Warnings: 1x2x1, Other Pairings, AU, Lemon/Lime (Grapefruit?), Language, Minor Death, Sap.
Description: Drama/Romance.
Summary: Duo needs cash and decides to take a job teaching English in Japan. Duo meets up with and has an interesting time connecting with locals and transplants in Japan.

Disclaimer: GW characters are used here for not-for-profit entertainment purposes only.

"Densha ga mairimasu no de kiiro no sen no uchigawa made osagarikudasai," announced the arrival of his train. He folded the sheet of directions and stuffed them in his pocket, then lifted his backpack to one shoulder and his acoustic guitar to the other. He stretched his tired neck in the direction of the on-coming train as it came to a stop. After flashing his ticket to the man at the door in the same fashion as the line of passengers before him, he boarded. He had the good fortune of a window seat; he stowed his bag on the shelf overhead and sat down. The seats reclined and so did he, watching people queue up for the next train. There was a small lurch and a refrain of rather silly music followed by another announcement in the undecipherable foreign tongue. There was an LED sign at the head of the carriage which, the man reasoned, listed details about the stops on the way, but it was Greek to him all the same. Thankfully, there was another refrain of the rather silly music followed by another announcement; the second one was in English. It said his stop was last and that suited him just fine because his eyes still ached from the long flight. Under the warm glow of the setting sun, he watched fields and rural countryside roll past him until he fell asleep.

He woke because his guts, even while unconscious, registered the lack of motion. He counted himself among the lucky as he had slept through the music, but caught the end of the English version of the announcement and it heralded the last stop. Before getting up, he checked the directions again; everything was go. The other passengers had already queued up to get off and he followed suit. With bleary eyes and sluggish steps, he shuffled his way out of the train and soon, the station. Thankfully he was not so tired that he couldn't follow the occasional sign directing him to his next train. He mounted what felt like the greatest flight of stairs in the history of stair climbing and came out into a warm September night. Not to mention an absolute throng of people and no more idiot-signs to guide him on his way. It was quite a departure from the vast and empty space in which the airport had been situated. For a moment, he simply shuffled along only as fast as the crowd could push him and stared at the lights and the people and the sour smell of a city in heat. His eyes landed on a large brick building situated down a gentle slope and just kitty-corner. Just as noted on his directions, Pepe was lettered on the side, not unlike a beacon from the divine. And he was off again, down the slope and across the streets, up the second greatest flight of stairs in the history of stair climbing and purchased a ticket.

This next train was queer by his standards: none of the seats faced forward, but rather long benches stretched between the four doors on either side of the carriage. Nevertheless, he found a seat and stashed his bag on the rack overhead. Minutes later he was being whisked through endless Urban with eyes glued to a city that glittered like sunlight on the ocean. It was just over an hour later that he reached his final destination and gratefully left the train. Before leaving the station, he looked at the directions once more and was careful to memorize the details to find his new flat.

Twenty minutes later and he arrived at the Royal Court apartment complex. Number two-oh-two was empty of its two other inhabitants but they'd left him a note on the table in the common room. According to the message, both his flatmates would be working until nine that evening, his room was closest to the entry, there was new futon in a box for him, and 'welcome to Japan'; it was signed Trowa and Wufei. He took up the pen that rested next to the note and scribbled a brief greeting to his flatmates in absentia. It said:

Hey! I'm dead tired, so I'll probably be asleep by the time you guys get back. Just wanted to let you know I arrived okay and all. Duo Maxwell.

"Take another slice," Trowa gestured to the 'wild barbeque' pizza with cheese in the crust and corn and mayonnaise on top. Duo obliged. Though it was unconventional, he found it quite delicious. It was Saturday night, the end of his first full day in Japan, and it was being marked with pizza for dinner and getting to know the two men he'd be living with. Trowa hailed from Quebec and Wufei from Beijing. The former was a circus drop-out who had set out for Japan to make some quick cash. That was three years ago. The latter simply said his life was in Japan regardless of his beginnings and had no plans to leave. Duo shared his background as underdog supreme, overcoming personal hardship to make something of himself. He had graduated with a double major in linguistics and guitar performance; he had graduated with honours. Duo told them he needed to make some quick cash, but lacked the wherewithal to stay for years like his flatmates were doing. Wufei interjected that the price of education in America was shameful. If Wufei wanted to assume he needed the cash for student lands, Duo wasn't about to correct him. He mentioned seeing the Oration Zone ad in a local paper and decided to give it a whirl. Now he was in Japan to teach English and make some quick cash to pay off his student loans. Oration Zone was the largest head-hunting company in the language education market and they had snapped up Duo quickly. According to what little he'd heard from news groups on line and the wee bits he'd gleaned from this brief time with his new flatmates, he was inclined to think Oration Zone, or OZ in the lexicon of its employees, would be grateful for any instructor with actual credentials in the language or teaching department. Duo, in turn, would be happy with the generous salary the corporation offered.

The two veterans shared with Duo an abbreviated version of the basics of the teaching for OZ and the essentials about town. One must be prompt arriving at the office and to each class. Friendly Mart was the grocers just behind their flat and had the best prices but closed early. Everyone wore suits all year. There was a post office and twenty-four hour market a ten-minute walk away. Training was on a trial by fire basis. Crea Mall was the best bet for shopping and entertainment. Wankers reigned supreme. Local diners and bars were littered copiously throughout the town along with a few major chains or dives. Everyone 'went to shopping' in the city and the hobby du jour was sleeping. Duo thought it sounded grand.

"Trowa has Mondays and Tuesdays off, but I have Sunday to Tuesday. You start working Monday, don't you," Wufei's words weren't so much a question as a statement of fact. Apparently, the system hadn't changed too much over the years. "Trowa's week finishes on Sundays, so we can at least show you around tomorrow if you want."

"Thanks, that'd be great. What time?"

"We'll leave the flat at 6:30?" Trowa asked.

"Sounds great. I think I'll do my own exploring tomorrow afternoon then, and you can give me the guided tour at night. What time are you leaving tomorrow for work?"

"We leave at 8:30. He's got work and I've got some commitments with a friend." Back to Wufei with the facts.

"So I probably won't see you. I mean, I'll probably be up, like, awake. I can't believe I woke up at four a.m. today! But I refuse to get out of bed before nine in the morning," Duo commented as he finished off the last bite of his cheesed crust. So far, his two flatmates were like seasoned Japanophiles and easy going. "Tomorrow at 6:30 it is." Shortly after, their pizza was finished. Wufei excused himself to his room after Trowa offered to clean up the pizza accoutrements, meaning he dismantled the box and washed their plates. Duo had settled on the sofa to watch TV; Trowa joined him and they sat in a kind of companionable silence for an hour before each retired to his room.

Duo woke up at four AM again the following morning, but made a determined effort to stay in bed until nine. He was mostly successful, though jet lag induced insomnia coupled with the sounds of Wufei's and Trowa's morning routines had kept him from getting any sleep after seven o'clock. He spent what little was left of the morning putting away his things, took a quick shower and headed for the streets of town just before noon. First he wanted to check out that Crea Mall Wufei had mentioned the night before; then he wanted to bloodhound any grocery store to get some staples. Just as Wufei had said, Crea Mall was indeed on the side of the station opposite the side you'd enter on if coming from the flat. While it wasn't quite the hustle and bustle he'd expected, the stretch of brick pavement was quite lively. Duo thought there was almost a discernable pattern to the occurrence of stores. It seemed to run thus: drug store, clothing store, restaurant, shoe store. On and on and on, on both sides. There was even muzak pumped in through speakers he guessed were hidden in the light posts. He was content to go at the slow paces of the stroller-pushing mothers and bent old ladies, eyeing the street displays with mixed amusement and curiosity.

Grasping the sack of groceries and his motorcycle helmet in his left hand, Heero pulled a small ring of keys from his back pocket with his right. He selected one and unlocked the sliding glass door. It was just after seven on a warm Sunday evening in September. Whistling idly, he set the groceries down on the metal counter. The helmet he hung on the wall next to the door, and the keys he stuffed back into his pocket.

Yuy's Spicy Diner was quaint by every definition. It was situated on a corner and, from an aerial view, looked rather like a tapered triangle with the most acute angle lopped off. There were two sliding glass doors; the one closest to the lopped off end served as the diner entrance and the one set further back was Heero's own entrance to the kitchen. You could cross the length of the restaurant end to end in under four paces, and the width in one, it was so small. The tiny counter had room enough for only five stools and when there were customers perched upon those stools, Heero had to go out the kitchen door to get to the refrigerator situated in the apex of the lopped off end along with his stereo and computer. During busy times, he liked to cue up some visual entertainment for his patrons while they waited for their meals. Classic 70's slasher flicks were among his patrons favourites, along with professional wrestling. Of course, being so small many visitors were dining alone and Heero liked to fancy them thankful for the distraction.

As it was still before opening time, Heero easily crossed the dining room and switched on his stereo. Good old rock and roll issued forth and he went back to the kitchen to tackle the groceries. With the practiced hand of the professional he fancied himself, Heero set about mincing garlic and garlic sprouts and mixed them with ground pork which he folded into little pastry skins. He rolled balls of ground chicken for a kind of Thai curry. A few vegetables were sliced for the odd salad and the refrigerator was restocked with beers and sodapop. Then, he heard the sliding glass door scrape along its track.

"Oi! Heero! What's on the fire? We're starving!" Quatre greeted his roommate-cum- matre d' and seated himself on the stool closest to the kitchen.

"Hey, Heero. We saw the lights on and thought 'why not?'," Relena intoned as she shrugged off her coat. She collected her companion's jacket then proceeded to fold both garments and set them on a stool; she sat herself down next to Quatre. The two had met through Heero one night at the diner and hit it off beautifully given their shared view of the world: utterly sympathetic and activist.

"Why not," Heero agreed, grateful that he'd bought salad friendly vegetables. He quickly prepared the greens and set about frying the pork dumplings on one burner while heating up his homemade curry on the second burner. Before long, delicious aromas permeated the tiny restaurant and he was engaged in lively conversation with his two demi-patrons.

Nine o'clock on Monday morning saw Duo decked out in periwinkle pinstripes on fawn brown . The clerk at the store he'd bought the suit from said the stripes brought out the violet in his eyes and he'd always been a sucker for sweet talk. Thus dressed, he was back in the sweltering bowels of Tokyo. He was desperately trying to locate the Akahane building, in which would be the OZ head office; but he was armed with only a company-issued map and directions. Of course, for Japanese matching the roman letters that spelled Akahane to the Japanese characters would be a snap. For Duo, however, the English language map was practically useless as he, being a monoglot, could not match the letters to the symbols. Other landmarks included such ubiquitous sites like coffee shops (Starbucks in Japan?) and more convenience stores (Circle-K, too?). He rubbernecked along all the streets that supposedly matched the ones flagged on his little map and later rather than sooner, he finally found the Akahane building. Trowa and Wufei were right, everything that moved wore a suit. Many looked designer. He swiped the back of his head across his damp forehead and then wiped his hand on his pants and headed inside.

Some nine hours later he slunk out of the building, chatting to two other new recruits named Oto-with-one-T and Bob-with-one-O. Dusk had started to fall and washed everything in a yellow-gold light which made the city of concrete, steel and glass fairly glow. The day had been crammed with information, most of which was in one ear and out the other, but OZ provided enough handouts that Duo was sure everything they'd said was written on some piece of paper he'd received during the day. All that was stuffed into his plain black leather satchel along with his branch assignment and training details. Now, he was focusing on the two lively blokes he'd met during the gruelling hours of being talked at.

"So I heard there was a great bar near the station, across from one of the department stores. I vote for beer!" Oto smiled at the mere thought of the golden brew. Bob and Duo fell in step on either side of Oto. The trio discussed all the different stories about OZ they'd each heard from their flatmates and of their exploits in the Land of the Rising Sun. Before long, they came within sight of both the station and the numerous department stores crowding about it. Here, Oto lead them single file down a ridiculously narrow and poorly lit alley. After a few minutes' walk, he stopped and gestured to a sign. "The Black Sheep" was carved on a wooden plaque to the left of a door. Oto nodded in satisfaction at his discovery, or rediscovery rather, of the drinking establishment. He took point again to lead the trio down a staircase, a narrow and dark affair not unlike the alley that lead up to it.

The inside was dim and the air stale with yesterday's smoke. Customers were few and that suited Duo just fine. He and Bob staked out a round table near the bar and Oto, having more cojones than the average stranger in a strange land, made for the bar and the beer. He returned bearing a pitcher of brew in one and three frosted mugs in the other. The trainees raised their glasses in honour of surviving the first day of OZ.

"So, where are you guys going to be working?" Duo asked and the others sifted through their mounds of paper to locate the scrap with the training details. Bob surfaced first.

"I'm in O-hee... says it's on the Two-Joe line. What about you, Oto?"

"Oh-my-ah. Oh-me-ah? That sounds like a song," Oto serenaded his companions with an impromptu song. "Somewhere on the Syke-yo line I guess. What about you, Duo?"

"Cow-a-goey? Says it's on the Say-bu Shinjuku line. That's the same line I live on. Maybe it won't take too long to get to work then."

"No, no, no. Remember what they said at orientation? Look, there are separate places for training and regular working. See?" Bob gesticulated at his paper. Duo and Oto looked closer at their sheets and confirmed the details. Duo was to be trained in Oh-my-ah, Bob said Oh-me-ah, and Oto declared he'd be trained at Oh-Brother. They rehashed their up-coming schedules for a minute before moving on to other topics, not the least of which related to the feminine mystique of Japanese women. There was talk of clubbing and drinking and Oto made sure there was plenty of beer. Sometime after the third pitcher, someone made a brief announcement over the PA system; a four member group took the impromptu stage set up in one corner of the Black Sheep. Duo couldn't help but smirk at the name, Pink Flamingo Army, but he enjoyed their acoustic guitar and pretty melodies. Bob and Oto thought the singer looked a little limp wristed. The Black Sheep grew busier as the night wore on just as a bar is wont; the trio called it a night when they started sucking in smoke for air and had to holler to hear each other above the bar din and music.

An hour later and Duo was walking from his station to his flat. He'd been drinking on a mostly empty stomach, not having eaten since the lunch break in the early afternoon. Now, he was famished and stopped at one of the several twenty-four hour convenience stores, conveniently named Convenience Mart, found near the station. He was amazed at the selection of sandwiches and sushi, the variety of salads, and even complete meals of meat and rice all wrapped in plastic sitting neatly in refrigerated cases. Carefully considering the price versus the volume versus what he'd already eaten that day, Duo picked up a dish which looked like ground beef and scrambled egg on rice and a bottle of some kind of tea. This being his fifth day in Japan already, he felt a little guilty about eating out or at the convenience store every day. Next time he had the day off, he promised to himself he'd make it to the grocery store and start cooking for himself. He paid for his goods, momentarily wondering if he should try to get one of the pita looking things sitting in a case near the cash register, but decided against it for lack of language skills and abundance of alcohol in his system. He walked lazily back to the apartment, ate his meal and collapsed onto his futon.

The next day, Duo discovered his jet lag had finally worn off about the same time he realized he was running late for work. He thought he set a record for getting dressed and out the door in under ten minutes. The ensuing day at work was every bit as busy as the first and it left Duo exhausted. Dusk stretched dark across the sky when he started to head home. Sitting on a local train bound for his station, Duo had plenty of time to recap his first day of training. He'd met Bob and Oto again in Omiya and each of them was taken aback at the pace of things. For Duo at least, he already felt stressed over being about his foreigness. The reality of having a full-time job, a full time responsibility, was beginning to sink in and it, too, was none too pleasant. But rather than let himself get overwhelmed, Duo resolved to leave well enough alone; there is no way to eschew learning the ropes. Moreover, he needed to wire some cash home as soon as possible. He closed his eyes and snoozed.

The first weeks passed by quickly and the keenness of his newness among the clientele at work gradually wore off. Duo found himself enjoying the easy job, especially since he was becoming increasingly efficient at flying by the seat of his pants in the classroom. He had a gift for the gab and took to teaching his native tongue like a fish to water. Camaraderie grew between him and The Guys from work and they often met up for drinks after work on Sundays at The Black Sheep. It was a place apart, being the first watering hole they'd ventured to and did a little male bonding over beer, comparing who was the biggest fish out of water. For Duo, the live music on Sundays was an extra draw. His own guitar sat neglected in his room. Seeing the acts at The Black Sheep made his fingers itch.

CHAPTER TWO: Entrepreneurs

Wufei slid the glass door open with the hand not holding a plain kraft envelope. Sounds of sauteing food sizzled against the dance music piping from the stereo. He passed through the doorway sucking in the delicious aromas and closed the door behind himself. Butterflies beat against his stomach and Wufei was happy to know Yuy's was open, the smell of cooking proof positive the master, good friend, and potential business partner himself was busy making preparations for the night to come.

"It's here," Wufei announced. Heero thrust his head through the noren half-curtains partitioning the kitchen from the restaurant and gave a curt nod before ducking back into the kitchen. The sounds of cooking shortly stopped and Heero came to lean on the doorway between his kitchen and dining area. He crossed his arms and waited. Wufei gave him a nervous glance that was cut excitement and proceeded to open the envelope. Heero watched patiently, quietly as his friend's eyes raced over the contents and alighted on a particular passage. He closed his eyes. "Permanent residency," Wufei proclaimed. A small grin tugged the left corner of Heero's mouth; he ducked back into the kitchen. There was a clatter of plates and he returned a minute later with two plates of steaming hot gyouza, a Chinese dumpling that Heero knew to be one of Wufei's favourites. The pair ate quickly in companionable silence.

"I need to finish getting ready to open, but come back tomorrow and we can start discussing the specifics," Heero announced even as he whisked the plates and utensils away. Wufei stood with a satisfied sigh; he turned around and eased the sliding glass door open. A light rap on the wall was his farewell to Heero, who in turn poked a hand through the curtain in a silent gesture of goodbye.

Wufei was smiling as he pulled the door shut behind him. He'd waited ten years to qualify for permanent residency and it was now his. Amazing job opportunities in Japan had drawn Wufei's parents to the land of the rising sun. Born and raised in China and deeply in love with a little girl named Meilan, Wufei had been more than appalled at the notion of moving. However, a fifteen year old school boy, even one desperately in love with the neighbours' daughter, had little sway over his parents. For years he stewed over the uprooting imposed upon him and it wasn't until he'd met one Heero Yuy in his last year of highschool that he had begun to warm up to his new home. Wufei smiled not only because he was happy to have a legal right to stay in Japan even should his parents decide to return to China, but he now had license to take other jobs. Upon graduating high school, job opportunities were laughable. If he were a woman, he could have sold his body to earn some money. If Japanese women were interested in marrying Chinese men, he could have got married. Sadly, however, those were not viable options. Wufei was left with selling his language. He signed up as a Chinese instructor at Oration Zone. With the piece of paper, he was officially granted license to live in Japan and was no longer required to earn sums of money far beyond what would constitute a decent, if modest, living. He was no longer resigned to teaching at OZ, one of the few companies that would dole out a visa to its employees.

In stocking feet, Wufei padded silently down the entry hall. While passing Duo's room, he registered guitar music emanating through the door and realized his flatmate was home. Before flipping through all the real estate brochures he had picked en route home, Wufei thought he'd share the good news with Duo. Just as he raised his closed fist to rap on the door, he heard an expletive and a garbled strain of guitar. Wufei blinked in surprise; he hadn't been aware that Duo had any musical ability. The guitar strains he'd just heard sounded amazing and Wufei merely assumed it was a recording. Shaking off the surprise with a smile, Wufei knocked firmly on the door.

"What? Oh, Wufei? Yeah, just... hold on a second," Wufei could hear a small scuffle from behind the door and waited patiently. Moments later, Duo pulled his door wide open and greeted Wufei with a sheepish smile.

"I didn't know you played...," Wufei peered past Duo to the guitar leaning rather unceremoniously in a corner, "twelve string guitars."

Duo cleared his throat. "Yeah, well... It's just a hobby. I didn't hear you come in, I don't usually --"

"I liked it. I thought it was a recording."

"Oh, yeah. Well. Yeah. So, what's up? You want to order some pizza tonight?"

"Pizza? Sure. I want to celebrate."

"Celebrate? It's just a guitar --"

Wufei snorted in surprise. "Not your guitar, Maxwell. I just found out I've got permanent residency."

"Oh. Uh, congratulations! What's permanent residency?" Wufei explained his new legal status in the eyes of the Japanese government. "That's great! So, why did you want it?"

"A friend of mine and I want to go into business together. He's Japanese, so he'll have no problem getting a lease on a place. But this means we can be partners and if our place is successful, then I can drop the OZ gig and be part of my own business. In a nut shell."

"Hey, that's great, Wufei! We should definitely celebrate! Does Trowa know?"

"No, I just found out today. I'll text him in a minute. Can you run to the shop and get some beers and stuff?" Duo agreed and Wufei gave him funds to make the purchase. A short while later, the three flatmates convened in their living room surrounding the 'gorgeous four' pizza, beers and snacks, and tunes. In the midst of it all, Wufei related his own coming to Japan story and who Heero was; the friend who promised to be his business partner. Wufei dreamed of owning his own club. It was an admission that surprised Duo, who'd thought of his flatmate as being decidedly upright and straight-laced. His partner apparently ran a local restaurant; Spicy Yuy's Diner, the funky shaped dive that specialized in spicy noodles and curries. Though he walked past the establishment twice a day any day he left the flat, Duo had to admit he'd never really taken an interest in the place. For a long while, he hadn't even known it was a restaurant.

"Spicy noodles and curry? Is it any good?" Duo asked.

Trowa levelled a serious look at Duo from behind his beer. "Good enough to start a serious business venture," he answered. "I go there all the time, especially if I'm late getting out of work. Heero's a great cook." Duo nodded and listened to his two flatmates discuss location possibilities and asked a few questions for clarification or to show his interest. They finished and cleaned up the remains of the decimated pizza and beer empties. Wufei announced he'd be at the very least moving into his own apartment by the end of the month. He might even be able to stop teaching in the next couple of months, depending on how his joint venture turned out. Both Trowa and Duo had the good sense to look mildly surprised, but it did seem only reasonable. They dutifully offered to help with packing and moving details. Wufei thanked them and excused himself to his room to rehash the commercial listings. Trowa and Duo also slipped to their own rooms.

Gold morning light glowed in the windows and lit up the dust wafting in the air. Heero sat on the lone stool he'd left out and looked around his diner. Upon hearing Wufei's good news last week, he had decided it was at least time to give the old place a major scrubbing. And when you gave a major scrubbing in Japan, you removed everything that wasn't nailed down and cleaned like it was going out of style. So he threw on a pair of black bike shorts and an old olive green tank top he resurrected from the depths of his bureau and started cracking. All the accoutrements of the dining area were carefully stored in plastic lidded containers or set on the counters in the kitchen area. The stools were folded and set leaning against the wall in the kitchen. His stereo and CD collection was dismantled and set aside as were all the wall decorations. A bucket of murky water and a filthy rag were evidence of the battle against grime from which Heero was currently taking a break. He didn't know it, but there was a streak of dirt running across his cheek from where he had backhanded an itch. He sighed. Things were going to get bigger and better; he could expand his culinary skills in a real kitchen.

A shadow darkened the doorway and the glass door slid open. Wufei walked in, several dog-eared pamphlets and brochures in his hand. He flopped them down unceremoniously on the still moist counter.

"Not dry yet," Heero informed him flatly.

"Hello to you, too. I was thinking of setting up somewhere in Tokyo, but not in one of the bigger parts. Maybe somewhere like Otsuka."

"Hn. Why?"

"It's next to Ikebukuro and you know there's two train lines that feed into that station so there's a good chance it'll be at least kind of busy. But because it's not actually at one of the big stations, the rent is more reasonable. That's why."

"Aa. What are we looking at?"

"About five million. I found a great place, two levels, one of which is underground. The first level is perfect for a small dining area and great set up for a kitchen. I don't know, maybe like a little cafe and cake shop? Chick dig that sort of stuff here. Then there's the basement; that is where there'd be a bar and dancing. And there's a stage."

"Stage?"

"Yeah. Well. My flatmate always goes to that bar, The Black Sheep in Ikebukuro. You know it?"

"..."

"Me neither. But according to him, it's a bar that has a little corner set off once a week or whatever and people can perform there. I'd like to offer something along those lines."

"No heavy metal."

"I never said anything of the kind. I'm actually thinking of something along the lines of what my flatmate plays."

"Which is?"

"Folky acoustic guitar. Twelve string. I think he sings, too. But I accidentally walked in on him the other day and he got quiet in a hurry."

"I can stomach that. I thought you wanted 'Asian Sophisticate'."

"We can mix and match."

Heero threw a clean rag at his friend and picked up the bucket. Before there was anymore talk of getting a business started, the old diner needed to get cleaned up. Heero thought it would be good to get the bulk of the dining area done now, it wasn't as intrinsically grimy as the kitchen itself was. Oil splatters to all the dark and unseen places. He'd save that pleasure for last; for himself alone. They spent hours scrubbing and cleaning and reminiscing in the patrons' section. Heero had run Yuy's for the last five years after inheriting it from his father after he passed away. The space was small, but memories were tucked away in every nook and cranny. Faded photographs stuck in the windows, postcards and other trappings from various travels pinned to the walls, strings of Christmas lights running along the ceiling and enough dust to make an army of bunnies. It was good to clean. One last run of the old place before moving on. Closing was only a week away.

Hours later, the patrons' section glowed under the merrily twinkling Christmas lights. Those, a few photographs of Yuy senior on his varied travels, and a conspicuous 'before' Polaroid were all that reminded of the former treasure trove of travel trinkets. The bulk of the other decoration fodder had been round filed. Heero and Wufei were bone tired. Wufei left with designs to get a sound sample from his flatmate to share exactly what kind of mood he was going for their establishment. Heero decided to nap until getting ready to start the final week of Yuy's diner.

Just an hour or so later, Heero rolled over at the sound of his phone's timer going off. Before diving into Yuy's Spicy Diner's Last Stand, he needed to get stocked. He needed to go to Friendly Mart; everyone in town knew it was the best, and cheapest, place to get groceries in town. He quickly changed out of his cleaning gear and tried to finger comb his hair, but to no avail. His coarse strands spiked out as wantonly as ever. With his wallet stuffed into his back pocket, he hit the street with a mental list of supplies he would need for Yuy's standard fare.

