fresh spring, summer's grave (i loved you)
Fushiguro Toji/Reader
Prologue: The Golden Age
From the beginning, you were your older sister’s biggest fan. Fushiguro Kimiko might as well have hung the moon in the sky as far as you were concerned. So, too, was it for your parents, teachers, extended family, and friends—it seemed that Buddha himself had smiled upon her when she was born. She was the favorite daughter, the model student, the demure belle of the ball, the untouchable beauty of her high school. More and more, as you grew up, you could only admire her and bask in the sun that was her love. You never resented her. One couldn’t be what they weren’t, and besides, you were happy enough in your own little corner of the world. Your parents never really neglected you, never skimped on things you needed. Sure, there were issues, but you always had Kimiko on your side and they listened to her. The thing was, even if you had wanted to grow up bitter and jealous of your sister, she was one of those people who was impossible to hate. She was kind above all else, modest, and caring, a flesh-and-blood Nadeshiko; flawless. Never an unkind word, never gossiping nor starting drama. There was nothing to hate about her, even had you wanted to, unless you wanted to drown yourself in unjustified envy. Especially because if the world had put Kimiko on a pedestal to worship, she worshipped you, her beloved little sister. You were close. Whatever favor that might have fallen to her from your parents, she shared it with you. Whenever she succeeded, you were there as her most enthusiastic support, and when you succeeded, Kimiko was there to cheer you on even if your parents didn’t always consider it worth their time. You truly believed that there was no truer, purer love than the sisterly bond that you had felt for each other from day one. When you were growing up, Kimiko had many admirers but no boyfriends, claiming that she was saving herself for marriage. She was extremely traditional, wanting to marry as soon as she was both old enough and had met her match, then immediately start having children. She’d always wanted a big family. You yourself were more lukewarm when it came to tradition, respecting its place and importance but not necessarily vying for a husband and children from an early age. You figured you’d find it when you found it, and if it didn’t happen, it didn’t happen. You were career-minded from the start. For all that you had little interest in marriage when you were twelve, and Kimiko was starting the tentative search for the right man at sixteen so that she could marry right after graduating senior high school, neither of you would expect how it happened. Or the tragedy it would lead to.
Chapter One: Shepherd the Lamb
“Chizuru cancelled again,” you complain into your phone as you walk down the street in the opposite direction of the movie theatre. “And Jousuke said that if she’s not coming, he won’t, so I don’t have anyone to go to the movies with.” “Oh, honey,” Kimiko says. “You know I’d go with you, but I have to study for—” “No, no, don’t worry about it, aneki! I know your exams are important. I’ll just find something else to do.” When she next speaks, you can tell that Kimiko has one dainty eyebrow raised. “Like homework, maybe?” You groan. “I’m already done with it all! I even worked ahead a couple weeks. I just… class always seems to go so slow. I know all this stuff. But I still get in trouble for doodling.” “I heard about that from Mom. She and Dad are not happy with you, you know.” “What am I supposed to do? Skip a grade or three?” Humming in thought, Kimiko eventually says, “You really could try, you know. You talk about it enough, and if you’re getting in trouble because you’re bored, it means you’re just wasting time that could be used challenging yourself.” “Oh, oh no, I couldn’t—” You’d been distracted while you were walking, which means that it’s no surprise that you run into someone. The streets are busy, as always, but you usually pay more attention to your surroundings. “Oof!” You fall flat on your butt and your phone goes flying. You watch as it, almost in slow motion, flips through the air before landing in just the right—or wrong—angle that the screen shatters and goes black and the body dents deeply. “Nooooo!” you moan, throwing your head back, bruised tailbone and scraped hands going unnoticed. Your parents are going to be even more upset if you not only have gotten disciplinary action for not paying attention, but also broke your expensive cellphone. “Hey, sorry,” says the person you ran into. He’s standing there, completely untouched, unaffected by the force of the collision. When you look at him, you look up, and up, and up… The guy is huge. Built like a gorilla, except with a trim waist to go with his massively broad and overly muscled chest and shoulders. His black hair is shaggy around his face and almost kisses his trapezii, while striking green eyes stare down at you with amusement. “Uh,” you say stupidly. Compared to him, your height is nothing. Your weight is nothing. Nothing about you matches up to him at all. You are nothing. The man crouches down, and it seems like the steady stream of foot traffic just naturally parts around him to make room for the two of you. “You good?” he asks, humor still twinkling in his eyes. That, however, doesn’t compare to the smarmy smirk on his face. Now that he’s closer to you, you see that he’s not quite an adult. He’s definitely hit puberty and there’s no doubt in your mind that it had been very kind to him, but there’s something in the curve of his jaw and the slight roundness of his cheeks that say he has a couple years left of growth in him. The thought of this man getting bigger is terrifying. Once you finish processing from the fall to this man’s question, you catch up to the present. It had only taken a few seconds; your brain is nothing to scoff at. There’s a reason you’re top of not just your class, but of your year. Angrily, you say, “No, I’m not good! You broke my phone!” The man grins like this is the funniest thing in the world. “Oh yeah? Where’s your proof?” You snatch up your phone before it gets treaded on and shove it in his face. “When you bumped into me, it fell and broke! And my parents aren’t going to get me one this nice again! Ugh!” Tears prick your eyes. Saying it out loud makes it real. Sure, it’s only a phone, but you really liked it and had always known that if something happened to it, you were going to go back to a cheaper phone without any conveniences of the newer technology. And you’ll probably get teased at school. This sucks. Ducking your chin and trying to wipe away your tears discreetly, you feel a large, beefy hand land on your head and ruffle your hair. “Come on, kid. I’ll buy you a new one.” The offer is so unexpected that you look up in shock. The man still has the smirk, but it’s softened a bit. “Are… a-are you serious?” you blurt. “100%,” he says. “Gotta run up the credit card before they cut me off. Spending it on monk…” He pauses here, glowers. “Spending it on a little girl’s phone is a great way to do it.” He grins. “They’ll be so pissed.” You don’t think the last part is meant for you, but you don’t really care for his reasoning. If he’s really going to buy you a new phone… Well, you’re going to milk the deal and get the nicest and newest one on the market. And definitely the best phone case, since this last one let you down so catastrophically. “Okay,” you say with a shrug. “Can we go now?” “No other place in my mind,” he says, holding out his hand to help you up. Yours is completely covered by that massive hand. It would scare you except he’s going to buy you a new phone. You’d be worried about stranger-danger, but you just have this… feeling about him. Like he’s safe. The option of doing anything else is taken away from you when the man scoops you up. You let out a choked “Eep!” and find yourself resting on his shoulders, like your dad had once done for Kimiko and a couple of times for you as well. The increase in altitude so quickly has your stomach lurching and head spinning for a second. “Give a girl a warning!” you scold. “Such a brat,” he says with a laugh, and you begin at an admittedly much faster pace to the nearest tech shop. He’s true to his word. When you get to the shop, you sprint inside, already having a pretty good idea of the one you had wanted but your parents deemed overindulgent and unnecessary. Its price is ridiculous. Honestly, when you present the phone you want to your benefactor, you expect him to tell you to get something less expensive. You know how to negotiate: go higher than you need, and by the time he’s done haggling you down, you get what you actually want. “The new Blackberry?” he asks, taking the box from your hand and inspecting it. You’re ready to haggle down to the Motorola. Of course, you’d love the Blackberry, but the Motorola is more affordable. And still much more expensive than your Nokia from last year. The man turns the phone this way and that, likely looking into the specs before saying no. You bounce on your toes, excited to go after your real goal. “I don’t know. Is this one your favorite color?” You just stare at him. No, it’s not your favorite color, because you hadn’t gone to the trouble of picking when it was just going to be turned down. “Uh… no?” “And this one’s only a 16-bit. Get the 32-bit.” Your eyebrows raise up past your hairline but in no way are you going to complain. Stunned, you take the Blackberry 850 box back and replace it with the 32-bit version in your favorite color. The man takes the box, inspects it again, then nods and grins darkly. “Let’s go.” Checkout goes quickly, even though the clerk looks at the man… your friend?... with suspicious eyes. “That your brother, miss?” the clerk asks as though expecting something shadier than what’s actually going on. “Yup,” you sing-song cheerfully. Your friend looks down at you with mischievous eyes and gives the clerk a nasty smirk. Whether the clerk believes you or your friend has intimidated the much smaller man, that’s the end of that. “Alright, now let’s get you home.” He scoops you back up on his shoulders, the counterweight of your heavy backpack not daunting him in the slightest. “Just point.” As you walk, he asks you questions, all of which you’re too happy about the phone to not answer or lie. “Where you go to school, kid?” You tell him. “And I’m the first in my year,” you add proudly. “Yeah? I believe it. Only a smart kid could be as bratty as you are.” “I’m not bratty!” “You think I didn’t see you eyeing the Motorola? And then you come with that Blackberry, thinking I’d say no so you could wear me down. Surprise. I’m like twice your age, kid. You weren’t fooling anyone but yourself.” “I’m TWELVE!” “Fine, fine. Sure you are.” You flush and unwittingly grab his hair. “I am! And anyway, how old are you, jiji?” “Jiji, is it? Sure, okay. I’m 19.” You gasp melodramatically. “You really are old!” “You’ve got a mouth on you, kid. I can respect that. But I’m only gonna ask you to let go of my hair once, or I’m dropping you.” Realizing you’re hurting him more than registering his admittedly threatening words, you gasp and let go. “Oh, I’m sorry!” you apologize immediately. “I didn’t even…” “It’s fine. Don’t do it again.” You continue to banter back and forth until you’re on your front porch. “This it?” he asks. “Yeah,” you say, clutching the box containing your new cell phone tightly. A sudden shyness comes over you. “Um… really, thank you, senpai,” you say, blushing. “No problem, kid.” He turns to go without another word and you feel this urgency inside you that you can’t explain. “Wait!” Halfway down the stairs, he turns. “Am I ever gonna see you again?” you ask, and it only registers peripherally to you that you’re pleading. You want to see this guy again. He shrugs. “I dunno. What does a brat like you want to be doing hanging out with a jiji like me?” You pout. “You’re not really an old man. Only kind of.” He laughs like this takes him off guard, a deep belly laugh that has you giggling, too. “Here, I’ll give you my number. If you break this phone, hit me up and we’ll go spend more of my good-for-nothing family’s money.” Since your new phone hasn’t been formatted yet, you write his number down on the back of your hand, and then without prompting, you write yours on his, though that seems to take him aback and he even looks a bit uncomfortable. “Honestly,” he grumbles. “What’s a 19-year-old gonna do, hanging out with a little kid?” “Anything!” you chirp, too excited to defend your honor but still thinking in passing, I’m not a little kid! He rolls his eyes. “What’s your name, anyway?” You tell him. “What about you, jiji?” “I’m really doing this,” he mutters to himself. “Fine. My name is Toji. Zen’in Toji.” He looks at you like he expects some kind of recognition. “Cool. I’m just gonna call you Toji.” Toji rolls his eyes again, but his small smile is pleased. “And I’m gonna call you brat.” “I’m NOT a BRAT!” you holler indignantly. “Sweetheart?” you hear your mom’s concerned voice from inside. “Fine, fine. Jeez, chill out… little bird.” “One sec, mom!” you call before turning back to him. “I’m not a bird, either!” “You’re as loud as one,” he grumbles. You glare at him. “Birdie, take it or leave it.” “Why not just my name?” “‘Cause it suits you… birdie.” He meets your eyes challengingly. “If you don’t like it, you can take it up with the higher-ups.” Furrowing your brows in confusion, you ask, “Who’re the higher-ups?” “Ha! Me! You’re a little mouse compared to me!” You stamp your foot. “No, I don’t want a—” The front door opens. “Sweetheart, are you alright? Who are you talking to?” “Oh, just…” When you turn around, Toji’s gone like he was never there. “Just… just a friend,” you say a bit glumly. You were having a good time with him. Even though he’s kind of a jerk, he did something really nice for you when he absolutely didn’t have to. You wonder what’s up with his family that he wants to waste their money on a stranger like you. Now that he’s disappeared like that, you wonder if he even gave you his real phone number, and you’re kinda sad that he probably did leave a fake one. Like he said, what’s a 19-year-old doing, hanging out with a ‘little kid’? “Well, alright,” your mom says. “Come in, you need to set the table. It’s almost time for supper. And Kimiko was worried about you, so you need to go apologize to her.” You nod and try to perk up, belligerently ignoring the fact that she’d said Kimiko was worried, but not her or your father. Then… “Wha—what are you doing with that phone?!” your mother screeches. “Did I raise a thief?!” In all the commotion and explanations, you completely forget to text Toji until later at night, while you’re sulking in bed. Your parents had bought your story because there was nothing left to buy. Well, and the receipt helped. They had yelled at you harshly, even though Kimiko stood up for you, and you were allowed to keep the phone only because there was no point in wasting a gift. They did tell you not to contact Toji again—that he could be any kind of creep trying to take advantage of a little girl—and had promised to take Kimiko to get a new phone tomorrow so she’s not left out, even though she insists that she likes the one she has. Well, not talking to Toji just wasn’t going to work for you. Timestamp: 20:21 To: Toji From: Me hey is this toji Your fingers tremble a little bit, anxiety coursing through you. You like Toji, for all of his jerkiness, and you’ll be really disappointed if you never see him again. The lack of response goes on for so long that you’re convinced he’d given you a wrong number. You curl up around your phone, already in PJs and tucked in for bed, and sniffle—just a few times!—before falling asleep. A vibrate awakens you much later. Timestamp: 23:44 To: Me From: Toji yea this mouse? You know immediately that it’s Toji, and a great big grin splits your sleepy face. He gave you his real number! It’s him! Timestamp: 23:46 To: Toji From: Me im not a mouse!! u kno my name!! Timestamp: 23:49 To: Me From: Toji i thot u didnt like brat or birdie Timestamp: 23:50 To: Toji From: Me I DONT!!!!! Timestamp: 23:59 To: Me From: Toji its past ur bedtime little mouse go 2 bed nitenite You send a couple more combative texts but Toji doesn’t reply. Whether he’s ignoring you or gone to bed himself, you have no idea, but just knowing that you can keep your new friend in your life sends you back to sleep, smiling.
Chapter Two: Changing Seasons
“Your parents ain’t shit,” Toji tells you as he walks down the busy sidewalk. You’ve just let him in on a secret: your parents never throw you birthday parties. Generally, you get together with some friends and have lunch or something, but this time everyone bailed to go see Human Earthworm, which has received a lot of hype and just released in theatres today. Sucks that it’s your birthday. Sucks even more than they’d ditched you for a movie that you probably would have enjoyed, but when they’d told you and hadn’t invited you, you were too embarrassed to say anything about it. You sigh. “They’ve always been like that. It’s not a big deal. My sister always gets me something, and my friends…” Well, it’s your fourteenth birthday and the third one they’ve forgotten—or just hadn’t cared enough to mention. Kimiko has told you repeatedly that you need better friends but what are you supposed to do? All you do is cram, really, so you can get into Tokyo University and get into their med school program. If all goes well, you’ll be starting the premed course immediately after you finish senior high next year. That’s not easy. You have a lot of competition from a lot of older people. But you want it, so you’re going make sure you get it. You want to help people—you want to be an orthopedic surgeon, specifically—and besides just graduating at sixteen, you want to stand out as an applicant. You’ve done your extracurriculars, you’ve been in the Literary Analysis club since your first year, you play tennis, and despite being significantly younger than the other kids in your grade, you’re still top of your year. Yeah, it’s hard to make friends when you’re kind of an all-star, even though you’re only doing it to look good for universities. It doesn’t make you popular; it makes it hard to relate to the rest of the student body and instigates mockery from those who don’t take it as seriously. Being smart, getting good grades and doing things like you do, prepping for college so seriously, doesn’t win you brownie points. You’re not quite picked on in senior high school because Kimiko had gone to the same one before you and they respect the seemingly legendary memory of her enough to not bully you, but when it comes down to it, beyond Toji, Kimiko, and Chizuru—and the lattermost more like a kind acquaintance than a true friend—you’re all alone. It hurts sometimes, you can’t deny that. But you’ll have plenty of time to party and have friends in university, where you hope you’ll be more appreciated. And, well. You have Toji and Kimiko. They’re the only people you need. “Did you hear me?” Startled out of your reverie, you pat his head vigorously. “Of course!” “What’d I just say?” “Er, well… uh…” Toji shrugs his massive shoulders and it jolts you dangerously from where you sit on top of him. You’re still small enough that Toji will occasionally put you on his shoulders, voluntarily or not. You’re not really growing with puberty; some things have changed, like getting your period, but otherwise you feel like it skipped you. “Eep! Don’t do that, jiji! You’re gonna kill me!” “I’m not gonna kill you. You know I’ll catch you, duh.” The warmth of love spreads through your chest and instead of slapping him on the head, you start carding through his hair. For all that it’s shaggy and looks unkempt, you know how soft it is, how easy it is to glide your fingers through the thick strands. Sometimes you’ll give him a head massage—you don’t know how much he feels it because you’re not particularly strong—but he never stops you. And sometimes, you’ll gently stroke his scalp. These are the ways you’ve learned over the last two years to show him your affection. He doesn’t like cuddles or hugs, though he’ll give them to you—begrudgingly, most of the time— if you ask. You prefer to respect his boundaries and not force any touch on him if you can help it. He never complains about what you do with his hair, though, so you use it as the only way to communicate your love for him. He’s a friend, yes, but he also sometimes fills the role of older brother. You’ve wondered time and again if your parents would treat you better if you had another sibling, or if you’d just get ignored twice over. You know it’s not going to happen; they were happy with just Kimiko. You were an accident—and not necessarily a happy one, to hear your mom tell it. As you’ve grown older, she’s stopped sugarcoating it so much until one day she just outright said it after you got a disciplinary action at thirteen. Even skipping an entire grade wasn’t enough to fully stimulate your precocious mind. Nor, apparently, was it enough for them to love you. “We love you very much, honey.” A soft lie couched in hard truth. “But we didn’t plan for you. If we’re going to let you be a part of this family, you need to start acting grateful for our sacrifice.” “Okay, Brains. What’s going on in that melon of that head?” “Toji!” you scold, insulted. He grunts and shifts you around. “Answer the question, kid.” “I dunno,” you answer after a moment. “I guess… I just guess I wish my parents loved me.” You gasp as soon as the words escape. “Not that I want them to love Kimiko any less! I just… I wish… I don’t know. Parents suck, I guess.” “Tell me about it,” Toji mutters. It’s just loud enough for you to hear, but you know he didn’t say it on purpose. Toji never talks about his family, so you’re not going to question him. You hope one day you’ll be old and big enough for him to feel comfortable sharing these things with you instead of saying that you’re too young to understand. Either way, you can tell he’s in a sharing mood, so you go on. “And like… I mean, I get it. Birthday parties can be expensive, so I don’t really expect them. Once my dad got me a cupcake, though! Kimiko got a cake, but she shared with me so I wasn’t sad.” Toji grunts but doesn’t shift this time. It sounds like disapproval, maybe even anger. “But! I don’t want to be ungrateful. When I graduated junior high, they threw a party. I mean, it was all of their friends and some of our neighbors, so it was mostly just adults talking, but I still got a slice of cake. So that was nice.” “Mouse,” Toji says bluntly. He’s never been one to sugarcoat, unlike your parents. “They were just showing you off.” You sigh glumly. “Yeah, I know. But it was still nice, and I should be grateful they did anything at all. When Kimiko graduated, they took everyone to the beach and we spent the weekend there.” You can literally feel Toji grinding his teeth. It’s making his whole jaw move, and from your placement, it’s pretty obvious. “Think they’ll notice if you’re gone for a night or two?” You only have to think about it for a second. “Probably not. Why?” Toji turns on a dime in the direction of a different platform, holding you safely on his shoulders. You give a little cry of surprise but then start watching the signs as they pass. “Toji? Where are we going?” “Gonna celebrate you the proper way.” You smile. Maybe he’ll take you somewhere extra-nice for lunch? You have no idea. Still, you mutter in his ear, “Thank you… jiji.” It makes him laugh, which is a birthday gift enough for you. ________________________________________ You stare up in wonder at the building Toji has stopped in front of. “Toji…” You can barely believe what you’re looking at. “Toji, you’re not taking me to the Park Hyatt. You’re not.” “Happy birthday, mouse,” he says. You’re still on his shoulders as he steps inside. The tile is so polished it reflects you and Toji as he strides towards the front desk. You watch your face and then his in amazement. The sleek interior of marble and gold has your jaw dropping; you’ve never even breathed in the direction of the most acclaimed hotel in Japan. Then you look up and up and around and… “Do you have a reservation, sir?” asks the perfectly coiffed and professional hostess. Toji ignores her question. “I want the penthouse suite,” he says. She stays neutrally polite. “Unfortunately, sir, the penthouse suite is full and—” “For Zen’in Toji,” he goes on, and the hostess pauses, eyes wide as though she hadn’t expected the name. For just a split second she’s surprised, then she quickly transforms into someone else, someone formal and subservient to the giant man in front of her who’s wearing a baggy shirt and loose pants. He stands out like the metaphorical elephant in the room. “Yes, honored sir, we will have the penthouse suite ready in two hours. How many nights are you staying, honored sir?” “Two. Tonight and tomorrow.” Unthinkingly, you grab Toji’s hair and lean over him to loudly whisper, “Toji, I have school tomorrow! It’s only Friday!” “Sucks for your school I guess,” he says without looking at you. “My parents will be so mad if I skip!” “Fuck your parents.” Both you and the hostess jolt, surprised and unused to Toji’s foul language. But he does have a point. “I don’t have anything to wear… Not for a place as nice as this…!” Toji ignores you as he makes the reservation, then saunters out without a