Saturdays:  part two

By Uozumi

 

Author’s Note: This is the first Banana Fish fanfic (that I know of) to go into chapters!  Don't ever expect chapters to go in some semblance chronological order unless perchance it happens.  I own nothing.

 

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Two:  August 17, 1985

 

It was early, and Eiji found his brown eyes staring up at the ceiling of Shorter's apartment, mind too full to sleep.  He always stayed up all night when Shorter wasn't going to be in the apartment.  He was amazed at how Ash could just sleep all night long.  If Ash knew all of the dangers so well and Eiji had barely gotten his feet wet, how was it that Ash could sleep and he couldn't?  Could it be that because Ash knew the full extent of what could happen to them that he slept better?  Since Ash's imagination couldn't take what he had experienced, seen, or hear of and make it something else, was that why?

 

Eiji studied Ash a moment, then sighed.  It was six in the morning, and he still couldn't sleep.  Getting up, he pulled on a dark blue shirt, and went out into the kitchen.

 

Glancing warily at the stove, Eiji started rummaging through the cabinets finally settling on two rolls and a glass of water.  Holding up the glass to his eyes, Eiji mused over why they would call the NYPD coffee mud, if really the water was the mud and not the coffee.

 

Taking it over to the small and cramped table, Eiji reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out several cards before selecting one and putting the rest in his pocket.  Staring at it a moment, he pulled out a pen, and wrote the sending address upon the card before pausing.  What could he write?  Not much had changed, and he didn't want to worry the recipient, but he couldn't lie either . . . .

 

Could he?

 

Shaking his head, Eiji tapped his pen thoughtfully upon the table.  Then watched the pen shoot across the room at a creak in the doorway.

 

"Oh! Ash!  I did not see you," Eiji hurriedly went to stand, but Ash bent down, picking up the pen.

 

Studying the pen a moment, Ash glanced at Eiji, "What you doing?"

 

Eiji indicated his card, "Writing."

 

Ash narrowed his eyes.  Had Eiji been doing this all this time?  He might have given their position away!  However, Eiji wasn't that stupid, he could be stupid at times, but he wasn't all the time . . . .

 

"It's to my mother.  I promised her that I write a lot, and I have."

 

"How?"  Ash kept the pen as he stood in the doorway, Eiji somewhere between standing and sitting.

 

"By not giving her a return address, and making sure it's deposited in a different post box each time."

 

Ash studied the older boy.  He didn't like this postcard business.  It wasn't sitting with him, but they had been with Shorter for months, and nothing had happened . . . .

 

. . . yet.

 

"Can I have my pen?"

 

"I'm thinking."

 

"I have not given us away."

 

"Let me think."

 

"Ash -"

 

"Just shut up a second, will you?!"

 

An almost visible spark went between them.  They had been cooped up together in hiding for so long that their tempers would flare simultaneously constantly.  They held many of the same traits, however the fact that Ash was jaded, and Eiji still had some semblance of innocence about the world, was what set the two apart.

 

"What are you writing anyway?"

 

Eiji narrowed his eyes, "A letter to my mother."

 

"I know that," Ash sighed.  "What I mean is, 'what are you writing in the letters?'"

 

"Stuff."

 

"Eiji -"

 

"I don't have to tell you," Eiji pointed out.  "It is American law that states that mail is private."

 

"Not when -"

 

Eiji held up the card with what he had started, "Read it if you can."

 

Ash took the card, then raised an eyebrow before looking to Eiji, "This is -"

 

"Japanese, I know," Eiji nodded, taking the card back, "I am Japanese."

 

That made sense.  Ash felt stupidity seep into him.  Why did he think that Eiji would write out blatantly where they were in English?  Of course, he would write home in Japanese!  "Sorry."

 

"It okay, you were only thinking of what is best," Eiji sighed, accepting the pen back as well.

 

Ash nodded, then watched as Eiji began to write quickly with the pen.  How could he write that so fast?  The characters looked so complex, but he wrote it out effortlessly, only faltering a few times.

 

"What are you writing?"

 

Ash wanted to retract the question after he had asked it.  He didn't like prying, but it was fascinating, and an escape from planning his next move.  Shorter was out gathering intelligence to make that move even better, and that was really what he should be thinking, but right now, his brain wanted to understand kanji and forget about his next move.

 

"I wrote:

 

"'Mother,

 

"'I am doing more of the same, but am doing just fine.  I want to apologize again for leaving before my birthday, but hope that your birthday is going well -'"

 

"So, it's her birthday today?"  Ash inquired, a small smirk adorning his features.  He gained that face every now and then, and so far only Shorter and Max had pointed it out.  He only used that face around Eiji if the older boy was peaking his curiosity.

 

"Yes, she's forty-three," Eiji smiled slightly, "I wish I could be there."

 

Ash nodded, "Interesting."

 

"What is?"

 

"That today's her birthday," Ash looked out the window, "Mine was yesterday."

 

Eiji's eyes widened.  He wasn't sure what surprised him more, but as he took in Ash, he had to admit that the boy seemed older suddenly.  It was so odd how just by turning eighteen, someone could look so different . . . .

 

"What?"

 

Eiji blinked, then smiled, "Happy Birthday."

 

Ash stared at him a moment, growing quiet, Eiji watching unsure as to if he had said something wrong.  Then, he took the pen from Eiji's hand and turned the postcard so it faced him.  Quietly he scribbled something on the card, then passed it back across the table, setting the pen beside it.

 

"Wha . . . ?" Eiji looked at Ash, then down at the card.

 

Dear Mrs. Okumura,

     Your son is fine.  Happy birthday.

-          Aslan

 

Eiji stared at it a moment, then looked up at Ash, searching his eyes, "Who's Aslan?  Is that you?"

 

Ash stopped leaning on the table, and moved towards the kitchen silently.  Methodically he retrieved some form of breakfast, acutely aware that Eiji was watching his movements.  Quietly, he drank some water, had a roll, then he rinsed his glass out, and turned to Eiji.  Studying the Asian, Ash finally shrugged, "It's just an assumed name," and then he padded off to the bedroom, shutting the door behind.

 

Staring at the door, Eiji nodded to himself.  Ash had most likely gone back to sleep.  It was such a stupid question.  Ash would never put his real name down . . . .

 

. . . would he?

 

THE END