Unbound: Jin Hates Feeling Things (2/7)

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Chapter Two: Jin Hates Feeling Things

“So you are the Storyteller, then,” says a voice from behind them, and Jin spins around, clutching the book in his arms, his heart beating with the pulsing of the book in a sympathetic rhythm. The ground shakes, just a little, as Jin takes in the sight of the man in green, who stands with his arms crossed, staring at Jin and Yamapi, making no sign of moving. “The only way you could have found the Book is if it called you.”

“Called me?” Jin repeats, and then he realizes that yes, that’s exactly what the book has done. Jin didn’t have a choice, really, about coming to get the book he now holds in his arms, so much as he had a need to get it.

“Yes,” the man confirms. “Books call their Storytellers, after all. No matter what world you are in, the Book will find you.”

“Storytellers? Other worlds? I don’t understand,” Yamapi says, and the man in green sighs.

“Is there no magic in your world?” he asks, and then he points down at Jin’s shoes. “I thought only magic could be responsible for such bizarre footwear.”

“I love these shoes,” Jin says defensively, and the man grunts. “Why is everyone always hating on my kicks?”

“Books call Storytellers, when there’s a need,” the man in green continues, as if Jin hasn’t spoken, and Jin can’t shake the feeling that he’s heard the voice before. “Right now, we have a very strong need.”

“But I still don’t understand,” Yamapi says, and Jin quickly nods his agreement. “What do you mean, ‘your world’? There’s only one world.”

“And yet,” the man says. “Here you both are, in a place where he,” and he points to Jin, “can communicate with a Book, seeing things you previously believed were impossible, in a place very different from your own.” The man sounds amused. “I’ve never seen clothes like the ones you wear. So tell me—is this your world?”

“I guess not,” Jin says, and Yamapi snorts.

The man reaches up, pulling off his helmet, and long hair falls down around his face. Jin feels his jaw drop, and Yamapi tenses next to him. The hair is different, but Jin had known, somewhere inside himself, even back in the clearing, that there was something familiar about that voice.

“Shige?” Yamapi croaks, and Jin blinks his eyes, twice, because he’s sure he’s seeing things, and maybe he and Yamapi shouldn’t have drank that old milk in Yamapi’s fridge that morning, because shit is getting real strange.

“Do you know me?” the man, Shige, says, with an intrigued smile on his face. “Is there a ‘me’ in your world?”

“But you’re Shige,” Jin says. “There’s only one Shige.”

“Clearly,” Shige says. “There are at least two.” He bows. “I’m Kato Shigeaki, one of our Lord’s guards. I go by ‘Kato’, not Shige. That name is not for you to call me. Take note. I am not the man from your world.”

“I am incredibly confused,” Jin says, and his fingers dig into the leather cover of the book. His stomach’s churning again, and he swallows to calm it.

Jin is disoriented. His eyes slant over to Yamapi, who has that blank expression on his face, the one that tells Jin that Yamapi is just as lost as Jin is—it’s the face Yamapi makes when he’s trying to figure out what to say, what answer people most want to hear. It’s his idol face, Jin thinks, and he moves his foot just a little, so Yamapi can feel him pressing against the outside of his shoe, and their ankles brush too, through the denim of Jin’s jeans.

“That’s quite alright,” Shige…Kato says. “I’ve been studying this my whole life, after all, just in case I ever had to explain it to…well, you.” He looks at Jin, and Jin swallows nervously. A tiny gust of wind blows across the room, then, and Kato grins, delighted. “Ah, you’re exhibiting! Excellent!”

“Exhibiting?” Jin questions, and he’s a little scared to know the answer.

“Yes!” Kato says, his pleasure and professional excitement showing clearly on his face. It’s eerily like the Shige that Jin has a passing acquaintance with in…well, ‘his world’.

“Calm down, Kato,” says another voice. “You’ll overwhelm them.”

Jin knows that voice. After more than fourteen years, it would be a shame if he didn’t.

Jin’s eyes trail up knee-length boots to pitch black armor, and a face Jin’s known for half his life. “Kame?”

“Kamenashi, at your service,” he says, with a low bow. He looks up, peeking through too long black bangs. “And it’s a pleasu—“ He stops, mid-sentence, to stare at Jin. His eyes reflect surprise, and he presses his lips together as he examines Jin from head to toe, before his eyes slip over to Yamapi. Jin supposes, in this world, it’s not every day you see a guy in casual jeans from Calvin Klein, or, he thinks, as he looks at Yamapi, guys with wavy permed and dyed hair, either. “It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance,” Kamenashi says, finally. “Sorry, I was surprised by your appearance.”

“I guess our clothes do look a little out of place,” Jin replies easily, because why not be friendly to the man that looks like a clone of one of your childhood friends, except he’s wearing armor and talking in a funny dialect of Japanese? “I’m Jin. That guy is Yamapi.”

“Yamashita Tomohisa and Akanishi Jin,” Yamapi says with a resigned sigh, and Jin figures he’s probably despairing of Jin’s manners again.

“Jin,” Kato says. “And Yamapi.”

“Great!” Jin says cheerfully. “Now we all know each other’s names! So why the hell am I here?”

“Yes,” Kamenashi says after a pause. “I’m sure you’re confused.”

“Understatement,” Yamapi says, and Jin doesn’t voice his agreement, because he’s sure it’s written on his face, in a way he hates but can’t change. He’s tried hats and oversized glasses, but even then, you can see the tightness and unease in his mouth, and whenever he reviews himself on camera, it’s almost painful to watch.

“Yes,” Kamenashi says. “Well let’s make things simple.” Kamenashi clears his throat, and he’s still staring at Jin, and it reminds Jin of the way people stare at him on the subway when they think they recognize him but are too shy to approach. That tinge of uncertainty that makes their eyes bore harder into his back. It’s like that, only Kamenashi isn’t a fan. “This is our kingdom. Until recently, we were united under our Shogun. However, of late he has become weak with age, and he has yet to name a successor, despite the fact that there is a candidate—“

“A perfectly qualified and well-trusted candidate, who would have the support of all of the lesser lords,” Kato interjects, and Kamenashi’s mouth twists in a frown.

“For some reason,” Kamenashi says, not acknowledging Kato’s statement but not denying it, “he won’t name a successor now, because he’s decided to leave it to something of legend. Dispute over who should rise to the seat of Shogun has caused a rift in our government—there are dissenters, and we’ve split into two camps, the East and the West. The East is us.”

”Okay,” Jin says slowly. “But… this?” He holds up the Book.

“That is a Book. It’s a highly prized magical artifact. There aren’t very many in existence, at least not in this world.” Kato interjects. “We don’t write in books here, we write on scrolls. So to see a Book… well, there can be no mistake, that you were brought here.”

“Then why’d you manhandle us?” Jin says, and Yamapi shifts his weight, which makes Jin flick his eyes over to check on him. Yamapi seems so be shifting closer to him, though, so Jin doesn’t pay much attention. “You didn’t have to throw us around!”