care, still holding you tightly to his shoulders. “Toji! Stop!” He continues to ignore you, so you pull his hair again. That gets a response, which was the point of you tugging his hair when he hates it so much. “Quit that, brat.” “Then listen to me!” Finally, Toji goes off to the side of the lobby. “What?” “I—I really appreciate this, b-but it’s too much! I mean, I don’t have any appropriate clothes or makeup or anything to fit in or the food or—I mean, how do I even pay for that stuff? And the hotel?! I have like 10,000 yen and that’s my life savings! I can’t—” “Mouse.” You grumble at the nickname and subside. “I ever tell you I hate my family?” “Uh… no, but I kinda figured…” “Smart kid. I hate ‘em bad. But they have a name around here. My last name’ll get us whatever we want, and they’re going to charge it to the family account, so no skin off my back. And I’ll buy you the clothes and whatever shit you need, and then we’re gonna relax and you’re going to get the Princess treatment.” You can only stare blankly at the crown of his head. “What’s the Princess treatment?” you ask quietly. “Just think of it as the most deluxe spa day out there. My family does it for their brides before their wedding day.” You flush. “O-oh. But I’m not getting married.” “They don’t know that.” “I’m fourteen!” “Don’t matter to my family.” You feel sick to your stomach. “That’s… that’s gross.” “Just be glad you’re not a Zen’in. A girl like you? They’d be tryin’ to sell you off before your next birthday. Your sister? She’d already have three kids.” He shrugs and then says, blasé, “So. Wanna drain ‘em dry?” Still feeling a little queasy at the thought of being a child bride, even though you’re fourteen, to a likely much older man than Toji, you say weakly but with determination, “Yeah. Let’s make your family poor.” Toji laughs then. “This won’t even make ‘em take a second glance at their books. More for us, I guess.” “You mean you,” you say. “I’m not part of your family.” “And it’s gonna stay that way.” You nod, and with that tense, revealing conversation with Toji, he starts walking towards a high-end clothing store with only designer clothes in the display. Toji is immediately set upon by several beautiful, charming ladies, all blatantly ignoring your presence, vying for his attention and money, but that’s just natural. You watch them look at him in a different way than you do, and it occurs to you as they bat their lashes and smile coyly, they’re not just trying to get the sale but also, they’re genuinely flirting with him. You’ve seen it before, of course. Although Toji will always be ‘old man’ to you, you know that other girls find him very attractive. Of course they can’t help it—it’s Toji. But you can’t help that you’re always just a little relieved when he doesn’t reciprocate. This time, though, it’s like you don’t exist as Toji talks to them, only his strong hands on your calves making you feel like you’re here at all. Finally, he calls to a pretty girl who’s been standing back, obviously thinking that one of her more outgoing coworkers was going to get the catch. “Hello, sir,” she says with a bow, eyes round after being addressed. “How may I help you today?” Toji lifts you up like you weigh nothing and sets you down. “My little sister lost her suitcase,” he blatantly lies. The two of you look nothing alike but it’s not like anyone is going to question him. “I want a new wardrobe for her.” You gape at Toji and shake your head ‘no’ desperately and—and the next thing you know, you’re in a fitting room having your measurements taken. “Screw you, Toji!” you yell in a very undignified manner. The lady taking the measurements pauses and purses her lips disapprovingly at your uncouth behavior before getting back to work. All you hear is Toji’s resounding belly laugh and you settle in for a long day. ________________________________________ By Sunday, you’ve received one text from your dad, who’s asking where you are because he needs your help getting something from the attic. Your size makes you the ideal tool for him to get whatever he wants from small spaces. Fortunately, it comes right as you’re getting on the train with Toji to go back home. You have more than a few new high-quality, name-brand clothes stuffed into several overflowing shopping bags. “I’m never going to be able to wear these again,” you moan, leaning into Toji. For once, he’s letting you lean into his side with his arm casually around your neck, allowing you to cuddle into him. You feel boneless after the Princess treatment. Various types of massage, facials, saunas, hot tubs, scrubs, wraps, shiatsu, exfoliants—there’s more, you just can’t recall their names because you were so out of it with all the pampering. “Sure you will, kid,” he says. “Next time I’m back in town.” “Oh!” you say. “When are you leaving? You weren’t going to go without telling me, were you?” “Of course not, mouse.” That name again. You don’t always catch him using it enough to correct him every time, but when you do, you can only express your disgust for it. “Ugh.” The train is relatively empty at this time of day, so the both of you sit in silence for a while. You still have some time together, with your stop being one of the last ones. Toji eventually says, “Headed to Honshuu.” You eyes widen as you look up at him. “What on earth are you doing in Honshuu?” “That’s for me to know and you to forget about, kid.” You giggle and press your face into his chest. But all good things must come to an end and you finally reach your stop, which is quite unwelcome. Nonetheless, Toji propels you along until you get to the end of your block. Then, out of sight of your parents and nosey neighbors, you have to say goodbye. You gather yourself into the most formal bow you know and say, “Thank you very much, Toji-san. I—I’m indebted to you. I’ll pay you back. Whatever you want.” Toji just ruffles your hair, and you grab his wrist to make him stop. “Jiji! I’m trying to be serious here! I really owe you!” “I’ll think about it, mouse. For now, you have an attic to sweat in.” “Fine! …When will I see you again?” “Got lotsa stuff going on, not just Honshuu. Dunno. I’ll send you a text when I know more.” You can’t help but slump a little. You hate it when he’s gone for indeterminate amounts of time. Without him, you get lonely very quickly, no matter how hard Kimiko tries to make up for your parents’ neglect and your friendlessness at school. But you put on a brave face and point at him. “You’d better!” Toji laughs and you straighten. “Alright, mouse. Go on home.” He’s turning away when you impulsively launch yourself at him for just one more hug. He catches you like he’d expected it and holds you tight. “Bye-bye, Toji,” you whisper sadly. Not knowing if he hears or not, you quickly release him, grab your bags, and hurry back to your usual lonesome existence without him.
Chapter Three: Summer Storm
You wait at the airport terminal Toji will exit, bouncing on your toes with excitement. He doesn’t know you’re there and you can’t wait to surprise him. Toji thinks he’s smooth, hiding his trail of flights across Japan—but you used some of the programming you’d learnt in your computer science college credit course to track him down. You don’t really care what he’s doing that takes him all over the country; all you’d focused on is when he gets back to Tokyo. After hacking in, it had required a little extra studying since you’re using code much more complicated than what you’d been taught, but you’d found which terminal he’d be disembarking at and at what time. You’d even made a sign to catch his attention. You’re looking for a giant man who will be wearing casual clothes to the point of maybe even sweatpants—you’ve tried over the years to get Toji to present himself better but it’d been a lost cause from the beginning. At long last, you see his silhouette. He’s wearing—yup, gray sweatpants and a form-fitting navy blue shirt. You can’t tell what’s on his feet but it’s likely something equally as inappropriate for travel, like slippers. You begin to raise the sign, then— You see Toji step aside to one of the pillars that stands a little way away from the doors. He starts talking and a plume of smoke blows into his face—apparently, he’s talking to someone who’s hiding, for some reason, behind that pillar. He scowls, then, and holy shit… The face Toji’s making? That’s… It’s genuinely scary. You watch the encounter unfold from your safe distance away and it occurs to you, like a bolt of lightning striking you in the chest, that Toji might actually be dangerous. Not to you, never to you. You know in your heart of hearts that Toji would never harm you, and even seeing his frightening expressions, some that you wish you’d never seen, doesn’t change that. What you and Toji have is special. You’ve been struggling a lot recently—you’re cramming for seven hours a day on top of going to school because this is the year you’re going to get into Tokyo University. Not any other year or any other time—next Fall, you’ll be starting classes for the pre-med course. No one and nothing can stop you. Except for Toji. If he said ‘no, don’t go to Tokyo University’… you might well listen to him. You know he won’t, he knows it’s your dream of dreams, but that’s the extent of your loyalty and trust in him. He’ll never let you down—and as he always says, he’ll catch you. You believe him with the entirety of your being. But this? Well, this is… disturbing. Terrifying. You watch the conversation unfold with only Toji’s face visible and your stomach flips uncomfortably. You don’t like this at all. Suddenly, one of Toji’s arms disappears behind the pillar. You don’t hear or see what happens next and quite frankly, you don’t want to. But Toji spits down—and oh, you could have gone the rest of your life without seeing that look on his face. It’s nasty, condescending, scornful—whoever the person is means nothing to Toji. Feeling bile rise in your throat, you swallow hard and look away. You don’t want to see this. After a few minutes, you turn back. Toji is coming down the stairs, looking as blasé and nonchalant as you please… and carry a second black duffel bag. You paste a smile on your face and raise your sign again, calling, “Toji!” He glances up at the sound of his name and sees you. He smiles, softer than you would have expected after what you just witnessed, and raises his hand. At the sight of him, your concern bleeds away and the usual blanket of safety you feel around him cocoons you. Your smile becomes more real and you start wading your way to him. “Well look what the cat dragged in,” he says once he reaches you. “Wasn’t expecting a little mouse.” “Shut up! You know my name!” you complain. He embraces you tightly and though it’s unexpected, you hug him back. The cardboard sign is crushed between your chests. And then, with very little warning, he squeezes you so hard your breath catches and he starts swinging you around, your legs and lower body airborne. “Ahhhhhhh!” you cry. “Stop! Put me down, you jeeeeeeeeeerk!” After three rounds, he finally sets you down. Woozy, you slump into him for balance instead of cracking your skull open on the concrete stairs. “UGH! Tojiiii,” you whine. “Why do you gotta—” Your sentence is aborted when you finally get a good look at him and notice the stitches on the side of his mouth. His lips are far enough apart to be stitched separately, and although it looks like an injury well-cared for, you’re still brought to tears. “Toji, what happened?” you plead. “What—what happened to your mouth?” “Accident,” he says curtly. “What kind of accident does—” “Leave it, mouse. It’s for your own good.” You trust Toji implicitly and though you’re desperately curious, you won’t ask. “Just… are you okay?” He peers into your eyes, gaze heavy, then looks away and says, “Yeah, I’m good. Don’t worry about me, mouse.” You nod once, seriously. “Alright. I’m gonna worry anyway, but I trust you.” Toji starts walking again and you purposely walk on the side of him that has his original duffel bag. You don’t know what’s in the second and you don’t want to. It’s not heavy enough to strain him, but then again, nothing is. You both head toward the train station. “What’re you doing here anyway, mouse? Did someone tell you where I’d be?” There’s a bit of a hard edge in his voice, and he sounds suspicious in a way you’d never expected to have aimed at you. But you trust him, so you tell him the truth. Lowering your voice, you say, “I kinda hacked into the airport security.” He turns to you, not missing a step, and replies with one eyebrow raised, “Really, mouse? Am I supposed to believe that?” You huff. “You don’t have to believe me, but it’s the truth.” He observes you, your body language and expression and who knows what else. “Fine. Yeah, I believe you.” “That’s right, jiji! Your best friend is a pro hacker!” You pump your first victoriously, like this had been a competition. Toji just rolls his eyes. “Maybe don’t shout that.” You flush and stop your victory dance, then turn to him to pout. “You always ruin the mood, Toji.” “It’s what I do.” “Well, to answer your question, you’ve been gone so long that I wanted to surprise you! Didn’t expect the Spanish inquisition, though.” “You definitely surprised me,” he mutters. “It’s what I do,” you parrot back to him. He shakes head as though straightening out his thoughts. “I need to go back to my place for a bit to drop this stuff off. I’ll meet you at your platform when I’m done.” “What?” you cry. “No, I wanna go with you!” “You definitely don’t need to see an abandoned bachelor pad. There’s probably gonna be roaches.” You scrunch your nose but still are ridiculously curious about how he lives, regardless of potential pests. “Please?” You give him your best iteration of puppy-dog eyes. He glances down at you from the corner of his eye. You just keep the sad, adorable face you’ve slipped on and stick out your quivering bottom lip pathetically. Toji grunts. “Fine. But don’t touch anything.” ________________________________________ Even though Toji had said ‘abandoned bachelor pad,’ you’re still shocked at how bad it is. Wrappers, paper, paid and unpaid bills, soda cans, unfinished food left to rot, half-empty takeout containers, loose plastic bags—whatever kind of filth possible, Toji’s apartment has it. The smell that assaults you the moment Toji closes the door behind him almost makes you gag, ‘almost’ if only because you didn’t want to embarrass him with how awful it is. “Gotta put this stuff away,” he tells you. “And change. Stay out here.” He glances around. “That stool should be safe.” After pointing it out, he then saunters off to his bedroom. You don’t miss that not only had he closed the door all the way but that a lock had also clicked behind him. You settle on the stool and pull your phone out for something to do while you wait but end up staring at the screen blankly as you process what you’ve learned today. And so quickly, too. In the last hour, a lot about your best friend has been revealed to you, and you’re not sure you like it. First, you’d been forced to realize that Toji’s job was probably not as over-the-table as you’d liked to believe. It makes sense, logically—he’s built like a truck and anyone who looks like him likely has a different variety of jobs available than someone with an average build like you. His expressions had still scared you, and you don’t like that Toji had probably punched whoever he was talking to. It leaves a sour taste in your mouth, but this is Toji, so although you don’t approve, you’re not going to interfere, much less get him into any kind of trouble. No, this is something you take to your grave. Another thing you’ve discovered—you think—is that you now understand where all of Toji’s money comes from and goes. You hadn’t wanted to think it, but you’re absolutely positive that that second duffel bag was stuffed with cash. You’re not going to pry. You hate the idea that some of that money from a shady source has been spent on you; when you’re together, Toji insists on paying for everything. You don’t have an income, just a measly allowance you’ve been saving up since you were old enough to understand savings and investments, so ultimately he’d have to pay anyway. But there’s a difference between fronting some money to go to a movie or buy you a snack. Toji takes you to high-end restaurants that not even your parents could afford and buys you the clothes to fit in pretty much on the spot. There were those two ridiculously luxurious nights at Park Hyatt Tokyo, the several times he’d paid for you to see various live performances—needless to say, Toji spends his money without care, and despite the size of the duffel bag, you’d take the bet that he spends a lot of it on you. To be honest, with this revelation, you wonder just what you mean to him that he’s willing to use all these resources on you. It’s like he lives to make you happy. You personally live to make him happy, you only want the best for him and try to support him and be a good friend, but knowing what you know now, you’re not sure that you’re pulling your weight in this relationship. Gingerly, you set your elbow on the corner of the island. It’s sticky but you’ve already done it, so you ignore the grossness and rest your chin in your palm. You have a lot of questions that you’re better not off asking. Even if you thought he’d give you a straight answer, which he wouldn’t, it’s Toji. He wouldn’t like those questions and ultimately, it’s not really your business. You startle when Toji stomps his way back into the main living area, changed into slightly less inappropriate clothes now, with a hand stuffed in his pocket. “Where you wanna go for dinner?” he asks, settling a hip against the edge of the island, close to your elbow. He’s so freaking tall; he just towers over you, making you really feel like you are a mouse compared to him. You pause. “Why don’t we go somewhere you like?” you ask, trying to sound less tentative than you feel. He raises a skeptical eyebrow and frowns a little. “I honestly don’t care.” Sitting up taller and straightening your spine, you tell him, “Neither do I. I pick all the time, we should eat somewhere you like. You know I’m not picky.” Toji’s eyes narrow as he observes you. You don’t know what he sees in you that makes him think you’re so worthy, even though you appreciate whatever it is. You don’t know what you’d do without him. “What did you see?” he asks at last. You hadn’t expected such a direct question and you can only freeze with your guilt at witnessing something you shouldn’t have. “Oh—uh, I mean—nothing, I just—” “I won’t be mad,” he says, shifting into a more relaxed stance. It drains some of the fear from you. You know he won’t hurt you, but you also can’t help but think now that it’s possible. A staring contest ensues until you break. You were never going to win anyways, not against Toji, but you had to try. You tell him. He listens without interrupting, and when you’re done with your tale, he doesn’t answer. But there’s something expectant in his gaze that makes you think you can ask a question. “Toji… what do you really do?” Tossing his head to get his shaggy bangs out of his eyes, he says, “I ain’t gonna tell you.” “But—why not?” “It’s classified.” You don’t know why you slump in relief. ‘Classified’ really doesn’t mean anything, but you’re also glad that you don’t have to find out if it’s something truly distasteful. You grab onto the answer like a lifeline; you don’t want to—don’t have to—dig deeper. He’s not going to tell you and has a justifiable explanation. You’ll take it. “Okay. Just… I didn’t really realize how much money you’re spending on me.” You look down at the dirty tile floor, ashamed. “I’m not really giving you anything back, am I? Not like you are…” He reaches out and pats your head affectionately. It’s not quite the playful ruffle he’s always given you, but you can’t tell what the difference is, just that there is one. “Don’t worry about it, mouse. I like doing it for you.” Cheeks still flaming, you can only keep your eyes on the ground and smile. “Okay. But… let me know if there’s ever anything I can do to contribute, okay?” He chuckles. “If you say so.” The two of you end up at a takoyaki stand. It was your attempt at a compromise and you think Toji allowed it because he knew you were feeling guilty, but it’s still delicious. The two of you sit down on a nearby bench, you eating heartily while Toji just picks at his. You watch him out of the corner of your eye, waiting for him to acknowledge the appetite you know he has; his stomach had growled loudly on your way over. “Eat, jiji,” you tell him playfully. “At your age, you need all the nutrition you can get.” “Ha, ha.” But he still doesn’t start eating and you eventually have to get up to throw away your paper plate because you’re finished. “Okay,” you say firmly once you’re seated again. “What’s on your mind?” Toji looks at you, up and down, and then sighs in exasperation. “Fine.” Then he doesn’t go on. “Well?” He almost sounds like he’s pouting when he says, “This was supposed to be at a restaurant, you know.” “Welp, we’re not at a restaurant. And I gave you the choice so you could have insisted.” He rolls his eyes instead. “You didn’t want a fancy restaurant.” “So? It was your turn to pick! I’ve been making the decisions since—since—” Well, the entire time. He’s always left it up to you. “Right.” He shifts, sets down the takoyaki beside him, and digs his hand into his pocket. “I was out of town for your sixteenth birthday, so I got you this.” “Toji—” He takes a jewelry box out of his pocket and hands it to you. “Happy birthday, mouse.” “You know my name!” you say for lack of anything else, hesitating to take the jewelry box. You can tell just from a first glance that it’s unnecessarily nice jewelry. You don’t recognize the brand name, so he must have gotten it on his travels, but you—after all you’ve learned today, you can’t imagine accepting more from him. “I sure do… mouse.” “Ugh.” Somehow, in your distraction at the annoyance of your loathed nickname, Toji had handed you the fancy box and you’d unthinkingly took it. “Wait, no!” You try to shove it back to him. “Toji, I can’t—” “If you don’t, I’ll put it on you myself.” You don’t doubt he would do it, so with anxious hands, you open the box and gasp at what you see. “That’s a… what is that?” you ask, not daring to touch the silver-black gemstone. “Musgravite,” he tells you. “What’s that?” “A gemstone.” “Right, but—” “Just put it on.” It’s a necklace, the chain long enough that you can hide it under your shirt if you need to, but also adjustable so that you can make it so that the gem rests directly between your collarbones. Gently, you pick up the white gold chain. “Can you help me?” you ask shyly. You turn to the side and Toji puts it on you easily, even though you’d thought he would struggle with such a delicate chain in his big hands. “Let me see,” he says. Feeling warm and fuzzy and loved, you turn around and show him what his gift looks like on you. Toji smiles, a soft thing that you don’t think you’ve ever seen before. “Happy birthday, mouse,” he repeats. “Thank you, Toji…” You don’t really know how to respond to his extravagant gift and a physical reminder of how much you mean to him, even if it’s just a simple colored rhinestone with a fancy name. All you can do is wrap your arms around him and hug him tightly. “Any time, mouse.” A week later, after Toji’s left on another job, you finally find the guts to look it up: musgravite. It takes a bit of digging, but you finally find a price point. You were just curious; you don’t care at all what he spent; you’re still going to treasure it with everything in you. You almost faint when you see how much it’s worth. Your head spins and your stomach feels funny. You have to sit back into the family’s computer chair and close your eyes, hands tight on the armrests. “Toji, you didn’t,” you whisper in dismay. If you sold this to the right person, you could buy a house outright with just the sale of the gemstone. Of course, you would never do that. Instead, it just makes you want to wear it more. No one has ever cared for you like Toji has—and you don’t mean that in the shallow, materialistic way of him buying you expensive things. He put a lot of effort into this; the rarity of the gem means that this wouldn’t be an impulse buy. You’ve always had Kimiko, and the two of you love each other very much, but if you weren’t related, you don’t know that Kimiko would even notice you in the halls, much less be your friend. But you and Toji? Well, you’d chosen each other… after you’d nagged him incessantly into spending time with you, that is. That’s okay, though. What came of it is worth that and more, and you know Toji feels the same way. You gently kiss the gem and settle it under your shirt. You don’t want to be showing off something so extravagant, but under no circumstances will you ever take this off. No matter what happens, this is a bit of Toji you can always carry with you. Even when he’s out of town, you still have his love resting against your breastbone. You close out your tabs and erase the history. The last thing you want is your parents asking why you’d looked up something like this; you can’t imagine any kind of positive reaction. Slinking off to your bed after shutting down the computer, you slip under the covers and close your eyes. You don’t think you’ve ever slept better, holding your gift to your chest throughout the night.
