The Guitarist and The Monk by HRT

Gravitation belongs to Maki Murakami, not this author (which is just as well, since I’m too lazy to write at her pace). This fanfic is not intended as an infringement on her copyright, but merely to amuse other Gravi fans and myself.

Warnings: Swearing, male x male romance and sexual relations, and one scene of non-consensual sex in Chapter 7. Plenty of alcohol and not much common sense about it, and one dose of Valium.

Chapter 1

Hiroshi Nakano swung onto his motorcycle in front of Eiri Yuki’s apartment building. The guitarist had just finished dropping off the final mix of one of their songs for Shuichi, when he heard another cycle pull into the space next to him. Hiro paused and gave the new bike and rider an appraising look.

The stranger looked up, and his eyes widened.

Hiro grinned. He was used to that reaction. He knew what the stranger was looking at. A young man in a black leather jacket and jeans, and long, loose black hair almost to his waist. And of course, one mean-looking bike.

This stranger though, he--

“Whoa,” said the newcomer. “Can I look at your cycle? You’ve got some impressive metal there.”

He came over, and Hiro politely climbed off to let the other get a better look. The guy was tall and lean, around Hiro’s own height. Hair cut like Eiri Yuki’s, dark bangs across his face where they’d get in the way. Wicked-looking black eyes peering through the screen of hair. And his face, God. Even Yuki didn’t look that good. The writer in the apartment upstairs was the beautiful ice king, but this guy had all that, plus heat and smoke as well. But why did he seem so familiar?

“You’ve just bought this?” the stranger said. “Shuichi said you’d gotten another cycle, Hiro.”

“You know who I am?” Something clicked in the guitarist’s head. Looks like Eiri Yuki. Rides a motorcycle, black hair.

The front door of the apartment complex opened and out stepped a middle-aged man, one of Eiri’s neighbors. “I thought that was you driving up. Your engine has a distinctive sound, Tatsuha-kun. Visiting Yuki-san again?”

Tatsuha winced in embarrassment. “Uh, yeah. It’s a second-hand bike, and the engine’s due to conk out one day. I know it’s sort of loud. It’s a serviceable little beast, but it sure doesn’t match Hiro’s.” Tatsuha smiled a little, looking through his hair at the guitarist. He added aside, “Good evening to you, Yamato-san,” as the neighbor shut his car door.

Something about the way Tatsuha looked at him made Hiro self-conscious. The guitarist supposed it was just the Uesugi family stare. “I’m sorry, I should have recognized you,” said Hiro. “You resemble your brother.”

Tatsuha only grimaced in reply, not liking the comparison.

“And you’re a novice monk, aren’t you?” Tatsuha sure didn’t look like one. Then Hiro remembered that Tatsuha was bi. Uh-oh. The guitarist also recalled Shuichi’s story about the famous pass. All it had taken was one Nittle Grasper video and wham, Tatsuha’d been all over Shuichi. It was a shame Shuichi looked so much like Ryuichi Sakuma, but that had been Shu’s own fault for copying his singing idol so slavishly. Hiro had heard about Tatsuha’s maniacal crush on Ryuichi Sakuma.

Then Hiro remembered something else. Tatsuha was a friend of Ayaka Usami. The guitarist’s face colored. Well, well. Though lecherous and bi, there was indeed something to be gained from Tatsuha’s company. Knowledge of Ayaka. Though Hiro had only met Ayaka a few times, he was pretty sure she was the girl he wanted to marry.

“You like my cycle? Want a ride?”

“Well, I ought to go see my brother. But he can wait a little. Sure.” The monk had been planning to hang onto the bar behind the seat but encountered a problem. Hiro’s hair. It streamed right into Tatsuha’s face when they started off. Tatsuha leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Hiro’s waist instead. “Your hair’s getting in my face. Sorry.”

“S’okay. Want a short tour of the neighborhood?”

“Sure.”

Hiro let the engine roar impressively. He was uneasy about Tatsuha’s grip, but supposed the hair problem was a legitimate explanation. Or was it? They flew around several blocks, annoying both pedestrians and cars. Hiro grinned, and glanced quickly over his shoulder. “Care to stop for a drink?” the guitarist asked.