A tiny flickering flame erupts at Kato’s feet, and Kato jumps back quickly, before stepping on the fire and putting it out. It leaves a tiny black scorch mark on the wood, and Yamapi chuckles. Kato looks elated, for reasons Jin cannot fathom.

“Well, I had to make sure you weren’t someone else,” Kato says. “Sorry about that.”

“Someone else?” Jin queries, and Kato shakes his head, telling Jin not to worry about it. Jin likes to minimize worrying in his life, so he lets the subject drop.

“This is the weirdest dream I’ve ever had,” Yamapi says, and Jin sighs heavily.

“I don’t think it’s a dream, Pi,” Jin says grimly. He looks at Kamenashi. “Can you summarize?”

“To make a long story short,” Kamenashi says. “The Lord of the West is trying to usurp the position of Shogun, to pursue his own twisted agenda, and we can’t let him do it. The current Lord of the East is the man meant to ascend to the head of the government. If the Lord of the West gains control of this kingdom…there will be a lot of chaos.”

“Can’t the Emperor do something? Do you have an Emperor?” Yamapi asks. “Or the old Shogun?”

Kato sighs. “We do have an Emperor but…In short, no, he can’t do anything. The Emperor is nothing more than a figurehead—one chosen by the Gods, to be sure, but he has no political power, and no way to directly manipulate the public consciousness. And our Shogun…he’s old, and his decisions have been…suspect of late.”

Jin raises a single hand into the air. “Teacher, I’m lost,” Jin says, and Yamapi laughs even as he slaps Jin lightly with the back of his hand on the arm.

“Shut up, Bakanishi. I’ll draw a comic of it for you later.”

“I don’t need a comic,” Jin whines. “Plus you suck almost as much as Kame at drawing.”

“Key word there is ‘almost’.”

“I just don’t really understand what makes the Lord of the East the rightful successor to the seat of Shogun.” Jin lets his thumbs rub across the embossing on his Book, finding the simple action comforting. Kamenashi picks up the thread of the narrative.

“At one time, there was no East and West. Only one kingdom. But about a year ago…Well, the Lord of the West rose in prominence, and in ambition… and decided to go against the Five Guardians, and against his knowledge about what is best for the kingdom, and…”

Kamenashi is censoring the story; even Jin can see that. Jin wonders about the missing pieces, briefly, but he’s having a hard enough time trying to keep up with the main plot, let alone the unabridged one, even if it is starting to sound like something from a Harry Potter movie or something.

“The Five Guardians?” Yamapi asks, and he sounds like he does when he buys a new RPG game and he’s explaining the plot to Jin animatedly over the phone. Jin usually pretends to listen, but he’s usually secretly watching infomercials for back massagers, or cupcake tins that promise no sticking, or those full body blankets that you can unzip at the ass when you go to the bathroom. “Who are they?”

“They’re five of the best warriors in the kingdom, chosen by our Shogun to protect us.” Kamenashi bows. “I am one of them.”

“Yes, you mentioned that before,” Yamapi muses. Jin figures Yamapi thinks this is the interesting part, just like with the Final Fantasy games. When Jin is home, in Japan, and over at Yamapi’s house around the release date of one of these games, Yamapi can sit there and listen to million-hour expositional cinemas and excitedly romp through the world. But when it comes time to play the boss battles, he always screeches and tosses the controller to Ryo-chan to play, while Jin makes popcorn in the kitchen. Jin doesn’t like RPG games. Jin likes racing games and fighting games, and Jin would rather watch television than play either of those, if he were being completely honest.

“So what’s this got to do with me?” Jin asks, interrupting Kamenashi just as he opens his mouth to further explain the Five Guardians. “Not that I don’t care, deeply, about the problems of your world,” Jin says quickly. “But I’ve got to go home. To my world, or whatever. I’m supposed to go back to Los Angeles tomorrow.”

“Los…Angeles?” Kamenashi asks, slowly.

“Another kingdom in our world,” Yamapi says, and then his voice goes soft. “One that’s really far away.” Jin peeks over at Yamapi at his tone, but Yamapi isn’t looking back, his face still calm, and eyes still focused on Kamenashi, so Jin lets it go.

“Well,” Kato says. “Going home will be impossible until you tell the Story.”

“Okay…” Jin says. “Let me pick up where I left off.” Jin opens the Book. “Jin and Yamapi, after escaping from the stables and finding the Book, realized that the world they were in was definitely not their own. They encountered a man, Kamenashi, who was one of the Five Guardians, and they slowly came to realize…” Jin trails off, and looks up at Yamapi. Yamapi is looking down at the Book, eyes narrowed at the text that only Jin seems to be able to read, although to Jin it seems as if it’s just regular Japanese.

“Why’d you stop?” Yamapi asks, and Jin lets his tongue press anxiously against the back of his teeth. The silence in the room is almost unbearable. Jin only likes to be the center of attention when he’s on stage. The rest of the time, he’d rather people were paying attention to something, anything, else.

“They slowly came to realize there was no way they could go home until the Story of this strange kingdom was resolved.” Jin clears his throat as the words stop appearing on the page. There’s no more story to read. Jin has to wait. “Well, I guess that answers that,” Jin says. “Looks like I can’t tell the rest of the Story. This has been fun.” Jin closes the Book with finality.

“Yet,” Kato says. “You can’t tell the rest of the Story yet.”

Yamapi sighs. “I thought there might be a catch.” His eyebrows scrunch together, and Jin moves closer to him, so that the skin of their upper arms brushes against each other. “Is there a magic amulet we have to find, that will give you the power to confront the Lord of the West?”

“A magic sword,” Kamenashi corrects. “We have to find the magic sword. And only a Storyteller can guide us there. Whoever possesses the sword becomes Shogun. Or so says the current Shogun.”

“I can’t find my way to the bathroom, sometimes,” Jin says, and Yamapi nods with the sad agreement of experience.

“Nevertheless, you found the Book, didn’t you?” Kamenashi asks, and Jin looks down at the Book again. It’s still humming happily in his hold, and Jin doesn’t get why everything is so damn strange. “You’re our only hope,” Kamenashi adds. “To find the sword, and save our kingdom from the machinations of the Lord of the West.” When Jin looks back up, Kamenashi is staring at him point blank, a pleading expression on his face. “You were brought here to help us, I’m sure of it. We needed a Storyteller, and here you are.”

“Wait,” Yamapi says, and Jin turns to look at him now. He’s got this amused grin pulling at his face, and Jin, despite the fact that that particular grin usually spells trouble for him, is so happy to see it. “Let me get this straight.” He puts a hand on his hip, and looks back and forth between Jin and Kamenashi. “You think Jin was pulled from our world to your world to save your country from some evil lord by finding a sword, a magic sword, that will help the Lord of the East become Shogun.”

Kamenashi nods, and as he does, his long black hair falls into his face. “Yes, precisely.”

“This Jin?” Yamapi says, pointing at Jin with his other hand. “The one right next to me?” Yamapi’s face is turning puce, like he’s stopped breathing.

“Yes,” Kamenashi repeats, his voice so familiar, but so different wrapping around the older dialect of Japanese.