Chapter Four: Spring Breeze
When your parents finally meet Toji—very much against your will—they hate him. You had expected this. It feels like they barely want you around sometimes, so you bringing a ragamuffin, poorly-dressed Toji who pointedly speaks to them disrespectfully despite your best efforts, well—it’s a lot. But it was Kimiko’s request. She’s been wanting to meet him for a while. You know that she fears for your safety, even around Toji, because she’s never met him herself and although you only sing his praises, it’s different than seeing him in the flesh. As you stand there on the front step ahead and to the left of your best friend, you watch the drama go down. For once, Kimiko is asking for something and your parents aren’t caving to her requests, and although she’s far from spoiled, Kimiko is used to getting her way. “Fine,” she says angrily. “We’ll go to the park.” Your parents protest but Kimiko is already exchanging her house slippers for some ballet flats. In moments, Kimiko is storming off with you, Toji falling behind. When you reach the park, Toji standing to your side while you and Kimiko sit on the two-person bench, your older sister starts to calm down. “I don’t think we were properly introduced,” Kimiko says, then stands in front of Toji and bows. “It’s nice to meet you. My name is Fushiguro Kimiko, but you can just call me Kimiko. Please take care of me.” Your sister is blushing. A tiny little pit of dread settles heavily in your stomach but you don’t know why. “Name’s Toji,” he replies, not curtly but still short. “Nice to meet you, Kimiko-san.” He also doesn’t bow. You’re a little surprised—and maybe a little comforted—that he stays polite and detached. Most men, upon meeting Kimiko, invite some kind of familiarity. Toji, though? He’s not. That says something, and although you don’t know what, you know you appreciate it. No offense to Kimiko, but you’d kind of wanted Toji all to yourself today. You haven’t seen him in over a month, one of his longest trips yet, and although you’d set up the meetup in good spirits, you hadn’t expected to have your time with him intruded upon. You don’t blame her, but it still rankles, just a little bit. While you’ll swear you’re not sulking as Toji and Kimiko speak, somewhat leaving you out of the conversation, you are aware that Kimiko is making moon-eyes at your best friend. When you turn to Toji, he’s still talking to her—and he hasn’t looked at you once. He smiles at her, the kind so far only reserved for you. Suddenly, you feel sick to your stomach. Looking between them, listening to their conversation silently, you realize that Kimiko and Toji already have a much different bond than you have with him. You wouldn’t say you’re completely left out, but the topics they’re discussing sound more adult than yours with Toji. And that leads you to realize that while you and Toji are close, Toji and Kimiko, who’s still blushing and smiling prettily, might be… a good match. You swallow your discomfort and just observe them, forcing yourself to have an objective view instead of one that influenced by your fear of losing Toji to your sister. You’ve never felt particularly jealous of her, maybe a little sad that your parents don’t love you like they love her but never outright wanting something she has. After all, you have your corner of the world, comfortable and safe. And Toji makes up a large part of that world. You watch. They’re getting along. The chemistry is totally unlike what Kimiko has with her fiancé, Shinji—that is to say, much improved. You don’t dislike Shinji really, you think he’d be a good fit, but seeing this, you know in your heart of hearts that Shinji has nothing on Toji. And as much as you hate it, you know that you have to either help get them together or watch it happen naturally. You don’t know which one will hurt worse. ________________________________________ Toji brings you to a bar he likes to frequent after Kimiko leaves. You try to act normal but you know he’s onto your bad mood; he asks a couple of times about what’s bothering you, but you have no good answer so you lie. When you brush him off every time, he stops asking, which you appreciate. You don’t want to lie to him, not about this. The occasional white lie you tell each other is one thing, but something as big as this leaves you unwilling to fib. Then, to your dismay, he starts asking about your older sister. How old is she, what does she do, what kinds of things she likes—all things that could be innocent but you know are not. You answer with what you hope is nonchalance or at least not disgruntlement. You beg off a couple hours early in the end. It’s the first time you’ve left before he does. As you walk to the train station—alone, as you’d requested—you could swear you feel his eyes on your back as you leave, but you don’t acknowledge it. This is hard enough on its own. Once you get home, you’re determined to just fall asleep and forget about everything for the night. You’ll figure all this out tomorrow, hopefully when you’re less sad and resentful. You don’t want to feel bad that you’re going to make sure your most beloved people are going to be happy together, and without you. Just as you’re about to pass out, you hear a quiet knock on your door. It can only be Kimiko. You’re a little annoyed because you’d been so close to sleep, but you get up and open the door for her anyways. “Hey,” Kimiko whispers after you close the door behind her. “Hey,” you mumble. “I was almost asleep…” “Oh! I’m so sorry, I can go—” You shake your head. “No, no, it’s fine. What’s up?” The two of you settle on your bed, Kimiko at the foot and you curling up against the wall. You’re torn. On the one hand, you’re glad to spend time with her. She has always had a soothing presence, or at least until today when you saw her with Toji. Still, it’s hard to be mad at her so you just smile and ask again, “What’s up?” Even in the dim moonlight illuminating your room, you can see Kimiko’s blush. “Um… I wanted to ask you about your friend. Toji-san.” Whereas Kimiko is blushing, the blood drains out of your face. “Oh yeah? What about him?” Kimiko ends up asking a lot of questions—questions notably similar to what Toji had asked you just a couple hours ago—and you answer as thoroughly as possible while still keeping Toji in a positive light. You don’t dare to tell her about what had happened when you surprised him at the airport, which you absolutely have not done again, or your suspicions of his possibly less-than-moral job. But you do tell her how kind he is to you, his affection and generosity to a friend much younger than him; you highlight all the good things and leave out anything that could freak her out if she hears about it too soon. “Imouto…” Kimiko says after the last question has faded into the ether. “Hmm?” “I think… I think this is love at first sight,” she admits softly. “I think I love him.” That’s not really something you were prepared to hear tonight, nor is it something you wanted to hear, but at least everything is going smoothly, according to plan. “I think you could be a good match,” you reply, matching her tone. Not for the same reason, though; you’re worried that if you say it any louder, she’ll hear the heartbreak in your voice. “Do you really?” she asks softly. You can’t do anything other than nod. The two of you sit in contemplative silence for a little bit before you say, “Well, I have school tomorrow. Do you mind if I go back to sleep?” “Oh!” Kimiko exclaims. “Of course, of course. Thank you, and I hope you sleep well tonight.” “I will,” you lie. Kimiko leaves. For the rest of the night, you go in circles around and around in your mind, trying to find happiness for the burgeoning couple rather than dread or resentment or jealousy. “It’s going to be fine,” you whisper to yourself. “It’s going to be just fine.” You think that with enough time, you might even believe it.
Chapter Five: Lotus Blooms
“Are you going to go see Toji-san again?” Kimiko asks with a fond smile. Hesitating on the ledge of your window, you look back at her with a teasing smile. “Why? You wanna come with?” “Oh, you know I can’t, imouto.” She’s blushing brightly. “But I hope you have a good time.” “Not gonna tell Mom and Dad?” you continue to tease. Since their rejection of Toji and Kimiko’s declaration of love for him, things have been a little tense in the household. Kimiko hasn’t expressed her change in feelings to them, but she’s complying less and less with your parents’ wishes. “Of course not!” You stifle a giggle behind your free hand. “Your kids are going to be so spoiled,” you say playfully. Kimiko blushes. “Not if Shinji-san has any say in it,” she replies. But the notion of her fiancé has her smile drooping. “You know I support you and Toji,” you say. “I’ve been mentioning you every time. Shinji’s cool and all, but I don’t think he’s, well, right. Not the way I think you and Toji could be.” You do mention Kimiko every time you see him now, but ever since the time that they’d met and you’d left the bar early, he hasn’t really responded to your comments. It’s weird, because in the past Toji has never hesitated to point out a particularly gorgeous woman. Which, come to think of it, hasn’t really happened lately, so maybe you’re not reading into his behaviors just right. A few months after that late night conversation with Kimiko about how she thinks she loves Toji, you’ve become more confident that Toji won’t leave you out, started to trust that Kimiko won’t steal him away from you forever. You’ve finally come to terms with it all and it feels much better than those few months where you’d struggled with rampant jealousy and anger and heartbreak—hidden well from both of them, of course. You’re not going to be selfish and try to divide them or cause issues. Kimiko’s blush darkens visibly even in the dimness of your bedroom, the only light illuminating you and your older sister coming from the full moon outside. “I think… I think you’re right,” she says demurely, turning her gaze to your empty bed like the pattern of the duvet is suddenly the most interesting thing in the world. You like Shinji just fine. You really do think that, barring Toji’s existence, he and Kimiko would be a good match. Their life goals are similar and you think he’d be a good husband to her. But. There’s always a ‘but’ when it comes to Shinji. Sometimes, you get a little flip in your stomach when you see them interact. Shinji’s strict and you know Kimiko doesn’t mind that, in fact enjoys it, but occasionally, he’ll say something a certain way or do something a certain way that has your hackles rising. You like him, you do. But. Kimiko is in love with Toji. Even though she hasn’t seen him again since the first time, she’s adamant that he’s the One. You don’t know exactly how Toji feels, though you can probably assume correctly, but you think that with some finagling, some secret, unchaperoned dates, some tricks and tweaks and maneuvering here and there, they would be perfect together. It’s not as if you’ve ever had feelings for Toji. Neither of you have ever once looked at each other that way; even though you’re well into the age of consent and inexplicably, a 23-year-old man is your best friend, there’s never been anything between you. Probably because you were practically a baby when you first met. He spoils you like his beloved little sister, even though he’s now doing odd construction jobs that take him all over the country and you don’t see him as often. Personally, you think he’s just using a different cover for the same job, but you’re not going to say that to him or anyone. The two of you try to hang out as much as possible when he’s in town, though. He’s practically your older brother and you want him to be happy. Kimiko is your older sister and you want her to be happy. It makes sense. Shinji and Kimiko are to be married in November. It’s only January, but preparations are already being made. And as much as you like Shinji, even excluding the times your stomach flips uneasily around him, Toji and Kimiko are meant to be together. You know it in your bones. That’s why you’re going to break Kimiko’s trust, if only for her own sake. If she never forgives you, you won’t mind, because you know what spilling her secret will mean: she and Toji will get married. Your parents won’t like it. They’ll hate it, actually. But Kimiko is the favorite and they’ll look past a ‘less-than-suitable’ groom if it means her happiness. Also, Toji is more than suitable. He’ll need to get a real, consistent job so that he can provide the life Kimiko wants, but you don’t think he’ll mind that. Honestly, you’re not sure he’s going to do anything other than change the job title to be something more socially acceptable. Again. But it’s also not your business. “I’m heading out now,” you say, giving Kimiko the out she needs. On one level, you know she wants to talk about it with you, the only person aware that she likes Toji as more than a friend. On the other, you know she also wants to flee because she feels awful for having feelings for another man when she’s supposed to be deeply in love with her fiancé. And she does love Shinji, but not in the same way, the same intensity, that she loves Toji. God, it’s so obvious. “Be safe,” she murmurs, her mind clearly on something else. On your best friend. You hop out the window, nimbly scale the roof down to the convenient trellis you’d begged your dad to set up when you intentionally became obsessed with gardening a couple years back, and then you’re quietly on the ground, your boots absorbing the last little leap’s crunching of the thin layer of snow blanketing the city. You head toward the train station and slip the fare to get to Shibuya into your palm. As you walk, you keep alert but also are comfortable enough to take note of sales and deals. You absently people-watch until becoming more alert at the station, and then once you’re seated on your direct trip to Shibuya, you pull out your phone. Timestamp: 20:58 To: Toji From: Me omw You don’t expect an answer right away. For all that he’d bought you the top-of-the-line Blackberry when you’d first met, Toji has never really shown an interest in all the new technology coming out. He sticks with his sturdy, unbreakable Nokia, using it for crucial communication and not much else. Minutes tick by and you stare out the window. Timestamp: 21:11 To: Me From: Toji k majis Short and to the point. Just about right for him. Timestamp: 21:13 To: Toji From: Me k Fifteen minutes later has you opening the door to a billiards bar, the name Maji in stylized neon lights winking on and off above you. It’s about as shitty of a dive bar as you can get in Shibuya, but Toji has developed a thing for gambling recently and though you don’t approve, it’s his money, his life. It’ll have to go if he’s going to marry Kimiko, but you’re positive that he’ll gladly give it up for her if you can get things in motion. “Jiji,” you call out playfully once you see him. He’s chalking up his cue and watching with eagle-sharp eyes as his opponent, a sleazy man with oily blond hair and obnoxiously visible tattoos, lines up hit shot. As soon as you speak, though, his gaze immediately meets yours. It’s been like that since the beginning. Toji has always been attuned to you. You know putting together the two people you love most in the world will have both of their attentions turned to each other and not you anymore. You don’t like it, of course, but you don’t really see any other choice. You’re positive it’ll happen regardless of what you do, so you’ve chosen to go with the flow and support them from the beginning. You already know you’ll be sad to lose Toji’s laser-sharp focus on you to Kimiko and Kimiko’s habit of making your favorite bento for you on special days since your mom can’t be bothered, but you’re not so selfish as to greedily keep both of them to yourself. At sixteen, you know what’s up. They’re meant to be together and you’re not going to stand in the way of that. Besides, you’ve jumped a couple grades now. This spring, you’ll be graduating from senior high school and have already assured yourself a place at Tokyo U. Toji sets down his chalk and raises a hand. “Yo.” His one-word answer tells you to let him focus. You gamely snag a stool at the bar and order some soda. You’re still four years away from being legal to drink alcohol, not that you much care for it outside of celebrations. You like to keep your sharp mind, well, sharp. Toji decidedly does not feel the same way, and yet you never feel like he’s truly out of it. Toji could drink a liter of whiskey and still not lose his wits. That’s comforting, especially when he likes to hang out at child-unfriendly places like this. And although it doesn’t feel like you’re a child, the law is the law. You’re allowed in but not much else. You tap a few texts out to your study friends between watching the game in silence and sipping your favorite soda. It takes only fifteen minutes before Toji is snatching a wad of cash out of the sleazy man’s hand, who skulks away to the back of the bar. “I can’t believe you won, jiji,” you say with a grin as Toji counts his winnings. “Brat,” he says absently, still counting. “I guess miracles really do happen,” you muse. Toji loses at everything, except for when he actually does things that are based on his own skills. You’ve seen him lose tens of thousands of yen on boat races, the racetrack, even horses. But if he plays pool, or arm wrestles, or occasionally engages in a pit fight—which you will never tell Kimiko about and if Toji spills those beans, he can expect a divorce—he wins unilaterally. But Toji, the stubborn dumbass you’re so fond of, seems to prefer to gamble on the things he always, always loses at. “Do you want me to take you out to dinner or what?” he asks, slipping the thick wad of cash into his pocket. “Calm down, jiji. It’s just a joke.” “You’re asking to get squished, little mouse.” You groan. “Fiiine,” you grumble, pouting. Toji stands up. Even sitting on the tall stool, he’s significantly taller than you. You also hop down, making the size difference greater. “Where to?” he asks. “I want sushi,” you say. “You always want sushi,” Toji replies, rolling his eyes. “Choose something cheaper.” “No! This is a special occasion.” Looking down at you with those same, ever-striking green eyes, Toji grins. “Oh it is, is it?” You stick your tongue out at him. “I have information you want,” you taunt. “And if I don’t get sushi, you’re not getting it.” “Whatever.” You both head out of the bar in the direction of your admittedly inexpensive favorite sushi stand. As you walk, you catch him up about your life. He’s just come back from a two-week jaunt to Okinawa and you haven’t spoken since you told him to be safe after leaving the airport, excluding the quick texts you’d sent to set up this hangout. Toji’s still not big on sharing about his life and you don’t question it. You know he left his clan, which you found out was old, proliferate, and considered noble in many circles. He didn’t tell you why he left, summing it up with ‘a difference in values,’ and you knew not to pry. The truth is that most of what you know about him is what he’s experienced since you met. Toji will be open when he’s open, and there’s no point badgering him for information, especially not of the personal kind. He’ll tell you if you need to know, or if he has a rare moment of vulnerability when you’re around. Although he’ll never admit it, and that it’s just all-around inappropriate, but you know that he’s not just your best friend, but you’re his. Having a sixteen-year-old girl for a best friend as a 23-year-old, much less a 23-year-old man, isn’t necessarily something to be proud of. Or, really, something to tell anyone much about at all. Anyone in their right mind would think he’s grooming you or has some other nefarious intentions, so if anyone asks, he’s your older brother. “Annnnnnd,” you tell him excitedly as you step into the short line, “I’ve got a secret.” “You sure have a lot of secrets these days.” “Yeah, but this isn’t the good stuff. Well, it’s good stuff for me. The big one comes after we find a place to sit.” “Alright. What’s this secret?” Grinning brightly, you sing-song happily, “I have a boyfriend.” For some reason, Toji stiffens, and you see his face darken so briefly you’re not sure it actually happened. “Oh, yeah?” he asks neutrally. “What’s his name?” You smirk. “And the next thing you’re going to do is ask for his address so you can go beat him up. