53. Boys Will Be… Not Boys?
「Katsumi」
Weekend is here, finally!
No more thinking about work and how draining or soul crushing it is. Nope!
I got a whole two days off, thanks to how the scheduling worked out, nothing but relaxing and kicking my feet up.
And to start, Yukio is going to take me up the mountains to show me his favorite spot and it will be all nice and tranquil.
We’re just going to hang out, two dudes being bros, nice and normal, nothing like that weird heart-pounding stuff that was going on with that Kodoku girl.
Can’t think about that, or my mind starts disassembling itself and I kinda need it! Being a catatonic mess on the floor isn’t as cracked up as it’s made out to be, it’s even more limiting than expected.
The thing with Yukio will be a good grounding exercise of how men actually should behave and not whatever I’ve been doing the past few months. I need this!
Getting back to normal, so I can focus on what matters—ranking up—and not getting distracted.
And when it comes to men, Yukio isn’t the worst—way better than the boys from high school and definitely better than the guys from my college days. Fuck, those were the worst creeps, actual disgusting assholes.
But that’s the reason I kind of feel bad, because if Yukio’s friends get wind of how he’s been spending time with the feminine weirdo, that’s not something that’s usually left unpunished. Yukio doesn’t deserve that.
I need to protect him from that, he seems so unaware.
The question is how?
Guess if it comes down to it I’ll have to end our friendship.
I take a final glance at the mirror.
I went with the new baggy jeans, together with one of my now signature oversized t-shirts from my what was supposed to be my sleepwear stack—not anymore.
I really need to get something else to sleep in. Theoretically I could just sleep in my underwear but now that I have these things on my chest it would be indecent to do so. Maybe I should get pajamas for the first time in my life? The ones at Mayumi’s place were pretty comfy.
Hm, I look androgynous.
That's so freaking weird.
Why do I look so unmanly?
It’s a plain t-shirt and jeans! That’s like the male uniform, besides the ubiquitous shirt plus slacks combo. Just goes to show, that I need to do something about my hair situation. Maybe next week? I would need to find a shop first.
────୨ৎ────
The station is pretty rural, you get to see actual fields out here and for whatever reason it seems to attract a bunch of high schoolers that have been glancing over the whole time I’ve been waiting.
Which is mildly uncomfortable.
Not sure what they’re up to. I bet it’s something annoying. Shouldn’t they be at cram school or whatever? Got nothing better to do than loitering?
I try to ignore them best I can standing under the overhang outside.
The weather has been muggy since morning and now with the sun in full force, I feel like I’m getting slow cooked.
I’m a steamed bun.
Getting to wear a skirt or a summer dress would be so much nicer, or anything but this stupidly tight sports bra. But no, I’m stuck with this. I really don’t like it.
This sucks!
Being a guy sucks!
A not so subtle roar announces Yukio from afar.
Of course… so that’s why he likes it? Boys totally are all the same, even the better ones.
He pulls off the road and stops. In person, his white vintage motorcycle is bigger than I imagined it would be from the pictures. It makes him look almost small in comparison.
I saunter up to Yukio, catching a few words of the three high school girls behind me as I leave.
… “Oh, she has a boyfriend?”
“He’s handsome.” …
That’s it!
Fuck this!
I’m cutting my hair right after!
I’ve let this go on for far too long. I’m done.
“What’s with the face?” Yukio opens.
“I… Doesn’t matter.”
Flashing a very disarming half cocked grin he concedes, “Okay. Hope it isn’t because of me.”
“What? No!… Hi by the way.”
“Hi Katsumi.” He hands me a helmet and lets me fiddle with the strap for a while before he continues. “Put your feet up here and hold on tight, okay?”
As I’m finish with the helmet strap, I peer up at Yukio.
What’s with that look?
Is he blushing!? That can’t be.
My guy! What the fuck!?
What’s going on with you?
He turns his attention back to the motorcycle and lets me climb on. I wrap my arms around his waist. Way to make me feel inferior I guess. He’s as thick as a tree trunk.
I mean, inheriting pretty boy's waifish build might be ideal for crossdressing, but put next to another guy’s it’s totally disheartening.
Also I’m pressing my chest against him. Hope he doesn’t notice what I’ve going on there.
“Ready?”
“Yes.”