Yamapi finally bursts out laughing, and Jin anxiously scratches at the side of his face with a nervous chuckle. “Well,” Jin says, not sure Kamenashi can hear him over the sound of Yamapi’s loud guffaws. “Your kingdom might be sorta screwed.”

“Why?” Kamenashi says, and Jin feels like everyone in the room is staring at him as Yamapi is doubled over with laughter beside him. It makes his heart race, and this strangle tingle spreads through his whole body, like a wave of electricity. It’s weird, and it makes Jin’s body sort of bubble, and then, to Jin’s surprise, something happens.

Huge bright pink flowers start sprouting from the walls, hundreds of them. Kamenashi looks up in wonder, and Yamapi’s interrupted mid-laugh, which makes him hiccup as his jaw drops.

“What?” Yamapi says. “Why does all this weird stuff keep happening?”

“It’s the other reason we know the Book chose you to be its Storyteller,” Kamenashi says, with a sly grin that makes Jin think of late-night skit rehearsals before a concert, Kame’s slow and devious smile making the repetition bearable. “Because of your magic.”

Jin’s got this sinking feeling in his gut that’s got nothing to do with the Book, because it’s humming with contentment in his arms. “My magic?” he asks, licking his dry lips. His voice wavers, and Jin wishes, more than anything, that he had his sunglasses on. He tugs at his headband, and wonders if he can use it to hide his eyes.

Yamapi straightens beside him, leaning closer and pressing his arm to Jin’s from shoulder to elbow. “Jin has…magic?” Yamapi queries.

“You haven’t noticed?” Kamenashi replies, and Jin swears Kamenashi looks like he should be peering over thick-framed glasses with no lenses with the way he’s giggling at Jin’s expense right now. “Nothing…weird has been happening around you? Nothing at all?”

Jin looks down at the scorch marks on his neon green shoes and scowls as Yamapi snaps his fingers. “The fire!” Yamapi exclaims. “And the flowers, obviously.”

“And the birds,” Jin adds miserably as the pieces click into place, and looks back up to where Kato is leaning against the wall, holding his helmet in his hand. “Right?”

“That’s when I first thought you might not be a spy,” Kato says. “And that maybe you hadn’t stolen the Book. That’s why we put you in the stables, where it was easy to escape, instead of in a cell, and put the Book here. We wanted to see if you would try and escape the compound, or if the Book was calling you.”

“We had people watching you the whole time,” Kamenashi adds, and another figure steps out from the shadows, cloaked in black. “This is Ueda, one of your watchers. And another of the Five Guardians of the Kingdom.”

“It was all just a test?” Jin asks, and he remembers how sick he felt, looking frantically for the book…the Book, as its pull tried to rip him apart from the inside.

Yamapi puts his hand on Jin’s back before Jin can start to get pissed off. “But Jin’s ‘magic’…what does it do? I don’t really comprehend how it works, I guess.”

“What’s the greatest power of any kind of Storyteller?” Kamenashi asks. Jin clutches the Book closer to him, and relishes its pleasure, as well as Yamapi’s comforting hand. More flowers start to push their way out of the cracks in the wall, and these ones are a sunny golden-yellow color. “It’s emotion, Jin.” Kamenashi-- who stands like a warrior, Jin thinks, the kind you see in awesome kickass samurai movies where lots of people get their heads cut off while Western weird music from the seventies plays—is staring at him. “Your magic is just your emotions, manifested.”

“What.” Jin deadpans, and Yamapi giggles. “So when Jin gets angry and annoyed, for example,” Yamapi says with a cheeky grin. “He sets stuff on fire?”

“Basically,” Kato says, and Yamapi turns to Jin, eyes sparkling.

“So what do pink flowers mean?” Yamapi asks, and Jin blushes a color he’s pretty sure is similar to that on the larger blossoms.

“Embarrassed,” Jin mutters.

“And yellow? The yellow flowers came out when I touched your back,” Yamapi muses, and Jin thinks all the blood in his body is in his face.

“I think I felt…” Jin searches for the word. “Like everything was okay. Happy.”

Yamapi’s face settles into a less teasing expression, and he gives Jin a long look, one that Jin doesn’t understand. “Because I touched your back?”

“Because you were acting like normal again,” Jin says hurriedly. “Because you were just…being yourself. And the Book is happy too,” he scrambles to add.

“If you can learn to access those emotions on command,” Ueda says, and it’s the first time Jin hears his voice in this world, quirky and thick and raw. “You’ll have a formidable weapon.” Ueda moves a little closer, enough that Jin can make out his face. “You’ll be able to protect yourself and your friend.”

“So the Book was looking for Jin, and I just got dragged along?” Yamapi asks, breaking the moment. “Thanks, Bakanishi!” Yamapi says with a faux-pout that makes him look like he did when Jin had met him for the first time, years and years ago, with his mullet-cut hair and awkward mannerisms. Now that there’s been order resumed to his world, in some manner of speaking, Yamapi’s face has lost that wary look. Jin tries to ignore the tiny yellow flowers that sprout at the thought.

“You’re welcome,” Jin says with a tiny smile, and then Kato clears his throat.

“Well, not exactly,” Kato says. “The Book doesn’t do anything on accident. But I guess we’ll figure that out for certain later. Storyteller, will you help us bring our tale to a satisfactory conclusion?”

Jin gulps and opens the Book. Words begin scrawling across the page, just like before. “Jin and Yamapi made good friends in the warriors who first pulled them from the forest, now that all motivations seemed to be revealed.” Jin brushes his hair back from where it tickles at his cheeks, tucking it behind his ear. “It looks like I will,” Jin says. “Looks like this… Story is already writing itself.” Jin can taste the emphasis on the tip of his tongue.

“Stories tend to do that,” says Kamenashi, and it’s only Yamapi’s thumb, tracing slow and steady lines along the skin of Jin’s waist, that keeps Jin from panicking.

“So now what?” Jin asks, and Kamenashi smiles.

“Well,” Kamenashi says. “I guess I should fill you in on what’s happening in this world, traveler. But first,” Kamenashi says. “First I thought we could have dinner.”

When all the bells around the wind chimes outside the building start ringing at once, sight unseen, everyone looks at Jin, except Yamapi, who’s merely amused, like Jin’s newly discovered ability is the funniest thing that’s happened to him in a long time.

“Looks like Jin thinks that food is a brilliant idea,” Yamapi says, and Jin wonders how many times he can cover Kamenashi’s main room in bright pink flowers before Kamenashi thinks Jin, and his fickle emotions, are better left to someone else.

“Sorry,” Jin says, and Kato laughs. “Damn.”

“We’ll help you,” Kato says. “Just tell your Story. We’ll try and take care of the rest.” He grins wider. “You’ll be like, the Sixth Guardian. It’ll be great.”

“There are only five Guardians,” Kamenashi snaps, and suddenly the smiles abandon the faces of everyone in the room. “Don’t you forget that.”

“Okay,” Yamapi says deadpan. “There are Five Guardians. Check.”