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me. No, I’m not telling.” “Does he go to your school?” “My lips are sealed.” In truth, Toji didn’t really beat your last crush up. The two of you hadn’t even gotten together but for some reason Toji was convinced the boy wasn’t good for you and scared him off—maybe a little more viciously than was warranted, but still. Two weeks later the whole school had found out he was selling drugs on the side, which could have had very bad implications for you and your collegiate career if you had been involved, even as an oblivious girlfriend. Still, you know Niko, in actuality Nico. He’s a Greek transfer student in your year. You’d first just taken pity on the cute guy everyone was flocking to who didn’t have a great grasp on Japanese yet. You’d caught him up to the best of your ability, then you’d started hanging out one-on-one, and the next thing you know, you’re kissing tentatively on a snowy bench at sunset. Part of the reason you’re not telling Toji about him is because Niko’s only going to be here for one year—this is his senior year, too, and he’ll be going back to Greece after graduation, so it’s only ever going to be temporary anyways. If he wants to be penpals, you’re happy to accommodate, but you’ll never have a long-distance relationship like that, no matter how much you might love him by the time he leaves. “If he hurts you…” Toji says. “Calm down. I don’t think he’s going to be like, long-term or anything. You don’t need to pull the big-brother shtick on him.” Toji’s left lower eyelid twitches, but he doesn’t continue grilling you. After you’ve grabbed your food and are looking for a bench, you realize Toji’s sulking. “Does me not telling you about my first real relationship—emphasis on first, here, Toji—really piss you off that bad?” you ask with concern. You don’t really appreciate this extent of aggression towards Niko, or any other boy, but you’re pretty sure there’s something deeper to this than just familial overprotectiveness. Toji takes a bite of his food and doesn’t say anything. You leave him to his thoughts and start eating, too. He’s finished with his roll before he finally speaks, resting his chin on a folded hand. “I care about you, little mouse.” The seriousness of his tone is enough for you to let the hated endearment slide. “If anything were to happen to you…” You place a hand on his knee and rub it back and forth soothingly. “I care about you more than I should,” he admits, looking at you intently. His voice invites a response. He’s tense with it, even. “I care about you more than I should, too,” you admit as well, thinking about how attached you are, though platonically, with a man so different, whose past you’re barely familiar with, someone so much older and wiser, someone that has no real reason to hang out with you or you with him, given that you neither of you have anything really in common except a bump on the street, an expensive new phone, and a naïve little girl who wouldn’t take no for an answer. His gaze is soft, open in a way you’ve never seen before. “Do you really?” he asks, some weird kind of hope in his tone like he doesn’t expect you to reciprocate. “Even with your new ‘boyfriend’?” Why wouldn’t you? You’re not really sure how Niko is relevant here. “I really do,” you say with a small, genuine smile. Toji grins. “It’ll have to be our little secret.” “Of course!” you say. “Just you and me, against the world.” Looking assured and somehow more content than you’ve ever seen him, Toji leans back on the bench and slings an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in close for a rare snuggle, though this one is the tightest, cuddliest one yet. It’s cold, and you’ve learned to never take any physical affection from Toji for granted. You snuggle back into him, appreciating his warmth and the comfort of his strong, powerful body around yours. He drops a kiss on your head and you glow with happiness, cheeks flushed and hand gently stroking his side. “What will your parents think?” he asks after the both of you bask in the moment for a little while. “My parents?” you scoff. “I love them, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never let them get in the way of my relationships or who I spend time with. Even if I do have to sneak out to see you.” Toji laughs warmly and pulls you tighter, dropping another kiss, this one longer and more lingering than the last. “Exactly what I expected to hear,” he says, leaning his head back to stare at the sky. Eventually, though, all good things must come to an end. You give all your affection and love for him into one last squeeze, and he squeezes back, before you pull away. “So!” you say, clapping your hands together, “Time for the secret of the night!” Toji’s arm doesn’t leave the bench behind you, but he looks a little puzzled and a lot disgruntled by you suddenly leaving his embrace. He’s not used to you letting go first from his hugs, after all. While it was extremely nice and appreciated, you can never sit still for too long. “What’s this secret?” he asks teasingly. “Can’t be a bigger one than us.” That’s kind of a weird thing to say, since there are plenty of people in your life who know of his existence, if not anything like his age or other information that would make him taboo, but you shrug it off. “Bigger, believe me,” you say with a grin. “Are you ready?” He rolls his eyes but is still smiling. “Get on with it, mouse.” “Kimiko loves you!” It’s like something in him short circuits, flatlines, and goes blue screen all at once. Toji’s face goes through a gamut of expressions before eventually landing on perturbed. “What does that have to do with anything?” he asks. There’s something off in his voice, but you’re so excited that you ignore it. “How do you not know? I’ve been talking about Shinji not being the perfect match before! And you even asked what’s her type and said that he’s not worthy of her! I listen to you, Toji, and that’s practically a declaration of love for you!” His face shutters and he asks tonelessly, “Mouse, do you think I’m in love with her?” You cock your head to the side, confused. “…Aren’t you?” Toji looks at you then, really looks at you. You don’t know what he sees, but it has him shutting down on all levels. You can see the light that was just in his eyes dull to blankness, the smile on his face morphing into a grimace, the openness in his posture closing off… You don’t know why, but he’s turning in on himself. “Toji…?” you ask, brow furrowing in concern. “Did I… what did I do wrong?” Because you know his reaction right now has nothing to do with Kimiko. He exhales harshly, scrubs his face with his hand, and the arm behind you pulls away. You immediately miss his warmth but it’s not like you’re going to ask for it back. “It’s nothing, brat,” he says after a few minutes. It seems like he’s booting back up like a computer from a near-fatal crash, going back to normal, but the joy and openness of before is gone. “You didn’t do anything wrong. Just an old man’s overactive imagination.” You frown, still confused, but you know better than to poke the bear right now. “Okay…” You pause. “Was I wrong about you and Kimiko? I’m sorry for not telling you, but she fell in love with you the first time you met. Love at first sight, she said. Even though I think she’ll be fine with Shinji, I really, really think the two of you will be perfect together. I’ve never seen her love anyone more intensely.” Toji spares you one of his skeptical eyebrow raises. “Yeah? She doesn’t even know me.” “I mean, she knows the basics. She asked and I told her. Nothing incriminating or anything! Only the good stuff.” You wink and lightly dig your elbow into his ribs. “And really, there really is only good stuff.” Grinning widely, you watch his expression closely. He doesn’t seem as happy as you’d expected, so you go on. “I, uh… I hope I didn’t overstep.” “Nah, you didn’t.” He’s still strangely unenthusiastic. You sigh in relief. “Okay, good. I just… I think it’s for the best, you two. I think you’ll be great together.” “For the best…” he mutters contemplatively, still staring at the sky. “Yeah! I just wanted to make sure you were on board before I set up a date for you. But don’t worry! That’s all I’m gonna do. If nothing comes of it, whatever, but I really think you’ll be good for each other.” You stare off into the distance just as he is, getting caught up in your fantasies. “Do you know how nice it’ll be to have my two favorite people in the world happy with each other? I mean, I’ll be able to visit both of you in one trip. You’ll be my actual brother, Toji! No one’ll be able to look at us like we’re criminals anymore!” “Like I’m a criminal,” Toji corrects tonelessly, despite the normal dryness you would usually expect from such a jab, but you continue. “And you guys will have the cutest kids, honest! Seriously, though…” You come back to reality a bit. “If you’re not into it like I thought you were, Toji, it’s not… not really a big deal. I just want you to be happy. And I want Kimiko to be happy. I think you will be, but I know I’m not god, either. So if you don’t want me to set you guys up tell me now. But, but… I really think it’s perfect.” Toji turns away from you and continues to stare into the middle distance, obviously thinking hard. You wait patiently and, sensing it might be welcome, lean into his side. He startles, flinching and turning to you with a surprised jerk, but then his arm automatically comes up and wraps around you, and he turns away from you again. It really is cold. You delve into his side, and he holds you, at least with that one arm, as tightly as he’d held you the first time. Still, his mind is clearly elsewhere. Toji sighs, somehow a deep exhalation of loss, even though he only stands to gain here. He pulls you tight, this time wrapping his other arm around you, and kisses the crown of your head gently like a goodbye. Then he releases you. “Yeah, set me up with her. Worth it to try.” You pull away and give him the peace sign, grinning brightly. “You got it, jiji! You won’t regret it!” Only a little while later, Toji begs off. He no longer feels the need to drop you off at your home, since you’re independent enough to make the trip by yourself and old enough to stay safe, so you walk together to the platform and he waits with you for your train. Honestly, you’re a little bit surprised he’s bailing so early. Usually after trips this long, you guys get in a good few hours before you have to go home so you’re well-rested enough for school the next day. Today’s a Saturday though, so you’d expected a jaunt around Shibuya, doing more than just eating and talking. “Well, this is me,” you say as the train comes to a stop. Toji ruffles your hair and you scowl at him. He hasn’t done it in a long time and you’d prefer a more mature send-off, but whatever. “Give your sis my number and we’ll set something up,” he tells you. “Will do, jiji!” He turns to the street, hand raising halfway in the air casually. “See you later, kid.” You step into the car, frowning as you watch him walk away, before the train starts moving again and he melds into the masses. He hasn’t called you ‘kid’ since you turned fifteen.
Chapter Six: Blue Skies Above
“Kimiko! Kimiko! Where are you?” You don’t know where the bride is. You do know that she’s having some kind of an anxiety attack. Kimiko is hiding somewhere because she doesn’t want anybody to know that she’s scared, maybe even having second thoughts—she doesn’t want to make a scene or be a burden. She’s forgotten that you know her better than anyone and you know that no one, at all, ever, would begrudge a bride some last-minute fears. This is a big step for her, despite being one she’s been waiting for her entire life. At least you can trust that the groom, Toji, is most likely already at the altar, waiting for his bride to come out in all her beauty. These days, Toji is no longer ‘jiji.’ He’s not even a friend, more like an acquaintance. After the night you had told him Kimiko’s secret—and you knew it! You KNEW it! They were perfect together—your prediction had come true. He drifted away from you the more he spent time with Kimiko, and although Kimiko hadn’t drifted all that much herself, you realized too late that it would be inappropriate for you to hang out with Toji one-on-one once he was in a committed relationship. With your own sister, no less. Still, he’s been Kimiko’s fiancé for a year now, boyfriend for two. You see him all the time. Ever since he started travelling for business instead of construction jobs, having landed himself a position at a renowned corporation—or so he says, you still know better but you’re not going to say anything—you see him often. Of course, it’s always to visit Kimiko. All you get? A ruffle of the hair and a barely-affectionate “Hey, kid” before he’s wandering off to find your sister. Nothing, nothing else to show that you’d once been the closest of the close, that he was your best friend and guide and mentor, and god, you had loved him. You’ve never missed him more than today. Even though this is all of your own making, even though you’d done it for the two people you loved most, even though you’d known on some level that you’d be shunted to the side a little for the greater good… You hadn’t known. Not really. You can’t begin to count the nights you’ve cried yourself to sleep, lonely and miserable and everything so wrong, while Toji and Kimiko spent time affectionately with each other in the next room over. Once Toji all but abandoned you, you’d had to make a new life for yourself. It felt like the most developmentally important years had been built around him, slowly and steadily, until one day it crumbled into unrecognizable pieces without him there. In your heartbreak, you and Niko had lasted a measly three more months before he accused you of having a man on the side and broke up with you. It had been justified, even if the man you’d lost wasn’t a romantic partner like Niko thought. You hadn’t been aware that platonic heartbreak could be a thing. Without Niko to blunt the edge, with Toji spending every waking second he was in town with Kimiko, all you could do was keep your head down and have the best senior year that you could. Shinji had become a thing of the past within a month of Kimiko and Toji’s formal introduction, not a date, never a date, because although this skirted the line, Kimiko was not willing to betray him. Well, Shinji had become a thing of Kimiko’s past. But in a weird twist of fate, you and he had become friends at Tokyo University, where he was working on his last year of his bachelor’s and you were prepping to enter med school. The two of you had started hanging out and to your shame, you’d developed a little crush on him. Obviously he had only seen you as his significant other’s little sister, so it never went anywhere—not that you really would have dated Kimiko’s ex—and for a minute there, a shameful, heartbreaking, miserable minute, you had truly resented Kimiko. It felt like you were always second-best, second-choice, second-string. Toji had all but abandoned you the moment Kimiko was in the picture, not quite a betrayal because it was of your own making, but it still felt like one. Then Shinji, who you hadn’t known well enough to like before but by the time you saw him as anything more than Kimiko’s ex, well, he was Kimiko’s ex. Sure, you had friends. You’d had a couple short-term relationships that hadn’t headed anywhere. But everything you knew was gone, the world around you that had once felt so certain, that you’d thought you’d known, the one you built your life and identity and love with, just… dissolved. It’s been three years and you still ache sometimes. “Kimiko! Kimiko!” you continue to call as you clack up and down the hallways in your uncomfortable heels. You wished they’d decided on a traditional ceremony, but in the last year, Kimiko had become taken with Western culture and had decided to have the best of both worlds. That meant heels, which you never wore if you could avoid them. You had only been resentful for a handful of days before Kimiko called you and the unseemly emotions went away. You had different strengths than her, a different path most assuredly. Kimiko was going to be a homemaker and you were going to be an orthopedic surgeon. You had a long way to go in school and between that and your social life, you kept busy and no longer had to work to stay happy for Kimiko and Toji. Now it’s their big day. You’re twenty and going to be done with your pre-med degree. Two months until graduation. Your high exam scores in pre-med have you admitted into Tokyo U’s med school program. Once that starts, you won’t have time for anything else. And that’s the way you want it. You’ve always been career-minded, a part of your identity that never had anything to do with Toji or Kimiko or Niko or Shinji, so you’ve given yourself to the one part of you that has always been true. “Kimiko-chan! There you are!” You find your sister in one of the anterooms, head delicately held in her hands so she doesn’t ruin her makeup, trembling and sniffling but not crying. “Oh, Kimiko,” you say sympathetically, kneeling down and gathering her into your arms. You’d grown into yourself before the end of puberty, so you’re not quite as tiny as you could have been. Still, she’s big in your embrace. “It’s going to be okay, Kimiko-chan.” “But—but what if—” Her sobs make your chest ache. “But what, aneki?” “I got tested, imouto. I’m—I might be—I’m going to have trouble c-conceiving.” It feels like the wind has been punched out of you. Kimiko has always wanted a big family, and if she has trouble getting pregnant… Well, there are ways, but they’ll be much more difficult, and expensive, and time-consuming than natural penis-in-vagina sex. “Oh, Kimiko-chan…” you moan and hold her tighter. After a moment of Kimiko still not ruining her hair or makeup despite her breakdown, she says in a low, dreadful whisper, “I haven’t told Toji yet.” You don’t know Toji-almost-thirty-and-about-to-be-wed very well, but the memories of your friendship with him are, as always, clear as day. They’ve never dulled, even when you sometimes wished for them to so they wouldn’t haunt your dreams so realistically. “Kimiko-chan, he doesn’t care about that. He just wants you.” She looks up at you. Something about your confidence in your statement, perhaps, had reached her, but blinking shiny eyes, she says, “You’re right. He said that… that yesterday. But I… “Honey, I’m so glad you two are such close friends. It’s so wonderful to be loved by you both.” You balk imperceptibly at her firm belief that you and Toji are anything other than strangers who used to know each other, but if it works, it works. You glance at the clock behind you and—yeah, you need move quickly for her to make it in time. “I’m glad I could help,” you tell her with a gentle smile. “But Kimiko-chan, if we don’t hurry, you’re going to be late.” She looks up at the time, too. “Oh, shoot! Let’s go!” The wedding is beautiful. As the maid of honor, you end up dancing with Toji’s best man, a snobby guy who looks at you like you’re less than dirt on his shoe. You know that Naoya’s the last person to give Toji the time of day after he’d left his family and had popped up for the wedding, but there is absolutely no love lost between the two of you. While he ignores you whenever able and clearly has no regard for you, you have to fight the temptation to step on his shoes with your previously mourned heels. You fight it. You do. Midway through the unbearable dance, after a particularly demeaning remark about your size, you put all your weight into your next step and jab your heel into Naoya’s foot. He howls and leans down to cradle it, where your jab has noticeably and likely permanently ruined the expensive leather shoes. Meanwhile, you gasp and coo and baby him—in the most condescending way possible—and put on a great show of being sorry and ashamed and oh, it’s just, I’m-I’m not good at dancing, I’m so sorry, is there anything I can do— Kimiko forgives you immediately for the ‘mishap’, but you see your parents watching the scene suspiciously and promise yourself to be on your best behavior for the rest of the night. Naoya has to hobble off the dance floor, where he’s making a much bigger scene than is necessary—you’d barely dented the leather. Well. He’s not coming back and you’ll never see him again after this. You just wish he wasn’t being such a drama queen. The scene you made fizzles into nothing as more alcohol is imbibed. You catch Toji’s eyes, for once not on purpose and not immediately avoided by him, and you swear you catch his eyes darting to your chest. His lips quirk into a subtle smile before he looks away and then avoids you for the rest of the night. Your heart is so warmed that he even looked at you—and how pathetic is that, you think, but you can’t help it—you don’t pay attention for the rest of the night and you don’t give Toji and Kimiko’s departure a single thought. But all good things come to an end. Once that bit of euphoria wears off, you’re once again left bereft. Why do you still miss him? Why can’t you just let him go when he’s clearly washed his hands of you? Why, why, why? Fortunately, life goes on, and you eventually push him to the back of your mind. Again. Hopefully for the last time.