Tatsuha nodded and they parked in front of a restaurant. “Just a second.” A rope of Hiro’s long hair had snaked around Tatsuha’s neck and the wind had tucked it under the collar of the monk’s leather jacket. Tatsuha had to tug it out, gently, to release himself. “You never tie it up?”

Hiro blushed. “Occasionally.” As they entered and found seats, he asked, “Did your brother invite you to visit?” He knew Eiri Yuki was very particular about his privacy.

“Not really. I’m sort of banished from home, temporarily. I was babysitting Yasha, Ryuichi Sakuma’s pet alligator. You know, the one he brought back from the Amazon. I hadn’t told my father about it, ‘cause fathers tend to object to that sort of thing. Anyway, I was lying on my futon listening to music when my father came in to yell at me about something, and little Yasha champed down on his big toe. Now, I thought it served Dad right for going everywhere barefoot, (my father’s a Buddhist priest, if no one’s told you) but he was really pissed. I mean, his toe’s still intact and everything, but I’d also been letting little Yasha soak in our koi pond, and he’d eaten all the carp. Well, Dad was going to ground me, but then he realized it wasn’t my presence he wanted, but my absence, so he’s banished me to Eiri’s for a while. I have to tell my brother, though. He doesn’t even know I’m coming to stay with him. Little Yasha has gone back to Ryuichi.”

“You know Sakuma?” the guitarist asked as a waitress handed them menus.

“Yeah.”

“And?” The question was obnoxious, Hiro knew, but he was curious about the monk’s relationship to the famous singer.

“We’re just friends,” Tatsuha repeated, looking uncomfortable.

That meant he hadn’t gotten anywhere with Sakuma, Hiro guessed. As they studied the menus, Hiro pondered how lovesick you had to be to agree to babysit someone’s pet alligator for them.

Tatsuha peeked over his menu. “I suppose Shu has told you stuff about me, huh?”

“Yes. Including a certain pass.”

The other dropped his menu, and put his fists against his forehead for a moment. “Oh, GOD. It wasn’t him, you know. It was because he looked so much like Ryuichi.”

Hiro smiled a little. “Do you still feel the same way about Shu now?”

“No,” Tatsuha admitted. “He has an emotional crisis every five minutes or so. I like Shuichi, but I’m glad I’m not attracted to him anymore. It’s less harrowing.”

“I know what you mean,” Hiro replied. There was a time, too, when Hiroshi had felt an adolescent attraction for his closest friend. The guitarist was primarily heterosexual, though he had occasional impulses in the other direction that he was always careful to suppress. Nor did he let these impulses upset him. He was too happy a person to waste time fretting about his own psyche. But as far as Shuichi went, experience had taught the guitarist the same lesson as Tatsuha. It was much smarter to be Shu’s friend instead of his lover.

“To be fair, he does live an unusually stressful life, nationally-known singer and all,” Tatsuha commented. “You seem like a pretty cool guy,” said the monk suddenly.

“How so?”

Tatsuha gave an embarrassed laugh. “Well, you’ve got a great bike for one thing. But you also play guitar in a successful band. You’re good-looking as well, and though you have all the hassles Shu does, you deal with things better, from what Shu says.”

Hiro reddened, unsure that he liked this turn of the conversation. “I was wondering if you could tell me any news about Ayaka,” he said casually.

Tatsuha only gave him a bright-eyed look. “You’re in love with her,” the monk commented.

Crap, thought Hiro. “What makes you say that?”

Tatsuha didn’t reply, but he privately thought Ayaka was the sort of girl a guy would only ask about if he was in love with her. She was a little bland, in his opinion. But she was a good person.

“I can smell infatuation across a room. It’s because I’m a monk.”

It’s because you’re a lech, Hiro thought silently. “So what’s she been doing lately?”

The waitress had just delivered their drinks, and Tatsuha was stirring sugar into his coffee. “Mooning over a certain long-haired guitarist.”

“What?!”

Tatsuha looked up, his expression sly. “She talks about you. She’s very cautious about what she says, but I know she really likes you.”

Hiro reddened.

“Yeah,” said Tatsuha with too-knowing eyes. “Just like that. She blushes when anybody mentions your name.”