“I’m sorry,” Kamenashi says. “I shouldn’t have yelled.” He brushes a hand through his hair, and his expression smoothes out. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“Should I take them to the visitors’ quarters, Kamenashi?” Ueda’s voice floats into the silence, and all eyes turn to him. “I’ve notified Taguchi, Tanaka and Nakamaru of our guests.”

Of course, Jin thinks. Taguchi. Tanaka and Nakamaru. Obviously.

“Yes,” Kamenashi says. “Yes, that would be best.” Kamenashi bows again to Jin and Yamapi, and Yamapi returns the bow, and Jin belatedly does as well. “If you’ll excuse me.”

“We’ll talk over dinner,” Kato says. “After all, you must have questions.”

“So many I don’t even know where to begin,” Jin replies, and looks down at his feet. That, at least, is a familiar sight, his favorite high-tops glaring too bright back up at him. “I’m just…”

Jin looks up, and Kato is looking at him strangely, sort of…bemusedly, like Jin is a puzzle he’d like to figure out. There’s something in his posture, Jin thinks, that Jin doesn’t like. Yamapi is quiet beside him now, but Jin can tell he’s weirded out too.

Ueda clears his throat. “Shall we?”

“Yes, quite,” Kato says, and exits the room through the main door, heading straight out to the main courtyard, where night has fallen on the smooth gray stones in the rock garden, moonlight making them shine. Jin watches as Kato disappears into the darkness, the night-time swallowing him up in an instant as he steps outside, and then turns to Ueda.

“Sorry to make you wait,” Yamapi says, and Jin is so thankful that one of them has manners, and it’s not left to him to smooth things out with social graces. Jin’s pretty sure his mom would be ashamed. Actually, Jin is pretty sure his mom is the one who taught all this stuff to Yamapi, so maybe she’d just be relieved that one of them had managed to retain any of it.

“Not at all,” Ueda says, and he leads them both out of a side door, and out into the maze that is the keep.

Jin can’t imagine not feeling lost here. There are so many long walkways, formed from wood slats beneath their feet and open air columns supporting roofs that would keep one dry in the rain when going from building to building, and repeated building shapes, with similar looking Zen gardens in each of the U-shaped mini-courtyards. Jin knows without the Book calling out to Jin, he and Yamapi might have been left wandering for a really long time.

Ueda knows the way to wherever they’re going like the back of his hand, though, and Jin trusts that they won’t get lost tonight. Every few meters there’s a lit torch illuminating the way, and mosquitoes gather around the flame. Jin hates insects, and tries to stay closer to the sides of the buildings, knowing he’ll probably be bitten at least a few times anyway. The air, at least, has cooled. Jin can no longer feel the drops of sweat sitting on top of his skin, and his shirt has dried, no longer sticking annoyingly to his back with perspiration.

Jin looks at Yamapi out of the corner of his eye. Yamapi is looking at everything, studying it with the same seriousness he devoted to his medical texts when he first approached his role in Code Blue, or his choreography for concerts. He’s got a smudge of dirt across one of his cheekbones, and his lips are pursed in thought.

“Well, I guess this is more than ‘a few hours of your time’,” Jin whispers, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Yeah,” Yamapi says, and his eyes glow in the torch-light when he turns to look at Jin.

“I really am sorry,” Jin says. “I shouldn’t have touched it.”

“It’s okay, Bakanishi,” Yamapi replies. “Everything with you is always an adventure. I think by now, I should be used to it.”

“Here we are,” Ueda says, tossing long hair over his shoulder imperiously. “If you’re quite through having whispered conversations, that, by the way, are easily audible when there is no other noise on a clear evening, you may step inside.”

Jin flushes, and knows, with a sinking dread, that he’s probably caused a ton of flowers to bloom, that he thankfully won’t have to acknowledge until tomorrow morning.

Jin slips out of his shoes, stepping onto the tatami straw mat floor, Yamapi only a step behind him. The straw is firm and dry beneath his feet, cooler than Jin would have expected. Ueda remains outside, and Jin looks at him with confusion.

“You’ll sleep here, too” Ueda says. “But for now, I’ll leave you to change your clothes into something less glaringly out of place.”

“Right,” Jin says, and Yamapi shrugs agreeably.

There are two yukata of thin cotton waiting for them, both in a pale, unadorned blue.

Jin drops his pants just as the door sharply slides open, and Jin turns his head slowly to look at the man in the doorway.

“Well, aren’t you ready yet?” he asks cheerfully, and Jin blinks at him slowly.

“Obviously not,” Jin says, and one large pink flower blooms between his first and second toe of his right foot. “Let me guess—Taguchi?”

“Yes, I am Taguchi Junnosuke, one of the Five Guardians. Kamenashi asked me to retrieve you!” Taguchi says cheerfully, and Jin wants to stare at him, but he’s got bigger problems right now.

“Can I… Obviously we aren’t ready. Can you give us five more minutes?” Jin squeaks, feeling inexplicably embarrassed. Maybe it’s starting to sink in that these people are not his old band mates, who have seen him sans the majority of his clothes plenty of times.

“Oh sure, sure,” Taguchi says, and the door slides closed. Yamapi’s eying Jin’s flower when Jin looks over to him.

“This is the gayest magic power ever,” Yamapi says. “And it’s like shooting fish in a barrel to make shit happen.”

“I’m not that easy,” Jin protests, and Yamapi raises an eyebrow and gestures to Jin’s underwear.

“Bad Batz Maru, Jin?” Yamapi says, and Jin remembers that he had been too lazy to do laundry and had grabbed a pair of old underwear that morning. “Really?”

Another flower blooms, between Jin’s third toe and his pinky toe, and Yamapi cackles. “I hate you,” Jin says, and Yamapi ties the sash to his robe.

“Easy,” Yamapi says, and Jin hopes his magic will set Yamapi on fire. But only a little, because Yamapi’s grin is infectious.

#

Storytellers, Jin learns from Kato and Nakamaru, who sit on either side of him during dinner, are people with the ability to change a Story. “Usually people who feel too much,” Nakamaru says. “The Book uses those emotions as power, so by using their feelings, Storytellers can craft the Stories.” Jin shifts on his floor cushion, then adjusts his folded legs.

“Feel too much?” Jin asks. “Is that why I keep making flowers pop up everywhere?”

“You also make it windy when you’re anxious,” Kato says, and Jin wants to glare at him. “I don’t know if you noticed.”

“Well aren’t you helpful,” Jin mumbles under his breath as he examines the wood-grain of the table they’re all seated around, and someone kicks him under the table. Jin looks up from his study at Yamapi, who is seated across from him, smiling sweetly.

‘Be polite,’ he mouths, and Jin rolls his eyes and turns to Nakamaru.

“As far as I can tell,” Jin says, and then reaches under the table to touch the book, “the Book is writing the Story all by itself.”

“That’s because you haven’t tried to control it, yet,” Nakamaru replies. “You’ll have to ask Kato for more details, as he’s the Historian around here, but I think you’ll be able to make tiny changes to the narrative as we go.”

“Tiny changes?” Jin questions, absently poking at his fish with one chopstick as he listens.

“Yes,” Nakamaru says. “Sometimes all it takes is changing a couple of words, and you’ve changed the entire course of the Story. Right Kato?”