Chapter Seven: Vanishing Sun
Two joyful years of bliss pass for your family. You don’t see the happy couple often, but Kimiko is happy to chat with you on the phone frequently. You keep up with each other, the mentions of Toji only hurting a bit, like a quick, sharp little jab. It’s not the best but at least you get to talk to your sister. When Kimiko announces her pregnancy, it’s like the whole world goes crazy to help in any way they can. She’s showered with gifts, offers of assistance, unsolicited—and mostly undesired—advice; you name it, she gets it. But things take a turn south when she’s hospitalized. She’d been declared to have a high risk of miscarriage, so she’s been put on strict bedrest and under the hospital’s care until it passes or she gives birth. To your chagrin, between school and life, you don’t get to visit her as much as you’d like. When you do make it to the hospital, Toji is notably never there but also not missed. When you can’t make it and Kimiko’s alone in her room with nothing to do, the two of you often chat on the phone for hours, even sometimes just sitting there in silence. You might be doing homework and she reading a book, or you out shopping and she watching a TV show, but ultimately it’s almost like the two of you are together in the living room at home. You do your own things in the same space just for the sake of the other’s presence. Occasionally one of you will say something and you’ll chat, or you’ll narrate what you’re doing, or she’ll read aloud from her book—despite the unhappy circumstances, it’s nice to be able to spend so much time with her, in person or not. Nine weary, exciting, terrifying months pass. For you, it’s almost a blink of an eye, but you know for Kimiko it’s felt like centuries. Physical presence or not, you’ve been with her every step of the way. At thirty-five weeks, she goes into labor. Even though you’re in Kimiko’s room with your mother, both there to provide emotional support, the room is swarmed with doctors. Whatever test they’d run on Kimiko has sent them into a tizzy and although you don’t know the details, you know it’s serious. You’re both wracked with fear for your sister and desperately happy to meet your brand-new little nephew, hopefully the first of many. As Kimiko screams and cries and bleeds, you hold her hand, pet her arm, smooth back her hair, always there, always giving words of encouragement and love and adoration. “You can do this, aneki!” you call out above her screaming. “Just breathe! Breathe! Remember your exercises! You can do this! Breathe!” It ends in a way you had dreaded, feared, and ultimately had never expected to actually happen. Suddenly, there’s a gush of blood and Kimiko goes pale, her already clammy hands going cold. “Out of the way! Out of the way! Move! Move!” Your mom seems to understand what’s going on better than you do. “No! Kimiko-chan! Kimiko-chan! My baby, no, stay with us—” And from her words you realize that Mom thinks your sister is going to die. “No! Kimiko! Aneki! Come on, you can do it! You can do this! You’re so strong, I don’t know what I’ll do without you! Kimiko!” As you’re pushed out of the room unceremoniously, the last thing you hear is the heart monitor flatlining. “KIMIKO!” You’re only left in the dark for twenty minutes. “I’m so sorry,” the doctor says as he walks into the lobby. There’s a moment, single blip in time, like the universe has just—stopped. Then your mother collapses where she stands, wailing. You sit there, frozen. Kimiko… gone? No, that’s not… possible… No. She’s—she’s alive. She’s fine. She’s going to come right down the hall in a wheelchair, cuddling her sleepy, milk-bloated newborn to her chest. The waiting room is only for relatives and you’re the only ones in it, so there’s no strangers around to see your family fall apart. Everyone’s crying, begging for Kimiko to come back to you. Your father goes up in a blaze of fury, yelling at the doctor that he must be wrong, Kimiko couldn’t have died, before it fizzles out in the face of the doctor’s experienced calm with this kind of situation. The only one who is silent, unmoving, is Toji. You hadn’t noticed him at first, but you see him now. He’s not crying, but he’s also not frozen like you had been. It’s like he feels… nothing. Shock, you think, before breaking back down into quiet tears. Everything is interrupted, however, when a baby’s cry pierces the room. Your father stares and your mother looks up desperately. “Is that…?” you ask with a whimper, the only one able to talk right now. “Yes,” the doctor says, and a nurse comes up behind him, carrying the last bundle of joy, the last bit of Kimiko to remain on this earth. You don’t really know how to feel about your nephew anymore. Sure, you’re glad he’s alive, but you’d trade him for Kimiko any day. Kimiko could have had more children, more nieces and nephews to dote upon. The baby can’t. The baby—it just is. “Dad?” calls the nurse. “We need a name for the birth certificate.” “Fushiguro Megumi,” he says, sharply enough to cut glass. You flinch as he turns and looks at you almost accusingly, nervously reaching up to toy with the necklace he’d given you that you’ve still not taken off since he put it on you. His eyes drop to your chest, and you’re kind of insulted that he’s looking at your tits when his wife has just died, but then you realize he’s looking at the jewelry on your neck. For some reason, his shoulders noticeably relax and he seems to deflate a little. Then he fires up again and storms out, leaving the rest of you to grieve. You don’t think much of it but you wish you could comfort him, even if that isn’t your job anymore. You don’t see him again until the funeral. ________________________________________ Speaking at your beloved sister’s funeral, the room packed with everyone from close family and friends to people who haven’t talked to her since middle school, with Toji standing in front row with a dead-silent Megumi in his arms and a stone-blank face, just about breaks you. Toji and his son had practically vanished after Toji stopped by your parents’ place to pick him up. They, the people who had raised you and Kimiko to be delicate and refined ladies, had never really warmed to Toji. Without Kimiko to soften them up and sing his praises, they considered Toji a good-for-nothing despite his hefty paychecks, so you’d heard there was a commotion before father ultimately reunited with his son. According to your mom, the police had been called. You felt bad for both parties. Both were suffering in Kimiko’s wake. You, though? You kept your grief private, suffering just as much and differently but knowing that as much as you’ve always been second-fiddle to Mom and Dad and are estranged from Toji, a lot of the fallout was going to land on you. You weren’t wrong, but Toji never took your calls or answered any texts with offers to help, so you’ve focused on your parents. They’ve been catastrophic messes. You’ve found yourself doing their cleaning and making sure they both eat, comforting them the best you can as the sister who they would have preferred to die than their Kimiko. You don’t blame them. You wish you had died instead of Kimiko, too. Straightening your posture, you adjust the microphone and clear your throat. Here it is. Time to say your goodbye publicly, to praise Kimiko and comfort the masses with a mix of sobriety and humor, to send your sister off as an angel. You do your best not to cry but you fail two sentences into the eulogy. You find you can’t spare Toji or your nephew more than cursory a look; the sight of the sleeping, so sweetly unaware Megumi at his mother’s funeral, not even a week old; Toji, because despite everything you still love him and he’s still your brother-in-law, and seeing his cold, unfeeling expression hurts because though you’ve never seen it before, you know instinctively that it means he’s drowning. Set adrift by the loss of his wife and the lack of support from Megumi’s grandparents, you can only imagine what he’s going through. Maybe, you think in frustration, if he would just answer his goddamn phone, you could help him! When you step down, crying freely as the minister starts the prayers, you gingerly take your seat between your mom and dad. You’ll talk to Toji before he can escape the funeral home, because you know he’s going to leave with Megumi before your parents realize they’re missing. You make sure to keep an eye on him as everyone stands up. He’s just two chairs down. You watch him like a hawk, and finally get close enough to call his name— “Toji! Hey, Toji!” —and then he’s somehow just gone. Like the least enjoyable magic trick. Even more depressed, you go to the reception. You mingle. You commiserate with people you barely know but Kimiko was close with and cry together. You eat the food, all of Kimiko’s favorites to honor her, and have to force yourself to swallow down the ash. People start to leave and your parents, for once strong enough to manage things that you’ve been forced to take care of because there’s nobody else, let you take a cab car back home. You try to call Toji one more time. This time you’re pissed. That’s your nephew, Kimiko’s child, and you hate that he thinks he can just hide away from you. You and your parents are Megumi’s family as well and Toji sure as hell doesn’t have anyone else to help him. The phone doesn’t even ring. The number has been disconnected. You try to make it home before you start crying, but like everything else recently, you fail. Your parents barely want you around as the daughter who by all rights would have been better to lose but somehow has been traded for Kimiko’s life. Toji wants nothing to do with you. You have no way to see Megumi. Kimiko’s closest friends, the ones who had helped you with the smaller things as you planned the funeral, have grouped up together with you clearly excluded. After all, they’re Kimiko’s friends, not yours, and they made it very clear that while they’re grieving too and they respect you as their late friend’s sister, they don’t really want anything to do with you outside of immediate help. It feels… It feels like no one wants you. And that rejection stings, but it’s fine. As always, you have school, as well as your own life to live, however much it feels like it’s splitting at the seams. If they don’t want you, they can’t have you. ________________________________________ Your parents wither away, even as they try to help Toji with his newborn. At some point, Toji and your parents had reconnected, not that anyone cared to inform you, and now he’s staying with them so that he can get a break from being a single dad of an infant. Mom and Dad are happy to be with their grandson, but the few times you visited your nephew—with Toji somehow preternaturally knowing when you’re going to be around so that he will not be—you’ve seen the way they’re deteriorating. One day, you’d woken up your dad to let him know you were leaving. Blearily, he’d blinked open his eyes, and with his glasses on the side table, squinted up at you. A heartbreakingly hopeful expression on his face, he’d asked so desperately, “Kimiko-chan? Is that you?” That had broken your heart. “No, Dad, it’s me. Here, let me give you your glasses.” Upon the sharpening of his vision, his face fell into nothing but disgust. You don’t think he meant to say it out loud, but— “It should’ve been you.” Although you’d known that your parents felt like that, even though you’ve often felt like that, to actually hear it out of your dad’s mouth had made it real. Made it hurt. You’d kept a straight face anyways. “Alright, Dad. I’m heading out now. Megumi’s just had a bottle and he’s sleeping… for now. Just thought you should know—bye.” You don’t visit your parents, Toji, or even Megumi until a year later when your dad dies. When you show up to say goodbye, it’s almost like you’ve been entirely forgotten. You feel numb, but not from sadness. His final words to you had been awful and you’re just here to gaze upon the cold, waxy face of the man who’d made it clear that you didn’t mean anything to him—that maybe, he hadn’t even wanted you. You leave before the eulogy even begins. ________________________________________ When your mother dies six months later, you’ve started your residency and you’re crazy busy. Although she’d never uttered the same striking words as your father, she also hadn’t tried to hide that she felt the same way. And at this point, shunned by both Toji and her, with Megumi too young to have an opinion, you decide to send a card and get on with your life. With nothing else tying Toji to your family, because you obviously don’t exist, he disappears with Megumi. You don’t honestly expect to hear from them again, and at this point you’re only a little sad that you’re going to miss seeing Megumi grow up. That’s in the past now. You’re not lonely or helpless to your family’s whims anymore. You’ve started to build new relationships at the hospital with fellow residents. Those turn into solid friendships you can trust with your life and you even get into a relationship with a handsome American man named Steve—you suppose you’ve always had a thing for foreigners. You put your roots behind you except for Kimiko, but even her memory starts to loosen its grip on your heart. You’ve spent most of your life trying to be enough and always eventually failing. After your mother’s death, you’d tucked it all in the past, still there but rarely touched upon. And then, after Megumi’s alleged funeral dirge of a birthday party, you get a call in the middle of the night. It’s not your pager but it could be important anyways. Seeing the clock read 3:23AM, you groggily answer, “Doctor Fushiguro speaking.” There’s a brief pause before you hear a voice, ancient to you, that you still recognize. “Doctor, eh?” Your heart starts pounding. You know this voice. You haven’t heard it in years—the last thing Toji had ever said in your presence was his son’s name and not even to you, but you know it anyway. You wish you could breathe easily or at least shove down the excitement of hearing from him. He’s avoided you for years now. You’d done nothing to him—no, you’d done everything for him. And your repayment was a total erasure from his life. At least you keep your feelings from your voice. “Who’s this?” “I know you remember me.” “I’m sorry, but if this isn’t an emergency, you can call the hospital during usual business—" “Oh, cut the shit, mouse. You know it’s me.” Hearing the nickname infuriates you, but it also catches you off guard. “It’s been almost a decade and that’s what you lead with? Fucking dick.” And you realize too late that he’d antagonized you into revealing your lie. “Told ya,” Toji says triumphantly. He’s talking to you like it hasn’t been years but days and you don’t appreciate it. “Okay, fine. What do you want, Toji? My shift starts at six, so get on with it.” Maybe you never really let him go, you think as you grunt under the weight of your luggage as you unload it from the moving truck, because his plea for help has had you ditching your residency to come help with Megumi, the beloved nephew you’d never expected to see again. Your friends had pleaded with you to not go back to Toji, who they had always thought was bad news. Hell, you hadn’t really wanted to go back yourself, but after all these years you still can’t shirk familial duty… or, unfortunately, Toji himself, no matter how much you’ve fruitlessly tried. Fortunately, you’ve been told that Tokyo Main General will take you back to finish your residency whenever you’re ready. Your life is still there, waiting for you to return. You plan to take care of Megumi until Toji can pick up the slack, but after that you’re gone forever. It’s not fair that when Toji leaves, you chase and chase and never catch him, but when he calls out for you, you come running in his direction at the drop of a hat. You hate it, you do. This isn’t for Toji, though. …Okay, maybe a little. But your main focus is Megumi, and it’s going to stay that way. You’re not giving yourself to Toji again, in any capacity. “You’re the only person I can trust with this.” And yet, it’s been a decade since Toji stopped needing or even wanting you, but now that he needs you again… You guess you’re just stuck in his orbit no matter what he does or what you tell yourself. Because you’re back, standing on the porch of a picturesque house in a picturesque neighborhood, your new residence indefinitely. You wonder if you’ll ever be free of him.
Chapter Eight: Mist in the Night
Even though your luggage is freshly unpacked, the guest room has been made your own, and the trip from your apartment to your remaining family’s home had taken all day, you find that that first night, you can’t sleep no matter how hard you try. Maybe it’s because all you’d gotten from Toji was a long stare and groggy, almost disbelieving greeting before he slunk off to his room, so unlike his persona on the phone and leaving the scent of a distillery in his wake. No introductions, no briefing, nothing, leaving you to find out on your own just how much things had fallen apart. Like the fact that Toji had gotten married again a year ago without anyone’s knowledge, not that there are many people left to know. Then the second wife had left, leaving behind Fushiguro Tsumiki in Toji’s very, very incapable hands. If Toji was anywhere like this while she was there, you can’t really blame her for bailing. Still, she had disappeared into thin air with a good chunk of his money—it morbidly reminded you of Toji gambling on something that didn’t involve his own skill and how he always lost those bets—and less a child. Tsumiki is five. She’s a sweet, well-behaved girl, if not quiet and wracked with a cough you want to get checked out yesterday. Left to your own devices with Toji quite obviously getting drunk in the master bedroom and neglecting his children, you’d made a simple dinner of onigiri and pickled vegetables, the most you could muster up after your long day, as well as doing some stop-gap cleaning for a house in utterly disgusting disrepair in between. But as soon as you put the children to bed—sans baths tonight, because you really just cannot—and tell them that the three of you will get to know each other more tomorrow and they can ask all the questions they want, your restless exhaustion takes back over. Though Megumi is too young to really communicate and not particularly trying, either, for now, they just need to know that you’re there for them in any capacity they need. If they’re scared or angry or even happy, they can come to you. You tell them that you love them both dearly—not at all a lie, despite the surprise factor of finding a second child—and you’re going to take care of them like they deserve. While you have no relation to Tsumiki, Megumi is your flesh and blood, Kimiko’s flesh and blood. You will never let anything bad happen to them. Well, you don’t say it quite like that. You’re glad you’ve already finished your rounds in the pediatrics ward or else you’d be lost trying to communicate with them. After twisting and turning in the sheets for another quarter of an hour, you realize you’re not sleeping tonight. At that same moment, there’s a crash from the other side of the house and you go still, wondering if it’s a burglar or just Toji’s drunkenness. You don’t wait long to find out. With your robe wrapped tightly around you, you go to check on the kids. They’re plonked out, though, and don’t seem to have even stirred a little from the commotion. You wonder grimly if it’s because they’re heavy sleepers or if they’re just that used to Toji’s drunken clumsiness, because one look at him with a doctor’s experienced eyes tells you that he’s been drinking heavily for a long time. Reluctantly, you go to check on Toji. The last thing you want is to deal with is him, especially if the stranger you once knew is drunk and heartbroken. As much as you might care for him still, seeing the filthy house and his intoxication and the neglectful abuse of his kids has left you with a lot less sympathy for his plight. Sure, when you and Toji were friends he still liked to gamble, he still drank more than he should, but he was also attentive and caring and more or less responsible and—and. Nothing like the wreck he is now. For all that you can’t help but feel bad for him, you simply cannot abide the man he’s become even just at first glance. You lightly rap on his closed door three times. The light’s still on, at least. If he’s passed out, you might as well get his vitals, just in case. You might not be where you want to be in your career yet, but you’re still a doctor with the diploma to prove it. He hears you, at least, as evidenced by his put-upon groan from within. You take this as invitation enough to open the door. It’s… Well. In a word, it’s disgusting. Empty bottles scattered everywhere; dirty laundry piled up; detritus on every surface; smelly, unclean bed and bedclothes—the more you look, the worse it gets. And then there’s the star of the show, Toji, laying half-naked on his back, a mostly empty bottle of whiskey held loosely in his grip as he blinks drunkenly at the ceiling. You see the shattered bottle of gin two feet to his left, its sharp, scattered pieces mostly under the cabinet it fell from. “Toji,” you moan, unsure if it’s despair or exasperation. Stepping carefully, aware of potentially more glass shards, you go to his side. Like this, you feel the tallest you ever have around him. Still, for all that you’d jokingly attempted to be taller than him an age ago, you wish you never had to be in this position. “Toji,” you repeat, brushing matted strands of black hair away from his forehead. “God, what have you done to yourself?” The first thing you do is get him settled into a bath. You’ll brave the process of showering… later. At least a hot bath will loosen up all the dirt clinging to him, and then you can scrub him down. You’ve been a doctor long enough that naked bodies don’t bother you, so the most difficult part of stripping him down is actually removing the sticky and drying clothes off his body. You end up just getting the worn kitchen scissors. You make the water temperature as hot as you dare with him at this level of inebriation before going through the monumental task of maneuvering him into the tub. You manage, though you get covered in water yourself. Comfort around other people’s naked bodies does not translate to comfort being naked yourself, so you just let your robe bear the brunt of the water splashing on you without complaint. Since you’re sleepless as it is and there’s so much to take care of before the kids wake up, you leave Toji to soak with safety measures in place so he doesn’t drown and get to work cleaning up his room. In the end, you leave it tidy… enough. Toji’s room isn’t a priority like getting him clean and sober, or getting the rest of the house in order, which you expect to spend many days doing in between minding Tsumiki and Megumi and Toji. Once Toji’s room is essentially stripped—truly stripped, as in you’ve found you had to throw out just about everything from bottles to linens to every non-essential bit of furniture—you go check on him. He’s lightly dozing, but his eyes are half-open and he seems a bit more alert. “Toji,” you repeat, kneeling at his side by the tub. “Toji, it’s me. It’s… it’s mouse.” Although you never grew to like the nickname, you knew he’d always liked it as much as you didn’t, and something tells you that using it, even though it’s a decade old, will catch his attention the quickest. You’re right. His dull eyes sharpen as he glances at you before turning to stare back at the water. Then he double-takes and looks at you more intently. “…Mouse?” he mumbles. “Yeah. It’s mouse,” you say. “Toji, what the hell happened?” As soon as you ask it, you know he’s nowhere near capable of answering the question. He just keeps staring at you. There’s something warm in his gaze that reminds you of the old days. “Mouse?” he repeats. “You really came.” He barks a laugh. “Yeah,” you sigh, because it’s clear this isn’t going anywhere more tonight. And now you’re really worried about his alcohol problem since he doesn’t even remember greeting you at the door. You wonder if he’ll even remember this in the morning. “Let’s get you up and in bed, jiji.” It feels both wrong and just right calling him that. The names are echoes of times long past. It’s been over ten years since you’ve been completely alone with him, much less dealing with him in any kind of emotional capacity. You drain the scummy water and tell yourself you’ll clean the tub before it gets used again. Now, though, you coax him into moving so that you can scrub him all over before changing the water to scrub him down some more. You do your best not to get flustered by his genitals, which are particularly impressive and also hardening the more you touch him. It’s normal, you know from experience, but this is Toji. Somehow, that makes it different, embarrassingly enough. It takes maybe forty-five minutes, which isn’t awful, before you deem him safe to put on the couch. He’s not going back into that bed under any circumstances. You know he’s going to pay you back one way or another, you trust that, so you’re willing to front him the cash to get this house in working order, which includes dumping and replacing anything that’s beyond repair. The beds, the tables, the couch, the dented and dinged, all of it goes. You won’t be surprised to find bedbugs or roaches or rats and decide to call an exterminator tomorrow. Unfortunately, you find, bathing Toji and moving him around while he’s prone is nothing compared to the difficulty of getting him upright and dressed. You end up having to refer to yourself with that hated endearment, “Mouse,” and call him “Jiji” repeatedly to keep him any kind of lucid enough to obey your commands, helped along by your experience as a doctor with the authority to call the shots. You almost give up at one point and let him have the stinky, dirty bed before muscling through—literally—and getting him on the couch. Even still you’re not tired enough to fall asleep, so after checking on the kids again, you start to clean the house, filling up trash bag after trash bag until the living room, breakfast nook, and dining room are all barebones. Then you wash and dry as many plates, cups, and silverware scattered around the kitchen as you can before doing a cursory wipe down of all surfaces around the house, You’ve narrowed in on your goal for tonight. For now, you don’t want to start vacuuming or making any loud, disruptive noises—Toji’s snoring is making up for that on its own and you’re helpless to do anything about it—so you know your job. Finish stripping the house of all its ruins and get ready to order a lot of new furniture and other necessities tomorrow. Although you’ve washed them to the best of your ability, you don’t trust those eating utensils anywhere near Tsumiki or Megumi’s mouths. Thank god you’ve been saving all that money for a rainy day, because it’s goddamn pouring right now.