He takes off and my stomach remains stationary while the rest of my body get catapulted away by his infernal contraption. How is this fun again?
I press myself deeper into Yukio. At least his broad build is good for something. Holding onto him actually feels nice. He’s so sturdy.
It’s an odd sensation to ride on the back of a motorcycle, this is completely different to Hotaru’s scooter. I really have to press myself close to Yukio and going up the mountain roads which start right behind the station, gives a feeling not too dissimilar to when I rode that roller coaster back in my old life.
I’m curious, do they have a park like that in this world too? They must have, and going by the example of the aquarium it’s probably even grander and bigger.
Gotta have to look that up some time.
Maybe I can ask Hi-…
No.
She's been so distant the past days at work.
Yes, I know! I was the one who pushed her away, because she kissed guy-me.
And I hadn’t noticed it before, but next to her I slip far too easily into my girl-training persona and that can’t be good.
It’s just that this girl-training persona I came up with is like, so much nicer to be. I don’t have to force myself, only give myself a little push past my inhibitions and then the rest comes almost natural.
It all started because I didn’t want future girl me to start from zero, so I imaged how she would behave, or better yet, how I wanted her to behave and be like. The little cute hand gestures, leaning into being something soft that moves with grace, something that would have a mother proud of her daughter.
And I payed attention to how the other girls behaved and was totally eager about all the girl things and it was so exiting and interesting—especially with the gang.
I acted how girl-me would and then…
What am I thinking!
I’m not a girl.
Pretending to be one doesn’t change that, no matter what.
I focus on how pleasant the wind from the air rushing past us is.
Higher and higher we go, following the snaking road through the forest clinging to the mountain side. There is a rhythm to it and I start anticipating the lean of the curve.
Maybe I do get why Yukio likes this.
Yukio lets the bike slowly come to a stop at an intersection leading to an obvious dead end. On our left the thicket of the trees thins out enough to grant a patchwork view of the valley beyond with its urban sprawl, through the latticework of branches.
My gaze momentarily hangs on the intriguing picture, before Yukio yanks it back pulling us to the side.
We get off the motorcycle and he takes the helmet from me handing me a small bag in return. It has a bento box and two cans of soda. I almost expected beer cans.
Not as reckless as expected.
“Did you make this?” I inquire pointing at the box.
“No?” he says it as if it was a stupid question to ask, “Mom made it. Do I look like I cook?” He chuckles with a his hands shoved into his pockets and indicates that I should follow.
Past the small parking place the terrain falls off steeply. A narrow dirt path extends from the paved dead end deeper into the forest. A small bleached sign marks it entrance, so faded I can’t make out what it once said.
Yukio leads me past it.
The temperature dips just ever so slightly and a curtain of scents falls over me—the notes of the forest—making me immediately feel at home.
He peers over his shoulder and I ask, “Won’t cook or can't?”
“Can’t.”
“So you’re going to live off cup ramen and food stalls when you move out?”
“Nuh, I’ll have my girlfriend cook for me.”
I groan inwardly.
Yukio makes a pained face, so I’ve must’ve employed my villain glare without thinking.
He asks, “Can you cook?”
"Of course I can.”
A sly grin tugs on his cheeks, “Would you cook for me?”
“Dream on, not in a thousand years.”
“Oi, why not?”
“You don’t give the impression that you’ll appreciate it.”
“Dude, I’d like totally appreciate it. I’d appreciate it so much I’d leave a five star review and a comment.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah! And a whole word of mouth campaign. I’d tell all my friends about this konbini boy and his fire cooking.”
“You haven’t even tried it.”
"Don’t need to. Bet you only do the staples, but do them really well.”
I mumble, “My miso has always gotten me praise…”
“Yeah, bet. Got you all figured out konbini boy.”
His playful shove almost sends me flying, to even Yukio’s surprise.
Sorry my guy, I’m the definition of lightweight.
A hearty chuckle emanates from him while he shakes his head at my barely prevented stumble.
I eye him, waking next to me.
It comes so effortlessly to him. He’s so comfortable in himself, while I feel stuffed into a suit that won’t fit no matter what.
Why can’t I be like him? Why do I have to force myself for everything?
Bet he never thought about how he’s walking or holding his hands.
This was supposed to be a grounding exercise, but a couple of minutes with him and it’s obvious what a pathetic loser I am.