“Well, in theory,” Kato says, and he enthusiastically waves his chopsticks in the air. “I mean, I’ve always been fascinated by Storytelling, and I always secretly wished I might get to be one, you know?” Kato sighs. “But I guess not. I’m constantly overlooked for things like that.”

“Things like that?” Jin asks. He doesn’t really get it. This all seems like more work and humiliation than he usually likes to deal with, and can’t really fathom it being someone’s dream. “Like being a Storyteller?”

“Or like being a Guardian,” Kato replies, and his face goes still, before he breaks into an easy chuckle. “But I’m smart,” Kato continues. “And I love history, so this role is good for me too. And it’s important, to the future of the kingdom.”

“You can’t plan for the future if you don’t know the past,” Nakamaru says judiciously, and Jin thinks he looks a little silly because he’s said that sage statement with a mouthful of rice, two pieces sticking to the corner of his lips.

“You don’t want this power anyway,” Jin says morosely. “It’s kind of humiliating.”

“What’s humiliating about the human spirit?” Kato says. “About strong emotions?”

“It’s embarrassing when everyone can see them, whether you’d like them to or not.” Jin stabs his fish miserably, chopstick butchering the flesh of the fish, and Yamapi looks up from his conversation with Kamenashi to stare curiously at Jin’s fish, before looking at Jin dubiously. Jin reunites his chopsticks and takes a giant bite of veggies. His other hand continues to stroke along the spine of the Book. It’s soothing.

“You can do thing that lots of other people can’t, as a Storyteller. Your emotions can move others,” Kato explains. “Exhibiting is a part of that.”

“I make giant gay-looking pink flowers appear every time I’m embarrassed,” Jin says flatly. “You can’t cover your spontaneously appearing flowers with oversized sunglasses.”

“What are sunglasses?” Nakamaru says, but Yamapi speaks over him.

“With the size of your sunglasses,” Yamapi interjects, “I’d say you’re giving it your best go, though.”

“Pot, kettle, black,” Jin snaps, and Yamapi smirks, entertained. Then Kamenashi draws Yamapi’s attention away again, and Jin’s eyes find their way to the door as the man in blue armor from the forest clearing enters the room, approaching Kato. He removes his helmet, and Jin should be past feeling surprised at all these recognizable faces.

Still, Ryo glares at his gaping expression. “What are you looking at me like that for?” he growls. “You’d better not be even contemplating making a height joke.”

“No,” Jin says quickly. “You just…look familiar, is all. Like someone in my world.”

“In ‘your world’? Were you dropped on your head as an infant?”

Kato laughs. “Not as often as you were,” he replies, and Ryo swings his glare to Kato.

“Was I speaking to you…sir?” There’s the barest hint of respect in his tone, though, and Jin thinks it’s hilarious that Ryo works for Shige here. Next time he sees them, in his own world, he’ll have to tease Ryo about it…

It’s a sobering thought, actually, because…well, Jin has no idea when he’ll see his world again, after all. He doesn’t know how long he and Yamapi will be trapped here, unable to return to their real lives and never feeling safe.

He feels Yamapi’s foot nudge him under the table again, and this time when he looks up, Yamapi’s eyes are soft.

“This is Nishikido,” Kato says. “Nishikido, this is Jin and Yamapi.”

At Jin’s name, Nishikido’s eyes narrow in on Jin, looking at him closely, like he’s trying to find weaknesses or something. “The two imbeciles in weird clothes from the forest,” Nishikido says, and Jin bristles. The room jumps in degrees, getting warmer, and Jin forcibly calms himself down in order to avoid starting a fire.

Kamenashi laughs. “Nishikido, I’d avoid upsetting our Storyteller, or you might pay for it. He almost set Kato on fire earlier, and it’s already starting to get a little toasty.”

“Fine,” Nishikido grunts, and focuses once more on Kato, although his eyes keep flicking to Jin and Yamapi with what Jin assumes is curiosity. “I found the texts you were looking for, about the katana.”

“Excellent!” Kato says, and Jin does vaguely recall that there’s some quest for a magic sword included in this whole ‘hero-from-another-world’ situation he’s gotten himself and Yamapi into.

Kato nods at Jin. “We’ll fill you in tomorrow,” Kato says. “I think you’ve got enough to think about tonight.”

As Nakamaru puts more food in his bowl, Jin looks across the table at Yamapi, who is waiting to meet his gaze, Jin can’t help but agree. More than enough to think about, Jin figures, and the rice tastes like nothing against his tongue.

#

Two futons are spread on the floor, side by side, with about a meter between them. Jin collapses face first on the closet one, feeling tired enough to sleep just like this, as Yamapi extinguishes the lantern and walks over to the other futon. The soft cotton of the yukata robe is comforting. This, Jin thinks, is not so different from staying overnight at an onsen, or a traditional inn. Maybe Jin can pretend he’s doing that, and he’ll be able to get a good night’s sleep without worrying about the weight of an entire world that’s not even his own sitting squarely on his shoulders.

Jin doesn’t go to the gym nearly enough to have something this heavy resting on his shoulders. That sort of thing is the kind of situation Yamapi is more suited for than Jin. Yamapi, with his earnest work ethic and his willingness to keep trying, to always do his best—his shoulders are strong enough, Jin thinks. But Jin…

Yamapi is pulling back his blankets, Jin can hear. He’s carefully untucking the edges, and slipping inside the bedding, unlike Jin, who is content to lie on top of them in the hot summer air.

Yamapi’s breath is steady and even, also unlike Jin’s, which is full of huffs and sighs. He’s probably lying on his side, Jin thinks, facing away from Jin, already sleeping. Jin’s jealous. He’s so tired but his thoughts are racing and he doesn’t know how to make himself relax.

“I can’t sleep,” Yamapi says, suddenly, and Jin turns his head to stare at him, and Yamapi’s looking back. “I’m exhausted but everything is so crazy.”

Jin grins, hearing his thoughts echoed back at him. “Me too,” he says, and even though Yamapi won’t be able to see his smile, Jin knows Yamapi will hear it in Jin’s voice. “It’s strange, to see all these people we know, and not know them.”

“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “It’s freaky as hell.”

Jin rolls onto his back. “I just don’t know why me? Why us?”

Yamapi clicks his tongue against the back of his teeth. “I don’t know Jin, but could it have been anyone else? Look at who we’re dealing with. Our friends. Co-workers.”

“I wonder,” Jin says. His eyes are wide open, staring at the ceiling. This ceiling is unadorned, or maybe Jin’s vision just can’t make out anything in the dark. It smells like late summer—the light scent of green maple contrasts with the heavy smell of hydrangeas, and Jin can hear the crickets, rubbing their legs together in the grass. “I really do.”

This whole thing is like a fantasy, Jin thinks, not the sort of thing that happens to international pop stars and famous people who have their shit together. No one’s ever accused Jin of having his shit together, but. He does, sort of. The hero, in this kind of story, is usually some unfocused young boy who can’t figure out what he wants or who he is.