Chapter Nine: Burnished Heart
The next day actually goes much better than you expected it to. You wake up when the kids do and get them ready for the day before going to start on breakfast. It’s once again something simple, but they eat it like they’re not going to get another meal for a while. Resentment burns in your heart not only to the second wife’s vanishing trick but also to Toji, because even if he hadn’t had any real attachment to Tsumiki, at the very least he should be cherishing his only child from Kimiko. It’s like he doesn’t even care, and if when he sobers up he still acts this way, you’re getting the legal work done and taking them back home with you. Though it’s obviously not ideal, it’s not like you can’t afford to send them to daycare or get a babysitter while you work. And anyway, you’re getting Tsumiki enrolled in elementary school as soon as you can. Due to her shitty stepfather and even shittier mom, she’s a grade behind. Unfortunately, you’re far beyond catching her up, mostly because you wouldn’t even know where to start, and you also have Megumi to care for and Toji to kick in the ass. And as much as you’d like it, you don’t have the funds to get her into tutoring and she’s too old for preschool. Even though it’s not the best way to stimulate their brains, you set the kids up in your room, the only clean place in the house, and give them your old phone to play on. Tsumiki is thrilled, squeaking out her thanks while Megumi, ever the quiet one, dozes next to his sister. You’d think you’d handed her the holy grail with how reverently she holds the clunky device. You set her up with Snake before handing it to her. “Thank you, Auntie! Thank you, thank you, thank—” Tsumiki dissolves into a stomach-churning coughing fit. “Sweetie,” you say, gently removing the phone from her hands lest she drop it, “How long have you been coughing like this?” Hesitantly, still coughing, she holds up two fingers. Two years?! “Oh, honey. Well, we’re going to get you to the doctor right away. First, though, can I listen to your heart?” Her fit slowly subsides and she nods tentatively. You take your stethoscope from your backpack. “Alright, this might feel a little cold, but I need you to hold still and do what I tell you. Okay?” Tsumiki nods, eyes round and curious as she watches you listen to her heart and lungs, deep breaths and then normal ones and… it’s not good. Really, really not good. It’s not emergent, though, so after making sure Tsumiki knows the rules—and, you think, she seems more like Kimiko, who didn’t like to disobey and thank god she doesn’t seem like you when you were her age—you get back to cleaning. The sky is cloudy and it’s cool outside with spring not quite having arrived yet, but you still open all the curtains and windows to get some airflow. It smells awful in here. Febreze, and copious amounts of it, are at the top of your shopping list. You spend the morning cleaning, monitoring the kids, and waiting for Toji to wake up. Your shopping is going to require you to leave the house and you’re not equipped to bring two toddlers with you, well-behaved as they may seem; they’re still toddlers. For the sake of expediency, it’s best to go alone. But, of course, you can’t leave them at home unsupervised, thus you need Toji to wake up, sober, and do the bare minimum of making sure they don’t hurt themselves while you’re out. You threw away all the liquor bottles last night for this very reason, even the unopened ones. It’s not like he was drinking anything fancy to begin with. Quantity over quality. Finally, around ten in the morning, Toji stirs awake, groaning at the daylight streaming in through the open windows. Of course he’s hungover, so you’d prepped your friend and coworker’s miracle hangover cure. You don’t know if it actually works because you’ve never needed it, but since it involves tomato juice and a raw egg yolk, you’re pretty sure you’re not missing out. You think that continuing to reuse the nicknames until his head is on straight and he’s in touch with reality again is a good idea. “Jiji,” you say, a hint of old mischief in your tone as you kneel next to his prone form. “I’ve got something to make you feel better.” “Mouse? …M’ I… dreamin’?” “Sure you are,” you say, and in that moment it all comes rushing back. The joy of the banter, the jokes and Toji’s dry wit and your sarcasm and everything that had been so fundamental to your relationship; it floods you. Everything that you’d lost is suddenly there, yours for the taking. There’s the brief, blooming hope that maybe you two, broken in different ways, can go back to the friendship that dominated your youth. And in that same moment, it withers and dies. There’s no going back; there’s too much between the two of you now. For all that Toji is still so important to you, you’re not here for him, and he’s made it clear that your feelings of friendly affection aren’t reciprocated anyway. You’re here for Tsumiki and Megumi, the kids with a shittier lot in life than Toji or the second wife or really anyone you know, and god you miss Kimiko. Your natural schadenfreude persists and has you hiding a grin as you wait for him to take the glass. You hope, a little sadistically, a little vengefully, that it tastes even worse than it smells. If you’re going to coparent, you need to get along, and you think he’ll appreciate your prank after he finishes throwing up. Toji, for his part, is still staring at you with wide eyes. A creep of discomfort slithers up your back as you wait for his response because the way he’s staring makes you feel strangely bare, naked under his gaze. Then he closes his eyes and covers his face with his arm. “’f this ain’t a dream, close the goddamn curtains.” “Sucks for you,” you tell him. “Drink this. My friend swears by it.” Toji turns, squinting at the cup in your hands. “Really?” he mutters skeptically. You have to bite your lip not to smile. “Really, really.” He takes it, not sitting up, and quaffs the whole thing down in one go. You wait, anticipating the moment the taste catches up with him. He doesn’t react, though, other than to grumble, “Tastes like shit.” “Did it work, though?” you ask. As much as you’re enjoying yourself right now, you definitely do have to get your shopping done. Toji groans and closes his eyes again. “Not as much as a couple’a more hours of sleep.” “Well, that’s just too bad. I have to turn this house into something less than a nuclear warzone, and that means you need to watch the kids.” You pause, your tone sterner as you’re reminded that you’re not here for play and have adult things to do—things that Toji has inequivalently failed at. “Which is the least you can do for your children.” He just groans. Belches. His arm doesn’t move and his eyes don’t open. “Toji, I’m serious,” you say, already preparing to wake him up with a taboo, if immature, retaliation. He snores. Without further warning, you try to punch him in his balls. You’re not tall enough to kick or stomp. Before your attack hits, you suddenly find your arm lifted over your head painfully as you’re twisted and suddenly sprawled out on top of Toji. What kind of reaction time was that? And how did you not know that Toji was some kind of preternaturally skilled martial artist? “What the fuck!” He opens one eyes and smirks, satisfied with himself. “You’re gonna have’ta do better than that, mouse.” “To-ji,” you groan. “Let go of me!” You wriggle on top of him, unable to move. “‘Kay, now m’positive this is a dream,” he mutters, leaning further into the couch with his other arm curling around your lower back to press you closer to him. “Ugh, Toji, you pig,” you moan. “Let go of me, you jerk! I have stuff to do today and so do you!” “Oh yeah? What exactly am I supposed to do?” “Sober up, not get drunk again, and watch the kids until I’m back.” “Tall order.” “I’m absolutely certain you can do it. Now let me go!” Thankfully, he releases your wrist and you inelegantly roll-slash-fall off him. Gathering your wits back, you stand and wait for him to do the same. With much griping, Toji gets up. Somehow, him standing of his own accord makes you feel just as small as you’d always felt with him. The way he towers over you, thick and bulky and strong, is both intimidating and comforting. Scrubbing a hand down his face, Toji finally looks at you. “How long you gonna be gone?” he asks. “I don’t know. But I’ve made some lunch for the kids and if I’m out past dinnertime, you can just order some takeout. Get something kid-friendly,” you warn. He smirks. “Or else what?” “Ugh!” you grab your hair and pull it in exasperation. “Can’t you take anything seriously? These are your kids!” “Don’t get your panties in a twist. They’ll be fine.” You’re just… done. So done. You need a break. “Fine. They’re in the guest room right now. Megumi’s crashed out and I think Tsumiki is playing Snake on my old phone, unless she decided to switch to Tetris. All you have to do is change Megumi’s diaper, feed them the lunch I left in the fridge, maybe read to Tsumiki a bit since she’s so behind, and—” “You’re so bossy,” Toji grumbles. “Fine. I know what to do.” “Yeah?” you say, worked up now that you’re recalling his shitty parenting. “Then do it, for once, because it doesn’t seem like anyone’s been doing anything for these kids. Toji, Megumi is Kimiko’s.” As you take a gulp of air to stop yourself from choking on your grief, Toji growls, “I know he’s hers. You don’t gotta throw it in my face.” You’re silent as you wipe the tears from your eyes. Swallowing hard, you say in a voice more authoritative than you feel, “Then stop drinking yourself to death and act like it.” He’s about to retort but you don’t want to hear his excuses. Instead, you walk away quickly but not so fast that it looks like a retreat. As you close the front door behind you, you hear Toji smash something from inside. Hopefully it’s something worthless that you won’t miss, but right now you don’t care. You slide into Toji’s car, a sleek black Mazda sedan, opening it with the keys you’d snatched on your way out. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him, you need a place to store all your purchases, and if he doesn’t have a car readily available, it makes it that much harder for him to get more booze. Adjusting the seat and mirrors, you strap in and finally, finally head out. ________________________________________ You’re not worried about too much coordinating the decorations and furniture, and you’re definitely not putting energy into making your perfect home—which would be ridiculous because it’s not even your house—so you plan to just stop at one of the bigger furniture store outlets and simply order the rooms from there. It looks like all of Toji’s furniture is getting thrown out. You don’t think that’s a bad thing. You do, however, try to find a cohesive theme. You don’t want the kids to grow up in an ugly house, though you care very little about what Toji might want. That being said, you know that even a decade later, him caring about this kind of thing is unlikely. So you order seven rooms: living room, dining room, breakfast nook, foyer, Tsumiki’s room, Megumi’s room, and Toji’s room. Sure, Tsumiki and Megumi are still young enough to share a bedroom, but you know how important it is as a sibling for each to have their own space. But there aren’t four bedrooms in the house. It’s nice on the outside, fortunately not too outwardly neglected, and probably worth a fortune—on, you’re suspecting, the second wife’s dime—but inside, it’s a wreck. So you’ve decided to move into the basement, with two top-of-the-art baby monitors for each room. You checked it out before leaving. You’re going to turn it into a tiny apartment, because as someone who’s lived alone for years now, you’re just too used to having privacy and your own space to change that now. This, you’ll be paying for yourself. You could easily skip giving Tsumiki her own room to keep yours, but that’s not setting them up for success once you inevitably go home and get back to the life you put on hold. With your room, you take a little bit more time. This is stuff you’ll probably keep, after all, and it’s your expenditure anyway. Getting all the rooms picked out only takes about two hours. You’re surprised it took so little time; you’d expected to spend a good chunk of your afternoon here. Having set up an appointment with the exterminator for tomorrow, you decide to have the furniture, essentially the house, delivered in a tentative four days. If there are bedbugs or other pests, you want them gone before moving all the nice new stuff in. When you explain this to the salesman in not so many words, he sets it up for you without an additional fee. You’re grateful. Up next: linens, toiletries, silverware and plateware, pots and pans, and on and on. After that: anticipating an extermination and knowing you potentially might not have mattresses for a night or two—at which point you’ll be moving to a hotel until the house is clear—you pick up some sleeping bags. You also find some other goodies at the store, things to give the place some life despite not being necessary. Then: grocery shopping. This, out of everything, is where you expect to blast most of your time away. You stock up on cleaning products, nonperishables, and the ingredients for some of the home-cooked meals you’d gotten from just about every woman you’ve ever met in your life. You need to do some meal planning after this, but for right now you just want everyone fed. Finally: you’re home. Finding Toji drunkenly passed out on the couch with Megumi gnawing on a filthy sock you missed in your initial sweep of the apartment, unattended, strikes fury in you. You make sure to toss the sock and brush Megumi’s little teeth, trying to prevent an infection, but ultimately only time is going to tell if he gets sick or not. To your immense gratitude, you find Tsumiki with her face still glued to your old phone. Glancing over her shoulder, you find that the little girl is a Tetris whiz. Reining in your anger, you ask kindly, “Hey, Tsumiki-chan. Did you have a good day?” She startles and then looks up. A bright, gap-toothed smile brightens up her face and sheds light on your miserable mood. “Yeah! Thank you, Auntie!” “Of course, sweetie. Now I’m going to go check on your brother and daddy. Can you get ready for dinner on your own or do you need some help?” “I can do it!” “Great, honey. Come to the dining room when you’re ready.” You’d normally expect to have to change her outfit after she’s ‘ready,’ but in this case, you don’t care what Tsumiki wears as long as it’s relatively clean. That reminds you that you need to move the laundry into the dryer and you sigh. Just one more thing to the list, with Toji doing the opposite of helping. So much for ‘coparenting.’ No, you’re just taking care of two toddlers and a great big man-child. You are the parent. This isn’t what you signed up for, but, well, the kids. You can’t leave them to this squalor knowingly. You decide you’ll help Toji to the point that he’s willing, but you don’t have the energy to care for Tsumiki and Megumi and the household and their father. “Toji!” you call. Knowing better than to attack him now, you slam your foot into the side of the couch. Your toes hurt but it’s worth it when you see him startle awake. “What the fu—” you begin to shout, then remember that Megumi is in the room “—heck did I ask you to do? I asked you to watch them! And you’re asleep! God, I…” You trail off, glaring at him furiously but lost for words. Toji blinks up at you. “Musta dozed off,” he says casually, yawning and scratching the back of his neck. He’s nowhere near contrite. “Oh my god,” you whisper, done, done, and done. You walk away to make a quick dinner that you’re sure the kids will like. Honestly, you want to go home. You’re doing everything, everything, getting a household up to par in a snap, taking care of two children, dealing with their ungrateful drunkard of a father, and you’re not even getting paid! Just a small weekly stipend! Did Toji, in what was clearly in a singular moment of lucidity, realize what he was asking of you? How has this been going on for so long without CPS being called and Tsumiki and Megumi still alive and kicking in relatively good health? Disgusted, you spend the rest night in your bedroom, curled under the dingy but clean sheets. The decision of whether to take the kids and go back to Tokyo or try to make the best of your current situation is causing a war in your head, giving you a seething migraine. “Fuck this,” you mutter angrily. The next thing you know, you’re waking up to a bright sunny day. One more day, I guess.
Chapter Ten: A Cloud Grey
Three weeks later, the house is finally livable. Tsumiki loves her new room, Megumi is too young to care, and you don’t think Toji even notices. He mentioned something about the mattress, but that was all. You’ve also gotten some very important things done, like Tsumiki enrolled in elementary school, meal plans, schedules, all the organization you need to run a household that Kimiko would have relished and you find little more than a not-quite-odious chore. You haven’t really tried to talk to Toji and although he’s been sober more often than he likely was before you arrived, he never tries to speak to you. You see him try, sometimes; it’s on his face. A glimpse of longing every so often, lips parted as though to say your name, but then something hardens in his eyes and he ends up saying nothing. The closest it gets is to when he joins you and the kids at the dining room table. He’ll compliment the food, which you’ll accept politely, and then silence between you as you ask Tsumiki about her day at school. You can only focus on the children. Who are thriving now, you think. From Tsumiki’s initial medical evaluation to the one just yesterday, they’ve said that her lungs are improving now that she’s no longer living in filth—although they don’t know that it was filth causing it, since you’d never disclose such damning information despite it not being your fault in any way. Megumi’s become a little more talkative since he adjusted to your presence and now engages in activities like coloring books and playing with toys with his sister. You’re tired at the end of each day. All you want to do is lay down and go to bed. The walls are thin enough that you’ll hear any excessively loud noises from upstairs, and you’re a light sleeper to boot, so after getting the kids tucked in, checking that the baby monitors are on, you gratefully stagger towards bed. You’ll wake up extra early tomorrow to take care of tonight’s dishes; you just don’t have it in you right now. “Mouse,” Toji calls, sounding completely lucid for once, even more so than in his brief stints of sobriety. You almost groan. You’re too tired to deal with his bullshit right now, but you also have to take every chance you get to get him back to being a useful member of society. Your savings won’t last forever, and though you’ve started getting your weekly stipend, you also know that Toji’s wealth isn’t endless, either. You have to get him back to work somehow. “Coming,” you reply, loud enough for him to hear but not wake the kids. Upon entering his room, where he’s reclining on his new bed with the TV in front of him tuned to some sports station, you are relieved not to find any liquor bottles, empty or full. It’s tidy enough, not quite to your exacting standards but you have no real complaints. “What’s up?” you ask, trying to hide the reluctance in your tone. “We gotta talk,” he says, then pats the mattress beside him. Like hell are you getting that close to him, but you do perch yourself on the edge of the bed. It really is comfy. Once you’re settled, you ask, “About what?” “I dunno. Anything. Everything.” You fight back an impending headache, because when Toji was difficult before you’d found it funny, but now it’s just a hassle. It feels like you’ve grown up but he hasn’t. “Well, you asked, so you can start.” “I need to get back to work.” Hope blooms inside you intensely and suddenly, like an unexpected firework. If he really does get a job, that’s not only more structure for both him and the kids, it gives him some purpose in life so that he quits the drink altogether, and sets the whole family up for future success. This is exactly the kind of thing you’d been wanting to discuss with him, and here he is, bringing it up himself! You’re so proud—and relieved—that a grin splits your face. “That sounds like a great idea, Toji!” He nods, his lips quirking into a small smile. “Great minds think alike, eh?” “Apparently so! Where are you planning to interview?” “Already got the job.” “Wha—what?” “Yeah, I leave at nine tomorrow morning.” Some of your excitement dampens. “Wait, what do you mean, leave?” “It’s the job I had before,” he tells you. “When your sister was still alive.” You hesitate for a second. He always sounds so neutral about your sister’s death. No, not just neutral, but almost…. uncaring. For someone who’d drank himself into such a stupor over her—well, maybe it’s his second wife he’s grieving so hard? Either way, you find yourself offended at the lack of respect and reverence he uses when speaking about your beloved older sister. Still. “I miss her all the time.” Toji nods but doesn’t say anything. You believe that he thinks he misses her, but not the way you do. He’s so… flat. You wonder if maybe this is some side effect of getting sober. You hope so. “Okay,” you say, getting back on track. Now you need to get a good cry in before falling asleep and you definitely don’t want to do it in front of Toji. “So, not the construction job.” “No,” he replies. “The… corporate one.” At least he still respects you enough to acknowledge that you know what he does isn’t what he says. “Right…” You disapprove of this on so many levels, but you’re not in charge here. He’s doing the same thing he always has and you don’t like it at all. “So, how often are you going to be gone and for how long?” “Can’t say,” he answers infuriatingly. “I’ll be home as much as possible. ‘S all I can promise.” You want to bitch and moan about this, about being left with the kids full-time and them never seeing their father. You were promised some support from Toji, but this doesn’t feel like support, though you know he was, at a point, extremely wealthy. Where did all that go? Did second wife really drain him dry or something? But he’ll be making money, providing for his family. He’ll be doing something other than trying to drink himself to death, at least. It’s the most you can ask for… for now. “Alright,” you concede. “But Toji? Please don’t abandon them any more than you already have.” “Them?” he asks like an idiot. “Your kids?” “Oh.” He stares at you for a long moment before coming back from wherever he went. Then, “Right. ‘Course.” You don’t have the energy to argue with him. Whatever goes on in Toji’s head, you can’t begin to fathom. You thought you knew him once but now you’re wondering if you’d ever known him at all. So you chalk his stupidity up to recovering from the alcohol and choose not to get angry, despite it riling you. Then, as though he hadn’t just forgotten about his very own kids’ existences, he shifts to the right and pats the mattress beside him again. You just watch wearily. You don’t exactly want to get all cozy with him right now. “C’mere, mouse.” “Don’t call me that,” you mutter. “Fine. C’mere anyway.” You look at him. The spot beside him. Back to him. Finally: “Fine. For like two minutes,” you insist before crawling up the bed and sitting down stiffly next to him. You’re so weak when it comes to him still. Normally, you’re immune and kept your better wits about you. It’s just… in these quiet moments, the ones in stillness and just the two of you, you think you can sometimes glimpse your old Toji. The one you knew and loved. More than ever, the past near month has proven to you that if the Toji you loved still exists at all, he’s buried under a mountain of pain and grief and you don’t think you can save him. While you’ve grown up, still a spitfire and sometimes a brat, but a better and more mature person that you once were, Toji… It’s like he not only didn’t grow up, but that he got younger, less responsible, less caring—you don’t know this person. And you don’t think you want to. As much as you love Tsumiki, if it wasn’t for Megumi, you probably would have called child services and gone on your merry way. Once you settle, no matter how uncomfortably, Toji slings his arm around you and pulls you close. You’re unmoving at first, rigid, but eventually his body heat and the old feeling of safety you got from being given his rare affection has you relaxing into him. You feel his thumb rubbing soothing circles into your upper arm and his chin resting on your head, two sensations new to you but not unwelcome in this moment of calm. You can worry about his audacious affections later and shitty—well, everything—tomorrow. Feeling the echoes of an old love, you close your eyes. Might as well enjoy it for now because you’re certain that come tomorrow, things will go back to normal and Toji will once again be a stranger.