“You’re making a joke, right?” The guitarist was careful to keep his expression neutral.

“I don’t joke about stuff like that. As a monk, I have a duty to be truthful to other people.”

With a facetious air, Hiro asked, “So, what do you think my chances are?”

Tatsuha’s face lost its smug expression. “With her, very good, if you can arrange to meet up a few more times. But with her parents, I can’t give you an opinion. Her father’s a Buddhist priest, remember.” He looked away uncomfortably.

Hiro’s face froze. “You don’t think they would approve of me,” said the guitarist slowly.

“I don’t know! They’ve never met you, so I couldn’t judge. I know they--would like a priest to marry their daughter,” Tatsuha admitted weakly.

Hiro fell silent, thinking. Then he looked across the table. Why, he suddenly wondered, wasn’t Ayaka engaged to someone like Tatsuha? The monk had the looks, the religious background, even the family. The Usamis had originally tried to pair Ayaka off with Eiri. “So why not you?” Hiro prompted.

“Me? We’re not attracted to each other. I think of her more as a cousin or a sister or something. I’ve known her all my life.”

“Would you happen to know if she has any boyfriends?” Hiro asked with determined casualness.

Tatsuha only smiled evilly. “No, she doesn’t. She was interested in my brother, but we both know why she’s not marrying him.”

“I wish I knew more about that side of her life,” said the guitarist, wistfully.

The monk decided he was not going to tell Hiro that he’d already seen Ayaka completely naked several times. They’d just been kids, taking their clothes off in Tatsuha’s bedroom and trying to find out what went where. Ayaka had been pretty imperious at that age, and when she ordered him to strip so she could tutor herself, Tatsuha had obliged. She had given him his first feels of a girl’s anatomy, and they had practiced kissing together. Both thought it awfully yucky, and it had taken Tatsuha a couple of years to realize that he had nothing against kisses and girls per se, it was just Ayaka. They had stayed friends, though.

“Tell you what, Hiro. When I get back to Kyoto, I’ll talk you up to her.”

Hiro winced. “I’d sort of prefer to speak to her myself.”

“What? You don’t think I’d be a good salesman? How about I carry a letter from you, just a friendly how are you doing, here’s a pair of tickets to our concert sort of thing?”

Hiro stared. “You’re devious. But why a pair of tickets? I’d just want to see her alone.”

“So I could go along. How do you think she’s getting to Tokyo? You think sweet daddy Usami would let her go see this evil-ass band in Tokyo by herself? Anyway, I’d think she’d ESPECIALLY like to see any concerts you do with Nittle Grasper.”

“Uh-huh,” Hiro drawled. “Nittle Grasper, you say? I think I’ve heard of them. Fronted by that singer, Ryuichi-something?”

The monk twitched, involuntarily. “Yeah. And I’d suggest something else. How about an acoustic show?”

“Acoustic?”

“Sure. Just you and Shuichi. In a small club somewhere, with no announcements that you’re going to play, just a few people in the audience.”

“Why?”

Tatsuha leaned forward. “Because Ayaka’s a nice girl, and shy. She may like seeing you in some big arena, but you know what? I think she’d like it even better if she could see you where her ears aren’t being blasted by 10,000 screaming fans and giant amplifiers, where she isn’t being shoved to pieces, and where she’s only a couple of feet away from you. She’ll be able to see you smile right at her. A place where this glamorous guy with the guitar can step right off the stage afterwards to talk to her. Wouldn’t it be nice if she found out later, from a certain Tatsuha Uesugi, that Hiroshi Nakano planned this special little performance just for her?”

Hiro blinked. “Tatsuha, why aren’t you married if you have clever ideas like that?”

“Hey, I’m only seventeen. It’s too early.”

“I’d have to talk to both Shuichi and K to arrange it,” the guitarist replied, already plotting the details. “And I’d better return you to your brother’s.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Tatsuha sighed. “I need to convince him that it’d be smarter to have me at his place instead of Mika’s. If you want to drop that letter off, I’ll be in town at least until Saturday.”

It was strange, Hiro reflected as they climbed on his cycle, feeling Tatsuha’s arms go around him again. The guitarist had only known the monk about an hour, yet he already felt like a close friend.

Continued in Chapter 2