Jin’s got no problems with what he wants. He’s known for a long while what his goals are, and it was really only a matter of how to reach them. As for who he is…well, he’s still working on that one, but he’s got his whole life to figure it out, doesn’t he? He’s always Jin, anyway, and he knows someday he’ll be comfortable in his own skin.

So Jin’s not some kid who can’t find his way in the world. He doesn’t fit the profile. It’s a movie role he wouldn’t get cast in, basically.

It’s frustrating, not understanding why he’s here, why him specifically.

But…it could be worse, Jin realizes, because he could be here alone. Jin swallows, and he wishes Yamapi were just a little closer. Jin wants comfort, the same way he did when they were younger, and they’d twine themselves together in Jin’s bed and whisper secrets to each other. Jin doesn’t cry, not really. But some of the few times he’s let himself have been wrapped up in Yamapi’s strong arms, even before Yamapi’s arms were strong. They were just kids really.

Jin wonders if now is a good time to cry. He feels his face tighten, and he blinks, slowly.

Yamapi shifts, then, and Jin can just make out, in the dark without his glasses, the soft pale blue of Yamapi’s yukata in the sparse beams of moonlight as Yamapi scoots further away from him, sliding to one side of his futon.

Yamapi doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t invite Jin verbally, but Jin knows Yamapi is making space for him. Jin drags himself up, and moves on hands and knees across the meter or so to Yamapi’s futon, before crawling inside the covers. His knees knock against Yamapi’s because they’re both grown men and one futon isn’t big enough for both of them. Yamapi’s warm breath blows against Jin’s lashes as he closes his eyes, and it’s too hot, underneath all the covers. Jin prefers sleeping on top of them, because he gets hot easily, but Yamapi is often cold at night, even in the summer. He’s always complaining that Jin keeps his air conditioner on too high, and he wears socks even at the height of August, during the sticky misery that precedes rainy season. Yamapi’s arm snakes out, then, dropping down on Jin’s hip, and Jin wriggles a little closer, until he can press his forehead to Yamapi’s shoulder, and it’s even warmer, this way, but Jin doesn’t mind it anymore, because the warmth he feels inside is the good kind.

“Goodnight,” Jin whispers, and Yamapi sighs contentedly.

“Goodnight,” Yamapi replies, and despite the heat, Jin falls straight to sleep, listening to Yamapi’s soothing deep breaths, and feeling the reassuring weight of Yamapi’s arm across his side, feeling safe enough to let go, if only for now.

When Jin wakes up in the morning, the light filtering in through the slats of wood that comprise the eastern wall of their room, the first thing he sees is Yamapi’s sleeping face. Yamapi looks like Sleeping Beauty, Jin thinks, like he’s been dropped into the perfect slumber, his face smooth and free of lines, and his breathing so slight he barely moves. His skin glows in the peeks of the suns rays, and Jin has to look away because it makes his stomach feel weird to look at Yamapi like that. It must be the sun, Jin thinks. It’s too bright for Jin, that’s all.

The second thing Jin notices is that there’s a carpet of tiny yellow-gold flowers across the floor of the room, creeping up around Jin and Yamapi’s feet, and completely swallowing Jin’s futon.

Jin sits up and clutches at the fabric of his yukata as he surveys the results of more unintended magic.

“So many yellow ones,” Yamapi mumbles, rubbing bleary eyes. “I guess you slept well,” Yamapi adds, between tiny yawns.

“I guess I did,” Jin replies, and as he looks at Yamapi, whose long dark hair, mussed from sleep, tangles about his shoulders, and who has a crease on his right cheek from a wrinkle in the blanket he’d slept on… as he looks at him, another tiny golden-hued flower blooms, right into the unkempt brown waves of Yamapi’s hair.

And Jin’s heart does this funny little somersault in his chest.

They’re left to their own devices, so Yamapi suggests they try and figure out the compound. “Movie research,” he calls it, and Jin throws his sleeping clothes at Yamapi’s head.

“Shut up,” Jin says. “I totally hate this movie now.”

“It’s not the movie’s fault you can’t keep your hands to yourself,” Yamapi says. “And just think how good you’ll be at wearing ‘dresses’ now.”

Jin buries his face in his hands. “If we ever get to get to go home.” Jin jumps when his own clothes hit him, the unexpected return making him look up in surprise. Yamapi isn’t looking at him though, his eyes on his own hands at they fumble with the tie of his slightly thicker daytime robe. Two of them had been waiting at the doorway when they woke, and they’re comfortable, made of soap-softened cotton. Jin likes the way Yamapi’s hair curls up around the neck of the garment in the back. “What was that for?”

“You, Mr. Negativity. We’ll get to go home. You’ve just got to stay optimistic, alright?”

“You’re right,” Jin says. “Sorry. I just…I need a cigarette, or something. Sorry.” Jin feels like it’s been forever since he had a smoke, but he’s been cutting back. Americans don’t like smokers.

“You talked sense into me yesterday. That’s what friends are for.”

They venture out into the walkways, and Jin leaves the Book on his futon so if necessary, he can follow it back to their room. Yamapi seems particularly impressed with Jin’s logic, which results in a both a pink flush to Jin’s face and a pink flower of the same hue blooming behind Jin’s ear. Yamapi plucks it from Jin’s hair, and smells it. “It’s a real flower. With no roots.” He sticks it behind his own ear, and it makes Jin laugh.

They barely make it five minutes into their walk before something barrels into Jin’s legs.

Inquisitive eyes look into Jin’s own, staring him down as he squats in front of her. She’s got her hands on her hips, too, and Jin thinks she looks just like his mother with the way her head cocked to the side like Jin has got some explaining to do.

Jin’s mother, though, is quite a bit taller than this little lady, who Jin knows will be quite intimidating someday, because he can see the spark in her eyes. “And who are you?” Jin asks, and he smiles the way he always does at Lina, when she’s being particularly cute.

“I think I should be asking you that question,” the little girl responds, and Yamapi, who stands straight and tall beside Jin, chuckles.

“She’s got you there, Jin. We are the strangers around here.”

“But I’ve seen you before, right?” the little girl asks, arms dropping to her side as she squints harder at Jin’s face, before turning her attention to Yamapi.

Jin figures she’s about nine, or thereabouts, and he’s more amused than he should be at her suspicion and bravado.

Jin loves that about kids. They’re so brave. Jin guesses it’s because they haven’t learned how scary the world is yet, but Jin would like to think it’s because their bodies are so small that their hearts feel twice as big in their chests.

“That would be pretty hard. We just got here,” Jin answers. “We keep getting lost.”

“That’s just what a spy would say,” the little girl replies. “Nothing gets past me, though.”

“Izumi! You found Jin and Yamapi!” Tanaka is walking toward them. He scoops the little girl up and swings her in a circle. “This is my daughter, Izumi.”

“You’re the Storyteller?” Izumi says with wide eyes, and she’s looking at Jin with a new light in her eyes. “Why didn’t you say so?” She wraps her arms around Tanaka’s neck. “I know all about Storytellers,” she adds factually.

“I’d love you to tell me about them,” Jin says, and Izumi narrows her eyes in thought as Tanaka laughs.