Chapter Eleven: Moon at Dark
Toji goes back to work like he’d planned and proceeds to be absent from his kids’ lives about 90% of the time. It’s probably about the same as before but at least now he’s making money. After waking up tucked into your bed the morning after your short talk with Toji, you’d realized that you’d fallen asleep on him. It had irked you that you’d been so irresponsible… but you also felt better rested than you had in a long time. It’s an internal dissonance that you don’t have the time or energy to puzzle out. That morning, Toji was sent out on assignment. He left a note as his goodbye and was gone for three weeks. The kids didn’t even notice, which was depressing on a whole other level. You’re not about to open that can of worms any time soon. Months have passed this way. You’ve gotten comfortable with the kids—really, they’re more yours than they are any of their biological parents’ and you sometimes forget to remember that. You love them like your own, at least. Megumi has started to become much more vocal and Tsumiki’s on medications for her lungs that have the coughing fits nearly completely gone. She’s started elementary school and despite being a year behind, she’s making it work. Your little—Toji’s little girl is, that is—is so smart, so sweet, the best daughter you—anyone—could ask for. You’re a little sad that Toji is missing out on these years with her, but not that much because he hasn’t shown any particular care for the children since before you entered the picture and that doesn’t seem to have changed. It helps that he’s bringing in, for lack of a better word, insane amounts of cash from his assignments, but it doesn’t help the kids, who are so much more important than even the millions of yen. In fact, when he’s briefly in town, all he does is spend time with you in whatever capacity he can. If you’re doing chores, he’ll linger about and make small talk. The nights he’s home, he always invites you to cuddle and after that first deeply restful sleep, you give in because you need that kind of rest. He’ll spend a little time with his children, sure, but part of you suspects that he only does it to keep you happy rather than out of genuine love or care for the kids themselves. Whether he cares or not, though, is irrelevant. Just giving them the attention they so desperately want from their father is enough, since they don’t know the difference between him doing it out of love or just compulsorily. Yet. “Hey, you still awake?” comes Toji’s gently rumbling voice in your ear. Cuddling a little deeper into his side, you sleepily mutter, “No.” He laughs, shaking your body with his mirth, and you shift and grumble. “Brat,” he says affectionately, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. He’s been doing that more and more lately. It started after he’d returned from his first assignment after promising to get a job. You’d been more than pissed at the way he’d left, but Toji had been unperturbed and instead kissed your head before heading to his room to drop off his usual duffel bag. It had honestly stunned you. You barely remember him doing it the first time. But he kept doing it, and catching on, when you hear him come home, you grab the kids to him to do it to them first. Inexplicably, using your head kisses as leverage to make him show just one iota of affection for his kids actually worked. Now, both Tsumiki and Megumi hustle to the front door when they hear their dad calling out his return while you linger in the back. It's kind of disgusting, you’re aware. But right now, you can’t ask for much more. Slowly but surely, little things are changing so that hopefully, by the time you leave, they’re a functioning family. Leaving has become a point of dread, though, because you love these kids but you’re not their mother. You can’t just steal them out from under Toji. Maybe you shouldn’t have gotten him sober so he could sign all the paperwork you’d need to transfer guardianship. You have a friend who’s a notary… The thoughts are only in half-jest. But just yesterday, after Toji had settled on the couch in front of the sports station—you think it’s baseball season or something, but you really have no idea—Tsumiki had come running up to show her dad her straight-A report card and he’d genuinely looked at it and congratulated her. He didn’t even know you were there, watching. Your heart had warmed and you felt for the first time like you were making a difference. “Mousey-mouse,” he whispers tauntingly in your ear, his hot breath caressing your ear and causing a shiver to go down your spine. “Wakey-wakey.” You’d almost fallen back asleep, much to your consternation. Didn’t he know you were only there to sleep? “Stop,” you groan, lifting your free arm to slap his face away clumsily. As per usual, you can’t force Toji to move if he doesn’t want to, and it’s clear he doesn’t want to right now. Instead, he grabs your flailing hand and presses a wet, sloppy kiss to your palm. “Ew, gross, Toji,” you complain, yanking your arm back. He lets you. “C’mon,” he urges, batting off your continued attempts to push him away. “There’s a harvest moon tonight. You still like that shit?” The fact that he remembers that about you warms you deeply without warning. You had had a brief obsession with the zodiac and astrology when you were fourteen, and even after you dropped it, you still liked to look at the stars and moon and appreciate the universe in all its glory. “Mmhmm,” you hum into his shirt. There’s a wet patch from where you’d been drooling a little. “I told you we’d see one together,” he says, suddenly serious. “So let’s go.” “The kids…” you mumble in insincere objection. “They’re fine,” he assures you, though he hasn’t left the bed since you started cuddling, so he doesn’t actually know. “Besides, we’ll just be on the roof.” You blink heavily and finally wake up. “Lemme check. Then we can go.” Finding the kids well and truly knocked out, you pull your robe tighter around yourself and head out into the muggy air. Toji boosts you up to the roof easily, but then it’s his turn and you balk. “Toji, you’re gonna make the roof cave in,” you say uncertainly as he nimbly scales the side of the house without any exertion. You don’t know what he does at the gym in his spare time, but realistically, he shouldn’t be able to do that. “Nah,” he replies as he vaults up to the roof next to you. He lands on silent feet and then settles down next to you, an arm wrapped loosely behind you. “Look, it’s rising.” “Oh…” You stare in wonder at the huge harvest supermoon. You feel almost rapturous observing such beauty and grow absorbed in it for some time, slowly leaning back into the roof so that you’re no longer sitting and instead laid out flat. Toji’s arm has migrated to be around your shoulders. “You like it?” he asks quietly, strangely pensive. “Yeah,” you breathe. “I really do.” “I told you we’d do it. I didn’t forget.” You remember the conversation you’d had with him during your obsession with the stars and sky. He’d promised you that you’d see it together, but it never happened. You also remember a harvest moon two months and six days after Kimiko and Toji become a couple, because yes, in your grief you were counting, and you hadn’t had the heart to see one again. Not by yourself. Not when it reminded you so much of Toji. But he’d been so happy, Kimiko had been so happy, who were you to rain on their parade when it was a parade you’d planned and built yourself? “I missed you,” you whisper without thinking, spurred on by the warmth both inside you and out. There’s a silence and you hope immediately that he didn’t hear. That wasn’t supposed to ever reach his ears. “I missed you, too,” he admits just as quietly. At his confession, you decide that maybe, with the moon on your side, the two of you can talk about it. After all, it was like you’d lost connection with him within days. Weird as it is to think about someone still alive, you’d never really gotten to say a final goodbye. “Then why…” The heavy words are hard to get out, stuck in your throat. “Why didn’t you say anything?” “I was dating your sister,” he says, and for some reason it comes out bitterly. You notice off-handedly that he hasn’t actually called her by her first name since you’ve come, although it’s probably because he’d lost her so soon. “You think it’d be appropriate to be talkin’ like that to her little sis?” “I mean… well, no…” “You can’t have it both ways, mouse, and you wanted me to be with her.” “N-no, that’s not…” You start stumbling over your words. “You—you loved her! You said so… so… I just wanted you to be happy.” “The hell’d I do to make you think I wasn’t?” That catches you off guard. Why had you been so adamant that Toji and Kimiko get together? You suppose it was the naïve excitement of doing something good for them, the people you loved most, but was it maybe selfish? You can’t fathom how it could be motivated from a place of greed when it hurt so much, but you’d been too preoccupied with your grief to really dig deep into your reasons back then. Tears are pricking your eyes, old ones that never fell. Sniffling, you say, “I-I don’t know. I thought… I don’t know. It just seemed right to me… I think.” The two of you fall into silence and you don’t look at him, focusing your gaze on the moon, while you feel him turn his gaze to your profile. The more you think about it, the more you wonder how much of that pain was unnecessary. Would you change it? Well, you’ll always want Kimiko back, and you’ll never regret Megumi’s existence nor Tsumiki being in your life, but… But yeah, there are some parts of you that are wistful. You’ve never stopped missing the old days, no matter how far you’re supposed to have moved on since sixteen. Tears track down your temples as you bask in the beauty of the moon, taking solace in her kind, unwavering presence. You draw strength from her but you still find yourself hiccupping little sobs as quietly as you can. “Hey, hey, don’t cry,” Toji says, pulling you into him. “Nothing to be done ‘bout it. But look at us now! Back together again.” Another one of those kisses on the top of your head, sloppier than usual. “We’re meant to be together, mouse.” You know he doesn’t mean anything romantically by it, but there’s a possessiveness in his voice that almost makes it seem that way. Before getting spooked, you remind yourself how Toji has never once expressed more than platonic interest and fortunately relax. You turn into him, wrapping your arm around his waist and wedging your body into his. “Stop calling me mouse,” you complain into his broad chest. “Yeah, not happening.” Your mind circles back to a question, the most important question, that Toji technically hadn’t answered. “Toji… did you love Kimiko?” He says nothing for a while and you start to wonder if you’d misread the situation. “I guess,” he says after a bit, but there’s no wistful longing there. It’s a blunt, unfeeling statement and it comes out so reluctantly that you’re not really sure what to make of it. You remind yourself that Toji has never been particularly open about these things. “But…” “I guess?” you repeat, aghast. “Don’t worry about it,” he says dismissively. “You’re not ready for that conversation.” “No, seriously, what do you mean, ‘I guess’?! If I’d known, I mean, that you weren’t, I wouldn’t have…” “It all worked out, right?” His tone brooks no argument. He doesn’t want to talk about it and you haven’t forgotten that Toji doesn’t appreciate prying. “Fine,” you say grumpily. Internally, you wonder how Toji can consider this to be ‘working out alright.’ You certainly wouldn’t leave it a stellar review. “Hey, a shooting star,” Toji says suddenly, pointing at the sky. You jerk to follow his gaze. “Wait, what? Where? Where?!” His index finger, the one pointing, boops you on the nose. “Madeja look.” “Hey!” You spend a couple more hours out there, sometimes in silence, sometimes chatting about nothing, before heading back inside. It’s the most relaxed you’ve been since getting here, and the temporary truce between you and Toji is relieving. After he closes the door behind you, you turn to him. “Hey, Toji?” “What?” “Thanks.” He smiles, a real smile this time, and kisses your forehead. “Anytime, little mouse.” You whap him in the side in retaliation for the nickname and then go check on the kids.
Chapter Twelve: Lightning Strike
EXPLICIT Click for more It’s officially been four months, to the very day, since you arrived at the Fushiguro household. On some level, you feel like some kind of celebration is in order, but on the other, Tsumiki and Megumi have finally started to trust that you’re not going anywhere like their mothers and believe that you’re safe, that you truly care about them. And that means that whether or not you had wanted to celebrate, you’re instead dealing with a double-meltdown. You don’t know if it’s because Tsumiki and Megumi were both abandoned—although Megumi in a much different way than Tsumiki’s waste of space mother—so they cling to each other as the only stable, unwavering person in their lives, or if there’s another reason, but when Tsumiki throws a fit, well, so does Megumi. And when Megumi throws a fit, Tsumiki does the same. It leads to always dealing with two temper tantrums at once instead of getting any kind of break. They’re so close they basically mirror each other, and now that Megumi is starting to open up, he agrees with literally everything his sister says. While you’d worried that Megumi was behind developmentally when you’d first arrived, you’ve fortunately found that he can speak at his age level just fine, maybe even above the curve; he just never felt safe enough to say anything except when entirely alone with Tsumiki. Now, though, he’s still careful with his words but he speaks to you almost as freely as his sister. You think that Megumi is just a quiet kid. He doesn’t say a lot most of the time, but when he does speak, it’s always logical and profound and relevant. He’s definitely a thinker. About ready to pull your hair out because you can’t figure out how to calm the kids, you blink back tears of stress and stand tall, taking a few deep breaths. What are they missing? You’ve already deduced that this is Megumi’s tantrum, so you have to figure out whatever he needs so desperately and give it to him. It’s not the greatest parenting, but you’re too worn out for anything else. You don’t want them to start to think that throwing a fit will get them whatever they want, but today? You just want to make a hot cup of tea and settle into bed early. That’s your celebration of four months. Not exactly a party, but it’s good enough for you. You’ve had no help; Toji’s been gone for a month and a half so far with no indication of when he’s coming back. If he’s coming back, you’re starting to worry. Eventually, Megumi calms down—without you even doing anything. He’d just cried because he’d wanted to cry, and as Megumi stops, so does Tsumiki. You put them to bed post-haste, and as soon as they’re gently snoring away, you go to the kitchen, where there are still some dishes to do, and allow yourself to cry as quietly as possible. You’re here and you’re staying, but you honestly hadn’t expected to be the full-time caretaker of two young kids. On top of that, you alone keep the house clean, the food cooked, the kids enriched, make the appointments and get them there, get Tsumiki to school—the duties are never-ending. You’re essentially a single mom. The only relief is that this isn’t coming out of your increasingly thinning wallet. At least Toji does reimburse you and pay you that stipend. You’re far from making any kind of money, though, and you’ve decided that when he returns, you need to discuss that with him. It might be a favor for you to come help him, but you’re not planning on ruining yourself in the process. He had majorly understated the situation. For god’s sake, you hadn’t even known about Tsumiki until you had already walked and started searching for Megumi! You gather yourself and finish the dishes. It’s just as you’re drying your hands and assessing whether anything else needs to be done before you go relax that you hear the front door open loudly and slam closed. There’s no one else it could be, and rage rises in you. The kids have just fallen asleep! You swear to god, if he wakes them, you’re going to… Well, there’s not much you can really do to him. But you’ll fantasize about it violently. You storm over to him. “Toji, what the fuck—” He clumsily falls into the wall. Fortunately, there are no decorations to come crashing down, but it’s still loud. “Toji?!” you demand shrilly. “Mouse,” he mumbles, heavy-lidded eyes focusing on you. “What the—” This time, you really do pull at your hair. “Are you drunk?!” He just takes a few stumbling steps forward, an arm raising in your direction. You take a deep breath and massage your temples. The tears you thought you’d released all of come flooding back. You can’t. You can’t. God, please, please please please no. Do not make me take care of him right now. I’m not a nursemaid! And yet you still catch him—barely—as he leans forward into you. His weight is massive as expected, because not only is he a big man but he’s also pure muscle. “Oof,” you grunt, taking a stabilizing step backwards. You close your eyes and try to accept the situation. “Okay… Okay.” You’re the sole thing between Toji crashing to the tile floor and him standing up straight. Bitterly, you realize that the choice to help Toji has been taken from you; you couldn’t just let him fall, so you’re now cornered into putting him to bed just like you had Megumi and Tsumiki. Without further thought—because if you think about it, you’ll drop Toji and yourself out of sheer, reckless spite—you wrestle your way with him to his bed. You don’t take any notice of how much time it takes because that’s just time you should be spending relaxing and not knowing is better than seeing your precious reprieve slowly tick away. Right now, in this moment, you hate him. You’ve never felt such scalding fury before, but you’re just so fed up. You decide that you’re going to take the kids with you back to your apartment and your life as soon as you can manage it. When you’re working at the hospital, you make good money for a single person and decent enough money to arrange care for Megumi and Tsumiki when you’re working. You can’t tolerate taking care of Toji anymore. The sad thing is that over the last few months, you really thought your relationship with him was improving. You even started talking about more than just duties and the kids, not often but occasionally. He’d stick around in the kitchen while you’re cooking, linger after dinner, and so on. Then, for some reason, he’d started staying away for longer. Living with the kids as a single parent while Toji is fucking off elsewhere—you’ve started wondering if he’s even working at all or just drinking himself to death when you’re not there to scold him—has worn you down to the point that you just… you love him for who he was to you, but you want nothing to do with the man he is now. Finally, you manage to dump Toji on the bed. The first thing you’re going to do when you get to your room is cry out all the stress. Maybe you’ll still have time for the tea, but at this point you’ll probably just pass out. Just as he’s almost settled, he suddenly grabs your arm and pulls you onto him. “Toji!” you squeal angrily as you land on his broad, muscled chest. “Quit that! Let me go!” “Missed you,” he mutters, pulling you up so that you’re laid directly on top of him, your legs trapped between his thighs and your left arm caught in his hand. You writhe but do your best not to yell at him loudly enough to wake the kids. He’s just drunk. You’ll get through to him one way or another and this will be water under the bridge tomorrow morning—because you’re already determined to pretend it never happened. It’s unfair how much strength and coordination he still has even while blackout drunk. Toji grabs your other flailing arm and traps both of them against his chest. “Toji!” you hiss. “Stop this right now!” “Mm,” is all that comes out. He pulls you forward, close enough to kiss. There’s barely an inch between your lips. You meet his eyes with anger and are stunned to see things Toji’s never directed at you before. There’s layers of emotion in the depths of his eyes; greedy desire, desperate longing, smothered grief and heartbreak, bitter jealousy, and… raw, aching love. You realize that, while you and Kimiko don’t really look too much alike—she’d always been the pretty sister, though you’re not necessarily ugly, just plain in comparison—in his drunkenness, Toji has somehow come to think that you’re his dead first wife. Your sister. “It’s mouse,” you say, attempting to stay calm. “Jiji, it’s mouse. I’m not her. I’m not Kimiko. Please let me go.” He ignores you, instead yanking you forward and forcing a kiss. From a completely objective point of view, Toji’s a good kisser. His lips gently brush against yours, once, twice, before pressing closer and running his tongue against the seam of your pursed lips as if to request access. That’s as far as he gets before you shake off your surprise and jerk away. “Toji!” you cry, still worried about waking the kids when this can be resolved just by bringing him back to the present, no matter how painful it is. “Jiji!” You don’t want to use his first name like Kimiko would. You need to press on with the nicknames you’d both shared once upon a time. “It’s mouse! Mouse!” He groans from the back of his throat, almost a growl, and releases your left hand just so he can grip the back of your head and force you back down to him. This time, he’s not so gentle. He pulls on your hair to get you to open your mouth when you cry out from the pain, his tongue delving inside and invading every crevice. You jerk around as much as his grip on your head and hair allows, but it’s not much, and although you should be in the perfect position to knee him in the groin, his strong legs have wrapped around yours and are now pinning you to his lower body. Panicking as he continues to force his kiss on you, you steel yourself for the pain and when he dives back in after a quick breath, you forfeit some hair to bite his tongue hard enough to jolt him back to his sense. “Jiji,” you pant, tears gathering in the corners of your eyes. “Jiji, it’s mouse. It’s mouse, jiji! Jiji!” All you can do is keep trying the nicknames and fight back when you have the chance. You’re trapped. …You’re terrified of what might happen if you don’t bring him back to his senses. You… no. You’re not going to let that happen. You’re not going to be punished for being related to Kimiko, for daring to share blood and a few similar features. But now, Toji’s been provoked, and instead of backing off, he just flips the two of you over. You’re crushed into the mattress before he deftly pries open your legs with his knees and settles between your thighs. The next kiss is almost violent and he jerkily tears your blouse wide open, buttons clattering where they fall. “Toji!” you scream into his mouth, forgetting about the nicknames in your panic. “Stop! Stop! God, please—please, stop!” His hands just reach for your clothed breasts and grope them painfully. The tears you’ve been holding back surge out and you can only whimper as he circles your areolas lightly and then pinches, your stiff nipples peaking from the stimulation. A weak thread of arousal jolts through your stomach but it’s quickly smothered by your fear. Your arms are free so you keep trying to shove him off. But, as always, since the very beginning, your struggles have no effect on him. Toji just goes on, tearing off your seasonal skirt and ripping your panties away. When he goes to your neck instead of pulling out his cock, relief like none other floods you because this means you have a chance. His hot breath strangely doesn’t smell like a distillery, more minty than anything, as he presses harsh, open-mouthed kisses up and down the column of your throat. He sucks hard each time, leaving what you know will be bright purple-red bruises for everyone to see. You try to ignore it and the burgeoning flare of arousal his ministrations bring, instead once again trying to get him to see sense. “Jiji,” you say as loud as you can, which isn’t so loud anymore. You’re starting to feel defeated but you can’t just give up. “Jiji. It’s mouse…” You hiccup on a sob before swallowing it back and saying again, “It’s mouse. It’s mouse. It’s me, mouse!” Toji sucks particularly harshly and you hiss through clenched teeth. That was more painful than arousing. Then, suddenly, he’s pulling away from your neck and fumbling with his loose pants. “No,” you moan desperately, shaking your head back and forth in denial. “Please, jiji—Toji—please… it’s mouse… it’s mouse… Stop it, please…” Toji grabs your dominant hand tightly and brings it southward. Your fingers brush against something velvety and hard, and as he uses