CHAPTER THREE: Grocery Shopping

Duo stood before the refrigerator and balked: it was empty. Except for some eggs and rusting cabbage, but those hardly constituted a meal in his eyes. He knew he was no slouch in the kitchen. His culinary skills included delicacies like scrambled eggs with cheese and onions, green salads, and pasta with sauce-out-of-a-jar. It wasn't until he cracked open the icebox that he realized in-house foodstuffs weren't enough to make even the most primitive of dishes in every bachelor's repertoire of recipes. Japan, he decided, was deceptive. Convenience Mart continually tempted him with ever changing "limited time only" dishes or new flavours of his favourite snacks or by just being so blatantly convenient. He'd become lazy. Today, he told himself, is the day I start cooking again. He gave his softening gut an apologetic pat. Maybe he'd resolve to start running again, too. Minutes later and he was geared up to hit the local grocers. He'd walked by it on any number of occasions; it was situated between his flat and the station. Friendly Mart, the sign proclaimed. Another reason to love Japan... crazy store names. He stowed his wallet and keys in his "man-purse," as Oto and Bob liked to call Duo's satchel, and bounced.

"Hey, Wufei! I'm going to the store, do you need anything?" Duo called to his flatmate from the entry way. After receiving a muffled decline, he hit the road.

A ten minute walk later and Duo was slowly making his first foray into a Japanese supermarket. Friendly Mart was everything and nothing he expected; it blew his mind. So did the food handling procedures for foodstuffs to be consumed at home. No refrigeration for fried food, it was set in open containers on a rolling table in the middle of the floor. Fish, fresh or frozen Duo couldn't say, sat in open Styrofoam containers in refrigerator cases. Heads of broccoli were naked in a metal pan with a smattering of melting ice to keep them fresh. The eggs had a wheelie cart to sit upon. On the whole, it made him glad he was a strong believer in washing any produce he intended to consume before actually consuming it. He perused the aisles and caught himself wondering why the pancake mix wasn't in the same aisle as the flour or why the vinegar was separated from the oil. Of course, being in Japan, cooking habits would be just as different as everything else. Products in bottles and on shelves where strangely familiar and yet difficult to locate to his outsider's eyes, let alone select better quality products based on anything more than the price. He resigned himself to stalking up each and every aisle and hoping for the best. As he started in the rice aisle, a local restaurateur arrived and began shopping in the produce section.

Heero grabbed a grey plastic basket as he passed through the door, and proceeded straight to the vegetables. He quickly filled the basket with vegetables: carrots, snow peas, potatoes, beans, and onions. Next he needed ground pork for dumplings and set off to the meat section. Next were spices and he walked briskly to the other end of the store where those were kept. Curry powder, pepper, rayuu oil. Finally, he needed some plain white rice.

"Hashiranaide ne, Yuki-chan. Omise no naka ni iru kara yo ne." A young girl careened around a corner that was stacked high with bags of rice. Duo heard a voice he could only describe as Reprimanding Mother call out but didn't realize how close he and the voice's owner were until something pummelled into him from around the rice-bag corner. He was sent stumbling backwards with an oomph and landed heavily against the thick rice stacks. Despite the great weight of however many five kilogram sacks were stacked on the corner, it wasn't great enough to stop Duo's tumble. Like a wave in slow motion, the tower of dried rice slid with no uncertain amount of bizarre grace to the floor. Duo fell backwards under the disintegrating pile with a little girl, her nose bloodied from the impact of the hit. A minute later, the rice slide stopped. "Yuki-chan! Yuki-chan! Daijoubu? Daijoubu no? Go-gomen nasai. Sori. Sori. Gomen nasai." Duo heard the same motherly voice as before, this time sounding like Crisis Managing Supermom, as a woman carefully pulled the surprised child off Duo. For his part, he produced a handkerchief from his pocket and offered it to the little girl. She grinned at him and took it.

"Gomen, ne!" At least she didn't look too perturbed by the fall, if the goofy child's grin plastered to her face was any indication. Duo grinned back and rose to his feet. It was quite a sight, he had to admit. The next aisle looked as if it were being invaded by alien rice sacks. He guessed he was lucky that only the top most sacks seemed to have burst open. He could feel grains of rice slipping into his shoes. Then, the sound of feet pounding announced the arrival of grocery store staff members. They were all talking excitedly in Japanese and the mother related what had happened. The clerks spoke to Duo, also, but he couldn't understand anything they said beyond "daijoubu" and an accented form Duo assumed was "okay". The least he could do is help the poor guys build the stack again, so he started lifting undamaged bags of rice. Wrong move. The clerk closest to him seemed to go ballistic and started speaking a mile a minute at him. Duo's eyes went wide and he lifted his hands in defeat muttering an apology as much for his own conscience as for the clerks.

Someone, another store patron by the look of it, stepped up to the mother and her child. He asked a few questions and nodded. Then he turned to Duo. He had deep blue eyes and an unruly mop of cocoa brown hair. The attractive stranger made Duo's heart beat a little faster. It would be Duo's luck the guy would end up being the woman's significant other. Duo gave a sympathetic smile and shrug to the man.

"Nose bleed aside, the girl is fine."

"You speak English!" Duo was pleasantly surprised by this, but before he had a chance to ask any other questions, the other man had turned to the store clerks. There was another tangle of Japanese and nodding and a lot of heming and hawing that Duo just plumb didn't get. Instead, he opted to check out his unwitting translator's posterior. He was a little disappointed with the man turned back to face him.

"It's fine. They won't charge you for the spilt rice."

"Why don't they let me help pick it up?"

"Because you are the honourable customer."

"Oh. Thanks, hey."

"Hn," And with that, the stranger snagged a bag of rice from the pile the clerks were hurriedly rebuilding and sauntered off to the check out counter. For a moment, Duo simply stood, at once feeling embarrassed and relieved and mystified. So apparently, the guy was not with the mother and child... but had demonstrated all the personality of a pet rock. Duo did think he was mighty easy on the eyes, though. In the mean time, Duo still had some shopping to finish. He'd only made it through three quarters of the available aisles, and still needed a few more staple items. Once again he continued his study of the products and lay out of the store. Twenty minutes later, with his shopping was complete and basket full, and he headed to the check out himself. Thankfully there were no further run-ins, literal or otherwise.

Apart from the elderly checker, there were no other clerks at the register, and when she neatly folded two large, opaque white plastic bags into his shopping basket, Duo figured that meant you bagged what you bought. He harkened upon the fine bagging skills he painstakingly honed at part-time jobs at American grocers and thought he wanted paper bags. Better for recycling, he thought, and sturdier. The ten minute trek back to his flat is what changed his mind; he was quite happy to have plastic bags with handles. On the way home, he passed by Yuy's Spicy Diner. The lights were on and there were delicious aromas coming from the ventilation system. Duo's stomach rumbled. It was his day off and as such, he'd slept late and spent the morning lazily. Some cleaning, some internet, a shower, a bit of reading. Quite a bit of guitar playing. By the time he had got around to eating anything, he quickly realized he had no real food in the fridge. Which is what had inspired the venture to the supermarket. Now here he was with food enough to cook up quite a meal, but no inclination to do so. Even so, he was tired of forever foraging at Convenience Mart. Perhaps it was time to give Yuy's Spicy Diner a go. And if Wufei was partnering up with the owner of the restaurant, this might be the last time he'd be able to try it out before they moved the outfit to the Big City. So, he resolved to get home and put away the groceries then come back for a quiet dinner out. He just hoped Yuy's wouldn't have many other patrons inside. Duo thought it was embarrassing to eat out alone.

Heero quickly put away his purchases and set about the comfortable routine for opening Yuy's Spicy Diner. Vegetables were chopped and dumplings were stuffed, then steamed. An extremely large pot of boiling water roiled on the burner; four special wire baskets sat on the rim to boil four single servings of noodles in one pot in one go. It was strange now to cook next to the pristine, just this side of sterile, cleanliness of the patrons' section. Cooking noises echoed more now; he missed his stereo.

Well, what the hell. It wouldn't kill him to put at least the stereo back into commission until next week. He pulled it out from a crate in the store room at the back of the kitchen end of things and lugged it to its old place under the window, atop the half-size refrigerator case. The backside would be visible from the street now without the old swaths of Indian fabric covering the window, but that was too bad. Heero plugged in the juice. Then he remembered the minidisk Wufei had dropped off on his way out to the realtor's just after Heero had returned from the market. He slipped it out of its case. It was just a plain clear minidisk. Wufei had had the presence of mind to scrawl 'duo' on a label and stick it to the disc. Without it, the minidisk would certainly have found its way to Seventh Heaven... a special box reserved for unmarked minidisks he didn't have the time or inclination to pop into the player and label. Duo, he recalled, was the name of Wufei's flatmate. He inserted the disc and set the volume loud enough to hear over his cooking. It was rather muffled and sounded like Wufei had recorded this on the other side of his flatmate's closed door. Even so, what Heero heard was really rather good. The strains of Song One were intricate and delicate and infinitely sad. Heero decided he liked it. Satisfied with the aural end of things, he shuffled back to the kitchen and finished the preliminary set up for opening. It was a Monday night, it was usually quiet until midnight and Heero was in no hurry to get busy in the kitchen. About the time the industrial sized rice cooker switched to Warmer Mode, the minidisk ended. Heero slumped against the wall opposite the stove. He took a minute to savour the quiet sounds of his kitchen and eatery at rest. Then the door jiggled.

'Yuy's Spicy Diner' was neatly lettered on the thin awning stretched above the door. Duo's first inclination was to push the door inward. Nothing. Logic dictated one must therefore pull the door outward. Nothing. Duo puffed in agitation and awarded the wayward door a cross look.

"Slide it," a disembodied voice informed him. Duo then set his palm flat against the door and gave a sideways push. The door to Yuy's Spicy Diner easily slid open. He crossed the threshold and gave the door an irritated tug to close it. The joint looked small from the outside, but from the inside it was miniscule.

"Uh, hello?" Duo called out as he took in the Spartan interior. If this was the place, he hoped the decor didn't vouch for the food. Nonetheless, the smells and sounds emanating from the kitchen were enough to make his mouth water.

Heero sighed. Will power and curiosity propelled him off the wall. Whoever his customer was, he spoke English and Heero had deduced by the notion that only people who were not Japanese would miss the fact that the door to Yuy's Diner was a sliding door. Upon hearing the door jiggle, Heero assumed his patron was both new and a foreigner and, ergo, mostly likely spoke English. He poked his head through the half curtains that still separated the dining area from the kitchen and blinked. It was the rice guy from Friendly Mart! He watched as that pale face split into a wide grin of recognition.

"Oh. It's you." Duo could not believe his rotten luck. "Hey, thanks for translating, ay. So... you must be Heero." And he also could not decide if it was a good thing or a bad thing to have to face Mr. Aloof-and-Attractive.

"I am. Have we met?" Heero was in a mild shock at seeing this man again.

"At the store. Don't you remember? I'm the Rice Queen?" Duo grimaced at the double entendre.

"I mean why do you know my name?"

"Oh. I'm Wufei's roommate, he's mentioned you a few times. Trowa said your place has decent noodles."

"Aa. Have a seat," Heero said, and set a menu in front of his patron.

"Thanks," Duo looked down and noted the prices of the meals. He guessed it would be tacky to order the cheapest thing on the menu. A little food related reconnaissance was in order. "So, can you tell me what all these dishes are? I don't know Japanese, remember?" Duo asked as he turned to the chef, who was certainly not looking at his customer's face, near as Duo could surmise.

"What? Oh," Heero stepped fully out of the kitchen and listed the menu items. Duo dutifully asked a few questions about a few dishes before ordering the red curry and a beer. Almost as soon as he'd breathed his order, Heero had ducked back behind the curtains. He told Duo to help himself to the beer he'd ordered; it was sitting in the small refrigerator case to the left of the door. Duo retrieved his beer and sat back down, staring at the few photographs pinned to the wall. Nearly all the shots were in black and white and taken of the same older man. To Duo, he looked decidedly Japanese and bald on top with thick glasses and a bush of a moustache. The locations were amazing. There was a shot of the man in what must have been an incredibly tacky Hawaiian shirt with huge waterfalls towering in the background. There was another shot of the man swathed in robes and sitting upon a camel. Miles of desert and dunes stretched out behind him. Still another shot pictured him bundled up in thick winter clothes and standing before what looked like a life-sized snow castle. One picture was a colour Polaroid. It looked like the restaurant Duo was sitting in, but much more lived in. Duo could only guess at what trinkets had once cluttered the wall or where the rich fabrics dipping from the ceiling were now. He was about to stick his nose closer to the photo when a steaming hot bowl of red curry materialized below his nose.

"Red curry."

"Thanks!" Duo took a look at the curry. It didn't look too exciting. Perhaps even a bit soupy compared to the curry he'd had from those instant pouches available at Friendly Mart or that Indian curry joint near the station. A second later, Heero brought out a dish of rice. Duo shrugged and spooned some curry over the rice and took a bite. Despite the lacklustre appearance, it was damn fine curry. "This is damn fine curry!"

"I know." Duo had to smirk at his host's haughtiness. "You're an English teacher."

"I am! It's a great job. Once you get used to the pace and all. I mean, what could be easier than teaching your native language? Speaking of which, why is it you speak English so well? No offence to your... uh, people. But it seems the average Japanese person has less than stunning English oratorical skills, if you take my meaning."

"Aa. That's probably why they're paying you to teach them."

"Yeah, but I mean they keep making the same mistakes no matter how many times they practice it. 'I go to shopping'?"

"I grew up in America."

"Aren't you Japanese? Wufei said he got permanent citizenship so you and he could go into business, right? Said that since you were Japanese and all, it'd be easier. I assumed that meant you were a citizen or whatever."

"My family moved around."

"Is the guy in the picture your dad?"

"Hn."

"Looks like he's some guy. Guess he's off doing something really spectacular now if he's already seen the tropics and desert and glaciers, ay."

"He's dead."

"Oh. I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything --"

"It's okay. People die."

Duo didn't ask any other questions, he finished his curry between intermittent swigs of beer. Somewhere in between the end of the conversation and Duo finishing his curry, a couple had arrived at the restaurant. They opted to sit outside in the warm autumn evening. Duo was a little thankful for the interruption. The guy was nice enough if taciturn, but as far as Duo could tell, Heero also had an air of blunt intensity that ran counter to his own laid-back persona. Duo took another slug off his beer and leaned against the low back of the stool-chair. Suddenly his empty plates were being cleared. Duo absently stared at Heero's hands. They were a few shades browner than Duo's, a bit chapped and the veins stood out attractively if somewhat prominently from the backs. They were strong hands. Duo blushed when he realized he was staring, he muttered a thanks and kicked back the last of his beer. However, Duo was only considering staying in Japan for a year tops; there were serious obligations he wanted to attend to State-side. It just didn't make sense to get involved with any of the locals. Let alone how one even attempted to find other gay men in a foreign country. Duo had the feeling it wasn't the sort of chat Wufei would be willing to have. He pushed himself out of his seat ready to pay, but Heero had disappeared.

"Uh, excuse me?" Heero stuck his head out from the kitchen. "How much do I owe?"

"Five hundred ninety yen for the curry and three hundred yen for the beer." Duo handed him a one thousand yen note. Heero handed him the change. The tips of his fingers gently pressed the two coins, resting on the receipt, into the centre of Duo's palm. "Thanks for coming." Heero said with the barest hint of a smile curling his lips. Duo pocketed the money and turned to the door. "Slide it," Heero said quietly just behind him. Duo's lips turned in a small smile of their own accord. And he left.

CHAPTER FOUR: The Black Sheep

It wasn't even nine o'clock yet but the bar was already clouded with cigarette smoke and the din of people unwinding after work. Oto and Bob had secured a small square table near the corner stage and were nursing a large stein of beer a piece. They talked about the hotties at work and the latest shoot-'em-up video games and the merits and short comings of the great and gory horror flicks. In the back of the bar, Wufei sat with Trowa and Heero in a booth. Wufei sat on the inside of the booth and next to him was Heero. Together, they briefly looked over some real estate magazines. Trowa took the trouble to order a pitcher of beer from his side of the booth. They were still waiting for Quatre and Relena, who had yet to arrive.

"I met Duo the other day. He came to the diner for dinner," Heero said.

"You know," Trowa started, "He was just saying the other day how sick he was of eating out all the time. Said Japan was making him 'soft'."

"I think it's just all the after-work beers with Oto and Bob. Lots of FOBs fall into that beery trap," Wufei said.

"How long has he been in Japan? You know when he came, he actually tried to push, then pull the door open. I had to tell him to slide it." Trowa and Wufei smirked at that. "Actually, I guess I first met him before at the store."

"Ah, yeah. Duo mentioned getting clobbered by a chitlin," Trowa said. "He's been here for a few weeks now? A month and a half? Two months maybe?"

"Aa."

Whatever else Heero may have been planning to say, it was cut off when Quatre blew into the booth. Trowa slid over in the booth to make room for Quatre who scooted in right next him. Relena waited pointedly at Heero's side of the booth. First Wufei, then Heero moved over as much as possible to allow the girl to squeeze in next to Heero. Both Quatre's and Relena's cheeks were flushed and their hair mussed.

"You ran?"

"Well sure! Didn't want to miss this!"

"Winner, Maxwell has played here at least twice before," Wufei flatly informed him.

"Pffft! But I didn't get a heads-up for those. Besides, you're the one who was all hot and bothered we come down and hear him play. From the way you went on about it... I mean, such as you do," Quatre smiled winningly, as he poured a glass of beer for himself and one for Relena. Wufei rolled his eyes with mock exasperation. Heero and Relena exchanged pleasantries. The conversation had only settled on Heero and Wufei's plans for their business for a few minutes when the house lights dimmed.

On stage, a single stark light snapped on. A solo steel stool set behind a Shure microphone gleamed under the naked beam. Guitar in hand, Duo slunk out from the edge of the stage. Oto and Bob made a ruckus; the other bar patrons did their best Golf Clap. Duo settled on the stool, half on and half off. His weight was distributed between his left leg, jammed up on the stool's foot rest, and his right, flat against the floor. It wasn't terribly comfortable; his ass was sure to go numb. Stools were not very comfortable, period. But the arrangement was conducive to supporting his guitar without the aid of a strap. Once he got settled, Duo gave the instrument a few experimental strums to check his tuning job. He fiddled with a peg and strummed again. He seemed satisfied.

"'Red Carpet'," Duo announced plainly from in front of the mic; his unamplified speech was just loud enough to reach Heero's booth. He began lightly picking chords. Next, he added his voice; it started light like his fingers, but the song absorbed him and he started to roll his Rs as it picked up steam. He closed his eyes when he sang and gently thumped his right foot when he didn't. Bob and Oto exploded in applause when the song finished, Wufei and his group also clapped their approval. The second song was 'Sprecchen Choir', faster and more defined than the first song with something of a Spanish sounding twist despite the German sounding name. Fifteen minutes later and he was playing his last song, 'More than World Peace'. It was quiet and sombre at first, but halfway through it broke through the quiet introduction and took on the same frenzy the other songs had. Duo balled tightly around the guitar with his head dipped low, making his plaited hair slide over his shoulder. He raised his left hand high and wracked it roughly against the strings. Suddenly, he slammed his fingering hand down to the base of the guitar neck and gripped it so hard, his knuckles turned white. He launched off the stool and then, off the stage. A few audience members seemed a little uncomfortable with the sudden nonverbal outburst, but Oto and Bob missed nary a beat before they heralded the end of the performance with robust applause and a few hoots. The lights returned to Standard Bar Wattage and the spotlight over the stool lit out. It was over.

"He's not bad," Relena commented noncommittally. "I don't know about the end, but otherwise."

"He was just being 'artsy'. You saw how he was decked out in black from head to foot. He was phenomenal! I had no idea your flatmate was musically inclined. What did you think, Trowa?" Quatre grinned happily at his neighbour.

"I think he's good," Trowa returned the blonde's smile shyly and reached for his beer. "But maybe he wasn't being 'artsy,' he always wears black."

"Maybe he's got French in his blood. Does he wear berets?" Quatre laughed at Relena's joke, the others smirked.

"Hn. So this is why you want to get a place with a stage, Wufei?" Heero arched an eyebrow in Wufei's direction.

"Not the only reason," and the discussion round the table returned to Wufei and Heero's cafe. Some time later, Duo appeared at the bar; Heero took note. Duo's guitar was zipped into a soft case and slung over one shoulder like a backpack. In his other hand he carried a black satchel. Heero watched the guitar player order a drink and kept watching as it was delivered. He watched the exchange of money for brew and how the long braided hair swept back and forth Duo's back. Still he watched as the musician approached his own booth and let a hint of a smile bleed through his normally passive expression. Duo arrived with a grin for all and a wink for Heero.

"Hey! Wufei, Trowa." Duo nodded to each in turn; at the last familiar face, his smile widened, "Heero. And...?" Wufei stepped up and made the necessary introductions.

"Duo, this is Quatre. He's Heero's flatmate. And this is Relena. She works with Quatre." They exchanged hellos about Duo's performance.

"So, do you guys work for OZ, too?" Duo questioned as he scooted into the last open seat next to Quatre, who smiled at him.

"No. Well, we used to. We started out there. I was just a part-timer and wanted to supplement my income. So I found some modelling agencies and it kind of took off from there. Relena was the same, but we didn't meet until after we'd both left OZ."

"Modelling? Cool!"

"Maybe for the guys it is, but for us ladies, they only want foreign females to model things like underwear," Relena explained as she crossed her arms and playfully glared at Quatre.

"Only because foreign ladies tend to have better... assets to better display the merchandise," Quatre countered.

"More like no Japanese woman in her right mind would be caught on film in her underwear unless she was in some illicit magazine, you mean."

"Riiight. How long have you been in Japan?" Duo broke in.

"I've been here for three years; Quatre two."

"That's great. So you must like it then, ay."

"It's not bad."

Duo eyed the empty beer pitcher and his equally empty glass surreptitiously, "Is this a bar or what? What does a guy have to do to get more beer?" Heero flagged down the nearest waitress and ordered more beer. The group of six fell into easy conversation over the brew. Eventually, Duo picked up on a developing threads of conversation: Wufei, Heero and Relena had begun discussing political trends; Trowa and Quatre were nervously clutching at any conversational straw when they weren't making eyes at each other. Almost out of beer, Duo interrupted Quatre's ogling session with his flatmate to ask for the beer. While Trowa was pouring everyone another round, Duo seized the opportunity to ask Quatre if he was any way inclined musically.

"As a matter of fact, I am! I play the violin."

"Oh yeah? How long've you played?"

"Since I was old enough to hold one," Quatre managed to respond to the question without sounding pretentious. Duo nodded, satisfied at finding a inroad to someone's conversation. Trowa passed Duo a refilled glass.

"I'll bet you didn't know Trowa played the flute," Duo used his beer to gesture to his flatmate.

"No," which brought Quatre's eyes expectantly back to Trowa's, "I didn't." The two finally kicked off a conversation worth having. Duo was just this side of amazed at himself. He had managed to infiltrate Trowa and Quatre's chat for a brilliant moment only to inadvertently shut himself right back out again. He gave an amused snort and took a swill of beer.

"Hey."

"Hey." Duo looked up, surprised to see Heero. He even looked at the corner of the booth Heero previously occupied. "Weren't you... on the inside? Of the booth?"

"Aa."

"Just checking," Duo wouldn't dig if an explanation wasn't forthcoming. Instead, he took another slug of beer.

"I'm going. You want to come with me?"

"Are you propositioning me?" Duo quirked an eyebrow at Heero's inquiry.

"No, I'm asking if you'd like to leave because everyone else here is absorbed in their own world and you looked bored."

"Oh, right. Why are you leaving?"

"I am bored."

"Sure."

"It's two thousand."

"What is?"

"For the beer." Duo's eyebrows lifted and his mouth made a silent 'oh' of comprehension. Then he fished his wallet out of his black slacks and set his dues atop Heero's in the centre of the table. When he got up from the table, Wufei at least had the presence of mind to notice and asked if they were leaving. Quatre and Trowa even paused their musical musings to see what the commotion was about. Everyone then started to exchange goodbyes; Duo hauled his guitar on backpack style and gave a final friendly wave. Heero was halfway to the door.

For a Monday night, Duo was impressed by the thickness of the crowd. A beery crowd. He commented on it and Heero told him many Japanese businesses practice 'corporate drinking' whereby employees and customers or employees and employees or employees and employers all go out for dinner and drinks after work. And it's mandatory. There were even drinks after the drinks, and by implied invitation only. Heero said that was the time a lot of major business deals were likely to happen. Duo boiled it down to work after work, plus alcohol, and as it was unpaid, thought it was kind of stupid. Then Heero said that the company footed the bill. Maybe 'corporate drinking' wasn't entirely bad. This discussion they had had pressed in the midst of any number of businessmen returning home from just exactly that kind of evening. Rookies, though, Duo surmised, for the drinks after drinks were sure to go later than midnight. By the time Heero finished explaining the ins and outs of Japanese business customs, the crowd had thinned and they were one station away from Duo's stop.

"I'm next," He said.

"I know." Duo smirked. Heero really was a smartass. The next two minutes stretched by in silence. Duo watched familiar neon signs streak by, his reflection in the window glass, Heero's reflection in the window glass. Heero seemed to have fallen asleep standing up. The train lurched as it slowed down; the conductor announced the next stop. Heero's eyes jolted open seconds after the doors.

"Well, this is my stop. Thanks for coming, Heero," Duo waved goodbye. "See ya 'round!" He got off and took a few steps away from the train. Then, he decided to be a hell of a guy and turn around to watch his companion ride off into the night. He turned right into Heero. "What the --"

"My station."

Duo snorted. "You could have said so."

Heero shrugged. "You didn't ask." They turned towards the stairs and made the ascent. "Which exit do you take?"

"West."

"Let's go out the East side."

"Why?"

"Have you ever been out the East exit?"

"Not really."

"It'll be good for you then." Heero fed his train ticket into the gate and turned East.

Duo actually had been out the East exit, the second time he had ever come back from The City. He thought he had memorized the directions from station to flat perfectly until he was called to task and mistakenly took the East exit. He had but reached the foot of the stairs when he became aware of his error. If ever a dichotomy existed between sides of the track, the east side of these tracks was the epitome of The Wrong Side of the Tracks. Everything looked run down. Any building that didn't have its steel shutters crazy glued to the ground was empty, riddled with broken windows and littered with various rubbish. The occasional empty lot had taken to weed. It was funny in a sad way how The Projects were just two strips of thin metal away from the glitter of the West Side, aglow with the ubiquitous, seizure inducing flashing lights gambling establishments and bars seemed to favour. There was also a litany of drug stores and bakeries, corner sushi shops and of course, a Convenience Mart. Duo turned to follow Heero who, as at the Black Sheep, had already ambled into the street before Duo was halfway down the stairs.

