Truce | 休戦

It’s a warm, sunny day in Shinjuku. The square out front of the station exit is bustling with a diversity of people. I watch guys trying to pick up girls and girls complimenting each others’ outfits while I keep my eyes peeled for a tall, lean guy with a goofy face. It’s not long before he emerges from the station exit wearing a black denim jacket over a white hoodie and light blue jeans. He skips toward me, singing my name. I’m smiling uncontrollably.

“We’re in Tokyo!” he exclaims as he wraps his arm around my shoulders. “Look at you blending right in!”

“You do too,” I point to his styled wavy black hair.

“Where are you taking me for our date today?” he asks excitedly.

“I thought you wanted to go to The Lockdown.”

“Ah, that’s right!” He raises his index finger as if he just remembered our conversation from last night.

It takes a moment for my eyes to adjust to the dark entrance of The Lockdown when we exit the elevator. I jump at sudden thunder sound effects and screens with animated characters covered in blood while they mutter taunting words. I bump into a completely unfazed Shinjiro as he stops in the middle of the hallway to point and laugh at me. Once we’ve made it to the door, an attractive girl dressed in a miniskirt police costume greets us with a scowl, asking which one of us committed a crime. Shinjiro plays along, smiling widely and holding his hands out so she can handcuff him. She leads us down a hallway of prison cell-themed tables. We’re brought to our own “cell” while the girl explains how to order and shuts the bar door on us.

“This is fun,” Shinjiro chirps as he reaches for the digital menu tablet.

“Out of all the places we could have gone, I can’t believe this is the one you wanted to visit the most,” I say, eyeing the dark, creepy hallway on the other side of the bars.

“This is the place I wanted to go to with you the most,” he clarifies with a mischievous grin.

I frown. “Are you trying to torture me?”

“Of course! You’re the most entertaining part!” he beams.

As we eat, Shinjiro continuously orders more and more of some of the most unappetizing-looking food I’ve ever seen. Our pasta has eyes made of boiled eggs, and the hamburger steak has a knife sticking out of it with red sauce made to look like blood. Finally, a server opens our cell to deliver a dish of fairly normal-looking takoyaki balls.

While I’m listening to Shinjiro talk about his university life, I naively devour one ball at a time before my mouth is met with an intense spicy sensation. I throw my head back and cough in agony while Shinjiro guffaws. Eyes watering from the burning on my tongue and throat, I grab my glass of water and down the whole thing. Shinjiro is in pieces.

“You dick!” I attempt to yell between coughs.

He wipes a tear from his eye, recovering from his laughing fit. “I missed you, Makoto.”

I grab his water and down it too.

“You can go back home now,” I say, my voice strained.

“Aw, don’t be shy. You can tell me you missed me too.”

Ignoring him, I stuff my mouth with rice to replace the lingering tingling sensation.

“So.” Shinjiro changes the subject once we’ve both calmed down. “Whatever happened to the ‘nightmare roommate’ you told me about before? I’ve been dying to hear the rest of that story.”

“Ah,” I utter after swallowing. “After that, he drank my milk, threw my stuff away, and hid a fake cockroach in my rice. And when I confronted him about it, the asshole slapped me!”

“Whoa. Seriously?” Shinjiro raises his eyebrows. “He did all that?”

I nod.

“And what did you do to him?” he asks, casually reaching for one of the three remaining takoyaki balls.

“What makes you think I did something to him?” I grumble.

“No one would do all that for no reason. You must have done something.”

“I didn’t do anything!” I argue. “I only yelled at him a couple times, but only after he tried to rile me up.”

“What kind of things did you say?”

“I don’t really remember,” I lie as I recall the terrified look on Shun’s face when I called him a fag.

“Hmm,” Shinjiro ponders. “Well, I think your house should replace Terrace Home on TV. It sounds way more interesting.”

“I wish I could be on Terrace Home instead,” I sigh, poking at my food.

“So, what’s this guy like, anyway?” Shinjiro asks. “Other than being a little too obsessed with you.”

“What’s he like?” I repeat as I try to come up with the right words to describe Shun. “Well, he’s rude, annoying, ignorant…”

Suddenly I remember the worried look on his face when he let me escape the bar two nights ago. Then the way he smiled after apologizing to me yesterday.

“But I guess he’s not so bad,” I mumble.

“Rude, annoying, ignorant, and not so bad?” Shinjiro mocks with a grin.

I nod and stuff my mouth again. I don’t want to say anything else.

“Even though he put a cockroach in your rice?”

“Mm-hm.” I nod as I chew.

“Did all the attention he gave you help you come to terms with your inner flamer?”

I almost choke. “No! I say he’s not so bad because we actually made an agreement not to bother each other anymore. That’s all.”

“An agreement, huh? And is he sticking to it?”

“I think he will. We signed on it, so…”

“You signed on it?” he laughs. “That’s cute.”

“It was his idea,” I add.

He nods, an amused smile still on his face.

“What does he look like? Is it obvious he’s gay?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s obvious,” I answer. “He’s always wearing this cat collar thing, though. He has a dreamcatcher tattoo, too.”

“A collar and a tattoo?” Shinjiro raises an eyebrow.

“Yeah.”

“Like a big tattoo?”

“It’s not huge. He keeps it hidden well.”

“He hides it? Where is it?”

“Uh,” I stammer, realizing I’ve already said too much. “Why are you so curious about him? Are you interested or something?”

He snickers. “I don’t know. Maybe I am.”

I knit my brows and laugh at the absurdity.

“Does he only like guys? Or does he like girls, too?”

“I don’t know. I really don’t know him that well.” I shake my head.

“Well, now that you’ve signed on your friendship with him, why don’t you try to get to know him better?”

“We didn’t agree to be friends—we just agreed to not be enemies! And why would I want to get to know him better?” I protest. “What if he gets weird ideas?”

Shinjiro shrugs. “Well, I would if I were in your situation.”

I halt. “You would?”

“Yeah. I mean, aren’t you even a tiny bit curious about him? You’re sharing a room after all.”

“We’re not sharing a room, we’re sharing a house,” I clarify.

“What? You mean he’s not watching you sleep?” he chuckles.

“That would be terrifying!” I exclaim, but I’m laughing too.

After breaking out of the horror restaurant, we spend the rest of the day exploring Shinjuku and Shin-Okubo until the sky darkens. When Shinjiro tells me he has to head back to his hotel, we part ways at the station.

“Don’t miss me too much!” he says with a grin as he enters the ticket gate.

“I’ll come back for a visit sometime soon,“ I assure him.

“If you come back, Haruka probably won’t let you leave again,” he jokes. “I’ll get the guys to come to Tokyo with me next time, so you just stay put!”

“Alright.” I smile even though I already feel a little lonely.

Once I'm home, I find my group chat with friends back home filling up with photos of me and Shinjiro. It continues to buzz throughout the night with the guys’ messages. I send a few replies and then tumble into bed, hoping a good night’s sleep will help ease my slight homesickness.