“Now you’ve done it,” Tanaka says. “You’ll know more than you ever wanted to know.”

Yamapi grins. “What, Jin, not going to ask for the four sentence summary?”

Jin winks at Yamapi, and Yamapi blinks, twice, in rapid succession, before he shakes his head and grins a bit more. “Nah,” Jin says.

“I’ll teach you everything I know about Storytellers,” Izumi says. “Which is a lot. But you have to do me a favor too.”

Jin raises both eyebrows at her. She’s got her lip pulled into her mouth, and her hand pulls on her own ponytail as she thinks about her deal. “What’s the price?” Yamapi asks, and Jin thinks Yamapi is about as amused as Jin is.

“Hair,” Izumi says solemnly, after another moment of deliberation. “I want to play with your hair.”

Jin pretends to think about it, but he really doesn’t mind. Yuu’s little sister Lina, the first time he’d met her, had chewed on his hair for twenty minutes while Jin balanced her on his shoulder, lightly bouncing him up and down while Yuu and Jun tried to make the sukiyaki pot work. “You’ve got a deal,” Jin says, and Izumi smiles. She’s missing the two teeth on either side of her front ones, but her smile is really pretty.

“Up for eating?” Tanaka asks, and Yamapi and Jin agree, following behind him, Jin trying his best to memorize the route. Kamenashi is there, and so is Taguchi, when they arrive in the same place where they had eaten dinner the night before. Now Jin can notice the intricate tapestries around the room—he hadn’t noticed them last night with only lanterns to light the room. But now he can see the details of the room, and this place is… Jin feels like it’s cheesy, to say this place is magical, but it is.

Yamapi is quickly consumed in conversation with Kamenashi after eating. Tanaka and Izumi excuse themselves, and Jin wanders out with Taguchi, following him into a courtyard Jin hasn’t seen before. It’s lovely, with tall trees and bright green and yellow leaves.

And somehow, as Taguchi climbs a tree to do goodness knows what, they get to talking about what Jin is even doing here.

“Run that by me one more time,” Jin says, smothering laughter. “Sorry, just once more.”

“I’ve already told you three times,” Taguchi says, balancing effortless on the rope suspended between two trees.

Jin watches him walk back and forth along the rope, doing back flips and tricks that Jin wouldn’t be surprised to see Junno do, back in the reality he comes from.

“I know, I know,” Jin says. “But it’s just too good. I can’t.”

“You can’t what?” Yamapi says, walking over and sitting underneath a neighboring tree. He looks comfortable and effortless in his robe, unlike Jin, who keeps accidentally flashing people because he can never remember he has to sit differently. Jin likes sitting with his legs spread wide, with enough room for a bowl of popcorn and a two-liter of soda to fit between his thighs. Or a girl, sometimes, but mostly the popcorn if he’s honest. “The list is so long and winding…I need you to be more specific.”

“Haha,” Jin says, and Yamapi quirks a smile at him, and there’s that little quiver in his chest again…Jin presses it down with iron will he never knew he possessed. “More importantly, have you heard more detail about our magical sword quest?”

“Not at all,” Yamapi says. “I spent the morning with Kato after Kamenashi showed me to his office. He showed me all sorts of cool old books. Jin there’s stuff in there from the time of Confucius.” Yamapi tugs at the neck of his yukata with excitement. “How cool is that?”

“Um,” Jin says, and Yamapi sighs.

“Okay, I’ll be excited by myself. Or talk with Kamenashi about it over lunch. I guess we’ll find out how much our Kame and this Kamenashi have in common.”

“I’m pretty sure there’s no world in which Kame would not have a giant hard-on for history,” Jin replies. “But Yamapi, the sword we’ve got to find…”

“What about it?” Yamapi asks. “I could hear your giggles from two courtyards away.”

“Taguchi should tell you,” Jin says, and Taguchi sighs as he does a cartwheel down the rope.

“I don’t get why it’s so funny to you though. You didn’t laugh at any of my jokes, but you laugh at a famous legend of our kingdom—“

“Your jokes were terrible,” Jin says. “Except for the one about the horse—“

“Hey Yamapi!” Taguchi says, with a giant ta-da motion, spreading his arms wide. “Why did the horse move stables?”

“I have no idea, but I’m going to fondly reminisce about not knowing when you tell me, most likely,” Yamapi replies.

“He couldn’t get along with the ‘neigh’-bors!” Taguchi says with a flourish, his black hair flopping into his face as he laughs cheerfully.

Yamapi can’t help the tiny chuckle, Jin notices. It’s not the joke that’s funny, Jin knows. With Taguchi it’s never the jokes. It’s always the triumphant look on his face as he delivers the punch line that surprises laughter out of Jin, and Yamapi is no different.

“Okay,” Jin says. “Now tell him about the magic sword I have to find for you guys.”

Taguchi jumps down, catching the rope in his hands and swinging by his arms. “Well, there’s a legendary sword,” Taguchi starts, and then his voice becomes more serious. “It’s said it can only be wielded by the person who is meant to be Shogun. And it’s got some magical properties that aid a person in being a wise leader.”

“Okay…” Yamapi says. “So we find Kamenashi the sword and move on to the next item of the to-do list. Going home.” Yamapi puts his hand up to his chin in thought. “So?”

“Kamenashi?” Taguchi asks, puzzled, and Yamapi shrugs.

“Wait for it,” Jin chortles.

“The blade, Ne-iro, can only be found, supposedly, under the guidance of a Storyteller. He has to look through, now this is all very metaphorical of course, because it’s an old legend—“

“The Wilds of my Heart!” Jin gasps out, and his giggle fit starts all over again. “Dude, it’s so lame!” Jin falls back into the grass, looking up at the leaves of the okakazuki maple, which are made blurry with the tears in his eyes.

“Ooooh…” Yamapi says. “That is bad,” he says, his voice tight, and Jin looks up at him. Yamapi’s face is red, and he looks like he’s going to explode with laughter. “And I thought those songs had avoided the trap of being cheesy,” Yamapi says. “But I guess context is everything. Worst mash-up ever.”

Jin’s sides hurt. It’s hard work, laughing that hard, he thinks. He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to look into the Wilds of his Heart to find some kind of map to a magic sword, but he’ll worry about it later. Later is good.

Yamapi finally gives in. Jin lolls his head to the side to look at Yamapi who has his face covered by his hands, and his body is shaking. Yamapi has this quiet way of laughing when things are really funny that makes him look like he’s having a stroke, so he always hides his face. Jin thinks it’s kind of cute, or… however he’s supposed to say that so it sounds manly.

Jin’s body starts that slow burn; that low tingle that Jin’s learned to associate with egregious amounts of flowers and small fires.

What Jin gets, though, are bunnies. Yamapi looks up as Jin squeaks, and about fifty soft rabbits in different shapes and sizes bound into the meticulously crafted tree garden, jumping onto Jin, Yamapi and Taguchi. Taguchi looks a bit put out by the whole situation, Jin thinks, but it doesn’t take long for the bunnies to charm him, and soon his eyes are squinted with delight, curving into half crescents as he runs a long fingered hand through the fur of the gray rabbit in his lap.

