It was a strange thing to see another man cry. To see the body of an adult shake with violent sobs. Over such a ridiculously small piece of paper. Junsu did not remember the last time that he had seen his hyung succumb to tears. Not since they had come of age. Not in 10 years.

Junho seemed defenseless and vulnerable, utterly consumed by a pain that Junsu had no knowledge of. Junsu had no words that seemed to accurately measure up to the emotion that his twin was feeling. His selfish curiosity was pushed out of his mind and replaced by compassion. First and foremost it didn’t matter why Junho was crying, only that he was. Junsu got up from his chair, went around the table and engulfed his hyung in a hug.

Slowly Junho’s body calmed, stopped shaking and he returned the hug.

“Do you want to talk about it?” asked Junsu, “If not, don’t worry about it. I won’t ask again. You can tell me anytime, but you don’t have to.”

He let go of his hyung to get tissue paper from the kitchen counter. Junho nodded thankfully, taking it from him. Junsu sat down again opposite of his brother. While Junho wiped his face and composed himself, Junsu started to feel nervousness creeping up in him. He had no absolute right to know, but he felt it was better if he did: Whatever made his steadfast hyung cry like that needed to be dealt with immediately. He did not like to see Junho lose control of himself.

When Junho had finished wiping his face, he started crumbling the tissue paper in his hand and began speaking again:

“It’s actually not a bad thing. It’s… it’s a good thing.”

“Yes?”

“It’s… I… I have to explain a thing or two.”

“Feel free,” said Junsu encouragingly – glad Junho was opening up about what was going on.

“The letter it’s from… I haven’t told anyone. Not even mum.” Junho paused, staring at the crumbled up paper in his hand.

Emotionally Junsu was on the edge of his seat. What was not bad, but good, but their mum couldn’t be told about it? Junho seemed to have to pull himself together strongly to bring out his next words:

“I was in a relationship. And the letter here… I never got it, until now. I… well, it ended with me thinking I was never loved in the first place. But… I think I was.”

Junsu didn’t know what to say. When Junho turned his slightly red eyes towards him, he smiled.

“That’s amazing then, isn’t it?” he said, still not fully understanding what had happened, but hoping to comfort his twin.

“Yeah. I think it is. I think… he loved me, too. I… I had a boyfriend. For 8 months.”

Junho was now looking straight at Junsu.

8 months. And Junsu hadn’t realized. Not once had he asked his hyung. He felt another rush of guilt and at the same time relief, because he had expected something terrible.

“Is that a problem?” Junho asked worriedly.

“No!” assured him Junsu, “I just feel like an idiot for never asking you! I was completely occupied by my problems at the time! I think I never once asked you about relationships… and …did I make you feel like you couldn’t tell me?”

“I felt like it was pretty big news, which I didn’t want to break to you while you were dealing with a whole lot of things. And then things started to go downhill between me and… Masahiko. And I wasn’t sure whether it was going to last. The thing is – he never told anyone. Not his family not his friends. I felt like I needed to keep it a secret, too. Like if I came out and the media would get wind of it… mum would hear of it. I don’t know. I don’t know. I was scared.”

“You did’t have to be scared of telling me,” said Junsu, “Seriously if you went ahead and dated another guy any old day, you’d have my approval. If he’s decent that is.”

Junho gave him a smile.

“I can’t believe I finally told someone. Thank you, dongsaeng,” he said.

“Don’t thank me! I should have gotten involved in your private life much earlier! I wasn’t there for you during the break-up or anything!”

“You weren’t, but you found the letter from Masahiko. We used to have this argument which started as a sort of joke about how he couldn’t say ‘I love you’. Never even wrote it. Absolutely cliché, I know… but that’s how it was. Now the letter – that I wouldn’t have found without you – it says… well, it says ‘I love you’.”

Junho separated the crumbled tissue from the tiny piece of paper and held it up like a precious diamond.

“You know, I was holding a huge grudge against him. And against myself. We broke up 2 months ago and I wondered whether it ever meant anything at all. But it did. It did.”

“So the friend who gave you the ukulele – that was Masahiko?”

Junho nodded.

“That was his kind of humor.”

“Does sound like an interesting guy…. So, do you want to talk about him or trash everything he ever gave you – or both?”

Junho laughed and it was the laugh of someone from whom a huge weight had been lifted.

Five days later

“Frigging geta!” thought Richardis jammed between four different people during morning rush hour in the Tokyo subway. She was trapped in a way that she felt one of her feet would dislocate any moment now. It had been a huge mistake to put on the geta before leaving home. She should have carried them in a backpack, but she had wanted to try them on as soon as possible.

