just switching the lights off when the phone rang.

 

“Eh?  It’s gotta be almost one in the morning.  Who’d be calling at this hour?” 

 

Eiji’s head lifted from the pillows.  “Maybe it’s someone in New York?  It’s daytime over there.”  His voice was eager, almost excited.  Shunichi could tell he hoped it was Ash on the other end.

 

“Ibe speaking,” he said, puzzled, into the phone.  There was a static buzz and a pause, and then Max’s voice came over the line.

 

“Shunichi?  When did you get in?  Have you seen your messages?”

 

“We just got home.  I noticed the answering machine but I didn’t check--what’s wrong?”  His friend’s voice was weak with more than the long-distance interference. 

 

Max didn’t beat around the bush.  “It’s Ash.  He’s dead.”

 

Shunichi’s legs went weak and he sat on the bench by the phone.  “What?  When?  What happened?”  He tried to keep the strain out of his words, not wanting to scare Eiji.

 

It happened the day they left--Ash was found in the library.  “Are you sure?”  Shunichi’s stomach hurt like he’d eaten too much wasabi.  “It’s not just a hoax like last time?”

“I identified the--”  Max’s voice broke.  “I saw him myself, Shunichi.  His father is taking him home to be buried.”

 

Shunichi looked over at Eiji, who was sitting up on the couch, his eyes wide with curiosity and concern.  “What happened, Ibe-san?” he asked, his voice trembling.  “Is everything all right?”

 

“Eiji,” Shunichi’s voice went hoarse.  “Eiji’s here with me.”

 

Max swore.  “I’ll tell him,” he returned gravely.  “I can answer his questions.”

 

Shunichi handed over the phone and wandered into his bedroom.  How could this have happened?  He knew, of course, that Ash lived a dangerous life and it was bound to happen sooner or later, but emotionally, this was impossible.  Ash was alive.  They’d seen him--he was fine.  He was possibly the most alive person Shunichi had ever met, and now he was gone?  Snuffed out like a candle?  It didn’t make any sense.

 

He heard the receiver click as Eiji laid the phone in its cradle.  He closed his eyes, hurt for his friend’s sake even more than for his own.  When he opened them, the boy stood in the doorway, his body pale in the weak light of the window.  “Ei-chan,” he whispered.  Eiji’s face was wet with tears, his mouth a hard line as he tried to stop crying.  Shunichi wanted to reach for him, wanted to hold him near and let him cry out all of his pain, but how can a man do something like that? 

 

“I don’t want to go home tomorrow,” Eiji said, his voice shaking.  “I don’t want to go anywhere.  Can I stay with you, Ibe-san?”

 

Shunichi crossed the room and yanked the boy against his chest.  Pride could be damned when Eiji was in pain.  Eiji didn’t relax, didn’t return the embrace; his body was rigid against Shunichi’s.  “Can I stay with you?” he asked again, his voice barely audible against the fabric of Shunichi’s t-shirt.  “Just for a while?”

 

Did he think he would be turned out?  Shunichi held him closer, tangling a hand in his soft, black hair.  “For as long as you want, Ei-chan.”

 

A sob shook Eiji’s entire body and his arms wound around the older man’s torso.  His voice seemed to balk, and he wasn’t even able to say thank you, but Shunichi understood.  He patted the smooth skin of Eiji’s back and stroked his hair, not saying anything but trying to comfort the way his mother had years ago.  He took a deep breath.  His chest was tight and painful, but he knew that there was nothing he could do to ease that ache.  It hardly mattered, anyway, when this one was in tears.

 

An hour later, Eiji fell asleep in Shunichi’s bed, having finally cried himself into exhaustion.  Shunichi lay awake much later, his arms around the peaceful form that huddled close against his side.  The mistakes of the past year tumbled through his head.  So many things could’ve been done differently to prevent this; in so many ways he was responsible for the grief of this young man.  Shunichi traced his hand over the plane of Eiji’s shoulder and closed his eyes--a part of him knew that a new mistake was forming itself, but he didn’t have the heart to refuse it.