They spent the next few hours going over the contents of Ryo’s sketchbooks. Aya had been surprised when he’d pulled out another five completed books from his travel bag with the intent to view them in the order of their creation. He’d been further surprised to find out how much Ryo had remembered. Certainly it was in bits and pieces, but they were memories all the same.
Ryo had a few sketches of their former home in Tokyo including the Koneko no Sumu Ie, but hadn’t yet been able to remember its name or location. He claimed to know more than he wanted about flowers but assumed, after discovering Aya’s current place of occupation, he’d learned what he knew from his association with the Aya. This was true, in part. Yohji hadn’t really been interested in the florist trade. At this point, Aya was content to let him believe what he believed, although he did identify the Koneko for Ryo and gave him the shop’s address.
Perhaps the most important
pieces of information he could impart to Yohji were the names of people whose
faces he had recorded. Namely Asuka, who Ryo recognized as having an important
place in his past, but whose death or deaths he had yet to remember.
Ryo studied one of the several pictures of Asuka that he’d drawn.
“You know, I kept thinking Asuka’s name meant more to me than my wife… ex-wife that is. At first, I thought she must have been Aya, but then I kept dreaming about you and realized that not only wasn’t she Aya, but Aya wasn’t a woman.”
“Was it an unpleasant discovery, finding out that you’d had a relationship – a sexual one – with another man?” Aya kept his tone mild, feigning only mild interest.
“Not at all,” Ryo answered, smiling as he regarded Aya, not at all fooled by the man’s ruse of indifference.
“I’m pretty sure amnesia doesn’t alter sexual orientation. I did have some inkling that I liked both women and men before I started remembering you. Now tell me who this is.”
Aya directed his attention to the drawing in question, brows furrowing. “My sister. That’s my sister. You remembered her enough to draw her?”
Ryo was obviously pleased with the information. “Guess so, if that’s who she is. She doesn’t look much like you, but then you really don’t look very Japanese do you? Is she here in London? I’d like to see her again too. I bet it would help jog something loose.”
“No, she’s still in Tokyo, going to school.” Aya frowned down at the drawing, tracing the lines of Aya-chan’s face with his finger. She was smiling in the picture, eyes crinkled in humor.
To his surprise, Ryo picked up the book and carefully ripped the page from its binding, handing it back to Aya. “Here, take it. I think you should have this more than me. You’ll have to tell me her name though.”
“Aya-chan.” Aya held the picture carefully, unable to hide the affect Ryo’s gesture had upon him. “I… I want to thank you for this. I know it can’t be easy, parting with any of these.”
Ryo shrugged, smiling. “You seemed in greater need of the reminder. Besides, what’s up with her name? Did your parents have some kind of fascination for the name Aya? Or, could it be that Aya is not your real name?”
Aya couldn’t help but return the smile. “Don’t think yourself too clever, Ryo. You’re right of course. My birth name is Ran, not Aya. You may not remember it, but it’s your fault that I became known as Aya in the first place.”
“My fault? I think that’s a story I’m going to want to hear, if I can’t remember for myself. Like you said earlier, you aren’t here to retell the whole story of my past. But you know, that does in part explain the orchids you sent. Anything else you need to confess?”
“Actually, while Ran does mean orchid, I sent those as a representation of you, not me. The roses were for me.”
“We picked flowers to represent each other? Man, you really are into this whole florist gig, aren’t you?”
Aya favored him with a glare. “Something like that.”
“Uh oh, I’ve got it wrong somewhere, don’t I?” Ryo rolled off the bed, intent on another cigarette. “You give me that look whenever I don’t have my facts straight.”
“I think you’re making too many assumptions,” Aya replied. “Then again, as I’m not an expert on memory recovery, perhaps it’s best if you continue as you have been. Have you asked to speak with an amnesia specialist?”
“My doctor claims to be a neurologist. He tells me to be patient. This from the man who once told me I would remember nothing of my past. Forgive me if I don’t put much stock in the man’s opinion anymore.”
Standing beside the bed and smoking his cigarette, Ryo watched Aya continue to peruse the sketchbooks. Aya had returned to his most recent one, paging through the drawings he’d created last night. Aya glanced briefly at the one of Ken, but paused for a couple of seconds on the one of the other younger man.
Ryo flicked ash into the tray and sat down on the edge of the bed. “You know, he looks very familiar to me, like someone I’ve seen recently. Not in person, but on the television. Only I can’t quite place the when and where.”
“He’s a Takatori.” Aya kept his tone neutral, making the effort to sound informative and little else. “Takatori Mamoru to be exact and he is the recent head of the family. I hear he’s quite involved with politics in Japan these days.”
Ryo stared at the picture again, nodding. “Yeah, that’s him alright. He looks younger there than he does now. He someone I used to know?”
“Yes. We both did. I haven’t spoken to him in more than a year.”
“And I bet you don’t want to talk about it either.”
Ryo grabbed up one of the colored pencils and wrote ‘Takatori Mamoru’ at the bottom of the relevant drawing, then labeled the drawing of Ken as well. “I think that’s more than enough for now. I don’t know about you, but I’m starving. Why don’t we have some food sent up?”
But Aya was shaking his head, shifting towards the edge of the bed as if he meant to stand. “I should be going. It’s getting late.”
Ryo caught him by the wrist and tugged lightly. “Stay? Please?”
“I’m not all that hungry, Ryo.”
“I don’t mean just for dinner, Aya.”