Next to Yukio, I’m barely a man.
I want to be home.
He asks me how I liked the ride and then falls into a long ramble about gearing and how he thinks he can get a better performance up hill and he looses me right about there. Not that I mind. He isn’t like the other guys where it always feels they’re talking down to you when they explain things.
Men are so annoying, they constantly need to put others down.
Yukio didn’t fully get that memo, tho. Probably had his head stuck underneath his motorcycle when it came.
It’s what I like about him.
He makes you feel included when he talks about stuff.
I’m trying to follow his lively trail of thought when the forest opens up before us and gives free a vista of the valley below.
From how Yukio made it out to be to, I expected to see a glistening skyline. What’s actually there isn’t as grand. It looks like endless lichen like growth of gray that gets slowly swallowed by an equally gray haze off in the distance.
I try to make out any familiar landmarks but there aren’t any.
Down on the ground it isn’t as obvious that this isn’t the city of my youth. I almost forgot, trapped in the perpetual feeling of having discovered a neighborhood I haven’t visited before.
This is a different city, in a different world and I’ll never get to see my old one again.
Something wet catches at the corner of my eye and I wipe it away quickly.
“Windy up here.”
“Don’t tell me you actually got something in your eye?” He gives a soft laugh.
“Stop laughing.”
“Yes Mr. Demon-hunter, sir.”
Yukio gestures at a nearby bench to sit and I take out the food and drinks.
We lounge next to one another, the tiny plastic bag between us.
“It’s nice isn’t it?” He beams.
“Yes.”
“I come up here when I need to get out, because sometimes you know things become to much at home or at work. So I do it like the monks; seclusion, free myself and then descend down the mountain all rejuvenated. And I leave all that unnecessary weight I accumulate down there, all that unhelpful shit that only drags you down, I leave it up here. Let the wind and forest take it, let it become part of the mountain. I don’t need it.”
“It’s that how it is?”
Yukio gazes wistfully into the distance. “Yes.”
We sit in silence for a moment opening our cans.
His eyes land on me and I pull my knees up to my chest looking away. I can’t. In that moment I felt a tug and in a hidden corner of my heart I wish he would see me like the girls at the station saw me, that he would see what his boss saw and it hurts. It really fucking hurts.
「 Guys don’t wish to be girls. 」
I fixate on the hazy skyline that stirs nothing familiar.
“Hey, where you go off to konbini boy?”
I groan into my knees.
“You better leave whatever that is up here on the mountain.” Yukio says with a shoulder check and a smirk that I catch out of the corner of my eyes.
My rebuke dies on my tongue.
We remain without words for a few sips of our drinks.
Yukio starts telling me tales from work of all the strange requests they’ve gotten and some funny encounters he had and I in turn tell him about the weirdo who had me reciting our current warm snacks menu three times in a row and the mother who didn’t want to pay for the ice cream her kid had eaten while she was printing stuff and all the other assholes.
He switched to recounting stories from his time at school. I think they’re supposed to be funny but only a fraction land for me and then we hit a snag.
I didn’t go to school here, not in this world. I never had demon drills.
Maybe I should just come clean.
“I… don’t remember much from school. I was in a car crash and lost my memory. I want to remember but I can’t… I tried over and over again but nothing. It made a lot of things with my family really difficult and uncomfortable. Because they remember all these things but I don’t. And I never know how to behave.”
I have instead memories from a complete different life in a different world, but that’s not something I can share with you, Yukio. That’s something for me and the spirits.
“Fuck… that sounds fucking rough dude. And it’s all gone?”
“Yup. All I know from before the accident is from what others have told me.”
“Wild. Guess it’s not too bad if you think about it. Holding on to the past only leads to suffering. Can’t hold onto something you can’t even remember. Can’t be haunted by things you saw or experienced if you don’t know of them. You got a clean slate. Enjoy it.”
“Are you trying to be a monk again?”
“Oi! You’re one to speak, you dress up like a shrine maiden.”
That somehow gets a laugh out of me.
He genuinely looked offended at my jab.
I would’ve loved to have known a guy like him in my old life.
Something wet hits my arm, then my face.
Yukio looks up at the sky.
“Oh shit, leg it Katsumi or you’ll get an involuntary shower.”
Dark clouds above.