They walked silently through the dilapidated streets. Several street lights had burned out; one was on the fritz and blinking. Duo knew they were leaving the station behind and could sense the trajectory of their path was leading them farther away from the tracks. The farther they got from the station, the thinner the manmade structures got. Three story tenements turned into strange one story structures, Duo hesitated to refer to them as houses, fashioned out of rusting corrugated metal. Fields soon outnumbered the houses. They were approaching a bridge. As they drew closer, Duo could see that it stretched across a meek looking river, if it could be called a river at all. The banks were steep; it was probable that the stream was more of a river after a big rain. It was there that Heero abruptly turned left down a wide, if weedy, dirt path at the top of the bank. Duo shrugged and followed.

Without any streetlights to bleed into it, the sky looked infinitely larger than it did in the city. For the first time that night, Duo noticed the moon as it backlit a few feathery cloud wisps floating in the sky. Mars was out. Somewhere off in the distance, search lights could be seen heralding something or other. They walked in silence along the bank. Eventually, it opened up onto a wide deserted street lined with blinking red lights, presumably to warn pedestrians and drivers alike of the raised curb partitioning the sidewalk from the street. Heero led them down the blinking street and around a turn. Houses sprung up again and before long the sounds of traffic could be heard. Finally, they circumvented the bulk of the town Duo usually walked through when going from station to flat. He immediately recognized two of the buildings.

"Hey! That's your diner! And that guy with the stuff."

"Stuff?"

"Yeah. You know, those ball things. They smell so good! Wait up, can you order some for me?"

"Balls?"

"Yeah, balls," Duo rolled his eyes.

"They're takoyaki."

"Whatever. When in Rome, wear a toga and all that. Here," Duo handed Heero a note. Heero took it and went to the ordering window which, incidentally, served as the delivery window as well as the ventilation window for the operation. Squeezed into a nook between a drugstore and a dangerously narrow set of stairs to the bar on the second floor, the little vendor most closely resembled a closet souped up with a refrigerator and some counter space. Heero made polite conversation with the old and bent gentleman manning the booth and waited for the balls to cook. A few minutes later and he handed the bag and change to Duo, who took a hungry whiff of the bag. "Thanks, man. You want some?"

"Japanese people don't typically eat on the street."

"Huh. Then why do I see Micky D wrappers blowing all over the street?"

"Why don't we just stop at my restaurant and you can eat them there?"

"Fine by me!" They were inside Yuy's in a matter of minutes. Heero flicked on the lights and gestured to the counter. Duo made reverent show of extrapolating the plastic carton from the bag. He carefully set the two long toothpicks neatly to one side and a generous packet of mayonnaise on the other. "What's that stuff on top? Is it moving?"

"Fish flakes and they're moving because of the heat from the balls." Duo murmured an 'oh' as Heero pulled out a stool next to Duo. "Can you levitate?"

"What?"

"Can you levitate, or are you going to use the toothpick to eat them with?"

"I think I liked you better when you were taciturn. I don't know how to eat these, what do I do?" Rather than explain, Heero reached out and pulled the rubber band off the container containing the balls. He set the band aside and neatly bent the plastic lid down and under the tray itself. Then he snapped up the mayonnaise packet and carefully tore a corner off. He artfully squeezed the contents over the balls and set the empty packet off to the side. Finally, he took a long toothpick between his fingers, skewered a ball, and popped it in his mouth.

"Whye hat."

Duo grinned as he took up the remaining toothpick and managed to transfer a ball from container to mouth. His cheek puffed out as he chewed. And chewed. And chewed some more. Eventually, he swallowed. He looked at Heero, shrugged, and took another ball.

CHAPTER FIVE: The Bike Ride

Truly, Japan had it made where gadgetry was concerned. And his cell phone, Duo decided, was the King of Gadgets. At least he thought as much of his little Japanese number. The phone he'd had in the States was top of the line and the screen quality was along the lines of Atari. His Vodafone, however, not only had insanely high screen resolution but also a two megapixel camera with digital zoom and a slot for an SD card. What's more, there was also a voice recorder, alarm clock, timer, voice messaging, text messaging service, calculator, and internet access. Hell, there was even a "bow-lingual" function to translate what the dog was saying. But for all the handy functions, it never ceased to amaze him that the weather display was no more accurate than any other meteorological medium. As his phone predicted sunny to partly cloudy conditions for the day, Duo accordingly had not taken his brolly to work. Now, he sorely wished he trusted his gut instinct that said it will rain today for the rain was coming down in buckets.

Numerous other travellers had been stranded at the train station in the sudden down pour. From the west exit, Duo looked sullenly at the sky. Of course there were about fifty vendors selling little "disposable" umbrellas in and around the station. But he had already accumulated at least fifty different little disposable umbrellas on fifty other occasions of getting practically stranded in the rain. Payday was still a few long days away; Duo was feeling a little strapped for cash and more than a little sore at the happy sun display on his cell phone. Of course, as great an invention as the modern Japanese cell phone seemed to be, Duo couldn't help but feel a little embittered at one thought: without the cell phone, he would be without any electronics and therefore free to walk home in the rain. It was just the kind of desperate thing an American fed-up on Japanese conformity would do. A jaunt in the rain, however, was not quite worth the price tag of a replacement phone. Duo sighed and resigned himself to a long wait.

Another wave of people brandishing umbrellas swept through the station. They left in droves, each pausing at the misty edge of cover provided by the station roof. After a moment, those with umbrellas thrust their fantastic plastic contraptions perpendicular to their bodies and, with the push of a button and all the flourish a few folds of vinyl can provide, went about their business ensconced underneath their umbrellas. Some blokes pulled out all the stops with wellies, ponchos and umbrellas to brave the streets. Duo felt a little bitter pang with each passer-by. The east side, he decided, might be a nicer place to wait out the storm. At least it couldn't be any busier. So he trudged through the station and was pleased to discover that indeed, the east size buzzed far less than the west. He even managed to occupy a great patch of wall space convenient for monitoring the rain but still protected by the station roof. There he waited.

"Duo."

About fifteen minutes after staking out his lot on the east side, a flat voice called out his name. Duo broke his concentrated visual study of liquid sunshine. He saw Heero Yuy sitting on a bicycle about ten feet away, dripping wet.

"Do you have a cell phone?" To which Duo only mutely nodded. Still astride his bike, Heero moved next to Duo. "Here." Heero procured a small plastic bag from somewhere on his person. It was knotted in the middle. Duo quickly released the loose knot and saw the happy yellow logo for Convenience Mart stamped on the front. He slipped his cell phone inside, gave it a violent twist, and watched the bag coil up. Satisfied that he had now water-proofed his phone after a fashion, he raised his eyes to regard Heero. Heero held out a hand expectantly, but when Duo started to hand him his wrapped up cell phone, Heero gestured towards Duo's bag. Duo dropped his phone in the bag and passed it to Heero; Heero in turned dropped the bag into the large wire basket affixed between the handlebars of his bicycle. Based on the untold number of bicycles Duo had observed at the bicycle parking lots he passed en route to and from work, there was exactly one kind of bike available in Japan: smarmy. They all came in a variety of colours, each with a wire basket in front and handlebars that sloped like antlers.

"Your chariot awaits," Heero said as he bent at the waist and swept one arm out.

"Chariot?!" Duo guffawed.

"Mama chariot is what they're actually called here. Housewives with kids throw one kid in the front and one in the back. Or use the baskets to transport groceries."

"Isn't that... dangerous?" Duo asked as he eyed the basket; Heero glared at him.

"They replace the basket with a child-friendly seat, Duo."

"Come to think of it, yeah. I have seen ladies tooling around with kids or groceries or kids and groceries. Mama chariot, huh? So... is this just one of the many bizarre services offered in Japan? Cell Phone Baggies and Bag Delivery? I don't think you have an appropriate seat for me."

"We do have bag delivery. But the cell phone baggie is a limited time offer. Get on."

"Get... on? Where, pray tell, do you expect me to 'get on'?"

"You can sit on the shelf back there or stand on the pegs. Up to you," Heero gestured to the obvious locations at the back his bicycle. With a shrug, Duo hopped onto the shelf; he had now clue what to do with his hands. "Ready?"

"Sure."

Heero slowly waddled his heavily burdened bicycle away from the station and into the rain. Duo could feel heavy drops of rain splatter on his face and seep into his hair, but the thick suiting he had worn for work that day kept his body fairly dry. For the time being, at least. He was sure the suit would need to be hung out to dry at the very least and quite possibly dry cleaned. What Duo really wanted was to be wearing a t-shirt and shorts and walking along. Riding piggy back on the back of eccentric Yuy's bike was probably second best.

"You might want to hang on to something."

"Huh?" And then Heero started to pedal. Heero pedalled with such zealous vigour that Duo tightly clutched at his chauffeur's shoulders. He even checked behind them to see if perhaps they were being chased by the fuzz or the devil himself. All Duo saw was a magnificent rooster-tail of water getting kicked up by the back tire. The bike wobbled from the combination of speed and burden and Duo snapped up straight. After realizing they wouldn't be falling, he allowed himself to enjoy zipping through the rain a little bit, careful not to let his hands stray from Heero's shoulders for a second. They passed the same run down buildings and weedy fields from the other day, after The Black Sheep. With the rain shooting from the sky and pelting the streets, everything glittered under the sodium vapour lights and smelled fresh, like wet dirt. He felt the bike slow and vaguely remembered there was a turn after one of the endless fields. Sure enough, Heero guided to bike onto the weedy little path atop the river bank.

"We'll walk. It's too hard to pedal on the grass with two people," Heero said. Duo obligingly removed himself first from Heero's shoulders, then from the rear of his bicycle. Heero likewise swung his leg over the bike and it was then that Duo realized how short Heero's legs were compared to his torso. Duo reasoned he didn't look abnormal, but by American standards, Heero had short legs. "Yeah, most Japanese people do." Duo gave the back of Heero's head a dumbfounded look; then it hit him: the comment about short legs must have slipped out. His cheeks flamed with embarrassment. "Do you know why?"

"Uh... no?"

"Guts. Traditionally, Japanese food consisted of heaps of vegetables and rice; we ate very little, if any, meat. All those vegetables and rice takes a longer time to digest so we have more intestines. Consequently, our torsos are longer than the average European descendants' to accommodate the extra guts. But the trade off is shorter legs. Less calcium in the diet and animal protein that helps facilitate growing tall." Duo didn't respond, he just watched Heero's short legs walk through the wet grass.

"Looks more like a river now, doesn't it," Heero stated as he stared at the water that now thrummed along the river bed. Duo agreed. The rain slowed as they walked along the bank in silence. Duo thought the precipitation might end entirely. That thought was both a relief and a disappointment: Heero looked damned fine soaking wet.

Eventually, they turned onto the happy street lined with countless flashing red lights. Heero lazily swung his short leg back over the bike. He jerked his thumb to Duo, indicating the wire perch. Duo situated himself as firmly as he could and rested his hands on Heero's shoulders. He was asked if he was ready and he was, so Heero pushed off. The street had pleasant few pedestrians, bikers, and drivers the other night. On this night, it was deserted. It was also slightly inclined, Duo noticed with no small amount of apprehension, and they were gaining speed. Heero leaned down low and Duo thought it was just a little ridiculous given the great antlers Heero had for handlebars. Heero glared at Duo over his shoulder before he instructed Duo to hunker down, also, as he was creating drag. At a loss for how to tactfully tell his chauffeur 'up yours,' Duo shifted down so that his front met Heero's back. He turned his head to the side and watched the lights dance on the other side of the road. He admitted a little grudgingly that it was rather nice. The wind whipped around them, just the two of them. Duo let his hands fall from their perch on Heero's shoulders. He stretched out his right hand slowly, experimentally. No points lost on the centre of gravity scale, equilibrium in check, balance maintained. Duo then lifted his left hand. Very slowly, very cautiously, Duo began to lift away from Heero's back. His eyes were closed and he was grinning broadly. It almost felt like he was flying.

Suddenly Heero hit the brakes and Duo clamped his arms around all Heero's guts as he was thrust up against Heero's back in a rather awkward way. It was almost a rude awakening to his little fantasy of flying, except that he noticed Heero apparently took very good care of his guts if the washboard feeling was any indication. They turned a corner and Duo peered around the hair plastered to Heero's head. They were stopped in front of the little takoyaki stand and Yuy's diner.

"Do you live far from here?"

"What? Oh, my flat. Um, it's a good five minutes from here, if the light's green up ahead," Duo gestured to the traffic signal at the end of the street. "I can walk, if you wanna get outta the rain."

"I'm already wet."

"Right. Go straight at the light, take the first right and it's on the third block. Uh, on the right. Royal Court, it's called."

Heero pushed off again to comply with Duo's directions. This time, there was no rooster-tail kicking up from behind or intimations of flying. It was just two friends taking advantage of the empty streets to partake of the not-quite-legal activity of doubling up on a bicycle to get home that much faster. Minutes later, the bike jarred to a halt before Duo's apartment complex. Duo himself had to slam his foot on the ground to keep from falling off at the sudden loss of forward momentum on the bike's part; even so, he ended up bunched up against Heero. Duo quickly extracted himself and slipped off the bicycle altogether. He sidled up next to Heero with a grin on his face.

"Home sweet home!" Heero nodded and for the third time that night, swung a still noticeably short leg over the bike and kicked the stand down. He caught up Duo's bag from the basket and Duo noticed what must have been Heero's own satchel along with it. They finally ducked into the cover afforded by the open air foyer. "So... thanks for the lift, ay." Heero expectantly held Duo's bag out to him. The instant Duo's fingers wrapped around the handle, Heero rummaged through a mostly flat, rectangular pouch that was attached to his belt. A royal blue cell phone was produced from inside; Heero snapped it open.

"Does your phone do infrared?"

"I don't know, how can I --" From his bag, Duo's phone chirped at the arrival of a new message from an unknown number. "I take it that was you?" It took a minute to remove the Convenience Mart bag-cum-husk from his cell phone. Duo was pleased to see that the phone, at least, was bone dry and in fully functional order.

"Aa."

"I'll send you my number!"

"Don't worry about it. My phone automatically saved it when I infra-reded your phone."

"Infra-reded. That isn't a word."

"Why not? Language moves too slowly to keep up with technology. Example: IM."

"Touche," Duo grinned as he pushed buttons on his phone which merrily beeped every time he depressed a key. After a minute, he was rewarded with a message saying he had successfully saved the contact information for one Heero Yuy. "Got it. Anyway," Duo's eyes closed as he ran his fingers through his sopping fringe. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the mass sailing away from his forehead and gave his head a little shake. His nose bumped something. Duo's head bobbed back and his eyes popped open. Heero's startled face floated just centimetres away, his eyes darting between both of Duo's as if he couldn't decide which eyeball he wanted to focus on. The corners of Duo's mouth bent upwards slightly as he tipped his head just to the left. He closed his eyes again as he leaned forward and set his lips lightly against Heero's. Heero tilted his head down just enough to make his lips press around Duo's bottom lip. He pulled out of the kiss with his lips pursed, which tugged on Duo's captured lip. Then, Heero stepped away, out of Duo's personal space. Duo's mouth was pulled into a wide grin.

"Anyway, thanks for the ride," Duo casually raised his hand in farewell and intentionally brushed past Heero; Heero casually opened is lax hand so that his fingertips would be brushed by Duo's hips as he passed. "See you around." Duo slipped through the glass door that separated the foyer from the proper apartment complex. Heero thrust his phone into his back pocket and turned back to his bike. It had stopped raining.

CHAPTER SIX: Moving

The following day was gloriously bright and cloudless, and the wind howled louder than any newborn babe could. The rain seemed to have washed all the grit from the atmosphere, for the time being at least. Duo admired the sway of tree tops from his nest of futon on the floor. Whistling wind woke him up not long after dawn and he was content to watch at least a short part of the beautiful day pass from his comfortable bedding. He was grinning ear to ear, thinking about his impromptu kiss with Heero the night before. Around eight o'clock he hauled himself out of bed and started the morning routine.

For the nine-odd hours that ensued, Duo earned his living. In university, Duo had spent hours mapping out sentences in various languages according to the rules of universal grammar. He had recorded the apparent pronunciation (as far as his dialect of English was concerned) of words in the International Phonetic Alphabet. He had composed a thesis on the phenomenon of the 'th' sound. None of it had prepared him for the challenges of explaining the nuance of any language. Of course he understood the rarity of absolute synonyms; too many of those and half the language would be an exercise in redundancy. Despite the years of study, it prepared him little to explain the English language to someone who wasn't also a specialist in the study of language. The challenge of teaching English to a non-native speaker lay in nothing so much as either the lack of context or lack of cultural understanding. Native speakers' possessed the intrinsic ability to boil a wordy explanation down into a single word or to explain a single word in a wordy explanation. Or sometimes, just implicitly knowing that two words are different. Case in point: the difference between "shame" and "embarrassed." At first, it frustrated him to have a class of students who did not know or appreciate the difference between even the basics: nouns, verbs, adverbs, adjectives, gerunds, infinitives, passives, appositives, participles. It would take mere minutes to explain the lesson's particular aim if only he could lay out the skeleton as an equation, not unlike math, where noun + verb = English. Each day, however, he garnered more experience dealing with students whose thought processes rivalled his own but English prowess rivalled that of a parrot. Experience, however, taught Duo the art of explaining without explaining. He enjoyed the challenge of choosing examples to clearly illustrate his point and seeing the light of comprehension glow in his students' eyes.

By the time his shift ended at 6 o'clock, the sun had yet to set but had disappeared behind the concrete "floribunda" of contemporary Japan. It was something of a disappointment to have spent the whole day within the confines of classrooms. Thankfully, however, the air still smelled as fresh as it had that morning and Duo was light-footed as he made his way back to the station. A new book store had sprung up just outside the ticket gates at the station and Duo decided to duck inside. He had lived in Japan for three whole months now, but spoke no more Japanese than was required to greet or thank store clerks -- not to mention several variations of huh? courtesy of his students. Still, bookstores in Japan were a world unto themselves. Indeed, any place that sold print material seemed to be a shining beacon of light to the Japanese. They were drawn to the racks of papers, magazines, and comic books. So far, Duo had identified the standing-and-reading-without-paying phenomenon and wondered how book stores tolerated such practices. Book stores and convenience stores might have been prime grounds for information gathering or time killing for the natives, but Duo appreciated the practice for the opportunity to people watch without being noticed.

Duo strode into the brightly lit store. It still smelled of carpet glue and cleaning solvent it was so new. Naturally, there were people queued up at any of the various vestibules. Duo sidled up to what looked like the music section. He picked up a magazine at random and gave it a cursory glance before letting his eyes roam a bit. The music section was invariably the best place for people watching. Maybe it was because almost everyone liked some kind of music. At work one day, Duo nearly laughed out loud when a student had told him that she didn't like music and that killed Duo's theory that everyone like some kind of music. Customers ran the gamut from retirees in golf pants and pastel shirts to punky looking teenagers. Duo stayed put for a while but moved on when the crowd started to pick up; he knew he was taking up valuable space for the stand-and-read crowd. Rather than just leave, he decided to take a quick walk along the speedway that connected the major sections with a giant linoleum circle. Towards the back of the store, Duo discovered what he presumed was the educational section. There were stacks upon stacks of text books, phrase books, vocabulary books, tapes, and much more all for the casual language studier. Duo wondered if it would be strange for a Japanese bookstore to sell books on how to speak Japanese. He was just about to give it up for a lost cause when he found a little corner far removed from the speedway that housed a small selection of Japanese learning texts. Each text was brightly coloured, seemingly having been produced by the same company and all bearing a variation on the same title: Japanese for Insert-A-Kind-Of-Person-Here. They looked pretty straight forward and Duo was a little relieved to see the language presented in a grammar-translation method despite his knowing the best way to learn would probably include context if his students were any indication. Still, the straightforwardness of the grammar-based methods held no uncertain appeal to the former linguistics major. After scoping the prices, however, he decided he could afford to put off the purchase of any books until payday. Instead, he found a set of flashcards printed with Japanese symbols. He knew there were three systems of writing Japanese: two syllabaries, which were phonetic in nature, and the Chinese characters, which were ideographs after a fashion. The characters he knew would have to wait. He wasn't sure even how many hundreds or thousands of characters there might be, but he was sure that there were only a finite number of symbols for the syllabary. Duo glanced briefly at his watch and noted how much time he successfully wasted. He quickly made the walk to the cashiers' desk and paid for his cards. Minutes later he was seated on the train heading home.

As he exited the station on the east side, Duo could not help but be impressed with the deep purple wash that the tail-end of dusk had brought. He walked slowly in order to enjoy the fading light to the fullest. More dilapidated or abandoned buildings on this side meant less light noise to ruin the twilight. Evidence of the wild weather the night before remained in the form of wet clumps of discarded newspaper and plastic convenience store bags tangled in the high weeds of empty lots. Only ten minutes had passed since Duo left the station and already the sky had darkened significantly. The orange sulphur lights lining the streets blinked on when their sensors finally detected an appropriately low level of light. Having been robbed of the pretty view, Duo increased his pace, now eager to get home and relax. It was Sunday night and he was off for the next two days. Behind him on the road, the rare sight of headlights caused Duo's shadow to stretch out before him and the man himself to hug the edge of the road as he walked on. There were no side walks on his side of the street and the roads were, in Duo's opinion, dangerously narrow. The vehicle rolled up the street at a prudent speed. It almost seemed to be slowing down. Duo almost wondered if he ought to have been nervous.

"Hey, Duo?" Duo's head snapped up at hearing his name. He saw Wufei grinning at him from the driver's side of a large van. "Would you care for a ride back home?"

"Wufei! Where'd you get these digs, man?" Wufei made a face that clearly displayed his distaste for the van.

"It's moving day. I just rented this."

Duo gave a small "huh" accompanied by a single nod of his head and climbed into the passenger seat. He did remember Wufei hashing out his plans for opening a bar of his own back when Duo first moved to Japan. He simply hadn't realized that the time had come for the great move. As they drove, Duo related a particularly funny story about one of his classes that day. Not long after Duo finished his story, a familiar intersection popped up. On the corner, the yellow sign for Yuy's Spicy Diner sat in the dark. The apartment above it, however, was brilliantly lit and Heero himself popped into view. Wufei asked if they could make a pit stop and Duo agreed. The van slowed and turned into the tiny street that ran next to the equally tiny restaurant. Wufei killed the engine and slid out of the van; Duo followed suit.

"Heero! You almost ready to start loading up?" A muffled "yeah" was Heero's response from the living space on the second floor. Wufei turned to address Duo. "Did you want a ride all the way back or can you walk from here?"

"I can walk I guess, why?"

"All my stuff was done this afternoon. I've just come back to help Heero get his stuff."

"Get his stuff?"

"Yes, Duo, my 'stuff'. My 'things'. My 'junk'. For I have, after having successfully concluding the packing and cleaning details, finally arrived at that sacred juncture in the process called 'moving' at which one is required to actually move." Duo graced Heero with the distinguished look of eyes-rolled-so-far-back-only-the-whites-show.

Heero was carrying a large, heavy looking box in his arms. He grunted at Wufei and informed him that his box was not becoming any lighter. Wufei held up his index finger to Duo to indicate he should wait, then he went and opened the back of the van for Heero to load his box. Duo noticed there were a few other boxes sitting in the doorway of the otherwise empty and dark restaurant. Duo looked up at the dormant sign and started putting the pieces together.

"Duo," Heero said with a smile from the business end of the moving van. He had put the box down near the end of the cargo area. "You busy now? I could use some help with all my junk."

"Not real busy. How much, um, junk, as you put it, do you have?"

"We've really only just done the bar chairs and fragile electronic things."

"Oh. Sure, I can help. I'll just get changed at home real quick and come right back. How's that?"

"You can borrow some of my work clothes," Heero offered as he thrust his load into the back of the waiting van. Duo shrugged his agreement.

"As long as it's not spandex," Duo gave Heero's black spandex shorts an obviously critical look. "They upstairs?" Heero nodded and motioned for Duo to follow him. Before they ducked inside the diner to go to Heero's old apartment upstairs, Wufei said he would run to Convenience Mart to get some drinks.

Together, Heero and Duo ascended the stairs. After jiggling the key in the lock, Heero indicated Duo should enter first with a sweep of his arm. Inside, there was a little stone entrance not unlike the entrance in Duo's own apartment; he assumed this was where the shoe removal occurred. Duo was relieved his shoes slipped on and off easily and not for the convenience factor. He stepped onto the impeccably clean wooden flooring and gazed about the flat. The interior was rather plain. Naturally, the living space had the same lopped-off triangle shape of the diner below it. Duo thought it would have been fun to have lived in such a bizarrely shaped place. As for Heero's personal effects or decorating taste, there was nothing left that wasn't in a box to give Duo any clues. He found himself wondering if his restaurant had been decorated in his personal style or if that was just for the benefit of the customers and for ambience. Duo was still staring out the window at the little intersection below when he saw Heero's reflection settle next to his in the window glass.

"Here," Heero pressed a small bundle into Duo's arm. "You didn't catch a cold or anything, did you?" Duo grasped the clothes, relieved that they felt like polyester and cotton.

"Uh, no. Why would I have a cold?"

"From the rain."

"No, mom. I'm fine, see?" Duo smirked and did a pirouette on one foot as if to prove his physical fitness. "So you're moving."

"Aa," Heero's reflection did not smile, but rather the face turned to the floor.

"... oh. I'm gonna change, then we'll start loading your stuff. Wufei should be back by then, too, so it'll go fast, ay."

"Aa. Bathroom's the door next to the stove."

Duo turned and disappeared into the bathroom. Minutes later, he emerged sporting a tank top exactly the same as the olive green one Heero was wearing but with a set of loose jogging shorts instead of spandex. The apartment was empty, but Duo spotted two convenience store bags sitting on the floor. One contained a pair of white trainers and the other was empty. With a mental shrug, Duo transferred his work shoes to the empty bag; his work clothes were folded as neatly as he could manage and laid on top. He sat himself down in the entryway and put on the trainers. It was odd, being in someone else's apartment, borrowing their clothes, and lacing their spare running shoes on his feet. Someone he didn't know very much, but sure as hell wanted to. He looked down and laughed; he was wearing black business socks with white trainers. It was a classic fashion faux pas in the States if ever there was one, but Duo could recall several public sightings of that exact fashion statement on people from businessmen to school girls. There was work to be done if the stacks of boxes were any indication, and Duo had dallied long enough. He dropped his bag of clothes and shoes on the nearest box, hefted it aloft, and headed for the door.

An hour later and the van was packed full of Heero's belongings. However, there was still all the stuff from the diner and that would necessitate a second trip. Duo was just happy to have finished the loading. Wufei, ever the pessimist, immediately pointed out they would be doing a repeat performance at Heero's new flat. Heero simply gave a noncommittal grunt as he swung the back hatch-style door down. The three decided to take a break there; Wufei handed each a bottle of sports drink: Pocari Sweat. Before Wufei could threaten him with bodily harm, Duo exaggeratedly mopped his brow with his borrowed tank-top and then whipped it off and held it over his open mouth as he attempted to wring the sweat into his mouth. Soon they had drained their drinks and piled into the van. Heero took the helm, Wufei nabbed the co-pilot's seat, and Duo was left to duke out a space with the wily boxes commanding the rest of the van's space.