People had stared at her of course. A foreign girl in geta, but no kimono? Richardis knew she was a weird sight, but she didn’t care. Only now that her feet hurt she was regretting the choice: The train she was taking was overloaded with people. She was glad to have located a kimono rental-shop right in Asakusa so that she could do the kimono fitting right there. She and Angela had agreed to meet at Asakusa station and go to the kimono rental place together.

2 Stations later she arrived at Asakusa and joined the huge stream of people pushing their way out of the train. Although the festivities weren’t really starting for another 2 hours many people had arrived early to make sure they got a good view of the parade and did not have to line up for attractions. Inside the station Richardis needed some time searching the crowds until she spotted Angela’s red head of hair. Spouting apologies Richardis pushed through a group of mascots that were blocking her way and called Angela who turned around and greeted her:

“Hey, Rie! I see you are already wearing your geta! I practiced yesterday all day at home, but I didn’t feel confident enough to wear them all the way here!”

“Hi! Oh, well, I regret that a little bit. On the train I had to twist my foot for 15 minutes to make sure I wouldn’t fall out of the shoe.”

They spoke English together, since Angela was said it helped her homesickness if she got to hear her native language.

 “Ah, poor you! Well, the life of a geisha involves a lot of pain… So, if you can walk, let’s get those kimonos!”

“Okay!”

The traffic of the area had been largely diverted for the event, so when they came outside the station, instead of cars, numerous people were streaming past them, stopping occasionally at the countless fast-food and souvenir stands that had sprung up everywhere overnight.

Richardis had been in Asakusa 3½ years ago, when she was 16 years old. Together with her host family she had explored the area, taking photos together with Ayame of random funny looking people and then at the end of the day they voted for the funniest photo. They had been playing a game back then. A game that had started only a few weeks after Richardis’s arrival in Japan and that continued to the day she got expelled from the country. The game that had gotten her expelled from Japan. She chose not to let herself be into her memories and instead began talking to Angela about kimonos.

“Have you worn a kimono before?”

“Yeah, I was already working at the Shiroryuu last year and Choi-san organized a spring dance at the club.”

“Spring dance – like a geisha spring dance?”

“Yeah! It was amazing! That’s the moment when I thought – wow, this job is sure insane, but it’s actually giving me some cultural experiences. I mean I got to learn a traditional geisha dance and it was all financed by patrons of the Shiroryuu!”

“We aren’t dancing this year, are we?” asked Richardis, who was a horrible dancer.

“No, this year it’ll be much easier. We just gotta look pretty. And later we gotta do some product endorsements for the club’s patrons – but that’s not much more than holding up an item and smiling big. I also don’t know how much that’ll be happening this year… since we lost a lot of those patrons.”

Richardis frowned at the mention of the past disaster.

“Don’t let that ruin your day,” Angela said encouragingly, “It’ll still be fun to walk around in kimono. They really make you look great at the place we’re going to. Oh, and we gotta make sure we rent hair ornaments with white Shirobara. That’s how potential clients we’ll know we are Shiroryuu hostesses.”

“White roses for white dragons, alright.”

“Look, there’s the kimono shop!”

“Wow! I’m excited!”

Junsu was in a superb mood, as his private cab pulled into the streets of Asakusa. His career was seeing some action after all and his relationship with Junho was better than ever. Ever since his brother had come out to him as gay they had built up a closeness and trust that had been long absent from their relationship. As it had turned out – besides the ukulele – the water bed and pretty much all the random stuff that was stashed in Junsu’s room had been things that Junho had either received as a present from or bought together with Masahiko. Unable to get rid of any of it after the end of their relationship he had put it all in the guestroom and never looked at again. It was now Junsu’s task to support Junho in coming to terms with the ruined relationship and with all the evidence that was left of it.

“The ukulele has a new owner, so it can stay,” Junho had decided.

“And the waterbed has grown on me, so it’s staying,” Junsu had added.

But a whole lot of other junk that Junho didn’t want to have around him anymore they had gotten rid of together.

“I’ll let the good memories stay and the bad ones go,” Junho had said with renewed spirit.

He had also shown his twin a picture of Masahiko.

“Oh, I see why…,” Junsu had commented and Junho had been slightly affronted.

“Gee,” said Junsu, ”you’ve said the same thing about past girlfriends of mine, don’t take it so seriously. Masahiko looks cute, that’s all!”

It had also given him a lot to think. He did understand why Junho hadn’t told their mum. Since they were both nearing their thirties, their mum had talked increasingly often about the daughters in law she hoped for. Smart, polite, athletic, musical and at best a devout Christian summed up her expectations¹. In the end Junsu believed that the happiness of her sons mattered more than the characteristics of the women they might decide to commit, too, but he couldn’t really imagine introducing her to a boyfriend. He didn’t want to think about that now and pushed the thought away. Today was going to be the charity event in Asakusa and he was determined to give it all.

“Sir,” said the chauffeur-for-hire.