“Your laughter turns into bunnies,” Yamapi says, and this starts both of their laughter anew, as Taguchi shakes his head at them and coos at the one nuzzling at his palm. “Seriously Jin,” Yamapi says, as he collapses to the ground, arms spread wide as if he wants to embrace the whole sky. “You have what might be the gayest magic power of all time.”

“I like bunnies though,” Jin says, with a soft smile as a small brown rabbit touches its small nose inquisitively to his shin.

“Me too,” Yamapi says, and Jin isn’t remotely surprised when tiny golden flowers pop up around them.

“Do you think Izumi would like one?” Jin asks, and Yamapi nods.

“I still don’t get what’s funny about Ne-iro, though,” Taguchi says, and when Jin and Yamapi look at each other, and burst out into the chorus, Jin thinks Kame would totally be giving him the evil eye for the way his voice cracks with laughter on the harmony.

#

It doesn’t occur to Jin to look in the Book for another two days. It seems the Book only makes Jin sick when it’s out of Jin’s possession, not when Jin’s just left it somewhere safe. It’s a relief not to carry it with him everywhere, honestly. Jin’s spent most of his time with Ueda while Yamapi trolls the library, looking at old manuscripts and paintings that Jin can’t manage to summon an interest in.

Jin is interested in swords though, from an aesthetic standpoint at least. He likes the way people look holding swords, and he knows he’ll have to do a better job pretending to use one than he’d needed to do in ‘Ronin’. Ueda is amused when Jin asks him to show him some moves, and he’s even more amused at Jin’s absolute inability to learn.

It’s annoying, Jin thinks, that he can make his body do all kinds of muscle isolations and strange choreography, but he can’t do this. He can move like he’s Michael Jackson and like he’s C3PO, and he can’t even pull the sword from its sheath in one easy motion.

Ueda is patient though, with Jin, just like his Ueda always was. He’s always got smart remarks and dour looks, but he’s also got a slow, shy smile of approval at how hard Jin’s willing to try. Ueda’s always had kind eyes.

The Book reprimands him for his negligence today, when Jin lies down on his futon, head cradled on his arms and face pressed into the cushion. It tugs on Jin’s stomach so hard he feels like he might get sick, and Jin immediately looks for the Book. It’s sitting against the wall, where Jin left it, and Jin immediately hugs it to his chest.

“Sorry, Book,” Jin says, just as Yamapi walks in. “I’m not accustomed to reading on a regular basis.”

“Talking to inanimate objects again, Jin?” Yamapi drawls. “I thought the dishwasher in my apartment was bad enough. I don’t want to have to commit you, but if this keeps up…”

“Your dishwasher is such a bitch to me!”

“It’s a dishwasher,” Yamapi replies firmly. “It doesn’t have feelings. Let alone spiteful feelings. For you. You know why? Because it doesn’t have spiteful feelings for anyone.”

“The Book is far from inanimate,” Jin replies. “It has feelings. And it’s asking me to read it.”

“Haha, that’s like asking you to move on a Saturday morning—it’s not likely to get much of a response,” Yamapi jokes, and Jin grins back, not offended.

“This is a little different,” Jin says. “The Book makes me need to read it.”

Yamapi doesn’t sit on his own futon. Instead, he squeezes onto the end of Jin’s bedding, leaning close so he can look over Jin’s shoulder as Jin opens the book.

“How do you smell like coffee?” Jin asks absently as he caresses the parchment.

“I do?” Yamapi asks, and Jin makes an affirmative sound.

“You always do,” Jin says. “I want coffee.”

“Me too,” Yamapi says. “I’ve had caffeine headaches the past two days. My fans would be horrified by the level of my addiction.”

“Mine have given up on not being horrified by most of my personal decisions,” Jin says, as he finds the right page. “You’re the one set up as a role model. I’m still the bad boy.”

“The naughtiest thing you do is scratch your balls in public,” Yamapi says. “Some repu…” his words trail off as the words start to appear on the page.

“You really can’t read it?” Jin asks, and Yamapi shakes his head ‘no’, his hair brushing against Jin’s cheek.

“Not at all. It looks like aliens are writing it,” Yamapi says.

“It just looks like Japanese to me,” Jin says.

“Guess that’s why you’re the Storyteller,” Yamapi responds, lifting a hand to move Jin’s hair from where it has fallen into his face. “Read, please?”

“Yeah, of course,” Jin says, and then he drops a finger to the page to track his progress. “The quest for the sword began after the first rain of tsuyu, the rainy season. Jin, Yamapi and the Five Guardians rode out on horseback, into the depths of the forest along the edges of Mount Nantai.”

“Oh look,” Yamapi says, as Jin trails off. “An answer, straight from the Wilds of your Heart.”

“You suck,” Jin says, pulling a face at Yamapi, whose chin is starting to dig into Jin’s shoulder.

“You learn so much from reading,” Yamapi declares. “You should try it more often, Jin.”

Jin flicks his index finger against Yamapi’s forehead, and Yamapi reels back with a wince. “Be nice, Bakanishi!”

“You be nice,” Jin replies. “We should go find Kamenashi and tell him we know where to start looking for his sword.”

“Yeah,” Yamapi says. “Mount Nantai.” Yamapi purses his fish like a goldfish for a second, and then makes a weird noise that makes Jin think he’s channeling his inner Akira. “Jin, Mount Nantai is a real mountain. One that actually exists in Japan.”

“You’re right,” Jin says. “It’s the one with the shrine at the beginning of the path, right? With the rice paddies on the opposite side. And that big lake. Reio and I hiked that one, when Mom made us go on a trip together after we had that huge fight. Don’t you remember? I was so mad you weren’t allowed to come. Reio and I scowled our whole trip up the mountain, but we were laughing and joking the whole way down.”

“Right,” Yamapi says. “Lake Chuuzenji is there.” Yamapi stands. “You know what, though?”

“What?” Jin responds, closing the book and setting it beneath his pillow, so he can’t forget about it.

“I can’t seem to shake the feeling that there’s something else I should be remembering about this mountain.”

“Well,” Jin says. “This isn’t really Japan. It’s just similar, you know.” He looks at Yamapi, whose brow is wrinkled with thought. Cute, Jin thinks, unbidden, and it’s weird, because Yamapi’s been making the same stupid facial expression for years, and Jin’s always thought they were kind of cute, but they’ve never made him feel like blushing before.

A single pink flower blooms, right in the palm of Yamapi’s hand, and Yamapi looks down at the flower, and then up at Jin in surprise, the creases in his forehead ironing out with his perplexed amusement. “What are you embarrassed about now?” Yamapi asks, and Jin bites his lip.

“Nothing,” Jin says, and as if trying to make an ass of him, another flower appears in Jin’s lap. It smells pretty, at least, Jin thinks, as he lifts it up to examine it.

“Okay,” Yamapi says, still giving Jin the eye. “Let’s go find Kamenashi then.”

“Yeah,” Jin says, and stands. He offers Yamapi his hand, and Yamapi’s grip when he grasps Jin’s hand is strong. “Let’s.”

Part 3