Familiar store fronts whizzed by as they gradually made their way through the maze of narrow streets out of town. Never before had Duo appreciated the walk between the flat and the station before; now he came to realize how many one way streets and blockaded streets drivers had to contend with. It took a full five minutes to get on the main drag and pick up some speed. They zipped along for thirty minutes. Small, local-style stores gradually gave way to bigger and better and more corporate establishments. The amount of erratically blinking neon increased in direct proportion to the height of the buildings, Duo surmised. He was a little surprised to discover they were heading towards the city and didn't seem to be passing through as they turned off the main drag and started through another maze of even narrower streets. Eventually the van pulled to a stop at what looked like the back alley of a modest building. Heero shifted into park and hopped out, Wufei followed suit. Duo extracted himself from the moving fodder and stumbled from the back.

The three gathered at the back of the van, Duo was rip-roaring ready to start unloading. Before they could start, Wufei interjected with a pointed question, "Perhaps Duo would like a tour of the place." Wufei and Heero turned expectant eyes onto Duo. He looked back at them suspiciously but accepted the offer.

Heero whipped a key out from the waistband of his spandex and unlocked the door. After a quick inspection of the wall, he located the light switch and flipped the lights on. The ugly fluorescent lights took a moment to splutter to life. Duo was surprised that the entire room was just that: one large room. Also, it was painted black. The only distinguishing feature was the spiral staircase in the corner to the right of the door. Then Heero and Wufei started to divulge their plans for the space: it was to be a cafe during the day and a sort of mini-restaurant-cum-bar by night. Heero said he was planning to close off the back and turn it into a kitchen and install a peninsula style bar in the middle. Their tour continued down the spiral staircase. The basement was not quite as bare as the first floor, but equally black. Situated along one wall was what looked like a miniscule proscenium-style stage. There was also a small kitchen-y area that looked like it could serve as a bar and a set of toilets.

"So," Duo started, "You seem to be moving into a club. Never pegged you for the party animal type, Heero."

"The first floor is designated restaurant space, down here will be more like an art house or whatever Wufei is planning for it," Heero explained. "He was saying he wanted to have live jazz and poetry readings, but we'll have to see how it goes."

"And we brought a van full of your personal effects here because --"

"My apartment is on the second floor," Heero finished for him. He turned to look at Duo and continued. "You wouldn't be interested in playing on our opening night, would you?"

"A dubious distinction, but what the hell? When you looking to open?"

"In a month, on a Friday night." Duo nodded his head and made mental note to finagle the day off.

"Sure."

Heero nodded and turned back to the stairs with Wufei behind him, cracking his knuckles in preparation for the unloading. Duo lingered a bit to take in the stage. His imagination kicked into overdrive thinking about performing here. This joint wouldn't be all that different from The Black Sheep. It was bigger, but still not more than a glorified hole in the wall as far as genuine clubs went in Duo's estimation. Still, the idea of taking that stage. Whereas The Black Sheep had just sectioned off one end of the space, Heero's place had an actual stage. There was a light rig, even. Duo grinned. He was looking forward to a Friday night in a month.

CHAPTER SEVEN: Menu Building

Although Duo was startled by Heero's sudden uprooting, he got the distinct impression that Heero did not want to discontinue the... friendship he and Duo shared. That idea was further evinced when Heero invited Duo to practice guitar on the basement stage and even store his guitar in Heero's own apartment. Duo appreciated the gesture on three fronts. First, he would have a place to really practice his music, which was great because OZ had no compunctions about sending memos out to tenants of company apartments for making too much noise. Also, he did not want to drop a couple thousand yen on a studio every time he wanted to pluck out a song. Secondly, Duo enjoyed Heero's company; the Japanese man was a veritable fountain of trivia and provided a bit of insider insight into Japan and her people. Finally, Duo had to admit he harboured a crush on the restaurateur.

It was not for lack of interest, but lack of information that Duo decided to let Heero take the initiative. Their first couple of meetings were innocuous enough. Heero was taking on the redecoration as a DIY project and plodded ahead with his design plans for the first floor. Duo, on the other hand, mostly holed up to the basement and absorbed himself in performing without the bother of noise-sensitive neighbours or sleeping flat-mates. However, Heero wasn't permanently ensconced on the first floor painting and hanging wallpaper. Increasingly, he found projects to busy himself in the basement while Duo practiced. By the time Heero was papering the shelves in the bar area, it was fairly obvious to Duo that Heero was getting somewhat desperate for ways to be convenient. Duo decided then to take some measure of initiative (as if their kiss that day had not been enough of a sign): he asked Heero for creative input on his songs. That simple inclusion of Heero into his musical world set off a trade of sorts. Heero would serve as Duo's test audience and Duo would serve as Heero's taste tester.

For the next week, it worked beautifully. Every time Duo visited Heero, he would play a new song and highlight different arrangements or progression options. Heero dutifully offered his opinion and when Duo finished practicing, he was rewarded with some potential items for the new menu. Duo offered his opinion on the food in turn. Then, one day, Duo had just finished playing his heart out for the day and Heero was furiously trying to finish papering the bathroom walls when something happened. They literally ran into each other as Duo trudged tiredly toward the stairs and Heero emerged from the bathroom. Despite the awkwardness, neither one could pull himself away. They stared at each other as their breath mingled; Duo noticed the blatant drop of Heero's eyes. Then there was a nervous laugh from both parties, and they kissed. It wasn't the sweet press of lips it had been after their bike ride. It was a decidedly sexual affair. When Duo opened his mouth, Heero followed suit and they kissed each other with no uncertain amount of desire, of lust. Both men were smiling when the finally stopped.

During those practice sessions and construction projects, song pilots and culinary experimentation, the weeks between Heero's move and opening day elapsed. Duo loosely measured the passing of time by the amount of changing leaves. In the Kanto area of Japan, being famous for concrete and more concrete, monitoring the changing leaves was relatively easy because any greenery was a stark contrast to the veritable sea of cement grey and asphalt black. It also didn't hurt that Ginkgo trees lined the street where Duo's favourite vegetable stand and the vacant Yuy's Spicy Diner stood. When The Move had occurred, the leaves of the Ginkgos had just started to yellow. Now, nearly a month after the fact, they were entirely golden and brilliant. Usually, they reminded Duo of candle flames but occasionally, when he felt particularly rotten, he fancied them rather as giant wax-covered cotton swabs. It was a cotton swab day for Duo. Oto from work had promised to swap Duo a Friday for a Tuesday so that he could play at Heero's grand opening. However, today, Oto fell through. Duo did not know any other people with Fridays off and it was already the Sunday before the opening. Duo trudged past the waxy, used cotton swab trees. He was heading to work and would go to Heero's after to break the news.

Sheet after sheet of paper shot out of the copy machine. Heero kept vigil over the meter and inserted more coins when it read zero. A good portion of the previous night had been dedicated to designing the drink menu; he had spent that morning on the food menu. For the time being, the menu was fairly simple and on the small side. Although noodles were his specialty, Heero wanted to expand a little bit as his place was supposed to be something akin to a cafe. During the past month, he had experimented with different recipes and even some baking and was happy to have Duo serve as his unofficial taste tester. Heero was content with the working menu he had devised. Finally, the copier spat out its last sheet. Heero gathered all the copies into a sheaf and placed them reverently into a clear plastic file. Next, he would go off to the stationers to find a hip way to bind and perhaps embellish the homemade menus with food-shaped hole-punchers or stamps. Putting it all together was his project for tonight. Opening night was just five days away.

A few hours and a small fortune later, Heero was satisfied with his selected menu-making accoutrements and returned to his new diner. The smell of rain was in the air. A mantle of dangerously mauve clouds was encroaching from the east; Heero thought it might rain and he was grateful to have made it home with his expensive project trappings before nature had the chance to drench him. The message light was blinking on his land-line phone when he entered his apartment. The new cafe sign was finished and would be delivered and installed Monday. Choosing a name for the new place had been something of a challenge. Heero Yuy's old diner was exactly that: Yuy's (albeit Yuy senior). Combine that with an affinity for spicy food from far-flung reaches of the world and bingo, Yuy's Spicy Diner. This time around, however, Heero was partnered with Wufei and he wanted to diversify the original concept of the diner with a drink bar in the basement-cum-club section. Although the upstairs would be all Heero's, he needed to cater to the discriminating palate of the Tokyo dwellers. After securing the real-estate, many long discussions with Wufei concerning the naming of their joint establishment had ensued, but not a single one had born any fruit. At one frustrating point, they had each drawn up a list of potential names, exchanged them, and crossed off every name from the other's list. Wufei had commented they were left with "zip, nada, zero, and zilch," and they both had a bit of a bitter laugh about it when Heero's head suddenly snapped up and he announced that 'Zero' would do. Wufei hadn't found any reason to complain.

Heero meticulously set up a menu-making workstation at his desk. He was half-way through unwrapping a set of black album insert pages when his cell phone vibrated. Heero slid the instrument from his back pocket; Duo's name flashed across the backlit status window. Slipping his thumb under the edge of the phone, Heero flipped it open with a sharp snap of his wrist and Duo's text message automatically popped up on the little screen: you @ home? I'm hungry but don't have anything to cook at the flat :)~. Heero's left thumb nimbly typed a reply: come over if you are artistically inclined. He stuffed his phone back into his pocket and finished laying out all the goods. The desk was arranged like an assembly line. Album pages, the kind with contact paper overlays, sat on the extreme left of the desk. Next came the menu pages which were followed by various fun punch outs and stickers and not a few of the flatter odds and ends Heero's father had collected on his travels. At the far right end were the dozen album covers themselves, three sets of four matching designs. With the menu building station cleared away, Heero turned to the kitchen. If Duo was as good with crafts as he was with his guitar, Zero's menus were bound to turn out great and earn Duo something a little better than a bowl of spicy noodles. Heero pondered the culinary possibilities as he went downstairs to the newly redecorated kitchen.

Duo was happy that Heero seemed to have agreed to cook for him as Duo himself was in no mood to handle such mundane domestic details that night. Work had been abysmal. First of all, Oto's being unable to swap meant he would miss Heero and Wufei's opening night. Next, the schedule had been beyond hectic bordering on chaotic with classes filled to maximum capacity. One of the few reprieves he did get from the rush was a children's class. However, nine of the ten children (all of them boys) seemed hell-bent on imitating Tarzan and substituting Duo's long braid for Tarzan's traditional vine. The tenth student was a little girl and apparently had been too confused by the typically male attire coupled with the long hair and started to wail at the top of her lungs. To add insult to injury, the little girl's mother had filed a formal complaint about Duo's "professional appearance." Somewhere during the day, his only pen managed to explode in his pocket and he got a nasty paper cut on his left middle finger while flipping through a textbook. In a word, his day was shaping up to be almost complete shit. He was halfway between the station and Heero's when a Torrential Downpour From Hell caught Duo unawares and entirely unprepared. Duo just closed his eyes and turned his head up, letting the hard, heavy drops permeate his being.

There was a slow knock on the door. Heero turned off the gas burner and went to let Duo in. He couldn't help but grin when he saw Duo's complete state of dishevelment.

"Screw you, Mr. Happy."

"I'm sorry, I thought you were my friend," Heero began to close the door, but Duo crammed his foot between the jamb and door and muttered a brief apology. Heero pulled the door open and stepped back to allow his guest in. "How bad?"

"Everything is wrong and I want to die."

"Not until after you play Friday."

"That's just it. The thing is... I can't make it Friday," Duo peeled his sopping jacket off and held it out at arms length with distaste. He glanced at Heero who was heading back into the kitchen across the room. "I have to work."

"I thought you were going to swap off."

"So did I, but it fell through," Duo said as he tugged at his waterlogged necktie. "I'm stuck." It seemed that the tie did not want to come undone. Presumably for all the water it had absorbed, the double Windsor had expanded enough to make untying it difficult. Duo tugged a little more. "Heero, I'm really stuck."

"Can't you find someone else?" Heero asked as he pulled dishes out of a cabinet.

"Yo, the tie!" Duo pointed dumbly to his neck. Heero turned around and blinked at Duo equally dumbly before the light of comprehension dawned and he left the kitchen. "Thanks," Duo muttered as Heero set about extracting him from his tie. "What's that?" Duo asked, giving the kitchen a pointed look and small nod.

"Dinner, if you want," Heero managed to ease the longer part of the tie free from the knot.

"Hell yeah, I do. What is it?"

"Boiled gyouza, egg drop soup, and white rice," Heero gently tugged the two loops, characteristic of the double windsor, free.

"Oh. Sounds good."

"Aa," Heero unwound the last loop and eased the wet tie from round Duo's neck. Duo took the article from Heero; Heero stared at it for a moment, then decided to unbutton Duo's top button. "How's that?" Duo gave a lazy shrug, his lips parted. Heero intended to drop his hands, he intended to return to the dinner sitting and waiting in various pots on the stove. Instead, he let his hands fall to the next button of Duo's dress shirt. Somehow, the button slid through the hole. "Better?" Heero asked, Duo nodded once, slowly; Heero's attention shifted back to his face. Or rather the lips on that face. "...hungry?" Again Duo gave a slow, single nod and Heero's reply came by way of lip to lip contact. Chaste, until the moment Duo's hands, his tie still balled up in one, pressed around Heero's jaw and he opened his mouth to suck Heero's upper lip. Heero reciprocated with a little tongue. Duo bent his head to the right at the same time Heero attempted his own smooth move in the same direction and the spell was broken.

Duo softly cleared his throat and stepped back. "Thanks for helping with my tie."

"Of course. Do you want to change?"

Duo snorted, "Actually, yes."

"Go upstairs, my closet is in the northwest corner," he pointed. "You can find something dry to wear. I'll finish this and we'll eat when you're dry." Duo hmmed and left the room for the outside, but thankfully covered, stairway that led to Heero's apartment. Heero returned to the kitchen and re-heated the cooling food. Not long after, Duo returned and wordlessly hung around the edge of the kitchen. Heero dished up their dinner on some of the restaurant's stylish new dishes. When the first two bowls were full of soup, Heero held them out expectantly to Duo. Duo took them and set them down on one of the tables for two in the dining area. Once there was a bowl of soup, rice, and a dish of gyouza for each, Heero told Duo to sit. Shortly thereafter, Heero arrived with a caddy of unidentified sauces.

"Soy sauce, vinegar and rayuu."

"Oh," Duo answered trying to feign knowing exactly what those three codewords meant, but failing.

"Here," Heero set an incredibly small dish next to each of their gyouza plates. Soy sauce filled half the shallow dish, followed by a healthy splash of vinegar and a dash of rayuu. "gyouza sauce."

"Oh," Came Duo's definitive answer.

"Itadakimasu." Heero picked up his chopsticks and took a bite of rice. "It's not getting any hotter."

"I know, I know. Man. I wasn't born with chopsticks for hands, though, you know." Duo gingerly lifted his chopsticks and carefully rested one such that his ring finger touched it lightly a third of the way from the business end and the second third of the implement rested in the crook of his thumb. To his, he added the second stick held by his first and middle finger on one side and the pad of his thumb on the other. He checked to make sure the ends of the two sticks were plumb. Satisfied with the ratio of chopstick extending from his fingers to the amount of chopstick behind his fingers, Duo stabbed a gyouza and tucked into his dinner.

Once they had polished off the gyouza and cleaned up the kitchen, Heero invited Duo to help build the menus for the restaurant. Having the following day off with no special plans and feeling like a heel for having cancelled that Friday, Duo readily agreed. Heero locked up the first floor and lead Duo to his apartment. He explained the system he had set up before making dinner. Duo nodded at the thoroughness of the planning, though personally, he thought such an organized system would inherently have a detrimental effect on creativity. They bounced some layout ideas off each other for a few minutes before settling on a drinks-first approach for menus to be used at the stage area in the basement, but a food-first layout for the menus to be used in the cafe. Since Heero was in charge of the latter, Duo offered to start the menus for the former. The resources were divvied up and the two set to work in amicable silence.

CHAPTER EIGHT: Opening Night

Something started making a god awful racket. It sounded not unlike the requisite hyperpop music that blared from every pachinko joint. Exhaustion and the dull sense of having half his body asleep prevented Heero from realizing it was not his own cell phone making the noise. He swatted confusedly at his phone, willing it to be quiet. He managed to drop the phone and it clattered across the hardwood floor and into his fuzzy sight. Automatically, Heero made to roll over and out of bed to retrieve the errant phone and was surprised to find that he could not move. With a tight sigh of irritation, he glared over at the half of his body that felt like it was asleep. Duo, still dressed in the clothes Heero had lent him, was draped partially over Heero's right half. That explained why he could not move and how his right side came to be numb. He remembered the previous night. They had stayed up until all hours working on those damnable menus. Heero had been bound and determined to finish the lot in one sitting but Duo took his own sweet time, forever telling Heero that one could not rush genius. Still, they had only managed to last until five in the morning before sheer tiredness wore them down. They had decided to save the remaining six albums for today and collapsed haphazardly on Heero's bed. All of this crossed Heero's mind subconsciously in the span of point zero three seconds. The infernal vibration and ruckus of a cell phone alarm refused to leave the forefront of his groggy mind. Heero gave Duo's shoulder a quick jolt.

"Y'aimup, aimup," Duo swatted at the offending hand. A second later, he bodily sprang upright as his eyes opened owlishly large. His head twitched as he scanned the room, some internal device homing in on the alarm. Finally sensing it, he unceremoniously clambered over Heero and off the bed. Duo fished his noisy cell phone, vibrating and pumping up the proverbial jam, from his work bag. He raised the found phone triumphantly in Heero's direction and made a big show of flipping the instrument open to shut it off when it suddenly stopped of its own accord. With a satisfied grunt, Heero rolled onto his back and threw an arm over his eyes as he attempted to go back to sleep. Duo was about to toss the phone back into his back when it started ringing again; this time it was a phone call.

"Hello, Maxwell here," he answered. Duo's ensuing short replies were excited and interspersed with a few long pauses. After a minute, he ended the call and flipped the phone closed. Then he did toss it back into his bag.

"Got a hot date?" Heero asked in a voice thick with both sleep and morning breath.

"Something like that. Work in a couple hours."

"... don't you have Mondays off..."

"Usually, but they're in something of a pinch. They said I could have Friday off if I can make it today."

"...hn..."

Duo grinned. "Right. Well, I'll just show myself out. If you still want help with the menus, I can come back after work. Just lemme know. You know, when you're awake."

"...hn..."

Friday rolled in like a lion. Duo woke to the sound of thunder breaking through the sky and the sound of rain hurtling against his windows. He had never minded rain before moving to Japan but there was something about Japan that made rain so much more meddlesome. Walking all over creation, for instance, was much less pleasant and in Japan, there was plenty of creation to walk over -- especially between one's home and one's station. Preventing all the various gadgets he'd appropriated from getting wet was one worry. Wrecking his suit before even getting to the station before getting to work was another. He'd quickly formed the opinion that umbrellas were designed by women out of sheer vanity to keep their meticulously coiffed hairstyles dry and everything and everyone else be damned. Despite their utter uselessness, it still didn't feel quite right to leave the house on a rainy day without equipping an umbrella. Duo procrastinated with vain hopes of waiting out the rain. At half past one, however, he was unable to delay departure any longer, grabbed his gear and headed to Zero.

Half an hour later, Duo was in the big city. Despite loving Japan's throngs of people and their amazing sense of fashion, or occasional complete lack thereof, Japan's throngs in the rain were another kettle of fish altogether. It was nothing short of amazing that any textbook professed the ubiquitous sense of wa, the ubiquitous sense of harmony, in Japan. Clearly whoever had written such dross never experienced Tokyo in the rain, for Duo had discovered the Japanese are ruthless with their worthless umbrellas. Everyone else's umbrella needed room to be made for it and Duo found himself forever up-thrusting his own brolly to avoid collisions with other passers-by. There were also those who negated the need to up-thrust by pulling the brolly down around their shoulders; they endangered the eyes of everyone within a fifty-three to sixty-five centimetre radius. Duo just gritted his teeth and made the best of life's little lemons. A short time later, he arrived at Heero's.

Heero was up to his elbows in gouya; he heard someone tapping on the door and hollered out, "Aiteru yo!" Silence. Tapping. Duo. "It's open, Duo." The tapper let himself in. "Can you set up the umbrella stand, it's under the reception desk."

"Is it supposed to rain all damn day?" Duo set his gear down and hefted the surprisingly heavy stand into an easily accessible corner.

"No, it's supposed to taper off by the evening."

"Does it always rain in Japan?"

"It's only really rainy during the rainy season," Heero continued slicing his vegetables.

"This is the rainy season." He stabbed his impotent umbrella into the stand.

"Actually, the rainy season is in June."

"So what's this?"

"Not the rainy season," he grabbed another gouya.

"My ass. I'm going to go downstairs and set up."

The sounds of an electric piano issued from the stairwell leading to the performance space and bar.

"I'm not the only one performing, then?"

"No. Wufei and I agreed three acts for the opening was good, so there's you; Zechs, he's the one practicing now; and a trio of Bond types."

"James Bond?"

"That quartet of babes playing souped-up versions of classical pieces."

"Right. I'm sure I can share a little space with The Piano Man. When should I pack up? Do you guys want an empty stage when this joint opens? Is Wufei here already?"

"We're closing the stage at quarter to four or so and we open at five. The live entertainment isn't until seven-ish. Wufei's here, but he went to pick up some stuff at the grocery store. Trowa and Quatre will be coming to help out, too."

"Aye Aye, Captain Cook," and Duo descended the stairs towards the piano sounds.

The work lights and what few stage lights there were illuminated the basement of Zero. Along the far wall, there was an electric piano set up and sitting behind it was a rather attractive man with unusually platinum blonde, unusually long hair. His eyes were closed as his fingers alternately depressed and caressed the keys of his Korg. Duo saw his lips moving, but if the man was indeed singing, it was too quiet to be audible. After a couple of minutes, the song ended; Duo realized he was staring. He started to clap, as much from true appreciation of the music as to hide the awkwardness of being caught staring at someone. The blonde haired man's face shot towards him and locked ice blue eyes on Duo's.

"Not bad. I take it you wrote that yourself?"

"Indeed."

"I'm Duo, you must be Zechs. We're sharing the bill tonight, I guess."

"I know."

"You a friend of Heero's?"

"Quatre's, actually. Why do you ask?"

"Taciturn."

"Hm. Well, Duo, I'm not one for idle prattle. Did you want to use the stage?"

"I wouldn't want to kick you off."

"I've been practicing for quite a while already, and there's still the trio..."

"Oh, okay," Duo went up to the table closest to the stage and set down his guitar case and bag. He proceeded to extract the effects needed for his set: pitch fork, capa. Zechs disconnected the electric piano and scooted it off to one end of the stage along with his stool.

"Mind if I watch you practice?"

"An eye for an eye," Duo said as he stepped upon the raised dais of a stage. There was a bar stool set against the back of the stage; Duo seized it and put it centre stage. Once comfortably seated, he began the process of tuning his guitar with the pitch fork. A few minutes later, his guitar was perfectly in tune and he warmed up with a few bars from popular songs. Satisfied with the sounds of his instrument and the nimbleness of his fingers, he started an old favourite: peace. It was a song that had two main sections; it started out slow and sad and finished with a frenzy. He said the song reflected life and how the longer you think about things, the more they either fester or flourish. Zechs sat and watched and listened and looked mesmerized. At the juncture between the two motifs, there was a fermata of grand proportions and Duo startled his one-man audience by jumping off his perch and crashing to his knees while his hand raked across the bridge of the guitar. And as strangely as the passionate ending had begun, so it finished. Zechs wasn't entirely certain the song was finished until Duo rose from his knees with a grin. Zechs closed his mouth and clapped politely, a smirk just turning the corners of his mouth.

"Superb. Atypical combination and ratio of soft and strong. What do you call it?"

"The song's called peace, the combination is two thirds sap and one third desperate abandon."

"I'm looking forward to hearing more later tonight," the blonde's smirk bloomed into a smile. With a dip of his head, he departed. Duo watched him leave, then righted the overturned stool and continued to practice for another half an hour, when the trio arrived.

Although the rain failed to ease up, there were plenty of people to christen the birth of Zero. Many were friends of either Heero or Wufei, or of one of the performers. Not a few had just wandered in off the street looking for a bite to eat, prompted in by the effervescent efforts of Quatre who was handing out adverts on the sidewalk for the establishment. Heero was kept rather busy in the early evening despite having prepared many necessities prior to opening the doors. Much of the actual cooking couldn't be done until someone ordered something. The gouya champuruwas popular; Trowa was serving as busboy and table hop for the night and started counting plates of the bitter vegetable and tofu stir-fry. They had only been open for an hour and he was already up to fifteen plates of the stuff. Wufei was busy tending the bar downstairs. He mingled with friends and acquaintances and strangers alike, answering questions about the trials and tribulations of co-establishing a cafe and future plans for events or performances. As seven o'clock neared, Quatre gave up on street duties and started herding people downstairs for the music and a drink.

In the basement, the lighting went from ambient to non-existent as the first act took the stage. Turns had been decided by drawing straws: the mod-classical trio was first, Duo second, and Zechs last. A stage hand hired for the night had set the lighting for the stage; it was one part cool blue and two parts purple. The three girls standing on stage looked ethereal in their gauzy white costumes. One of them had a cute pixie cut and had a cello wedged between her knees. More than a few male patrons were disappointed she was wearing pants. The other two girls sported long blonde hair and flanked the cellist. On the right stood a girl with the hair at her temples styled into braids and a strapless number. She played violin. To the left was an older looking woman with two twisting pig tails setting off her long neck; she wore a simple shift dress. She played the viola. They started their set with organized chaos that fell seamlessly into the familiar strains of something Vivaldi; the rearrangement was as beautiful as the women playing. The crowd responded warmly to their performance and there were more than a few cat calls when they glided off the stage. Upon finishing, the dim lights were restored, marking the interval. Many people flooded the bar; a couple men tried to have a word with the ladies as they stowed their things.