“Yes?”

“They have blocked the roads at the center of Asakusa, because of the Sanja festival. Do you want me to stop here – it’s only a 10 minute walk.”

“Yes, please do.”

The chauffeur-for-hire soon parked the car in parking spot, Junsu payed him well for the long drive and his discretion and went on his way.

He had been in Asakusa before – more than 5 years ago. It had been part of the tour he had done as part of a travel documentary together with the other members of TVXQ. He did not remember the streets from the time back then, but the noise of the festival was telling him he was going in the right direction. Yamaa-san had assured him that he would find his way to the location of the charity concert stage, because posters would be hung all over Asakusa.

A few minutes later Junsu spotted the first poster and saw that he was only 2 streets away from the stage’s location. Since he had a few minutes until he had to be there he stopped at the side of the road to watch the procession of Shinto² priests and young men carrying portable shrines. On the opposite side of the street a lot of people had already gathered and were cheering the men on. In a nervous rush Junsu assured himself that his cap, sunglasses and scarf were in place. He knew the scarf looked odd, since the sun was shining and it was around 27 degrees, but the other side of the street was so full of people, he figured he wouldn’t attract too much attention.

Last time he had been here – when he had been with TVXQ – they had come with a film crew and on a Monday morning, where the area had been almost abandoned. Thus he had never seen this part of town overflowing with life as it did now. He had never witnessed a Shinto shrine festival either and stood in awe of the procession of hundreds of people clotted together, balancing the beautiful but heavy looking portable shrines on their shoulders. The noise was overwhelming, too, as the shrine carriers were grunting under the weight and the innumerable spectators were shouting and hooting encouragement. After the 1^st portable shrine came a procession of musicians banging large taiko drums and traditional flutes – their eerie yet captivating sound mixing with the screams and howls from the crowd.

Richardis shyly inspected herself in the mirror. The white kimono patterned with green bamboo leaves and pink flowers was weighing heavy on her shoulders and she was still nervous to move in it.

“Go ahead, girl. Get a good look at yourself,” said the elderly woman who had fitted the kimono for her.

Carefully Richardis stepped forward on the tatami³ and closer to the mirror.

For the first time since her arrival in Japan, she felt she looked beautiful and she felt comfortable with it. The short dresses and heavy eye shadow that she wore to work never seemed to fit her and her own reflection would slightly alienate her. Now her hair was in an elegant updo – curls gracefully falling out of it onto her neck – and the make-up the lady had carefully and masterfully put on her face highlighted her features, without altering them too much.

When the elderly lady had first set the brush to her face she had expected to be painted like a geisha, but instead the make-up was rather light – as the lady had assured her was the modern way to wear make-up with a kimono: Delicate eye shadow around and an elegant fragile line above the eye, plus soft glazing red on the lips.

Richardis smiled at her reflection and for once felt one with it.

“Thank you very much,” she said to the shop assistant. “Your work looks beautiful.”

The woman laughed: “You are a beautiful girl. I didn’t need to do much.”

Angela, whose make-up had just been finished by the other shop assistant, got up from her seat. She looked stunning in the beautiful bright blue kimono she was wearing and the white rose ornament that decorated her hair. She, too thanked her shop assistant, they both payed the rental fee and left the shop, leaving their normal clothes behind in lockers.

“You look amazing!” said Richardis to Angela.

“Thank you! You look extremely beautiful, too.”

“Arigatou!” said Richardis, trying to nod her head in the slow majestic way she had seen geisha do it.

“Oh, your ornament fell out,” said Angela reaching for the white plastic rose that had fallen to the ground.

“Oops, thank you again,” said Richardis, after Angela had carefully put it back in her hair and they had begun walking in the direction of the festival.

“An ornament falling out of one’s hair is an omen, you know.”

“Really? An omen for what?”

“For significant change. Some say it means you will make a devastating mistake, others say you meet your one true love.”

Richardis laughed.

“The latter one, please.”

Hello my lovely readers,

I took a lot of liberty by making Kim Junho gay. He is not – as far as I know – but with Korean celebrities you really never know… the homoual and bi-community is having a hard time in Korea and Japan. They are somewhat visible, there a progressive areas and people, but by and large it’s both my impression and the statistics that society isn’t easy on them (in comparison to central Europe). Especially celebrities are unlikely to come of the closet, probably fearing repercussions for their career and personal life. I know KPoppers like to joke (and write extensive fanfics on) how x is gay with y – but think about it – some of them surely are gay or bi, but they gotta keep it all hidden and fear to be discovered. It makes me sad to think how many might be secretly gay or bi or in denial about it and unhappy as a result.

If you want to read more I recommend these articles:

http://matadornetwork.com/abroad/like-gay-south-korea/

http://aliasis.hubpages.com/hub/Being-Gay-in-Japan