Tobirama

God, that energy... God, God, God, God, that energy. Where did this kid get it all from?

He didn't look like anything I had ever encountered before. For one, he didn't look like anyone who flew first class. No offense; he wasn't shabby by any means. He was more... innocent. He wore a beanie, not to mention a U-pillows in the shape of a caterpillar. I understood by his personality that it was a great deal of sarcasm behind that caterpillar pillow, but it was unusual nonetheless. 

He had talked and talked and talked about some watermelon, and before I knew it, we were in the air. I had never been so relaxed during a take-off. He looked down with a blush as he had caught himself talking too much, but I found I didn't mind. The story he told me was hilarious, so much so that I could hardly believe it, and I was grateful for it. The only ones who told me stories were the models and actresses I dated (read: slept with, since I never went as far as to date anyone), and they were usually about their latest diets or exercise programs. All very... colourless. 

"Thank you for that, Mr Uchiha", I said. I had pretended I didn't remember his last name before because I wanted to hear him pronounce it before I tried, and I was too shy to ask him directly.

"Please", he said,  "Call me Izuna."

"Izuna."

We were quiet for a while, then he spoke.

"Are you... Working on the same case as me?" 

"Yes, I said. "Only for a couple of days. It's custom when we have foreign clients that I travel to meet them on sight."

"Understandable", Izuna said, sinking into his chair, putting his caterpillar in his lap as he already had a pillow. He pulled the duvet over himself and pulled his beanie over his eyes. 

"Are you going to sleep already?" I asked. I found I didn't want him to; his presence was good for my nerves. 

"Yeah." he said. "It's my super power. I can fall asleep anywhere."

"Even at work?" I teased, surprising myself. I never teased anyone. 

"Nice try, Mr Senju", he said, and I could see a smile on his lips below the beanie. Oh, how did that feel, I wondered, to go to bed smiling? "I will never tell you about my naps at work. They're a secret, and you're the CEO. Well..." He yawned. "Wake me up if you need a story for landing. I have a great one about a cantaloupe. Enjoy the book, Mr Senju."

"Please", I echoed. "Call me Tobirama."

But he didn't hear me as he was already fast asleep. 

He woke up a few hours into the flight, and spent the remaining time reading his other book. I quite enjoyed mine, but I had switched to working on my MacBook. Izuna looked at me from time to time, making certain I was all right, but I didn't include him in my flight experience anymore. We got food, and whereas I was always embarrassed to eat on a plane, he did it as if it was the most natural thing in the world, thanking the stewardess, joking with her as he asked for white wine. He kept reading as he ate with his fork only, a pair of headphones over his ears on top of his beanie.

When we landed, he seemed extra aware of me, but I breathed through the fright until it was over. We were going to the same hotel, but I did not talk to him about it, or offer him company. I noticed he busied himself collecting his things for as long as possible before leaving the aircraft, and I suspected it was because he didn't want to put himself in the awkward situation of deciding whether to wait for me or not. So I was ready first, and I nodded to him, just as I had done when I had boarded, and left him to it. 

At luggage claim, we waited separately. He seemed skittish, stepping from one foot to the next. I stayed calm. The situation could have been incredibly awkward, but just as I had shut off all of my other emotions (perhaps except fright of flying), I had shut off my ability to feel awkward as well. 

Izuna's luggage came first, and I found myself wondering if he would wait for me or not. He didn't, but left. I didn't feel anything about in in particular. I took an Uber to the luxury hotel in Tokyo city centre, where my secretary had booked a suite each for both me and Izuna, on my command, and checked in. Izuna was nowhere to be seen. As soon as I came into my room, I threw myself on the lush bed and picked up my phone. 

"My boy."

"Mr Swanson."

"It's Gerry", he said with a booming laugh. "You phone me again."

I frowned. I did. I hadn't really thought about why. We had planned on continuing our therapy sessions once a fortnight even when I was in Tokyo, but over link. I had no idea why I had phoned now.

"Sorry", I said in lack of anything more useful to say. 

"Nothing to apologise for. How was your flight?"

"Good, actually", I said, and I realised I meant it. I had never enjoyed flying, just seen it as a time-slot to work but in a metal tube with bad air. But this flight, I had enjoyed. "No issues with take-off this time."

"Great! How come?" 

Mr Swanson sounded earnest, really interested, so I told him about my accompanying employee and his watermelon story, although without details. 

"I'm happy for you",  he said but for what, I wasn't sure. "How did it feel? His presence?"

"What do you mean?" I asked, frowning.

"To be around him, I mean. You've only ever travelled alone because you can't stand anyone else's company. How was his?"

This was true. When I had boarded and realised I had the seat next to his, I had cursed myself for not remembering to tell my secretary to choose seats away from one another. But actually...

"It didn't matter", I said. "His presence, I mean. It was like being alone but with... Him, you know?" I asked. 

"I know", Mr Swanson said. 

I tasted the words. 

It didn't matter. 

But actually, it had mattered a lot. 

I spent the night getting more work done on my MacBook, but found it hard to focus. I forced myself to work for a few hours anyway, then went and looked out at the buzzing city, Tokyo Tower being the main piece of the city skyline visible from my window. 

I wonder who he is...

I got an insight. I could just search him on social media. I felt stupid then, both because of how clever I felt for coming up with this simple solution, and because the thought excited me.

I signed into Instagram anyway, which I hadn't done in years. I had created my account and uploaded two portrait photographs of myself in a moment of darkness, when I had desired to make my own doubts go away by attracting attention. Well, it had worked, I noticed when I signed in for the first time since; I had thousands of followers based on those two photographs only. 

I found him quickly enough, seeing his username was his first and last names, and he had an open account. I frowned, at first because I was disappointed to see how awfully normal his account was, but then... 

Then I started to see beauty in its normality. He had uploaded about two hundred photos and videos, the first one from six years ago, the most current one from this day, depicting what must be the view from his hotel room. In between was a buffet table of colourful pictures of things he liked; books, nature, his friends, his family, fruits and cake. In some of them, he was in the frame as well, and I found I liked those posts the most.

Then, I saw something that caught my eye. It was a video, and in it, Izuna was sitting at an electric piano wearing checked  trousers and a slim-fit, grey, long-sleeved T-shirt. I clicked on it tentatively, and what I would be exposed to would take my breath away. 

He started playing, and his fingers traced the keys effortlessly. And tentatively, he started to sing.  And it was beautiful; soft, tender, not too schooled but free, and I found myself mesmerised. For a minute, he sang, and when he was done, I played it again, then again, then again. After more replays than I believed healthy, I read the comment section, filled with warmth from his friends and family, and I felt a pang of something then that could have been jealousy, but wasn't quite. It was such a contrast from my own account, completely empty of love, only made to impress. This man obviously knew how to live in a way I didn't.

I looked out on the Tokyo view again, wondered if our eyes were connected to the same spot, hoping they were.