Just under half an hour later, the lights still glowed warmly over the pleasantly buzzed audience. Hardly anyone took notice of the young man dressed in lovingly broken-in blue jeans and a simple black turtleneck sweater who seated himself on the bar stool sitting in the middle of the small stage. He reached out and took hold of the guitar sitting to his right. Almost silently, he tested the strings after a few hours' break. He adjusted a couple of the pegs and began the unassuming introduction of peace. The people who sat directly in front of the stage took notice briefly, but didn't know if he was still warming up or actually playing until Duo hit the first verse of song. The house lights finally faded to black and Duo was silhouetted in a single, stark spotlight. Eventually, the crowd hushed and watched. When Duo jerked up from the stool just before the last third of the song, Zechs, who was standing at the back, smiled. This time, the American didn't immediately fall to his knees, but was equally engrossed in his performance. There was a smattering of applause from the audience when the song finished. Duo smiled and began his second song. Despite the lack of cat calls when he finished, the overall vibe from the house was quite good; he left the stage grinning.

Heero appeared out of now where and tapped Duo on the shoulder as he packed up his guitar, pitch fork, and capa. The black long sleeves of Heero's chef's outfit were rolled up to the elbow and he sported a multitude of spots on the black apron that practically skimmed his ankles. Some time after the opening, he'd also wrapped a white terrycloth towel around his head presumably as part of his sweat management regime. Duo grinned at him and earned a beatific smile in return. Whatever they said at work about most people's teeth in Japan, Heero was perhaps a rare exception to the rule. While not perfect, they were relatively straight and impeccably white and none of them overlapped and they were all his own enamel. As near as Duo could tell, leastways.

"Since when do chefs wear black?"

"Doesn't show stains so easily."

"You do realize you can't bleach that whereas you can with whites, right?"

"You can only bleach it so many times before it gets too scratchy to be comfortable or disintegrates."

"Touche."

"Do you want to stash your stuff upstairs?"

"Yeah, actually, I would. 'S it open?" Heero stuck his hand in his pocket and Duo stuck out his hand expecting to see Heero's heavy key ring. Instead, Heero pulled out a single silver key. He pressed the warm metal into Duo's equally warm palm. Duo felt his eyebrows shoot into his hairline. "I can't believe you lost your keys, man!" Heero rolled his eyes and gave a quick snort.

"I had that made for you. It might come in handy, if you miss the last train or something and I'm busy here."

"Or something. Thanks," Duo was grinning again as he shouldered his stuff and headed outside to the concealed apartment entrance.

Duo quickly set his guitar down next to his backpack, which was sitting on Heero's computer chair. Apparently, Heero had moved it up here while he'd been practicing. He looked down at the unadorned key for a moment, turning it over in his palm. It made a satisfying 'clink' as it fell against the one other key on his key ring. After locking the door, he clipped the ring back around a side belt loop on his jeans and returned to Zero.

The dinner set had mostly departed, though some people were still sitting with coffee and cake. Duo wondered briefly if Heero baked also, or if he had sprung for cake for the opening. Judging by the relative quiet from down below, he surmised Zechs had not started his set yet. He looked towards the kitchen looking for Heero, but it was empty. There was a sign on the counter, but it was written in Japanese. With a mental shrug, he headed down the stairs and made for the bar. Wufei was chatting with the viola player from the first act. She had changed clothes and was wearing the tightest jeans Duo ever had the pleasure of seeing someone wear and a plaid shirt with snaps. Her smile lit up her face and Wufei's. Duo sauntered up with a smile of his own; he greeted the pair and asked for a beer. The three of them discussed the success of Zero's opening night and Wufei asked about the future performance plans of Lumpen, as Duo finally learned the trio was called. Just as she started ticking off dates and locations, the house lights dimmed again and people turned their attention to the stage.

Zechs sat gracefully on his small piano stool, his shoulders back and spine straight. All his hair was pulled into a tail set high on his head. His eyes were closed; his head tilted down towards the instrument before him. Everyone watched as he took a deep breath, exhaled slowly and a sound as graceful as the man himself flowed from the Korg. There was an accompanying back track piped in from the speakers that added fullness to the sound, not that Duo particularly thought Zechs was lacking in that department. This music, ironically enough, seemed to be a perfect blend of Lumpen's primarily classical influences and Duo's slice-of-life sensibilities into something almost anyone would find appealing. The pace was upbeat and the melodies were infinitely hummable, but there was much happening to harmonize and support the seemingly simple tunes, warranting a second listen at least. Especially, Duo enjoyed the movement of the songs. His earlier suspicions were affirmed as Zechs clearly was not singing for anyone but himself, yet despite the lack of a verbal story, each of Zech's songs contained an audible beginning, middle, and end that were flawlessly connected. At the end, Zechs finished with a quiet thanks and a nod of his head.

The celebrating went on in full swing until last call at half past midnight. Quatre and Trowa made rounds informing the patrons that, should they desire anything further to eat, now was the time to order. It was decided that the kitchen would close at one in the morning and the bar at two; the entire establishment would therefore, ideally, be free of guests by half past two. Trowa made his announcement at the table at which Duo was seated. Duo asked if there was any cake left and luckily enough, there was; he ordered one slice. Just as his roommate and colleague and tonight, at least, co-worker-after-a-fashion was about to leave, Duo performed a textbook facepalm.

"What?" Trowa inquired.

"When is the last train?"

"Less than 15 minutes from now."

"Shit. What are you doing tonight?"

"I've got tomorrow off, so I don't know and I don't really care as long as it involves Quatre..."

"Great. Big help, thanks."

"Don't mention it. Do you still want the cake?"

"Ugh, yeah I still want it. If I have to stay out all night somewhere, I might as well be well fed for it."

Trowa simply gave a single nod and went about getting other patrons' last orders. After a moment, Duo attempted to leave his chair, intending on getting one last beer from the bar, but he was somehow attached to the chair. He wriggled about and his keys popped free from the scroll work decorating the back of his chair. His keys. Duo glanced at the kitchen, but Heero was busier than a one armed paper hanger on a windy day for the moment. Later, Duo thought to himself, it's not like I've got anywhere else to go. Then he went for his beer.

Two thirty came and went; it wasn't until sometime after three that the last of the well wishers and acquaintances were ushered from the building. Wufei had finally taken his leave, and his car, back home and was supposedly giving the brunette from Lumpen a lift home. Trowa and Quatre had made it out somewhat earlier, clearing out after the chairs had been upended, ashtrays emptied, and the floors swept and mopped. Heero and Duo were left to check that all the closing procedures for the various sections had been faithfully completed. Heero had stripped the apron off, but the head-towel had stayed.

"All ready, let's go," Heero announced from behind the kitchen counter. Duo exited first, pleased that the rain had stopped. The streets were still wet and the streetlamps glittered urban and orange atop them. Shortly after, Heero stepped out; he set the alarm and locked the doors. Lastly, black metal shutters with ZERO air brushed on them were pulled like giant gothic eyelids over the entire shop front. These, too, were locked. Finally, truly finished, the two tiredly shuffled around to the apartment entrance and trudged upstairs to Heero's apartment.

Heero was leading. He unlocked the door and waited for Duo to precede him inside before following himself. Tiredly, he turned and locked the door. Upon turning back to the room and his demi-guest, he was a little surprised to find Duo nearly pressed against him. Duo just smiled for a moment, then leaned in and kissed Heero softly. He pulled back slowly; Heero followed and returned the favour with a bit of French flair. It was Heero's turn to pull back slowly. As they were looking at each other's lips, they noted the thread of saliva bridging the gap between their mouths. They snickered; Duo recalled their earlier conversation.

"So. Does this count as 'missing the train' or as 'something'?"

Heero leaned in again and caught Duo's bottom lip between his own two. For a moment, he suckled; his fingers threaded through the belt loops close to Duo's hips.

"I think it's about to become 'something.'" Heero moved to get into the flat and tugged Duo in by the belt loops. Once out of the entryway, Heero kissed his man thoroughly. Duo closed his eyes and slid the fingers of one hand into the thick, coarse hair at the back of Heero's head. The other hand, he wriggled into one of Heero's surprisingly deep back pockets and used it to rhythmically push Heero flush against him, at least from the waist down.

Duo broke the kiss, declaring, "Bump uglies!" He laughed. Heero looked as blank as his rising wantonness would accommodate.

"What?"

"You know, bump uglies! Do the mattress dance, the dirty deed, the infamous 'it'." The light bulb had yet to brighten. Duo, still smiling, bumped his denim covered erection against Heero's again. "Well, they sure ain't pretty, you know, but I like it when they bump." The light of comprehension dawned in Heero's eyes, he bumped himself against Duo in return. "Bingo." Duo pressed his hips forward again and didn't pull them away, letting his body slide against Heero's. He busied his hands untucking the black chef's smock from the belted pants. Heero closed his eyes and let his head fall back, enjoying the erotic, however clothed, contact with Duo. Upon feeling his shirt being untucked, he lazily raised his hands above his head, indicating Duo shouldn't waste time with buttons when he could just pull it over his head. Duo took the hint. He tossed the shirt towards the computer chair and quickly shucked his own. Again they bumped together, they kissed, their hands ran firmly up the other's side. It was the good kind of purely sexual tension Duo hadn't felt in a long time. Heero surged forward with his hips, making Duo take a step back, then another and another. Like this, they traversed the short distance to Heero's bed. At the same time, Heero managed to divest Duo of the black singlet he had been wearing under his turtleneck. When they hit the bed, they stopped.

"Duo."

"Yeah?" Heero reached his hand out; it curled around the nape of Duo's neck. He pulled sharply and kissed the hell out of Duo.

"Take off your pants."

"Aye aye, Captain Cook!" Heero watched as Duo nimbly slipped the first button in the waist band through the hole. He watched with amazement as Duo simply gripped either side of the now parted top button and gave a practiced tug. The remaining five buttons of his fly slid through their respective holes easily. Duo caught Heero's look and explained, "These are my favourite jeans." With his thumbs hooked under both the denim and his plain white cotton boxer shorts, Duo did a squatting move. Still crouching, he pressed the right side of his face against Heero's knee and slowly tracked up Heero's left side. His nose brushed the side of the erection tenting Heero's black chef's pants. After reaching his waist, Duo pulled away.

"Duo."

"Yeah?"

"Take off my pants," Heero was half smirking and half drooling.

Duo first unbuckled Heero's black leather belt. With the buckle end on the right side gripped firmly in his left hand, he gave the accessory a flamboyant tug. The leather whistled through the loops and snapped Heero none too gently upon extraction. Duo put the belt between his teeth and set about removing Heero's pants. Due to the zip-fly, however, Heero's pants weren't quite as erotically or amazingly removed as Duo's Favourite Jeans. Nonetheless, standing together in the altogether was pretty damn exciting. Duo took the belt from his teeth and wrapped it back around Heero's waist. He went so far as to thread the end through the buckle and used it to tug them flush together, this time without the bother of clothing. They gyrated their lower halves together. When Heero's calloused hands grabbed his ass, he felt Duo's forehead press against the side of his neck and Duo's hot breath puff against his clavicle. Duo retaliated by giving Heero a hard shove with his pelvis; he was still holding the belt. Duo sat down on the bed and used the belt to tug Heero back, to stand between his parted knees. Looking Heero in the eyes, Duo finally removed the belt and stretched out on Heero's bed.

"Heero."

"Yeah?"

"Let's bump," Duo ran his finger tips down his front and wrapped his hand around his fully aroused cock. Heero's arms planted themselves on either side of Duo. "Do you have the stuff?"

"Chikusho!" Although Duo didn't understand the word, he understood the grimace. Duo saw Heero's eyes slide to the side as if hoping lube and condoms would magically appear. Duo threw his legs around Heero.

"'S all right," Duo moaned as he started gyrating his hips again. "We'll do it later, for now, let's just get off." He finished by licking Heero's flat-line lips. They parted at the last and Heero sucked Duo's tongue into his mouth. Happily distracted, Duo released his leg lock on Heero enough so that the man on top was free to move. Heero broke the kiss and moved into a partial push-up move.

"Straighten your legs for me."

Duo complied and felt Heero's legs come back down on the outside of his own, knees around his waist and gripping tightly. Slowly, Heero settled himself down on Duo again. For his part, Duo relished the feeling of that heavy sack slowly touching down on his abs. Once down, Heero scooted back until the part of his buttocks came into contact with Duo. "Do you mind spit?" He asked. Duo looked incredulous for a moment, then answered no. When he saw Heero spit into his hand, he immediately started to rethink his answer. Spit would do in a pinch, but it was by far inferior to other lubricants. He lost his compunctions when he felt that spittle cooled hand glide up and down his erection; he closed his eyes and enjoyed the handshake. "Spit for me?" Heero's hand brushed Duo's cheek. Duo turned and cracked his lids enough to successfully land a wad of spit into Heero's hand and not the bedsheets. He was expecting another tug, but didn't receive it. After a moment, he opened his eyes and looked at Heero. Heero himself seemed to be waiting for Duo's attention; once received, he popped his pelvis back. Duo felt his cock slip between Heero's cheeks, slick now with spit. Those tight cheeks clenched hard and tugged up as Heero humped slowly at first, then faster with his ever growing excitement. Quickly, Duo matched the rise and fall of Heero's thrusts. His hands danced up and down Heero's chest, he particularly liked the feeling of his palms flat against Heero's sides and sliding up courtesy of the sweat beading on Heero's torso. The pace grew more frantic and Duo dropped his hands to Heero's hips, pushing them back, wanting it harder, faster. Heero bent low over Duo and slipped his forearms under Duo's arms such that his hands cupped around the tops of Duo's shoulders. Supporting his weight with his elbows in addition to his knees, he rolled his hips faster and Duo started grunting as his orgasm grew more imminent. For Duo, suddenly caressing wasn't enough. He wanted something rather hotter than the bedsheets to wrap his fingers around and more easily gripped than Heero's hip. He wrestled his arms free from Heero's wraparound grip; Heero's hands clamped back to Duo's sides. As his fingers closed around Heero's arousal, Duo heard a series of lusty grunts to match his own.

Just when Heero thought it wouldn't get any better, Duo relentlessly rubbed the pre-cum around the head of his engorged erection with one hand while the other gingerly palmed the tightening sack below. He stretched one finger back to that secret spot just behind the whole package and stroked at it wantonly. Heero shouted out loud as he bucked a couple of times and crushed himself down onto Duo, effectively trapping that tormenting finger against his perineum. Duo wiggled it viciously and Heero bucked again as he died a little death right there on Duo's abdomen. The solid flesh in his hand Duo was unable to tug or caress, but he pressed his fingers randomly around it, first the index, next the pinky, then the middle. And then, Heero was soft. Panting, he managed to get on all fours, his face hovering temporarily above Duo's before he pressed his lips hotly to Duo's. In the process of extracting himself from the bed to clean up, get a drink, fall asleep, something, Heero brushed against something hard. And realised it was Duo.

Again, Heero grimaced.

"Mmm, popped out when I started tugging on you, ay." Duo let his hand lazily trace down his body much like he had before they'd started.

"No, don't." Still on all fours, Heero crawled backwards down the length of the bed. "Scoot down a bit," he instructed as he made to kneel on the floor. Understanding the offer, Duo slid down the bed far enough that his knees bent and his feet were flat on the floor. Heero stuck his hands under Duo's thighs and laid his palms flat against Duo's hips. It reminded Duo of how Heero had held him under the shoulders before he smiled. Reverently, Heero inspected Duo's own angry red flesh. He worked his mouth, gathering spit. After a moment, he pooled it all in a cup created out of the body of his tongue. He drew up to his full height when kneeling and set his lips just above the tip of Duo's cock. Quickly he darted out his tongue, as pointed as he could make it, and touched it to Duo's slit. Gravity did the rest as the saliva trailed from mouth to erection. Duo had never felt anything quite like the sensation of drool dripping down his dick. When Heero blew on it, however, he quickly decided it wasn't without its merits. Heero noted the uneven distribution, Heero used his tongue as a bizarre paintbrush to smear spittle from root to tip and blew again. The thing that amazed Duo about this was when Heero turned his head sideways and wrapped his tongue halfway around his cock and practically slurped his way to the top. Apparently finished playing, Duo revelled in having Heero take a measure of mercy on him and go down on him hard and fast and not unlike what he expected a Hoover to be like. In a matter of minutes, Duo's hands were wrapped white-knuckle around Heero's hands, which were pressed tightly against Duo's hips. He got a little death of his own.

CHAPTER NINE: The Family Connection

Heero awoke with a vague sense of deja vu. His right side was numb again and when he turned his head to inspect the situation, he found Duo sprawled over him again. Just like earlier in the week. The main difference was that this time, they were both naked and Heero's bed was mussed beyond merely sleeping and it smelled like it. Last night collided with his consciousness. As far as Heero was concerned, that was as good as it got. He felt awkward for forgetting Duo in the midst of his own pleasure, but was relieved that Duo had just brushed it off. Maybe this could work, Heero thought. Heero had been attracted to Duo from go and they got along like a house on fire when they were together. All signs indicated Duo's feelings were mutual. Despite Heero's command of the English language and understanding of many American idiosyncrasies at least, dating is one area about which the average teenager wasn't likely to figure out and it certainly wasn't the kind of thing taught at any school. Let alone gay dating protocol. Still, Duo had accepted the key and he obviously wanted to be a part of whatever it was they had done last night. 'Sex,' Heero's brain supplied. 'Good sex.'

For a few minutes, Heero simply lay in bed. The sun was streaming in through his window and lit Duo's long hair on fire. It was pretty, like a flat lake reflecting a fiery sunset. Pins and needles started to set in, however, and Heero was forced to give Duo the old heave ho.

"Y'aimup, aimup."

"You don't look very up."

"You did a good job last night is all." Heero scoffed. "Hey, what time is it, Captain?"

"Almost half past ten."

"Is that all? I have to be at work by one," Duo sat up and stretched. Heero looked him in the eye. "What? Oh, don't tell me I got a huge zit or something. My looks are the only thing that keep me from getting complaints at work, you know."

"No, not that. Just looking."

"Like what you see, Captain?" Duo was grinning wide at him.

"I do," and Heero leaned over and kissed him hard.

"Ahh, tastes like morning."

"Same to you. You want something to eat? How soon do you need to leave to get to work?"

"Thanks, yes, really damn quickly if I want to go home and change at least or maybe shower. In that order."

"You can shower here while I make a quick breakfast if that'll help your schedule any." Heero had left the bed to rummage around in his chest of drawers. He produced a pair of flannel pants and a sweatshirt and proceeded to pull them on.

"It will, thanks. What're you making?"

"Leftovers."

"Huzzah," Duo enthused and walked over to the shower. "Downstairs in twenty minutes, okay?"

"Okay."

After a quick shower during which Duo half lamented the fact that he wouldn't have the time to wash yesterday's smoky bar scent from his hair until tonight, he dressed and packed up his stuff. He descended the stairs breathing deeply of the crisp autumnal air washed clean by yesterday's rains. It was a beautiful sunny day; he wished he had the day off. All Zero's shutters were still closed save the one directly before the front door which was half raised. On one or two occasions, Duo had had the opportunity to see Tokyo in the grey hours before the real morning commute started but after the night had completely ground itself out. Shops that opened early were still closed to customers, but employees were sometimes busily preparing for the day, most notably in bakeries and cafes. In those hours between, the establishments seemed to favour keeping all shutters closed except the one before the employee entrance. In this regard, Zero was no different. The striking thing about Zero's shutter was that it was not completely open. Upon noticing that, Duo remembered the door opened inward. He pushed the brass plate and literally ducked into the black abyss of the sleeping cafe.

The kitchen lights were on as well as the spots hanging over the bar; that was all the more illumination inside the cafe. Heero's back was to the bar as he busily arranged leftovers on microwave-safe plates and a fresh pot of coffee brewed on the counter. Duo's stool scraped across the floor as he pulled it out and sat down with a sleepy thump.

"gouya champuru and salad, nashi, coffee, and orange juice," Heero announced as he finished arranging the gouya champuru on the plates and popped them into the microwave.

"Great! What's nashi?"

"It's a kind of apple-y pear." A bowl of impeccably peeled fruit appeared in front of Duo's nose. He took a piece to nosh; Heero clattered about in the cabinets readying mugs for their coffee and cups for their juice.

"Oh. Hey, I've been meaning to ask you this for a long time: why do you like cooking?"

Heero stopped with the carafe of coffee hovering above one mug for a moment. Duo wished he had the ability to turn back time and take back that question. Miracles did not seem to be forthcoming, however.

"Aw, never mind. You know what they say, 'a closed mouth gathers no foot.' I was never very good at that, though."

"It's okay, Duo. I guess I kind of got into it because of my father." Heero poured the coffee and juice and delivered a set to Duo and kept one for himself. Then, he launched into the story. The dearly departed Mr. Yuy had loved travelling. In fact, Heero revealed that his father and mother had gone to the United States on their honeymoon and hadn't come home for the next sixteen years. This more than explained his command of not only English grammar, but also colloquialisms and pronunciation. Despite living in a foreign country, this didn't sate Mr. Yuy's voracious travel desires and he frequently went on trips all over the States and other countries as well. As a little kid, Heero thought maybe his father loved travelling more than he loved his family. Of course, there were copious letters and photographs and gifts and these Heero had used to decorate the former Yuy's Spicy Diner. However, those trinkets didn't amount to a hill of beans in the eyes of a child. When his father was home, though, Heero revelled in the time. First and foremost, it was special just to be with his father. Then, naturally, were the amazing stories of faraway places with different customs and different fables. And being Japanese, Mr. Yuy never failed to bring back edibles from the places he visited. After a while, the man started collecting recipes on his travels and tried them out on his family. It turned out that Mr. Yuy was a decent cook. Fifteen years of living abroad and near constant travelling took their toll on Heero's father's health, however. The summer of their fifteenth year in America saw Heero's mother die in a car accident. After that, the Yuy men packed up and moved back to Japan. His dad re-acclimated quite well to his native country. Heero looked the part and spoke Japanese fluently as his parents usually spoke exclusively Japanese at home, but he couldn't read or write nearly as well as his classmates. Then there was his apparent culture; his body language and mannerisms screamed "foreign." He had a few friends, but more often than not, he'd just go home after school and help his father mind his modest diner. They ran nights only so Yuy senior could rest plenty during the day. Heero was also on hand to help during the busy times like weekends and national holidays. Heero told Duo that was actually the first incantation of Yuy's Spicy Diner even though his father had never gotten around to giving it a proper name and just referred to it as The Shop. They went on fairly uneventfully and the modest success of The Shop kept them in a measure of comfort. Heero already knew the basics about cooking thanks to spending so much time with his father and had entered a culinary school to learn the finer points of being a chef or something similar. Halfway through his schooling, however, his father had suffered a stroke and passed away. That put an end to his schooling and he assumed ownership of The Store; he rechristened it Yuy's Spicy Diner in honour of his father and his own penchant for spicy food. That, he told Duo, was five years ago.

"Wow," was all Duo could say for a moment. Then, "For what it's worth, my folks are dead, too. But I never really had the chance to get to know 'em, you know. Sometimes I wonder if it's better that way or worse, you know. Like, I never knew if they were good people or the biggest misers on the face of the Earth. My mom died giving birth to me and my father skipped town after dropping me off on the steps of a convent. Can you believe it? So I guess I don't know if he's actually dead, but to me he may as well be. Anyway, I was basically raised by a bunch of nuns and attended Catholic school and all that. It wasn't easy, and at the time I thought I hated it, but looking back now, I think it's really helped me gain a sense of self, you know. I can totally understand your dad's wanderlust."

Heero was quiet again for a moment. "I think you kind of remind me of him. That bizarre and insatiable sense of adventure. Maybe you don't want to travel the world --"

"Hey! Who said I never wanted to travel the world? I'm in Japan, aren't I?"

"I never asked, sorry. I was saying that you're adventurous in other respects more readily apparent to my dim senses, oh honourable sir."

"What respects?"

"Food, for instance. My dad never turned down a sample of anything and often subjected my mom and myself to it. I always ate it, but I didn't really like most of it that wasn't Asian. And... bed."

"Ah, the root of it comes out," Duo grinned. "Well, the feeling's mutual. I mean, you don't remind me of anyone's voracious appetite, but you do remind me of Sister Helen. She's the nun who I got most attached to. I thought of her as my mom, actually. I think I liked her most because she was the one who did all the cooking for us at the boarding school. She was an amazing cook, given what she had to work with I guess. Of course, we never gave her anything but grief, but it really showed in her cooking how much she loved us. Maybe that's a strange way to show it, but it kind of makes sense, huh? You get it, right?" Heero nodded as he took a sip of coffee.

Somehow, their plates managed to empty between stories and they washed the dishes together. Heero gave Duo a lift to the station on the back of his bicycle.

"Hey, thanks for everything. Last night and this morning."

"Aa. You're welcome anytime."

"I know, I've got the key to the palace," and Duo flashed his keys at Heero. "I really gotta get going if I don't want to be late, but I'll see you later, ay. Good luck tonight all by your lonesome in this cafe of yours."

"Wufei will be there, too."

"Like I said, good luck all by your lonesome."

Heero snorted. "You'll have to come back and play some time soon."

"I'll have to talk to the manager about that. But I think I have an 'in' with him." Duo gave an obnoxious wink. "Okay, gotta go. I hear the train as we speak." Duo hefted his stuff up to his shoulder. He gave a beatific smile and a lazy wave. "See ya!"

"Bye," Heero watched as the long hair disappeared into the depths of the station.

CHAPTER TEN: Competition

Weeks passed and the weather turned colder. The brilliant autumn leaves withered and fell, leaving skeletal grey trunks lining streets and poking out of people's small yards. Duo thought the cooler temperatures would be ideal for jogging after work or on weekends. Ever since he fell into Heero's bed, he'd been spending as much of his free time at Zero or Heero's as he dared. Heero didn't seem to mind in the least and the two had started a bizarre dating ritual whereby Duo would go to the cafe after his last day of work for the week. On the "date," he and Heero would wait on customers and, after the place closed, have supper themselves, then clean and shut down the cafe. The bar was entirely Wufei's endeavour. The small hours of the night were spent sometimes talking, sometimes watching movies, sometimes making love. Sometimes Heero felt like drawing and asked Duo to be his model, sometimes Duo felt like playing his guitar and asked Heero to be his audience. Now, Duo kept his guitar at Heero's as the empty basement stage was an ideal place to practice -- certainly much better than his flat where his neighbours might complain. Also, he couldn't deny that there was some strange appeal to standing on a stage playing to his heart's content. His one wish, however, was that Heero and Wufei would get their act together where the live entertainment schedule was concerned.

It was Sunday evening and Duo had finished work for the week. As per usual, he had headed to Otsuka and, more specifically, Zero to spend the night at Heero's. On a Sunday night, trains going into the city were far less crowded than those leaving the city; and it only got worse for those going back into the sticks as the night wore on. Duo mentally thumbed his nose at all the poor saps stuck being packed like sardines in a can as they tried to get home. When the train started to pull into the station, Duo got up from his seat and pulled his backpack down from the shelf above the bench. Just as it swung free, the train lurched and would have sent him crashing to the ground if a pair of wiry arms hadn't shot around his middle. More than a little confused by the rapid-fire series of events, Duo staggered to his feet. The arms disappeared and he turned around. Behind him, the piano player from Zero's opening night stood beaming at Duo.

"What brings you to the city, Duo?" The blonde asked in a buttery smooth voice.

"I was, uh, just going down to, uh, Zero. You know, that cafe," Duo answered. "And how about yourself, Zechs?" He heaved a mental sigh of relief at finally being able to dredge the man's name up from his memory.

"Oh, indeed? I was just going there myself." The pair of them stepped off the train. Zechs kept perfectly in synch with Duo's steps as they descended the stairs and headed to the ticket gate. "I was hoping to speak to either Mr. Yuy or Mr. Chang about playing there again."

"Oh. I don't know if Wufei's going to be there, but Heero will be."

"Perfect. Maybe we could share the stage again. I think our styles match pretty well."

"Sure, ay. I'm not too sure about that trio, though. They were hella cute, but... More style than substance, I thought."

"I know exactly what you mean. Their talents are being wasted on recycling the classics like that, no?" Zechs' hand motioned in the direction of their exit and together, they walked and talked all the way to Zero.

There wasn't much of a crowd as it was Sunday evening, but where there is a cafe, there will be the requisite caffeine junkie. In one corner, a stylish young couple was winding up a date over cake and coffee; a small group of student types were having a "study" session at one of the booths. A few singles peppered the tables pouring over graphic novels and, for one patron, graphic porn. It still gave Duo a start every time he saw someone reading those racy comics in public. Especially on the train. For all the stereotypes that Japan was a hyper-conservative contingency, there was a certain amount of amazingly lewd behaviour going on right under the noses of said contingency.

"You know," Duo started once he, Zechs and Heero were all seated at the corner of the dining bar, "I can kind of forgive those guys with their BBBs, but what I can't understand are the damn censors. It's not like we don't know what it all looks like, and if those magazines are any sort of stick by which to measure the industry, they sure don't censor much! And what's more to the point, why are they censoring porn in the first place?"

"BBBs?" Zechs asked.

"Big Book of Boobs," Heero clarified. Zechs gave a nod of understanding. "Duo, did you have something more suitable for genteel ears to discuss?"

"Well, yeah. I was just saying, is all. Are they keeping Wufei busy downstairs tonight?"

"Fairly."

"It's kind of quiet down there, don't you think?"

"And to what are you alluding, exactly?" Heero asked even though he had caught Duo's drift.

"Get off it, Heero. You know exactly 'to what I'm alluding'. You do have that big old stage down there and nobody's putting it to good use."

They went back and forth about the pros and cons of holding live events every night. Heero consistently pointed out the hustle and bustle it would add, especially since there wasn't any form of service elevator to facilitate bigger acts. In fact, Wufei himself had helped the cellist of Lumpen cart her instrument up and down for her set. Heero went on to point out how much of a nuisance it already was to load the liquor for the bar downstairs, also. Duo seemed undeterred by this. He did, however, change tactics and start listing the selling points of more earthy, acoustic acts, not unlike himself and Zechs. He also mentioned the ubiquitous and exorbitant cover charge every other live venue asked for up front, plus the requisite drink ticket which the customers may or may not actually use. For his part, Zechs mostly watched the volley and occasionally murmured his agreement with whomever seemed to be winning the discussion at the time. As much as a "discussion" can have a "winner." Wufei appeared from the basement and interrupted Duo in the midst of his expounding the highlights of an open mic night; Duo pounced, hoping to sway Wufei's vote to his favour.

"Don't you think it'd be great for business to have open mic night, Wufei? You gotta admit, lots of those Japanese ladies know how to carry a tune!"

"Maxwell, we are not running a karaoke bar, here. This place has a little more class than that."

"Says you. How often you guys planning to use the stage, anyway?"

"It's primarily a special event thing for now. We'll see what develops, and before you ask, yes. You'll be among the first to get an invite. Satisfied?"

"What about our friend, Zechs?"

"And Mr. Peacecraft, too." Duo smiled at Zechs, obviously satisfied with himself. Heero and Wufei talked business for a minute and noted supplies that they would need to buy the next day before business took the owners back to their respective posts. Duo and Zechs were left to discuss their music and Zechs quickly turned the talk towards a collaboration he fancied brilliant.

After splitting no less than a pot of coffee between them, the pair had devised a plan of action for their collaboration. As it turned out, Zechs was actually rather flexible with meeting times as his long time residency in Japan garnered him permanent residence in the country. It was also revealed that his Japanese was, to Duo's ears at least, every bit as natural sounding as Heero's. There was no small amount of envy on Duo's part; Zechs' legal status and language ability allowed him the opportunity to live and work in Japan doing pretty much anything for which he was qualified and any menial job for which he was surely over-qualified. Despite Duo's extensive linguistic studies and musical background, his nonexistent Japanese abilities limited him to his current job of teaching English, albeit one with cushy pay for someone fresh out of university. At least Zechs was able to arrange his work schedule such that he could meet Duo for practice sessions on Monday afternoons. Duo was again surprised by Zechs' choice of jobs: mechanic. He never suspected the man with hair longer than his own of being a grease monkey; however, the man himself revealed his passion for machines and especially engines during their conversation. By the time their talk had wound down and their plans made for a first meeting to work on their project, Duo was fairly impressed by the blonde. Zechs soon took his leave after pressing his name card into Duo's hand. Duo slipped it into his back pocket.

"That's really kind of rude."

"Huh?"

"Putting someone's name card in your pocket," Heero explained, "is seen as the equivalent of sitting on their face."

"Some people might not think it's entirely a bad thing to sit on someone's face. Ever hear of Monty Python?" Heero just rolled his eyes and snorted; he returned to the kitchen and brought back a plate of potatoes au gratin for Duo.

"Well, it's rude if whoever gave you the card sees you putting their name card in your wallet." He watched Duo eat a few bits of champuru, then said, "We're closing in about half an hour. You have any requests?"

"Naw, this is fine. So what do you think of Zechs and my plan? I think it'd be great!"

"Yeah, great."

The following Monday found Duo standing around the A4 exit of Akebonobashi subway station in Shinjuku, waiting for Zechs. They had agreed to meet at quarter to eleven in the morning at the station; Zechs supposedly knew where there was a cheap recording studio from there. Not wanting to be late, Duo had managed to arrive a full fifteen minutes before their scheduled rendezvous time and waited. Now, it was only five to eleven and still, there was no sign of the blonde pianist.

Duo pulled out his cell phone and opened the phonebook feature. Despite a sea of the international names of the OZ types, Petra, Stryder, Siobhan, and Jeza to name a few, and a smattering of names in Japanese that he couldn't read save Heero's, Zechs Peacecraft hardly looked out of place. Unfortunately, nearly all the OZ types had phones issued by the same company so it was easier, not to mention cheaper, to toss off a text message to one of them. Zechs, on the other hand, used a carrier supposedly at the top end of the range. Not to mention there was a good chance Zechs was still on the subway with no reception, meaning no calls would go through and any texts would be delayed until sometime later. Duo checked the time one more time as he slipped the phone into his back pocket and sighed. He turned to face the exit's stairway and wondered if the studio chased people up if they failed to show up for their allotted time when a shock of blonde hair finally appeared and started to ascend the staircase.

"Hey, Zechs! Took you long enough. Get lost?" Duo was grinning as he greeted his friend and partner in crime.

"Something like that. I was forcibly pushed off the train by some well intending Japanese people." With a dip of his head, Zechs indicated they were to start walking straight ahead.

"Yeah? What happened?"

"There was a group of Swedes standing next to me at my home station, we had all got on the train at the same station and we were standing in the same area until we reached Shibuya. There, the Swedes were getting off. They were talking about all the things they wanted to see during their trip."

"Wait, wait, wait. You speak Swedish?" Grinning, Zechs waved a fistful of hair at Duo.

"So they all got off the train. These Japanese people behind me, however, seemed to put blonde and blonde together and pushed me off the train, saying that my friends were leaving without me."

"You speak Japanese, why didn't you just explain it to them?"

"I tried, but of course, they weren't listening. As far as they were concerned, I was in grave danger of getting separated from my group. By the time the rest of the people had cleared out, the doors were closing. I had to wait for the next train."

Minutes later, they arrived at the studio. Despite their late arrival, the staff didn't seem anything but eager to help and again, Duo was impressed by Zechs' apparent command of the language. They hadn't been in the studio for more than three minutes before a grungy staff member was leading them down a short corridor to their room. Hung on the door, there was what looked like a dry-erase board and to that, a tag was adhered which listed both Zechs' and Duo's names. Inside, there was nothing but a baby grand piano and some sound equipment. Perfect for a first session, Duo thought. In amicable silence, the two men set about preparing to create and it wasn't long before they had thrown themselves fully into their music. Just under three hours later, and they were both exhilarated and exhausted. They both wanted to stay and work longer, but the studio had a queue system for using the rooms and they had been informed that there were other people waiting to use the room. With more than a little reluctance, they ended their session and Zechs helped Duo pack up his gear.

"You know, Duo, we could try getting some of this down in writing."

"Yeah! Maybe not whole sheets of music, but the chord progression and stuff like that. That'd be a good idea. Do you have time now?"

"For this? Of course," Zechs smiled widely. "There's a coffee shop next to the station, shall we work there?" Duo agreed. They paid a paltry fee and again were disappointed there was no way they could stay and work longer; however, they both could understand the popularity due to the studio's low prices. Outside, it was cold. Wind whipped fallen leaves and bits of trash about their ankles and they strolled back towards the station, talking music the whole way.

The cafe was called "Dotour" and Duo had seen several of its like around the various places to which work and play had taken him. Today, however, was his first time actually going into one. Rather than going straight for the counter, Zechs descended upon an empty table close to the door and left his bag on a chair, then, he went to the counter. Uncomfortable about leaving his personal belongings alone, Duo didn't follow suit and just stepped in line behind Zechs. Again, Duo was greeted by very polite staff members and his order of orange juice and a bagel sandwich was quickly filled. Soon, he was seated at the small table with Zechs, all their gear set in the corner of the shop. Duo couldn't help but comment on Zechs' gall to take a seat before ordering. It was explained in turn that, in Japan, it was very common if not the norm for patrons at a store to secure a seat before ordering. Duo couldn't help but agree that it made sense, but it left people like him, who firmly believed in a "first come, first served, first to THEN get a seat" policy, out in the cold as often as not. He further pointed out that it was potentially dangerous to leave your personal effects lying about. Zechs merely stated it was Japan and that things like that usually didn't happen. They chatted about other Japanese anomalies as they dined, then set aside the pleasantries to get down to the real topic: music. Together, the two men worked for an additional hour penning the chords and details of the songs they had created that afternoon at the studio. Despite Zechs' immense skill at the piano, he admitted he was largely self taught. He'd taken lessons as a child, but didn't have the patience to read the music. He was, in fact, something of a savant. It was up to Duo, who had studied quite a bit of music as a double major in music theory and linguistics, to commit their work to paper. All in all, it was a painstaking process but both of them enjoyed it immensely.

By the time they were satisfied with their progress, evening had charged across the sky. It looked like a giant bruise for the orange sulphur lamps turned the inky overcast clouds a sickly purple. Duo glanced at his watch: it was half past five in the evening.

"Crap!" was all he could say.

"What?"

"It's already five thirty!"

"Really? I never noticed the time. I guess we just get so into the music... are you busy?"

"What?" Duo repeated Zechs' earlier question.

"Well, since it's already half past five... by the time we'd get back to the city proper, it would be about dinner time."

"Yeah?"

"Duo, would you have dinner with me?"

"Huh?"

"I'm asking you out for dinner," Zechs said again as cool and collected as he might have offered a tissue to an old lady. "I have to admit, it has been nothing less than fascinating working with you today. You have a passion about this that is rare."

"Woah, Zechs. Yeah. I love the music and it has been incredible working with you, but I can't go to dinner with you."

"Why not?" Duo blinked at the bald question.

"Why not? Because I'm with someone, that's why." Duo was completely blindsided by Zechs apparent advance.

"And?"

"Zechs, look. Yeah, we have something going on with the music. I won't even try to deny that. I'll admit, I admire you a hell of a lot as an artist... an amazing artist even. But I don't move that fast and I don't move at all when I'm already with someone. I'm... I'm sorry." Wondering what he should do, Duo gathered up their work and tapped it into a nice sheaf of paper. "Here, why don't you take this. There's more piano than guitar in that, anyway."

"What are you talking about? I'm not going to quit this just because you turned me down for dinner. I'm still... hoping to make this collaboration work. If that's alright with you."

"Yeah. Yeah, we can still... do the project. But I really have to go now, I'm late meeting someone. Just... just give me a call later and we'll set up another session." Forgetting his earlier offer, Duo took the papers and stuffed them into a pocket in his soft guitar case. In a heartbeat, he had his belongings shouldered and had darted out of the coffee shop into the safety of the subway station. Zechs lingered in the coffee shop, staring after the American and thinking.

CHAPTER ELEVEN: Friends and Lovers and Family

Duo raced through the station and hurled himself down the stairs. He was steps away from making the next train when the doors closed unceremoniously before him. On some level, he felt bad about leaving Zechs at the cafe, but on another level, he couldn't stand being tempted. Yes, he admitted to himself, the man was wildly attractive and mysterious... and smart and talented. The only thing he lacked, as far as Duo could determine, was a stunning sense of humour. Heero imparted bizarre worldly knowledge with a straight face. Conversely, Zechs did so with an entirely diplomatic quality. Where Zechs' musical skills were accidental genius, Heero's cooking skills were hard-won gifts. The Swede had undercurrents of ultimate self-control; the Japanese exuded unflappable determination. Duo sighed and thought to himself, 'When it rains, it pours.'

The next train came screaming through the tunnel. Duo was thankful to get a respite from his thoughts. He hadn't lied to Zechs about meeting someone. For all of Heero's kitchen prowess, the man could not make a pot of Indian style curry to save his soul. At Heero's behest, he and Duo had made plans to go to an Indian restaurant for dinner in the city and catch a movie. They had agreed to rendezvous at some station with a ridiculously long name at six o'clock. Duo knew he'd be pushing it and being in the subway, he couldn't even text Heero to let him know. The train ride seemed to drag on forever and changing trains at Shinjuku station was a nightmare. Somewhere he had read that upwards of three million people passed through that station daily, most of them making the commute to or from work. Duo felt that he caught the bulk of those three million people as he waded through a veritable sea of bodies. It just served as one more irritation on top of everything else. Ruefully, Duo recalled how fantastic the day had been up until Zechs had gone and pushed dinner on him.

Finally, he made it to his train and heaved a mental sigh at the extraordinarily long queues. The one shining benefit of the swarms of people was that one never lacked something interesting upon which to gaze. Duo could only name the Shibuya types with their fake tans and the Harried Business Man types with their frumpy suits and stale breath; however, it was plain that there were several other schools of fashion and he just hadn't learned what part of Tokyo they represented. What surprised him most about Japanese young people wasn't the girls. Of course, he was amazed at the extent to which they apparently went in the name of consumer-approved "cute" but it wasn't anything you couldn't find back home. No, it was the men of Japan that really caught his attention. Where you might find the occasional metrosexual in large cities in America, it seemed to Duo that everything male under the age of 40 was ipso facto metrosexual. It wasn't a Tokyo phenomenon either, as many of the young people Duo came into contact with at his English teaching job aspired to the same aesthetic despite living well outside big city limits. As he mentally tallied pros and cons for being metrosexual, his train arrived at his destination. It was just before six o'clock; Duo smiled as he followed the crowd to the exit.

After passing through the ticket gate, it suddenly struck Duo that they had agreed on the station and the time, but not a specific place. This station, Takadanobaba as the signs proclaimed, was definitely smaller than Shinjuku but nearly as busy. He scanned the crowd from his vantage point; the ticket gates were several steps above street level and gave him a good view of the crowd. The station, however, was crawling with another type of person: university types. It didn't help that ninety-eight percent of the Japanese still had hair in shades ranging from auburn to black. He did notice not a few Harajuku types with technicolour hair and wondered at their presence. Slowly, Duo went down the steps panning the crowds for one familiar spiky haired head. As he reached street level, a hand suddenly clapped over his shoulder and a warm voice breathed a greeting into his ear; Duo could hear the grin on his boyfriend's lips.

With Heero in the lead, the pair of them wove through the masses crowding the station and into the brisk evening. Both men had their hands shoved in the pockets as they walked in amicable silence, Heero was smiling. It wasn't long before Heero veered to the right and swung into a tiny looking restaurant. There was a kind of bay window to the left of the skinny door and in the alcove created by the window, a happy looking Indian man was busily making nan in a cylindrical oven. All in all, Duo thought showing people the nan maker would be a great way to garner business. Once inside, they were lead up a short flight of stairs to the back of the restaurant. The decoration was rather like what Heero had at the old Yuy's Spicy Diner. Indian memorabilia like tour pamphlets and snapshots and illustrations of Indian gods and goddesses adorned the dark wood walls. Each table was covered with an Indian style cloth in warm brown and orange tones. And, most importantly, it smelled delicious. They sat down and took stock of the card-style menu their waiter presented and after he departed, Duo found he couldn't contain himself.

"Okay, spill it, Yuy."

"I'm sorry?"

"What's with all the grinning?"

"Would you believe it if I said I was happy to be with you?"

"Maybe..." Duo didn't sound very convinced.

"I'll tell you later. Let's order first, I'm starving." Suddenly Duo felt a little guilty for having had that bagel sandwich so late. Heero hailed the waiter and they placed their orders. Duo was impressed at the speed at which their meals came. He looked across his single bowl of spinach curry at Heero and asked again what had put that grin on Heero's face. All Heero did was spread his lips wider and took a giant bite of curry-dipped nan. Duo counted the number of times Heero slowly chewed his food: thirteen. Then, he took a swallow of water and cleared his throat. Finally, Heero took pity on the poor man across from him, spoon in hand, sitting and waiting expectantly. He and Wufei had decided to open the stage for acoustic acts on Mondays and Tuesdays. His little announcement earned him one of Duo's brightest smiles; Heero felt vindicated for guilt tripping Wufei into going along with the idea. Until...

"That's so great! Zechs and I can probably have our whole set ready before the end of the month!" Duo rightly surmised which of those words was the trigger that wiped the smile from Heero's face: Zechs. "You don't like the guy." It wasn't an inquiry, but a statement pure and simple.

"I wouldn't say 'don't like'" Heero countered. Duo's own happy expression faded, too.

"Yeah, well... he's not... all bad."

"Not all bad means partly good, and partly good means mostly bad."

"Thank you, Miracle Yuy. I can't believe you know that movie."

"What? The Princess Bride? My dad had an affinity for more than tormenting his son by food; he liked cheesy movies, too." The rest of their date was spent talking about anything and everything that didn't relate to anything containing the letter z. A few hours later found them sharing a cup of coffee in Heero's apartment and Duo resurrected the topic of films. In the midst of debating the merits of, or lack there of, Americans portraying a Brits in movies, Duo's phone rang out with the Darth Vader theme. Heero didn't fail to comment. Duo just rolled his eyes and greeted the caller with an unenthusiastic 'Hey, Zechs.' Heero didn't have any qualms about eavesdropping as he shifted closer to Duo to better hear what was being said. Soon, however, he seemed to lose interest and Duo hurriedly wrapped up the conversation. Seconds after finishing his call, his cell phone started to ring wildly again. This time, the tune was more of the hyper pop Heero had the great misfortune of hearing the first time Duo had ever spent the night.

"Is there any special reason you're calling me when we're sitting in the same room?" Duo inquired.

"I just wondered what my ring tone was. Crap, I see. But I suppose it's better than being Darth Vader."

"I happen to like your song, Mr. Doesn't-Appreciate-Fine-Music-When-He-Hears-It. It sounds exciting to me. It sounds like Japan."

"It would," Heero smirked at Duo as he cleared their coffee cups away.

"Actually," Duo stated as he rose from his stool. Heero also stood. "It's also the song that was playing the first time I spent the night. Remember?" Heero made a "hn" sound in the back of his throat and pulled Duo up to him by the belt loops. "It reminds me of you," he ended with a sweet kiss.

Soon, too soon in Heero's opinion, Duo had all his belongings stowed in his backpack and was ready to head back to his own flat. Heero gave him a lift to the station piggy-back style on his bicycle.

Well after midnight, Duo keyed his OZ flat open. There weren't any lights on in the hall or the common room, but he could see a sliver of it glowing from under Trowa's door. Ever since Wufei had moved out, no one else had moved in. That suited both of them just fine. A little more space for both of them, never mind how little time they actually used that extra space. As quietly as possible, Duo dumped his stuff in his room and changed into his pyjamas. He made a quick pit stop in the bathroom and brushed his teeth. There was a light knock on the door when he turned off the water after rinsing his toothbrush. Surprised, Duo slid the door open to regard his yawning flatmate, Trowa. Duo spluttered an apology about making too much noise, but his flatmate waved it off. Instead, he informed Duo he had had a visitor while he'd been away: Zechs. Again, Duo spluttered an emphatic 'what?!' and the interrobang was unmistakable. Trowa gave the minute details of the blonde's visit then launched into the longer explanation. Zechs Peacecraft was Relena Peacecraft's brother. Relena Peacecraft would be in Quatre's pants if not for the detail that Quatre was gay and in Trowa's pants, which is how Zechs had deduced Duo's address.

After hearing the explanation, Duo blinked. Twice.

Still undeterred, Trowa presented him with a CD from Zechs and relayed Zechs message, "This CD is for Duo. Just give it to him, he'll understand." Indeed. Duo took the CD and mumbled another apology. He rather expected his flatmate to shuffle his way back to his own room but instead, Trowa seemed to be in the mood for a chat.

"What are you doing with Zechs?"

"Nothing. We're just trying to hammer out a musical relationship. The guy's got some serious passion about his work."

"He's got serious passion about something else, too."

"...yeah. And?"

"And nothing. It's just that I've known Heero for quite a while. He's a good guy. He deserves a good guy. I hate to seeing him getting strung along and used."

"Strung along. I'm not stringing him along, Trowa," Duo replied coolly. "And I am certainly not using the guy. If you'll recall, he approached me about performing on his stage. At any rate, all that precedes our getting involved. And, I'll have you know, I genuinely like the guy. Or haven't I been spending enough time with him to prove that point?" Trowa considered him for a long moment. Duo felt like he was being turned inside out with that single green eye peering at him from behind a fall of bangs. It was uncomfortable. He wondered if there wasn't a grain of truth to what Trowa was implying, if not outright saying.

"As long as we're clear on that." Trowa backed down a step.

"Crystal. Good night." Duo let his shoulder grind past Trowa's. Maybe it was immature, but it made him feel better. Who was Trowa to question his relationship with Heero or Zechs or anyone, anyway?

It had been nearly two months since they began working together and finally, their project was bearing fruit. They had enough material for a full set and enough polish to present it to the public. The first Monday in December had already been reserved for the pair to perform at Zero under the name of "PR". Zechs had actually picked the name and explained it to Duo. It was a common practice in Japan for famous people's names to be shortened to the first two syllables of their last name followed by the first two syllables of their first name. A name such as Ishikawa Yukihiro would therefore become Ishiyuki. Apply a similar concept to the words "piano" and "guitar" by taking the first syllable of piano, "pi", and part of the second half of the second syllable of guitar, "ar", and presto: "piar". Alternatively, PR, which was infinitely more "cute" and therefore much more likely to appeal to the Japanese senses.

During those weeks, Duo worked hard to schedule everything such that two particular spheres of people didn't come into direct contact. Ever since Zechs had come on to him at the coffee shop, Duo had been paranoid about meeting the blonde alone. Not to mention Trowa having tried to suss him out about his intentions with Heero. Accordingly, working on their project at both Zero and either Duo's or Zechs' flat was absolutely out of the question. There was no way on Earth Duo would nurse Heero's burgeoning suspicions about Zechs by flaunting mutual musical zeal in front of him, or by spending time alone in private quarters. At the same time, Duo started to feel guilty about spending so much of his free time working with Zechs on their project. If ever he felt there were a classic case of being between a rock and a hard place, Duo was confident that he had found it unequivocally. However, in a mere week, the entire thing would probably blow over. Once they performed on stage, everyone would see how, in the most professional sense, Zechs and Duo just clicked. One played off the other like two parts of a whole where music was concerned. It was Zechs who had spotted their affinity and together, during long hours of practice, they perfected their sound and truly meshed. Even Duo couldn't and wouldn't deny their obvious musical chemistry. Off stage, however, personally, they were merely friends. Not once since the coffee shop disaster had Zechs made another overture of romantic intent. Duo was grateful and hoped that, after they performed the following Monday, everyone else just let the whole thing blow over.

Currently, Duo reclined on Heero who was reclining on his own bed. It was mid Sunday afternoon and they were lazing about. Wufei had kindly volunteered to man the cafe solo; it was understood Heero would return the favour in kind. Duo was leafing through some recipes he'd brought over -- they were from Sister Helen's kitchen. Heero listened as the ingredients were read off, he would comment if such a dish might be popular in Japan or if that particular ingredient would be easy or difficult to find. A hand clapped Duo's shoulder in the middle of reading the ingredients list for tuna noodle casserole. It was the only dish with fish that he'd brought along, Duo admitted. Duo rolled his head back and addressed Heero; Heero shooed him off his lap and told him to get ready to leave. They were going grocery shopping. The two men pulled on their coats and slipped into their shoes, Duo tucked the recipe in his back pocket. After popping in to tell Wufei they were making a store run and to check if he needed anything, they set off for Heero's neighbourhood grocery store: Belc.

Unlike the grocery store where Heero and Duo had initially met, which was a small family-run operation, Belc was one of those new-looking chains. It was more expensive than the other place, but they did offer a wider selection of items. This boded well for finding things like cream of celery soup and pimento, which were bizarre and exotic to the Japanese palate and therefore not readily available at corner shops. Together, they prowled the aisles and collected the ingredients they needed. For the vegetables, Heero insisted on using fresh rather than canned or frozen and they didn't even bother looking for canned tuna as a frozen hunk of tuna was one of the first things they put into their shopping basket. Whatever reservations Duo may have had about those albeit slight changes to the actual recipe, he wasn't about to complain. Sister Helen's tuna noodle casserole was the best there was and she used the cheapest ingredients around, so what could it hurt to try fresh ingredients? Besides, Heero made his living off satisfying the hunger of others. He would know best what substitutions to make. Just over an hour later, they had finished their shopping and were lugging their purchases back up to Heero's flat.

Duo had only ever aspired to cook simple things for himself. He could handle basics like boiling water for spaghetti and salads. He wasn't sure if he would agree with Japanese food, however, and had asked Sister Helen for some of her simpler recipes. To Japan, he came armed with about a dozen one-dish things that had cheap, simple ingredients (cheap and simple to the average American shopper, Duo was blown away that a can of Campbell's TM soup cost the equivalent of two dollars). After arriving, however, he discovered his affinity for what his students at work called "convenience food" from the convenience store and hadn't actually tried cooking anything from Sister Helen's recipes in the entire four months he'd been in Japan. On top of that, he lost any chutzpah to initiate a cooking regime after meeting with Heero. Despite his lack of cooking prowess, Duo was determined to help Heero. He offered to wash and prepare the vegetables and make the noodles for the casserole. He had plenty of time to watch Heero do his thing. When in the kitchen, the man seemed to have single minded determination to make the perfect whatever-he-was-making. It was interesting for Duo to watch. That Heero looked fairly sexy as he concentrated on his craft may have upped Duo's interest levels. A short time later, the timer dinged and the tuna noodle casserole was ready. It smelled amazing, at least as good as Sister Helen's, if not better. Heero silently extended a plate to Duo.

"I hope it turned out okay."

"Oh, man. If it tastes anything like it smells..." Duo took his plate and went to sit at the kotatsu, a low and often square Japanese table that was used in the winter. Duo liked that there were blankets under the table top that draped down to the floor, under which your lower half sat. Even better, though, was that "hot carpet" Heero had on the floor under the table. It was like an electric blanket for the floor and it made eating on the floor much better than he ever though it could have been. Duo decided it almost made up for the general lack of central heating in Japanese homes. Heero sat at the side adjacent to Duo and eyed the casserole with some trepidation. Duo caught his worried look and grinned. He picked up a forkful of casserole and said, "Here," as he brought the food to Heero's mouth. Heero opened his mouth and took the bite. While he was chewing, he picked up a forkful of his own casserole and fed it to Duo. It quickly became uncomfortable for them to be half twisted and they instead left the kotatsu blankets in favour of kneeling in front of each other, plates in hand and fed one another. Duo liked toying with Heero, using the fork like a lure to get his boyfriend to bob his head or to have him get down on hands and knees before getting the reward of casserole on the fork. Heero, however, enjoyed playing the fork over Duo's lips or down his chin, sometimes lower. They were only halfway through their respective plates of casserole before they lost interest in supper.

Duo was grinning widely and Heero came up flush to him, kissing the grin away. They both tasted like tuna and celery; they both found bits of casserole between the other's teeth. They didn't care. At that moment, all that mattered was pressing into the other's hot body. Heero slid his knee between Duo's thighs. Duo seized the limb and humped; the rubbing shot fire through his loins. They kissed harder, wetter, going halfway crazy. Finally, Heero stopped so he could speak.

"Let's go to the bed," Heero offered.

"No, do me here. I like this carpet of yours, burns in a whole different way," was Duo's breathy return and he started to peel his own clothes off. Apparently, there was no arguing and Heero followed suit. In short order, Duo was naked and palming his erection. He watched the last of Heero's little strip show. "Why do you wear so many goddamned clothes?"

"You would, too," Heero said as he pulled off his boxer-briefs, "if you didn't run the heater all the time." Heero grabbed Duo's hand and pulled the American back up against him. They kissed a little more, ground their bodies against each other a little more, and drove each other the rest of the way crazy on the hot carpet. When they'd had enough, Duo scooted back half a pace and wrapped a hand around Heero's cock. He tugged hard and mercilessly thumbed the head. He smiled when Heero licked his fingers wet and rubbed his nipples, tugging wantonly.

"Where's the stuff?"

Heero gestured weakly to his discarded pants, halfway between the hot carpet and the bed. Duo reluctantly left both his hot boyfriend and the hot carpet to retrieve the pants. The wooden flooring was sharply cold under his bare feet; it felt about fifty degrees colder away from the kotatsu. After a quick search of the pockets, Duo was rewarded with a pack of condoms and a convenient travel-sized tube of lube. "How long were you planning on having your wicked way with me?" Duo twiddled the lube between his index finger and thumb.

"I didn't ask Wufei to mind the cafe just to go grocery shopping, you know." Duo was back at the hot carpet in two long strides and fell to his knees. He kissed Heero again as his hands ripped open a foil pack; he could feel the ribbing on the condom. Duo pulled back just enough so that the tip of his nose touched the tip of Heero's. "Hm, a little extra stimulation, huh. I like nubby ones better."

"Hn, I'll keep that in mind."

Quickly Duo stretched the condom over Heero's erection and pressed the lube into one of Heero's groping hands. Moments later, he felt a slick hand glide between his ass cheeks and tease his hole. Getting impatient, Duo pushed his partner back just enough so he could turn around and get down on hands and knees. Grinning over his shoulder, Duo shook his ass at Heero when he was ready. With one hand, Heero spread the cheeks wide and used his lubed fingers to stretch his partner. Duo helped things along by pressing back, trying to get more finger inside. There was groaning on both sides and Duo's thrusts grew stronger. Finally, Heero seemed satisfied with everything. The hand that held Duo open left and slid up one cheek and around to grip the corresponding hip. Heero's lubed left hand grabbed his own erection and swirled it around Duo's entrance.

"Ready or not, here I come," and Heero slowly sank into Duo's body. Duo arched his back and bucked a little trying to encourage his partner. When Heero was balls-deep, he snaked the lubed hand to Duo's own flaring cock and squeezed none-too-gently. That got Duo bucking wildly and Heero rode. As Heero's body pulled back, his one hand tugged Duo down and tunnelled the length of Duo's erection. When he thrust in, Heero's other hand clamped around Duo's hip to pull him hard into the movement. On more than one occasion, Heero ploughed into his partner's prostate. All Duo could do was fist his hands, it felt so good. When that ribbed cock dragged across his insides, across his prostate, Duo had to turn his head into his bicep and bite to keep from crying out too loud. From behind, Heero picked up the pace a notch, making Duo inch slowly across the hot, hot carpet. Both their knees burned. Finally, Duo thought he might actually go crazy if he didn't touch something. He slid his right hand down his own belly to the nest of pubic hair between his legs, caressed Heero's fist as he passed over it, and back to toy with his own balls. It was just enough to push Duo over the edge and came hard, biting into his arm and viciously snapping his hips. The vice his ass had become squeezed tight around Heero and sent him sailing into orgasmic bliss, also. Moments later, they collapsed in a sweaty heap on the hot carpet.

"Heero...?"

"Hm?"

"Do you think it's possible to short out an electric carpet with cum?" Heero rolled off his lover and sucked in a sharp breath as he stood up. He yanked the carpet's plug out of the socket. Duo rolled off the carpet himself, now the cold wood floor was a welcome relief to his sweaty body.

"My knees are killing me," Heero said.

"Oh ho ho! YOUR knees! Who, pray tell, were you grinding into the carpet?" Duo fished around and grabbed a t-shirt from the floor, on that he sat and inspected his raw knees. Heero had the good graces to blush.

"You asked for it, though. Come on, we should clean us up. And dinner."

Just under an hour later, they were cleaned and their knees medicated. Heero actually wrapped Duo's with medical gauze. The kitchen and dining areas had been cleaned as well as they could manage given their disinterest in such mundane tasks. By ten o'clock, the pair of them were propped against each other on Heero's bed once again and they watched The Princess Bride, trying to repeat all the lines.

As the credits began to roll, Heero tipped his head to Duo and asked why he picked that particular movie. Duo reminded him of his Miracle Max moment the last time they'd had curry and 'hm'ed. Next, Heero asked what movies reminded him of Sister Helen. Duo heaved himself onto one elbow and looked down into Heero's face. The dim light from the TV screen illuminated his blue eyes and made them glow ethereal.

"Sister Helen?" Duo repeated and was quiet again. After a moment, he spoke. "Sister Helen didn't believe in watching movies. I guess some people might think that's crazy, but she really was kind of a Jesus nut and all that. I didn't mind so much because what did I have to compare it with, right? I mean, when you're just a stupid little kid, you'll believe anything people tell you. Well... maybe not anyone, but you sure do believe what your parents tell you, right? And Sister Helen was the closest thing to a real mom as I ever had. Sure, when I got older I started to doubt some of her 'wisdom' and stuff. And she was okay with that. She'd been around kids long enough to know that they want nothing so much as to push the limits. And we both know I pushed the limits farther than anyone else dared to, at least while I was there. It was in the way I talked when I was old enough to have my own opinion. It was in my hair, too. It was in my clothes, for chrissakes. It was in my taking the Lord's name in vain," Duo snickered at that.

"What happened to her?" Heero asked quietly.

"Sister Helen? Oh, she's still alive and kicking!" Duo screwed his face into a mockery of a grin; it quickly faded. "Well, she's alive at any rate."

"She's important to you. Why did you move halfway around the world if..." The end of the question hung heavy.

"Heero, I never told you why I decided to whore my language on this forsaken rock? I'm not in it because I'm gung ho about teaching. I'm in it so I can make some cash. I send most of what I make right back to the Maxwell Church to help pay Sister Helen's ever growing, never shrinking hospital bills."

"So... that's why you wanted to get with a restaurateur, then. Freebies, huh?" Heero didn't want to know if Duo would love him and leave him. He wanted to avoid that reality, eventuality, altogether. Instead, he gently ran his hand up the side of Duo's face, and pressed his palm flat against Duo's cheek.

"Well, maybe at first. But you have other attributes, too." Duo murmured before succumbing to the press of Heero's lips and other things.

CHAPTER TWELVE: Things Fall Apart

A week later found Duo in nearly the same place, except rather than relaxing with his boyfriend he was tensing up over his boyfriend having to share space with his imagined competition. At Duo's behest, Zechs had agreed to come only for their scheduled warm up time and Duo had made sure to arrange that as close to opening time as possible to minimize his time with Zechs off stage. All in all, it was not as stressful as he'd imagined it would be. Thanks in no small part to the customers streaming into the cafe looking for a good cup of Joe and a place to unwind that kept Heero busy while he and Zechs were holed up in the basement. About half an hour before the bar was scheduled to open, Duo and Zechs stowed their gear. They ascended the stairs and Duo directed them to a table in the corner. Also, Duo fetched them a bite from Heero and two glasses of water. Until the start of their set, they hashed out minor details of their performance like how to make their entrance and what to say to the audience.

When Heero temporarily closed down the upstairs cafe, Duo and Zechs' took that as their cue to head down to the stage. Finally, the work lights in the kitchen were cut and Heero, clad in his cooking blacks, melted into the dim, ambient cafe. Duo jerked his head towards the stairs. He and Zechs silently got up and made their way down to the stage.

The bar area had been open for a good half hour and it was surprising how many people there were. Of course, Duo had long heard stories about Tokyo being one of those infamous cities that never slept but it was one thing to hear about it and quite another to live it. Who ever would have thought you'd have a fairly full house on a Monday night of all nights. Most dining establishments and such were closed on Mondays due to slow business. En route to the stage, Duo did notice a couple of blonde heads in the audience. Quatre and Relena, obviously. And if Quatre was there, it was only reasonable to expect Trowa. Wufei was manning the bar as per usual. Despite craning his neck to pan the audience, he could make out neither hide nor hair of one Heero Yuy. Duo chalked it up to one part nerves, two parts cooking blacks. And before he knew it, he was walking across the stage, washed in blue light he recognized as the traditional work light used during theatre productions.

They had settled on an entrance like Duo's performance on Zero's opening night. Just walk unassuming onto the stage, check the tuning, and start something. Don't announce your presence; earn the audience's attention. It suited Duo just fine, he liked to slip under people's sensors and hook them before they ever knew they were hooked. After all, people were usually blindly devoted to a musician they liked but wary of someone new rocking the boat. He cited Metallica as a band that had it "made" based on an early established reputation. As before, he perched on the edge of a stool and nonchalantly took up his guitar. This time, he was sitting farther upstage than before to make a smoother line with Zechs. His partner had seated himself on a little wooden stool behind his electric piano. A few settings were adjusted along with a few strings and from out of nowhere, a melancholy half song arose. It was short and had all the qualities of a full song but lacked the length and any sort of lyrics to warrant full-song status. It did cause part of the audience to sit up a little straighter and watch. The next song started out in a similar vein with Duo plucking a sad guitar melody, there was a gentle version of the chorus and the next entrance was a full bodied song with piano. It was the kind of song you'd wake up humming the next day. Nearly everyone in the crowd was receptive to this song; they could appreciate its prettiness. However, they'd worked up to this night knowing fully well many of the patrons were just there for a beer. Accordingly, the ensuing songs had a stronger edge to them and featured harder, more intricate melodies to appeal to patrons with more distinguished tastes and a faster pace to appeal to the fickle youth in the crowd. And indeed, the magic Duo and Zechs shared on stage manning their instruments was plain to see. After the meat of their set, more than a few rowdy patrons were noisily shouting and clapping their approval.

Finally, the sixth and last song in their set rolled up. For this, they had reworked the song Duo had performed last at Zero's opening event, "peace." It started as the second song had, featuring Duo's guitar first. The piano laid in second with a counter melody that almost sounded like it wasn't in proper time with the guitar, but somehow managed match measure for measure. This was the only song on which they both sang. Duo had the quiet melody and Zechs supported that with harmony that was easily overlooked but undeniably enriching compared to Duo's prior solo performance. There was a ritardando of grand proportions before the last third of the song and after, it was the impassioned piano that carried the tune as Duo slung his guitar down and around and up his back and at the same time, managed to spring from his stool. His eyes were closed as he grabbed the microphone in both hands and sang with intensity to match his piano accompaniment. Here, the meat of the song was laid out straight in the ears of the audience. But they didn't exist for Duo; for him, there was only music.

As discussed prior to the set, the piano finished on a strong note and Zechs kept the pedal depressed to continue the resonating sound of the piano as Duo threw himself into one last verse of the chorus. Not as discussed, however, Zechs refrained from making Duo's solo into its intended duet. Measures from the end of the song, he released the piano and stood up. So engrossed in what was ultimately his song, Duo noticed nothing save the lyrics pouring from his lips. From the left, Zechs approached Duo and smoothly pulled the microphone from his hands; he let it fall carelessly to the ground. There was a peal of feedback as the mesh casing collided with the hardwood stage floor. Zechs ignored this, his eyes trained intently on Duo's now open fantastically blue eyes. A pair of rough hands sealed themselves to either side Duo's neck just under his jaw and before he knew what was happening, Zechs Peacecraft was thoroughly kissing Duo Maxwell.

Duo dug his fingers into Zech's shoulders, pushing hard with his thumbs; he gave the blonde a hard shove. Zechs took a step back with a lopsided grin on his face. He licked the taste of Duo off his lips and moved forward again. Duo let him step just close enough to land a solid punch and walked away. Zechs spat as he watched the American slip through the stunned audience and disappear up the stairs.

As he climbed the stairs, Duo was glad to hear to sounds of people getting back to their conversations. Or perhaps they weren't getting back to their conversations but rather idle prattle about what had just transpired on the stage. Even so, it was better than the silence that had preceded it. He looked for Heero as he left the stage, but he was nowhere to be found. Elementary deduction informed him that Heero would therefore either be in the cafe or his apartment. The cafe was thankfully less peopled than the bar and a quick glance at the kitchen revealed Duo's target:

"Heero?"

"Save your explanations. I might have known what was going on. Zechs is all you've been talking about for weeks and you two obviously have more in common that we ever did."

"Just because we're both serious about music doesn't mean we're gonna shag! I was never seriously interested in him anyway and he started it."

"So you admit you were interested in him? And you're going to blame the whole affair on him," Heero fairly spit the word 'affair' out. "Fine, but it won't go anywhere with me. I know what I saw, you kissed him back." Duo blinked. Heero had hit the nail on the head: Duo was interested in Zechs on some level that wasn't musically pertinent. Nevertheless, Duo would never throw out his relationship with Heero for the kind of volatile one thought Zechs could offer. And he most certainly did not think he had kissed the blonde in return.

"... I... what the hell was I supposed to do? He did kiss me and I was in the middle of a song, if you recall, and not exactly expecting... and I did not --"

"You certainly looked like you enjoyed it," Heero's eyes were two slits that slashed across his face.

"I'm not having this conversation with you," Duo took the key ring from his beltloop and separated Heero's key. "If you can find it in your heart to forgive me this accident," he walked towards the door. "Then you know where to find me." Duo plunked the key down on an empty table. He gave Heero one last hard look and left.

"Shit." Heero swore softly and went back to work. A few patrons were staring at him; a few watched the door float shut.

The next few days passed in a blur for Duo. It was awkward sharing an apartment with Trowa, who had baldly stated his distrust of Duo only days before the falling out with Heero. Thankfully, there was work. Duo took advantage of the overtime options and worked every extra hour he could, just to give his mind something to think about other than the obvious problems. And on the occasions when he did have to face Trowa, one was generally successful at ignoring the other. When Duo couldn't hole himself up at work, he holed himself up at the Black Sheep. Oto and Bob looked as if they'd never left the place since Duo first performed there, and they were on a first name basis with just about every regular in the joint. On a few occasions, Duo had hauled his guitar to the bar and played a couple of songs. Working solo again, however, felt hollow compared to working with Zechs and the stage of the Black Sheep paled in comparison to that of Zero. Japan also seemed less fun through the eyes and ears of his co-workers and students; they lacked that wry ability to explain the absurd in a palatable fashion. When Duo couldn't hole himself up, he tied on a pair of sneakers and hit the pavement.

The next couple of weeks passed like that for Duo. Spending more time at work was made a little fun thanks to the devil-may-care personas of Oto and Bob. Their friendship was deeply appreciated by Duo even if he didn't air out all his "dirty laundry" for the sake of getting relationship advice. If the banter they usually shared over beers was any indication, Oto and Bob were straighter than a couple of arrows. Also, the overtime was great financially. Since the Zero fiasco, Duo was unable to concentrate on the guitar unless semi-inebriated at the Black Sheep. In the first place, he didn't feel very much like playing. In the second place, back at his apartment, he needed to exercise extreme caution to avoid angering neighbours with noise pollution and more pertinent to Duo, not ruffling his flatmate's feathers. What was more, he'd managed to leave his guitar case and a few effects back as Zero. It would hardly be a drop in the bucket to replace those with new things. He certainly hadn't thought of retrieving them at the time and now, going back seemed to be begging for trouble. Then there was his favourite pair of jeans taking up space somewhere in Heero's room if they hadn't already been put in the round file. But most importantly, and something no amount of overtime funding could buy back, were the copies of some of Sister Helen's recipes he taken over there one day. Duo considered braving the cafe for those, but in the end decided he'd just ask Sister Helen for another set when she was better. Finally, the extra cash would help Duo do what he'd intended to do with his cash-cow of an English teaching job: send large sums back to the church for Sister Helen's medical expenses.

It was Sunday and Duo had an early shift. The winter holidays were just over a week away and everyone was excited about the extra time off. Predictably, some were more excited than others and took any and every opportunity to celebrate. Apparently, someone on a late shift had celebrated a little too hard to make it into work that day and called in hung-over. Duo immediately volunteered to cover the evening lessons after his regular shift. It made the day very long and somewhat tedious as all the other instructors were in high spirits and they generally had fun between actual lessons. Their Japanese students, on the other hand, saw Christmas as little more than an excuse to take your significant other on a nice date and spend some "quality" time together at one of the ubiquitous "hotels" found at nearly every train station. They just didn't share the holiday spirit. When his shift ended, all Duo wanted was to snag a seat on the first available express and sleep until his station. When he arrived on the platform, however, that idea was shot for the great queues neatly lined up. Duo heaved a sigh and joined the queue he thought was the shortest. Naturally, being the end of the weekend and later at night, the train was packed. Despite being blustery cold outside, the train was stiflingly hot and made the long ride to his station downright unpleasant. When they finally pulled into his station, there was a lengthy line at the taxi stand as well. Duo also didn't feel like playing Russian roulette trying to explain to the taxi driver where his apartment was. The only time he'd braved a taxi alone was when it was pouring rain. Despite having shown the driver his alien registration card with his address printed neatly on the front in Japanese, he was still dropped off some blocks from his actual apartment. Instead, Duo sucked it up and decided to hoof it. Of all the familiar things that had taken on a curious Japanese twist, from corn on pizza to heated toilet seats to elevator ladies, Duo had to admit the hot drinks in the vending machines were the best. It felt rather nice to hold a hot can of coffee while walking home on a winter night. All in all, Duo was very glad it was Sunday and he would have the next two days off.

Finally, he arrived at his flat and silently keyed the door open. On a few recent occasions, Duo had wondered if he ought to just ask to change company apartments or move into his own place. The former, however, did not guarantee a single's apartment and the latter, according to the stories the OZ veterans told, was prohibitively expensive. Still, one did get tired of walking on eggshells. From the doorway, Duo noted the apartment was dark save the washed out blue glow from the common room's television. Trowa was home and apparently watching TV. To minimize the noise, Duo kept the door handle depressed as he gently eased the door closed and slowly let the bolt slide back into its casing. With equal care, he removed his shoes and fairly tip-toed down the hall. He was a foot from the freedom of his room when he stepped on a squeaky board that loudly heralded his homecoming.

"Duo?" Trowa called from the common room, "I have your mail here."

"Fine. Just leave it on the table, I'll get it tomorrow." Duo said as he flung open his door and slapped the light switch and the cool fluorescent lighting flooded into the hall. He caught the sounds of bodies shifting on the sofa. Great, Duo thought, Quatre is here, too. Almost as if to confirm his suspicions, he caught a smattering of hushed conversation. Then, Duo noticed Trowa standing in the hallway.

"Here," Trowa presented a short stack of mail to Duo. On top laid an oddly transparent blue envelope. Inside, there was seemed to be a card on which Duo's name was neatly printed in Heero's round script.

"Thanks," Duo muttered as he took the mail. He sifted through the letters and stopped when he came to one that was covered with stamps declaring it overnight express mail. It was from America, more specifically, the Maxwell Church. Duo tossed the other mail into his room and ripped open the Maxwell envelope. He extracted the letter and read to himself:

Duo

I must say I'm not at all impressed with that company you work for. I had a hard time getting a hold of you. Or not getting a hold of you, rather. The company refused to give me any of your personal data, saying that I wasn't legally connected to you. I thought an overnight letter would be the next best thing. Though given the great distance between us and you, I'm not entirely convinced it's really "overnight." We all miss you here. The kids really enjoy the letters you've been sending and think of what kind of amazing adventures you must be having in Japan. They all send their love, as do we.

Sadly, I have bad news to share with you. About two weeks ago, Sister Helen caught pneumonia. The doctors said that if it cleared up after a week or so, there was nothing to worry about. Last Friday, she took a turn for the worst. They found new growths of GBM in several places in her brain. The doctors haven't given her much longer, Duo. Her last wish is to see you, my son. I know she's holding out for you. Please, for her sake, please find a way to come back as soon as possible. For Sister Helen.

Enclosed, you should find the hospital details and contact information. You can reach me at the cell phone listed below, I got it so the doctors would always be able to reach me. We'll be waiting to hear from you at the very least.

God speed and God bless,

Father Maxwell

The letter was shaking and the words were blurring together. Duo realized it was because his hand was trembling and tears were welling up in his eyes. He reverently folded the letter and gingerly placed it back in it's envelope. With a swoop, Duo gathered his backpack and nearly ran to the entry way. "I'm going to America tomorrow," was all he said before he pulled on his shoes and coat and left.

Though he lacked specifics, Trowa could piece together that some other aspect of Duo Maxwell's life had just fallen apart and he had witnessed it. Trowa moved to turn off the light and in doing so, his eyes befell Heero's letter lying unopened and forgotten on the floor.

A pair of men in matching slacks and jackets embroidered with 'Japan Beverage' were unloading some kegs from a truck. Wufei watched them work and directed them to the downstairs bar where they would be hooked up to the bar taps. It was the third Monday in the month. Heero and Wufei had designated the first and third Mondays for inventory, maintenance and delivery receiving purposes. So far, it had worked fairly well. The co-owners of Zero would arrive at the site at eleven in the morning dressed in clothes no one wanted to see in public with white sweat towels wrapped around their heads. The deliveries started around twelve o'clock. Despite having lived in Japan for years, it never ceased to impress Wufei how timely even the deliveries were. Each carrier consistently arrived at the same time every other week. But today, one of the two men on beer delivery today wore a little lanyard with a card attached stating that he was training. Wufei did recognize his partner as half of the regular delivery team. In typical Japanese fashion, the new employee was submissive and receptive to everything his more experienced counterpart said. They had arrived a good hour earlier than usual, presumably to allow the new guy extra time to do his job. Normally, that would have suited Wufei just fine. Since last week, however, his business partner had been in a foul mood and Wufei had picked today to broach the subject. With the new beer man arriving early, Wufei wasn't afforded the usual hour he and Heero had together before the deliveries started. It took about twice as long to set the kegs and finally, the beverage team was on their way. All the regular deliveries afterwards came and went as they normally did. The food service truck, the liquor guys, the container people. They worked silently to put their orders away and give their respective areas a thorough cleaning. It was well into the afternoon before Wufei finally got his chance to talk finances and other things with Heero.

Heero was in the kitchen making up a little lunch for the two of them. Wufei pulled two stools off the bar and set the books off to one side. First, they'd eat and then, they'd talk finances and finally, before parting for the evening, they'd have it out about Duo Maxwell. A plate of tuna noodle casserole was set under his nose followed by a small bowl of salad and a tall glass of ice water. Heero set his portion next to Wufei and took a seat himself.

"You've never made this before. I didn't know you knew how to make casserole."

"I didn't. It was Duo's... Duo's recipe. I liked it. If you don't want it, there's stuff for sandwiches in the fridge."

"Heero. Look. You know his number, hell, you know where he lives. Just say you're sorry."

"I'm not sorry."

"Really?" Wufei held a forkful of tuna noodle casserole to emphasize his point.

"He clearly wants Zechs," Heero bit out the name as he peered intently into his own glass of water.

"Is that what you really believe? Or is it that you can't admit you were wrong? You know, I was there, too. Sure, there was a kiss. But it didn't look to me like Duo particularly enjoyed it. I don't he it really registered at first. And when it did, he gave that son of a dog a punch."

"Yeah." Heero snorted.

"Yeah. Zechs tried for another go, but you know what? Duo punched him. Or maybe you don't know because you'd already left yourself, Yuy." Wufei took a bite of his casserole. Wherever Duo had picked up the recipe, it was good. He took another bite and a sip of water before continuing. "You've been moping around for the last week and, frankly, we're all getting a little tired of it."

"I sent him a letter, Trowa promised to give it to him. If he wanted this to go anywhere, he would have contacted me."

"Stop rationalizing and just call him, Yuy."

"Wufei -- alright. Alright, you win." Wufei smiled to himself in victory.

After they'd finished eating, Wufei set about cleaning up their bit of bar space and Heero made short work of the dishes. They were just about finished and getting ready to leave when Trowa and Quatre came knocking at the door. Heero had The Question written all over his face but Trowa beat him to the punch. He related the mail episode from the previous night. While he was at work that day, Trowa managed to confirm via Duo's supervisor that he was taking emergency leave.

"I can just wait until he comes back, right? It's just leave."

"Heero," Trowa started gently. "I went to the apartment before coming here, just to change clothes. His door was open and I had a glance from the hall. Looks like his stuff is gone. I mean, he left some nonessentials and his guitar, but aside from that... he's gone. I'm sorry."

"Yeah," was all Heero could muster. All things considered, Duo was probably sitting on an airplane at that very moment on his way to Somewhere, USA. And all Heero knew about it was that there was a nun that Duo loved very much and she was probably dying. Heero's plans to get his lover back seemed to have crashed before they ever took off.

GBM: three little letters with enough punch to ruin so many people's lives. Glioblastoma multiforme was the kind of brain tumour that was difficult to remove surgically due to its highly metastic nature; it pervaded the entire brain and even the spinal cord. Post-operative, oncologists favoured an aggressive chemotherapy treatment. It was a big pill they were asking Sister Helen to swallow, and God knew she tried, how hard she had tried. It had become apparent, however, that the flesh was not as willing as the spirit.

When Duo had left his apartment in Japan the previous night, he'd gone to the all-night internet cafe. First, he booked a plane ticket home for the first available flight the next day. Then, he spent the remainder of the night researching GBM type tumours on the internet until it was a reasonable time to call Father Maxwell and inform him of his plans. Less than twenty-four hours later found Duo sitting in intensive care, room 303 at John C. Lincoln hospital in Phoenix, Arizona. The woman lying in the starched, bleached, disinfected hospital bed was just barely recognizable as the same woman by whom Duo was raised. White bandages stretched around from the back of her head evinced the failed surgery attempt to remove the largest of the tumours. Incision lines still ran up her bald skull and Duo knew her head had been shaved for the operation, but Duo knew they only had to shave peach fuzz as chemotherapy caused her hair to fall out much earlier. Both of these failed attempts left her too weak to undergo radiation treatment. The woman knew her time was come and she had one last wish: seeing Duo Maxwell one more time. And so, he sat in her hospital room as long as the nurses would allow, hoping to catch her while she was awake. Nurse Ratched was the head nurse overseeing Sister Helen and told Duo that if she was lucid, it was most likely to be in the early afternoon. It was going on eight in the evening. He had been sitting with her for nearly six hours and she hadn't so much as stirred. Someone knocked on the door.

Father Maxwell came to a stop at Duo's shoulder, upon which he laid his hand and squeezed. They stayed silent and still until Nurse Ratched arrived to announce the end of visiting hours. They uttered a quiet thanks and earned a gentle smile from the nurse; she promised to call them immediately if there was any change in Sister Helen's status. Quietly, they left the room and then the hospital and went back to the Maxwell church.

Bright little stars pierced the night sky and a waxing moon washed the rocky desert in slivery blue light. Moonlight didn't reflect off rocks half as well as it reflected off of snow, but it did bounce enough to light the thin wisps of clouds that stretched across the sky from underneath. Duo laid supine on a great rock in the backyard of the church and watched the stars, the moon, the clouds traverse the sky. Part of him wanted to scream and cry and throw the biggest fit of his life. Another part knew it would be an empty gesture. Of all the people out there who could get cancer, why was it Sister Helen? Where was that almighty God now that one of his own lambs was at the slaughter? Didn't He know in His infinite wisdom this was a lamb the world needed? Or at least the world as seen through the eyes of the poor kids going through the Maxwell Church? These questions had raced through Duo's mind so many times, they'd begun to lose meaning. He blinked and felt the bite of moist eyelids closing over dry eyes. The moon was resting on the horizon and smoky blue was seeping in from the east. Finally, the last forty-eight hours caught up with him and Duo trudged up to his room for some long overdue sleep.

It seemed as though he'd just barely closed his eyes when a hand was again upon his shoulder and shaking none-too-gently. He peeled his gummed eyes open and was vaguely aware that someone was speaking to him. The words "Helen" and "time" rung in his ears, though and gave him a start. Duo rolled over in a panic and sprung from the bed. Father Maxwell was already standing dressed before him, cell phone in hand.

"It was Nurse Ratched... She said... We have to go, now." Hearing those words, Duo ran to his backpack and pulled on a fresh t-shirt. Without uttering a word himself, he turned out of the room and headed to towards the garage. Father Maxwell had no choice but to follow.

John C. Lincoln was only a ten minute drive, something for which both men were thankful. Under the circumstances, however, every light was red, every pedestrian was taking full advantage of the flashing don't walk sign, and every second seemed to stretch on endlessly. Duo drummed his fingers restlessly on one thigh while bouncing the other leg. He stared out the window and was silent for the whole trip. As far as Duo was concerned, the sun was shining much too brightly. After what felt like an eternity, they pulled into the parking lot and shot into the hospital. Duo lead them straight to the nurse's station; one of the other nurses led them to the room and offered her condolences. For one horrific moment, Duo stared at the woman as she opened the door for them. Duo wondered if she was implying they were too late.

Inside Sister Helen's room, the shades were drawn. She looked waxen under the artificial lights, but the shallow rise and fall of her chest was just discernable. Best of all, Duo could see that her eyes were open and her hand was trembling on the bed as if she were trying to lift it but was too weak, as indeed she was. Father Maxwell and Duo crossed the narrow room seemingly instantaneously. Tears pricked both men's eyes as they shared a quiet moment with one hell of a broad. She managed to smile for them and whispered Duo's name and 'Japan.' Duo took that as his cue to tell her what she wanted to hear about the last several months of his life. He wasn't sure if she was following any of what he was saying, depending on where the cancer had spread and what areas of the brain, the symptoms would be different. It was obvious that her motor skills and speech skills had been damaged by the GBM. It was more difficult to determine how much she remembered about herself, but Duo was thrilled she still remembered him. He glossed over the best parts of Japan and beamed down at her. Father Maxwell explained next how Duo had practically moved heaven and earth to be with them and that everyone was eagerly awaiting her return home. Hearing that hollow promise wrenched their hearts because they would give anything to see her back to her old self again, yet they knew the bitter truth. They smiled through their tears. Apparently, that was all the excitement she could handle for the day. Sister Helen lay back against her pillows and slipped back into unconsciousness.

Around two in the afternoon, Father Maxwell insisted Duo go eat something. Worrying was bad enough, but worrying on an empty stomach was inviting trouble. Duo reluctantly shuffled off to the hospital cafeteria and forced himself to eat a sandwich. Halfway through his meal, the soft texture and sweet tang of tuna salad finally registered. It reminded him of nothing so much as Sister Helen's tuna noodle casserole and he felt like laying his head down and crying.

A message was piped in over the PA system:

Duo Maxwell, please report to the nurses' station on the third floor. Duo Maxwell, please report to the nurses' station on the third floor.

Duo left the remains of his meal where it was on the table and thundered through the halls of the hospital to the third floor. Father Maxwell was waiting with Nurse Ratched. The nurse gestured towards room 303 with a nod and Duo took off, Nurse Ratched followed at a discreet distance while Father Maxwell remained at the nurses' station. He could still hear Duo's muffled sobs from down the hall and clamped down as hard as he could on his own sadness. Sister Helen was pronounced dead at two twenty two on December nineteenth.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN: Full Circle

Father Maxwell and Duo spent the better part of the late afternoon making arrangements for the funeral. The wake would be held at Maxwell Church but cemetery plots, casket flowers, and refreshments for guests did not come cheap. Not to mention the remaining medical bills. It made Duo sad to see donations from the congregation go into putting Sister Helen into the ground rather than keeping her living above it. As her only surviving relative, Father Maxwell took care of the legal matters pertaining to her will. Sister Helen did not have much by way of worldly possessions. To Duo went her cookbooks; to Father Maxwell, her poetry; and to the church, the rest of her effects that could be of future use. Duo volunteered to handle setting up and striking the venue. Before nightfall, the basic necessities for Sister Helen had been taken care of; it was startling to Duo how quickly, efficiently, mechanically these matters were taken care of. The hardest part of the afternoon was passing the news along to the Maxwell congregation and community. At the end of the day, Duo and Father Maxwell were exhausted.

Before retiring for the evening, Father Maxwell stopped by Duo's room. For several long minutes, they just sat together quietly. Finally, Father broke the silence. He wanted Duo to give the eulogy at her grave. Duo only nodded. He told Duo that Sister Helen always loved the creative work Duo did in classes. While going over her will, Father Maxwell thumbed through her collected poems and discovered copies of Duo's old compositions. He handed a stack of books and papers to the younger man saying that they might be used as inspiration. They embraced briefly and then, Father Maxwell took his leave. Duo didn't have the heart to look at Sister Helen's books. They were set neatly on his desk next to her recipe books which were gathered into three volumes and a shoe box full of photos. With a shuddering sigh, Duo turned out his light and fell asleep.

Duo lay in his bed. He was awake, but lacked the energy to get out of it. Sometimes he closed his eyes and slept, sometimes he stared at the wall, sometimes he rolled onto his stomach and cried. Eventually, well into the afternoon, he did roll out of bed to sit at his desk. Sounds from downstairs were a sharp reminder that, despite Sister Helen being gone, life went on. He gazed at the collection of odds and ends on his desk with glassy eyes. This, he thought to himself, was what Sister Helen thought was the best of her. It was the part she willed to others so that they might continue to bring joy or be useful after she departed. Father Maxwell suggested that that he might want to use one of compositions for the eulogy, but Duo didn't think it would appropriate. He picked up the most beat up book of poems and flipped through. Pencil filled the generous margins on several entries. He picked up another book and found more of the same. How was anyone to decipher which poems were among her favourites? How did she get into poetry in the first place? Duo selected yet another book and flipped through it briskly, not really looking at the pages. But as the paper flapped past his thumb, he noticed one page that was different. Carefully, Duo flipped back. That page was wrinkled and stained and looked as if it had been folded several times over. It had the look of a piece of paper that one kept on their person at all times. It would do.

Darkness had fallen and Father Maxwell had come and gone with an offer of dinner. Duo reluctantly joined the rest of the house for dinner and returned to his desk immediately thereafter. He wanted to sift through the old snapshots and photos and clippings. Maybe he would indeed find inspiration to write something in remembrance in addition to the poem he had found. Although it was all circumscribed in a shoebox, the amount of things collected within amazed Duo. He was only halfway through it when he felt the need to lay his head on the desk and rest his eyes. The memories the memorabilia contained were as happy as they were sad. Christmas photos, birthday parties, church excursions, school events. It was all there in the stupid little shoebox. Father Maxwell came by later to bid him goodnight only to discover Duo draped over the desk fast asleep. Sister Helen's poetry books were strewn about on the desk, her favourite book lodged under Duo's elbow. Very carefully, Father Maxwell extracted the book and flipped open to the well worn page. That was the poem Sister Helen had read at the funeral of another cancer patient not so many years before. He knew she had torn that page out of the book and carried it on her person for a year afterwards and recited it every time she said her prayers. A sad smile crossed his face and he replaced the poem in the book and restored the book to the desk. He went and pulled a blanket from the closet to wrap around Duo's shoulders, then he turned off the lights and let the younger man sleep.

The next morning, the clouds did a fairly good job of obscuring the sky and a brisk breeze ruffled the dry brush. A chill draft from the old window woke Duo and he automatically reached for the blanket on his shoulders. There was a little puddle of drool on the desk and some on his sleeve. He rubbed his grainy eyes and glanced at the clock. It was half past six. Today, they were going to hold Sister Helen's services. Duo took stock of the disaster area that used to be his desk. The pictures and trinkets would have to stay in their shoebox, he decided. It would be plenty difficult just reciting the poem and it had far less personal connections for Duo than the photographs and the rest of it. He cleared space in the middle of the desk and laid each book out, one next to the other, and contemplated them. One page was sticking out haphazardly from the others, one wrinkled, worn page. A minute later, Father Maxwell came knocking and they started another day.

The church was swarming with people dressed head to toe in black. Many of them brought their children, but some were too young to understand the meaning of death. It lightened everyone's hearts to see those little kids turning cartwheels on the grass without a care in the world. For a moment, Duo half wished that he, too, could return to such simple times when nothing had to make sense. He had to blot his eyes with a handkerchief before taking a seat in one of the pews when Father Maxwell arrived at the pulpit with his Bible in hand. The rest of the congregation got themselves settled, but it was not quiet. There were murmurs of muffled crying. Duo sat in his pew gazing at the closed coffin inside of which Sister Helen lay. Father Maxwell's words soothed his ears, but were unable to soothe his heart. It felt as though no time had passed before he was called upon to help perform pallbearer duties. Duo stepped up to a front corner and hefted the box to his shoulder in sync with the other men. They gingerly made their way down the centre aisle and out to the waiting hearse where they gently loaded Sister Helen. Behind the hearse waited a line of black cars with little flags announcing death. Once those cars filled with her closest friends, the procession headed out to the cemetery.

Even in the middle of the desert, a tall, thick hedge covered the wrought iron fence that ringed around the cemetery and there was green grass as thick as carpeting. The stream of vehicles followed a cemetery attendant's golf cart to Sister Helen's plot. Again the pallbearers shouldered the coffin and this time, laid it on the burial rig above her grave and stood in attendance. Father Maxwell had chosen a simple headstone in polished rose-colored granite; it glittered faintly in the weak sunlight. Only her full name and dates of birth and death were engraved. Around the grave itself, three rows of seats were set up and there was an antique looking stand to one side of the head of the grave. After all the attendees were seated, the pallbearers took seats and Father Maxwell gave a brief introduction. All too soon it was time for Duo's reading. He rose from the folding chair and forced himself to put one foot in front of the other until he reached that little stand. There was a measure of comfort in having Father Maxwell standing immediately behind him, but it was so small compared to the nearly overwhelming sense of loss as he looked at Sister Helen's grave. Tears welled up in his eyes and he made no attempt to stop them. Duo reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out that old piece of paper and haltingly read:

Do not stand by my grave and weep,
I am not there, I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am a diamond glint of snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awake in the morning hush,
I am the swift, uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circling flight.
I am the soft starshine at night.
Do not stand by my grave and cry,
I am not there. I did not die.

Father Maxwell thanked Duo and addressed the small group of youths from the church group. They stood up and arranged themselves to their liking and started to sing a hymn as Sister Helen was lowered into the ground. Much like before, Duo lost all sense of time as she disappeared into the earth and was slowly covered with dirt. Tears streamed down his face. He watched until the task was completed and then the heavens themselves finally closed and let loose with a light sprinkling of rain. The sound of car doors opening and closing signalled to Duo that it was time to leave. Reluctantly, he trudged back to his assigned vehicle and rode in heavy silence back to the Maxwell Church for the refreshments.

Despite the sombre mood that engulfed the church, there were a couple small children running around the front yard and smiling widely. When the procession pulled up, they made a bee-line for Duo's car. Though a small part of him envied their blissful ignorance, there was a small measure of comfort in seeing their smiling faces. They ran up to Duo, talking excitedly as the other mourners made their way back to the church.

"Duo! Duo!" Said one little boy with blonde hair. "We learned a new game!" He turned to his friend and the started to play the children's game paper-scissors-rock. The first boy had a rock and the second boy had paper. They murmured something that didn't sound like English and the second boy pointed to the left as the first boy looked to the right. "Aw! I never win!" said the blonde boy as he stamped his foot. His friend made a neener-neener face and ran back to the church.

Duo stared at the blonde boy and was, not for the first time that day, at a loss for words. Of course there was nothing unusual about playing paper-scissors-rock, but in the first place, it wasn't the kind of game most children would do for any real entertainment value. Secondly, there was the pointing bit. No one pointed after a successful round of paper-scissors-rock. The blonde boy had a rock, the other boy had paper; the blonde lost. Unless it was a couple of kids trying to kill time in Japan. Duo's eyes popped. He dropped to one knee on the grass and addressed the little blonde boy.

"Where did you learn that?!"

The kid scratched his nose and replied, "Your Japan friend... Here-oh... showed us."

"Heero? Here?"

The kid rolled his eyes as if exasperated. "His name is Here-oh." Duo ruffled the kid's hair.

"Yeah, yeah. Thanks for telling me. There's supposed to be cake and stuff inside. Let's go."

"Duo?"

"Yeah?"

"Why is everyone sad?"

"Because Sister Helen had to go home."

"But this is her home, isn't it?"

"No, she was just staying here for a while."

"Did she... go to God's house? In Heaven?"

"Yeah. She did." Duo felt like he was going to cry again. "Come on, let's go." He held out his hand to the blonde boy and they went to the church themselves.

Once they made it into the church, the little boy raced off to the backyard. Duo scanned the faces for... something. He wasn't sure if Heero would still be at the church or if he was in the country at all. Bittersweet memories only days old lapped at the edges of his mind, but they were as if from another lifetime. However, there was no other accounting for the kids knowing the Japanese paper-scissors-rock game and much less Heero's name or existence. Duo's sexuality wasn't a topic of discussion he wanted bandied about the church. In fact, he had been disgustingly diligent about not advertising his preferences when at the church to avoid ruffling feathers. He wished to keep it that way, but surely questions would be asked. It wasn't everyday men from Japan flew some five thousand miles to go to Maxwell church in search of their 'good friend' Duo.

Someone tapped his shoulder. It was Hilde, a woman about Duo's age who had volunteered to watch the littlest kids while their parents attended Sister Helen's burial. She offered her condolences and a brief hug before presenting Duo with a letter. It looked like the same letter Trowa had tried to give him a few days prior. He thanked Hilde and reverently tucked the letter into an inside jacket pocket. She gave him another comforting embrace before turning to talk to others.

Towards the end, everyone pitched in to clear away the remnants of the gathering. Chairs were folded and stored in a closet, dishes were washed and dried by hand, salvageable food was divvied up among those who could take it, scraps were thrown away. It wasn't very late by the time the last of the people had left. Still, Duo's sense of weariness refused to leave. Now, there was a brand new sense of turmoil to throw into the mix: Heero Yuy. There was only a very short distance between the church and boarding house where the orphanage, school, and Father Maxwell's living quarters were housed. He walked in-step with Father Maxwell as he had many nights as a child and teenager. Tonight, however, there was a letter in his pocket burning to be read. They arrived at the boarding house in time for a light supper; many kids had taken advantage of the treats offered earlier and the adults present didn't feel much like eating for other reasons. It was a quick affair. Father Maxwell and Duo sat side by side for their meal; Father commended Duo's choice of poems and told him Sister Helen loved that poem because it was a favourite of a friend of hers that she had lost. Duo asked to borrow the books and copy the poem. When they finished dinner, they parted ways.

Duo couldn't get to his room fast enough. He closed the door and flopped face down on his bed. There were so many queer feelings bubbling inside him, he almost felt like laughing but ended up crying again. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.

Almost exactly like the day before, Duo woke from the cold. It was still dark, however, and his clock read 3:57 in the morning. He swiped his hand across his mouth and felt sour when he noted the drool crusted to his chin and the wet spot on the comforter. He was still wearing his suit from the day before and there was a terrible crick in his neck. Duo rolled off the bed and shucked his shoes, then socks and pants. Yesterday had been devastating, sad, and weird. He distinctly remembered the burial, but maybe he was over-exhausted because he thought he remembered one of the kids telling him Heero had been to the church. Duo shrugged out of the jacket and felt something hit his leg. The letter, he remembered, and bent to rescue it from the floor. He set it on the desk and finished undressing. Then he sat down at his desk and turned on the lamp.

Bright white light flooded the desk. The envelope was that odd transparent paper and inside, the card was clearly visible. Duo turned it over, untucked the flap, and pulled out the card. The front of the card just contained his name. Upon opening it up, he saw the inside was blank, but there was another sheet of loose sheet of folded paper. It was also translucent, but white in colour. It was covered with lines of Heero's impeccable script. It almost looked like something you could use in design, the background for a collage or something similar. Duo rubbed his eyes tiredly and read. When he finished, he read it again before carefully slipping the paper back into the card and the card back into the envelope. He went so far as to tuck the flap back into the envelope before he put it into his shoebox. Duo stared at the shoebox until he was too tired to keep his eyes open. Then he turned off the light and clambered into bed.

It was well into the midmorning when Duo next awoke. He rolled out of bed and lazily got ready for another day. How long would it take before things got back to normal, he wondered, would there be any more normal after something like this? Duo made his way downstairs and knocked on Father Maxwell's door. The older man bid him enter; Duo came in and stopped short. Heero Yuy was sitting across from Father Maxwell.

"Duo, I believe you know Heero Yuy? He arrived just now looking for you." Heero stood up and turned to face Duo when Father Maxwell said his name.

"Yeah, I know him. We were kind of business acquaintances in Japan. I played guitar at his cafe."

"I see." Father said simply.

"Duo, did you --"

"I think we should go, Heero. Let's get lunch. I missed breakfast," Duo interrupted. Heero nodded and followed Duo out the office.

"I'll be back tonight, Father."

They walked in silence out the boarding house, cut across the lawn to the church parking lot and finally into Heero's rental car.

"I... didn't know you could drive in America. Where are we going?"

"I have no idea, you tell me."

"Paradise Valley Mall, I want to be around people. I'll give you directions."

Half an hour later, they were seated side by side at an eating bar in the food court of the mall and having junk for lunch. They were surrounded by the bustle of harried Christmas shoppers but couldn't disguise the uncomfortable silence that ensued after they finished.

"You're still mad at me," Heero started.

"What? I'm not mad at you. If you recall, you were mad at me. And even if I was mad at you, I wouldn't be mad at you now."

"Yeah?" There was hope in Heero's voice.

"Heero, Sister Helen was like my mother. She died."

"Oh," Heero felt like a first class heel. "I'm... sorry. I'm sorry for having overreacted. I'm sorry about Sister Helen. I'm sorry I can't make everything better for you. I'm just... sorry. For what it's worth, I understand." Duo looked incredulous for a moment, but then remembered the photographs that once graced the wall of the original Yuy's Spicy Diner.

"Yeah, Heero. I know you know." Duo returned softly as he looked at the table.

"I thought it'd just blow over. At first I was mad. Wufei pointed out I was making everyone's life miserable. Said I was driving away the customers, too. Then I realized that... I wanted you. When it finally got through to me, though, it was too late. You'd already left. Trowa said you were gone. Part of me thought that was it, end of story. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew. It didn't matter that you -- clicked with Zechs. It didn't matter if a thousand other people kissed you or you kissed them or any of that bull. I missed you. I miss you. I loved my father despite his crazy idiosyncrasies and constant travels. It hurt when I lost him, but I knew he'd had a damn fine life. I knew he'd lived how he wanted to live. I want to live like that, too. How I want to live. When I knew you were gone, it was like I knew I'd never get that damn fine life for myself. In a way, it's worse than saying goodbye to my father. I knew it was never within my power to give life or take it. But I know it is within my power to try to make things work with us."

There were tears in Duo's eyes, but Heero couldn't tell what put them there. Probably a combination of everything, he decided.

"What about the cafe?"

"What?"

"The cafe, your cafe, who's taking care of it?" It was a random question for Duo to ask.

"Wufei is..." Heero wasn't sure if that was the right response.

"Trowa was wrong, you know." Heero waited expectantly for Duo to continue. "I didn't quit or anything."

"But your stuff..."

"I don't have a lot of stuff, Yuy. Most of it... you can fit into a big duffle bag. And that duffle bag is sitting in the guest room at Maxwell. But I'm glad you were miserable because you did overreact. Maybe I could have handled it better, too, but you're a class act. I still wanted you, too. I was mad you wouldn't listen to me. That you didn't trust me. I just figured I'd let you stew for a while, maybe. If we got back together, great. If not, oh well. Then Sister Helen..." Up until then, Heero heard shades of the former Duo Maxwell, but there was a dive at the end.

"I know."

"It doesn't leave time for other stuff, you know." Duo's voice was shaking. "There's never enough time. I didn't even get to say goodbye." With his elbows on the table, Duo pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes and willed the tears to go away.

"Sometimes, you don't have to say goodbye, Duo." Heero offered softly as he started to rub Duo's back in circles. Duo sniffed and rubbed his red eyes dry. "The people we love might not stick around forever, but we can appreciate the ways they made our lives better." As an afterthought, he added, "We can eat tuna noodle casserole."

Duo looked at Heero like he'd sprouted another head and repeated dumbly, "Tuna noodle casserole?"

"Yeah. I've added it to the menu. The customers seem to really like it. Sister Helen was a hell of a cook, yeah?"

"Tuna noodle casserole? Yeah. She was a good cook," Duo's lips turned the smallest smile.

"It's okay to be happy, Duo. It helps to talk about the good things, even though sometimes it makes us sad. It's best to remember why we loved them in the first place." Heero scooted closer to Duo and let his hand drop to Duo's waist.

"Thanks, Heero."

"You're welcome... you need to do any shopping?"

"No... there's not gonna be much of a Christmas this year with all the uh, bills."

"I'm sorry. So, you need a lift back to the Church."

"Yeah, thanks."

"Not a problem."

"Heero," Duo turned to his partner." Thanks," He emphasized the word. "For apologizing, for listening, for coming all the way out here. I -- appreciate it more than I can say right now."

"Not a problem," Heero repeated. They made their way to the car and drove back to Maxwell church in comfortable silence this time. Heero pulled into the church parking lot and cut the engine. Through the windows of the boarding school, they could just make out the shapes of people moving around inside. Duo sucked in a deep breath. The loss of Sister Helen still weighed heavy in his mind, but it was comforting to know there would be something, someone to go back to when he went back to work after winter break. Heero had been right, it felt good to talk about the good things about Sister Helen. Better than staring at shoeboxes of fading photographs.

"I have to get going, but... how did you know where to find me?"

"Fluke. Trowa remembered the address on the mail you'd been reading just before you left the apartment. I just did a little googling." Duo made a 'hmm' noise. "I have to go back to Japan tomorrow morning, early. When are you coming back?"

Duo rubbed his palms across his face vigorously for a moment, thinking. "At the end of New Year's break, so... January third or fourth."

"Okay. I'll see you then."

"Yeah," Duo said as another soft smile lifted the corners of his mouth. He breathed deeply again and leaned across the way to press his lips to Heero's. Duo fell back into his seat with the smile still on his face. Then, he reached down for the door handle and popped the door open, getting ready to leave. "See you when I get back and have some tuna noodle casserole ready. Nobody can make Sister Helen's tuna noodle casserole like you, not even Sister Helen."