his larger hand to wrap yours around it, you realize that Toji is trying to get you to jerk him off. You don’t know what he’s thinking, but you quickly decide that if you can get him off with just your hand, you can avoid the worst. So you take over for him as soon as he loosens his grip and you start stroking him expertly up and down. Sex has never appealed to you as an act in itself. You like foreplay, oral sex; things that don’t necessarily involve penetration. You’re not a virgin but you’re smaller than average and the men from the few relationships that have gotten that far can’t fit comfortably, so to make up for it, you’ve become very skilled in everything but actual sex. A morbidly curious glance down shows that in no world will Toji fit. You blanch. He’s huge; one could say proportional. Even seeing it in the bath that first night doesn’t compare. Everything about Toji is big, apparently even his cock. Closing your eyes and biting your lip, it’s become absolutely essential that he doesn’t drunkenly try to force that inside you. If he can even make it fit, you’ll be limping for days. You’ll be in a lot of pain. And you don’t even want this. But before you can make him cum with your hand alone, he pulls back. You try to keep a hold on his cock, try to maintain the pleasure and stop him from going forward with this, but he ignores you. Instead, he bats your hand away and then lightly brushes the little thatch of curls at the apex of your legs. Moaning in terror, you redouble your efforts to escape now that Toji couldn’t be pacified with just a handjob. But like a mountain, you can’t move him. You feel a thick finger part your lower lips and begin to rub at your clit, gathering the small amount of moisture and spreading it before doing it all over again. Apparently, Toji is also a master of foreplay because his firm touch has you both crying and moaning. You’re distressed, panicking, terrified, yet you also feel unmistakable heat gathering low in your belly. You can’t help but jerk your hips away from his touch, but Toji just follows and steadily builds you up until your hips aren’t jerking away from but jerking into his touch. Just with clitoral stimulation, Toji brings you to climax. Gasping and still crying, you start to come, and then, right in the middle of it, he shoves a single finger inside of you. It hurts but you’re still coming; your unused walls clamp down around his finger and suck him in. He groans and presses his face into the juncture of your neck and shoulder—and he bites. Not gently, either. You let out a short scream but it doesn’t seem to bother him; he just works you up to a second and third climax, adding a finger every time you come. Once he’s hit four fingers and worked you up again, your walls feel wide and gaping when he pulls them away. In your muzzy mind, you think that you’ve survived, it’s fine, it’s over, you just need to leave. Then you feel what is quite certainly his cock press up against your opening. Your wits abandon you for pure, unadulterated terror. “Toji, please, no, please no no no, it’s mouse, it’s mouse, please it’s mouse—” —He starts to press in and you scream in horror— “It’s MOUSE! STOP!” In that single, horrifying moment, before he starts to breach your entrance, you make eye contact with him. As you finally see him, you’re reminded of the way that Toji could always hold his liquor so well. You’d just thought that he’d lost some of his tolerance, or just drank that much more—something. But as you look into his eyes, in that singular point in time, you see that they are, though heavily-lidded and lustful, full of clarity. He sees you, too. He’s sober. He knows you’re not Kimiko. He’s doing this… to you. Mouse. On purpose. It’s like you’re frozen, only your bruised lips parting to whisper, “Toji…?” with all the jagged rawness of a broken heart. He knows what he’s doing and doesn’t care how much he’s hurting you. You see him see you; his eyes soften, almost like he’s thinking about possibly being sorry someday. This moment will forever be branded into your mind. Toji pushes in, slowly but mercilessly, and you scream. If the kids wake up, you don’t know. One large hand covers your mouth almost immediately, muting you, and the other grabs your leg to maintain a steady angle as he continues to violate you. You find yourself unable to move with the pain. It’s too much—four fingers were never going to be enough when you’re as uniquely small as you are. But Toji pushes, and pushes, and pushes, and you freeze, and tremble, and cry. You feel like you’re going to choke on his cock when you finally realize he’s somehow, somehow fit himself entirely inside of you. It steals both your voice and your breath away. Toji starts to thrust in little movements, claiming every inch of you, and although you hate it, hate it hate it hate it, you can feel every ridge and vein of his cock against your walls. As he begins to move, you’re forced to feel the pressure of him inside you, rubbing you in a strangely painful but satisfying way, hitting every weak, sensitive spot you have. There’s not much to do other than lay back and take it, so you let go. There’s no stopping him now, or rather—since he’s clearly been aware of what he was doing from the beginning—you were never going to stop him at all. All you can do is take it. Your previous orgasms, however, have made you extra sensitive. Toji picks up the pace and shamefully, you can hear a low squelching sound. Two hot tears glide down your temples. So that’s how it’s going to be, you realize bleakly. You’re going to get off on being raped. You choke out something between a morbid laugh and a gasp of despair. Your mouth is still covered by his hand, so it’s not audible, just a puff of air against his palm. Spearing into you over and over again, faster and faster, makes it clear to you that Toji’s not going for endurance. Thank god. But as his thrusts quicken, so does your pleasure climb. You squirm a little as it builds up, then Toji starts thrusting violently into you, grunting and groaning, and you feel him spill inside you just as your own orgasm blooms and your walls rhythmically milk him dry. Gentle waves of pleasure inundate your body, but it’s different this time—because of the pain it’s been coupled with. You’re both breathing heavily when he finally pulls his flaccid dick out of your pussy. As Toji catches his breath, he rolls off you. You thought it would mean freedom, but he just tucks you into his side as he always has. The way he pulls you in, arm cradling you as you involuntarily press your face into his chest, like he had when you were as young as thirteen, feels blasphemous. This isn’t your Toji. That Toji, your best friend, no longer exists, in mind or memory. Like you’re not leaking blood and semen from between your legs, Toji presses a lingering kiss to the top of your head. It makes you sick that he’s doing all affectionate the things he used to when you were friends now, after he’s raped you. “Why?” you finally whisper. You know he can hear you. “Go to bed, mouse,” he tells you. “No,” you say, quietly but with steel. You blink back tears, then just let them fall. “Why, Toji? Why did you—” you hiccup “—why did you rape me?” “Call it whatever you want,” he says carelessly, squeezing you closer and pressing another kiss to your head. You jerk away but he doesn’t let you get far. “It was always meant to happen.” A flicker of fury rises, then is quashed under the depths of the fear that crashes down on you. “Always meant to happen?” you repeat weakly. “What…?” “You and me, we were meant to be,” he says, calm and assured and definitely delusional. You balk, wondering if Toji isn’t just a drunk but actually insane. “Took a little while to get there, but here we are.” You push against him. He crushes you closer than before. “You’re crazy.” You’re numb as you say it. You don’t know what to do. Toji kisses your temple. “Just go to bed.” Without any other option, you do just that.
Chapter Thirteen: Flash Flood
EXPLICIT Click for more You wake up to Toji moving inside you. That is to say, you wake up from the pain of a particularly hard thrust. Surprisingly, you hadn’t been roused by his initial penetration or his less violent movements; it’s only when he’s really starting to go at it that your blink awake, bleariness quickly replaced by panic. “Wha—Toji…? Stop! Stop!” Your voice is hoarse from all your screaming last night. Even so, you know he hears you because even though he keeps going, he kisses your forehead. “Just relax, little mouse,” he pants into your ear. You yelp when he shoves against your cervix. It’s almost certainly bruised after how harshly he’d treated you last night. You push futilely against his chest. “No, no, please, no…” you whimper, squirming weakly to escape him, but you’re entirely caged in. Apparently, most of the rape had happened while you were unconscious because only a few moments and some spearing thrusts later, he’s coming inside of you. You barely have the wherewithal to be concerned about pregnancy before he’s pulling his softening dick out and pulling you back into that sickening familiar embrace. “You’re so perfect,” he murmurs into your hair. It sends shivers of revulsion down your spine. “Please, Toji… let me go.” It’s just a whisper, but he hears. “You seriously think I’m lettin you go after I finally got you?” he asks. It comes out teasingly but you can hear the iron will behind it. “What… what are you even talking about?” The subject matter is so disturbing that you start gathering your wits so that you can figure out what he means and what fuckery this is. He moans into your hair and then brings you up for a kiss. You don’t even try to fight back—he’s just come, and he’s in his thirties now, so you know his refractory period means you’re safe for a little while. You need to sort out the insanity that is Toji and then figure out how to escape with the kids. You don’t know how you’re going to pull it off, but what other choice is there? You’re not just going to become Toji’s fucktoy. He never gave even the slightest indication that he felt this way at all for you! Fortunately for your fraying mind, it’s the gentlest kiss yet, little more than a brushing of lips. Unlike everything else he’s done to you so far, it’s tender and affectionate, not the heated, violent passion of the night before or this morning. “You really wanna know?” he asks after breaking the kiss. Swallowing hard, you pull away, and miracle of miracles, he lets you. “Of course I do,” you say with a thread of anger in your voice. “Mm.” He kisses you again, more firmly this time. Worried that he’s getting riled up again, you try to jerk your head away, and once again he allows it. “Toji,” you scold quietly, putting every broken piece inside you haphazardly together to get answers before he can get hard and rape you again. He groans but stops. “Fine.” You wait silently. “Goddamn,” he says with a laugh. “Dunno where to even start.” Cringing, you finally ask, “Was it when we first met?” The shame and rage you’ll feel if Toji really had been this dangerous from the start, grooming you with a fancy phone and some affection you’d never gotten outside of Kimiko, will burn so hot you might just incinerate yourself. “Nah, not even close. I ain’t a pedo,” he says with a surprising amount of disgust after last night. “Mm… you were sixteen.” You’re finally able to push everything away and just focus on the conversation, of understanding his motives. “That’s a lie. You started dating Kimiko.” “Cause you made me,” he says bitterly, a hint of growl in his voice. A dangerous growl that has your hackles rising. “How did I make you?” you ask shrilly. “I mean, I know you said—” Out of nowhere, you recall that fateful night with Toji, the night you had told him Kimiko was in love with him and began your descent into a hell of loneliness. Looking at it now from an adult perspective, really analyzing it, you realize that Toji had admitted his feelings. He’d been subtle about it and you’d been too naively excited to matchmake them to catch the undertones. “I care about you more than I should.” Of course, for a 23-year-old speaking to a sixteen-year-old, he would absolutely have to be subtle about any kind of confession. And you had eagerly repeated his words back to him, sheer obliviousness in the face of adult nuance. The way he’d suddenly lit up; the way he’d held you closer than ever before, the kisses on the top of your head; the way he’d practically short circuited when you brought up Kimiko just after he thought you’d accepted his feelings… Well, you think angrily, you were sixteen. What did he really expect? You’ve never once hinted at more than platonic affection for him. Why on earth would he think that had changed just because he had? Toji looks at you and can obviously tell you’re remembering. “You get it now, mouse?” he asks. The same anger you feel towards him for his ridiculous assumption you’d ever look at someone who was essentially your older brother like that is reflected in his eyes, and the bitterness that’s shown to you highlights the fact that your unwitting rejection had actually hurt him. “Y-yeah…” you respond hesitantly. “But… you married Kimiko. You didn’t have to do that.” “Had to stay in your life somehow,” he replies frostily. Your brow furrows. “We could have just stayed friends.” He snorts. “Like hell.” “I missed you so much,” you say desperately. “I cried… so many nights. I was so lonely… You were everything to me. I even wished sometimes that you hadn’t met Kimiko! I would have done anything to still be your friend…” “Sure, but I didn’t want to be yours.” The words are like a slap to the face. “What…?” “You fucked me up bad, mouse,” he says heatedly, old anger finally finding an outlet. “You think I wanted anything to do with you after that? Fuck that shit.” “But you said you wanted to stay in my life!” you exclaim, almost entirely forgetting the situation you’re in. “If you did, then why—” His next words come out with a vicious growl. “Yeah, ‘cause you fucked me up but I couldn’t fucking stop loving you.” You realize too late that it’s been long enough for him to recover and are rudely reminded of it when he grabs your hair and smashes his lips against yours, all teeth and invading tongue. You shriek into his mouth and try to push him off but as always—nothing. You don’t even know why you try anymore except because fighting and losing is worse than not fighting at all. Toji roughly grabs your hips and flips you onto your stomach, tearing his lips away at the last minute. You’re crushed under his body weight, but he’s soon propped himself up on his elbows, caging you but no longer literally suffocating you; at least now your face isn’t being smushed into the pillow. You’ve never felt more trapped. Apparently the semen he’d ejaculated in you from before is still wet enough to act as a lubricant because Toji doesn’t spend time trying to arouse you. Still crushing your lower body into the bed, he roughly spreads your legs and enters you from behind. You choke at the sudden pain that flares as he shoves himself inside you once again. He’s fucked you enough at this point that your pussy hasn’t begun to return to its normal size; when he pulls out, it feels like you’re gaping, a raw open wound between your legs, but it’s better than when he’s inside you. As Toji starts a punishing pace that’s so agonizing you start crying again, you realize that this, although he may have been aroused naturally, is some kind of punishment for your rejection of him. He’s not just fucking you to get off—he’s actively trying to hurt you. When he sinks his teeth into the nape of your neck, you scream and swear he draws blood. He doesn’t let go, though; he holds you there like you’re some kind of female animal scruffed while being mated, his jaws tightening with every thrust that might loosen his bite. Fortunately, for whatever reason, Toji doesn’t attempt to last long. It’s only five devastating minutes later that he comes, once again inside you, and finally releases your neck. You lay still, sobbing into the pillow with nerves wracked from pain. You can’t imagine moving. But as is becoming usual, Toji flips you back to him and once again forces you into his embrace. He’s breathing hard but not as hard as you, despite your lack of physical exertion. He kisses your forehead and pulls you closer. You can only cry weakly into his chest; you don’t have the energy to do anything other than lay there. “You got no idea how much bullshit I had to put up with from your bitch of a sister,” Toji goes on like he hadn’t just taken time out of the conversation to brutally rape you. “Four years of my life wasted.” You wish you had the capability to yell at him for maligning Kimiko, but you don’t, so you can only listen to his vitriol. It infuriates you but you’re too tired to do anything about it. “But I saw you,” he says. His voice softens. “At the wedding. And you were still wearing my necklace.” You remember that, you think. How you’d been offended he was looking at your breasts when he was marrying Kimiko that very day. But was it actually the necklace you still haven’t taken off? You’re selling it as soon as you’re out of here. That much money will help with taking care of the kids until you’ve financially recovered. “And when Megumi was born,” he goes on. “Still wearing it. Right now, even.” He kisses you gently on the lips. You just let him. “Thought I’d see you again when your cunt mom died,” Toji says. You’re wary of any more of his anger. You don’t think you can stand to go through being raped again. “But you just sent a fucking card.” You close your eyes. “Got in some debt. Had to marry another bitch to get out of it. Got stuck with her kid when she bailed. Shit happens, though. “Then I finally got you back.” “Please… Toji…” you gasp through a stuttering little sob. “I don’… I don’t wanna stay. Lemme… lemme go. Please…” “You think I’m lettin you escape again?” He lets out a sharp bark of a laugh, full of incredulity. “Fuck no.” You think back to all the times you’d so fervently believed that Toji would never hurt you, never turn his dangerous strength against you. That you were safe with him, that he would protect you, that he would never let you down. Now you know it was all lies, untruths you said to yourself because you had so foolishly trusted him. “I hate you,” you mumble with as much fierceness as you can muster. It’s not much. You’re so broken. “You won’t forever,” he replies with casual certainty. Then he lifts your leg up over his thigh and you feel, once again, his hard cock at your entrance. “No…” you whisper desperately. Snot and tears have wet his chest but he doesn’t seem to care. “No… pl-pl—please…” Your voice cracks on the sob. Toji kisses your forehead again and, without another word, spears into you once more.
Chapter Fourteen: Drought
EXPLICIT Click for more To your immense surprise, though you had little energy to express it, Toji leaves you to rest in his bed all day while he manages the kids. You can hear from their excited voices through the door that they’re happy their dad is finally taking an active role and you think bitterly that they never seem as excited like that for you anymore. If the last 24 hours hadn’t happened, you’d probably just be happy Toji’s showing interest in them at last, but now it just curdles your stomach. As innocent as they are, as young and naïve, they’ll never know what transpired last night and this morning or its effect on you. You’re taking it to your grave. And you’re taking them and running the moment you can stand, which so far you haven’t been able to accomplish. After dealing with the kids and setting them up with a kid-friendly TV show, Toji comes back. You can’t help but flinch at the sound of the bedroom door opening, letting light leak into the darkened room, but Toji just hands you some Plan B with a glass of water you hadn’t realized you were so desperate for. You’re just glad he’s not trying for a kid with you. He helps you to the bathroom, where you find you’re so raw that you cry out at the first trickle, before leaving you gasping on the toilet as you try to process the pain and then he goes to check on the kids again. Then he lowers you into a warm bath and gives you aftercare you’d never expected from him—and it’s too little, too late, but you’re stuck right now so you’ll take what you can get. Gently, almost reverently, he cleans you, from washing your tangled hair and giving you a relaxing scalp massage to softly scrubbing off the sweat that’s caked on your skin. He works conditioner into your hair and firmly kneads your body, releasing much of the soreness and tension he’d left behind in you. He doesn’t touch you inappropriately once, even when he reaches your chest, and he doesn’t even try to touch your pussy. The water hurts at first, just like peeing had, but it fades fast enough. After you’ve fully relaxed and been cleaned head to toe, Toji picks you up like you weigh nothing and towel-dries you thoroughly. He doesn’t give you any clothes but he helps you back to bed—his bed—and lets you rest some more. You fall asleep quickly, and you’re so exhausted that you don’t even have nightmares. ________________________________________ To your dread, you fall into a pattern. Toji isn’t leaving anymore, so you have no chance to pack up your and the kids’ things and get the hell out of dodge. Instead, he finally is participating in raising his kids like you’d originally expected from him. It comes at a catastrophically high cost, though. You’re constantly under his supervision. He’s taken your phone and only allows you to take critical calls, ones that would raise the alarm if you missed them, and even then he’s right over your shoulder, whispering the words you’re supposed to say in your opposite ear. You sleep in his room and are very rarely allowed alone time in the basement, your new safe place. For lack of anything else to do, you’ve fallen into painful apathy when he rapes you, which is at least twice every night. As time has passed, he’s focused more and more on your pleasure instead of just taking, but he still does that also. He hasn’t actively tried to hurt you since that first time, though that’s not to say that he doesn’t hurt you. Although you fake it to the best of your ability, one morning when you had been serving breakfast and particularly sore after Toji’s rougher than usual ‘affections’ the night before, Megumi had asked you in a serious, poignant voice, “Why are you sad, Auntie?” You’d frozen, unable to speak, and stopped cutting his omurice into bite-size pieces for him. You’d always known Megumi was more observant than the average toddler, but you had never expected this. Then Toj’s arm had wrapped around your shoulders out of nowhere and he’d leaned over your stiff form to say, “Your auntie’s just feeling a bit under the weather, kid. She’ll be back to normal in no time.” Then Toji had relieved you of the rest of your duties for the day, fucked you hard into his mattress, and then left you to recuperate until that evening when he fucked you again. And again. Until you passed out, and maybe even after. He has no problem with taking you while you’re asleep, and you think you might prefer it. And so it goes for several months. To your indifferent surprise—and mild disappointment—you find that you bend under Toji’s abuse but can’t seem to break. He tells you he loves you every day and you always mumble it back but you know deep down, in a special place inside you that he can’t touch, can’t crack or taint, that you don’t. That you never will. Life becomes about endurance; about survival. Sometimes you wish that you could let that final piece of you that’s holding out hope to shatter. It would be easier, so much easier, if you could just surrender yourself to him. Let him break you down into little pieces and then build you up the way he wants you. It would take all the pain away. Although you maintain apathy most of the time, only smiling when you should and laughing at things you don’t find funny, that damned little candle of hope refuses to be doused. “Mouse,” Toji says one day after he’s made you come three times on his cock. “Hm?” you reply, eyes closed. You’re ready to pass out whether he wants to continue or not. “I’ve been thinking,” he goes on. “We should get married.” To your dismay, your unbroken piece flares to life and your eyes snap open in panic. You hide it, though, modulating your voice. “Why? We have the same last name anyways.” “For the kids,” he says, and you know it’s a lie. But then— “Megumi asked for ‘Mommy’ yesterday, you know.” “I didn’t realize he even remembered her,” you mumble. Saying Kimiko’s name is just asking for Toji to get angry. It hadn’t taken long for you to be made very aware that Toji hates and has always hated your beloved older sister. As much as it upsets you, you never say anything. You had once wished that you had died instead of Kimiko, but eventually moved on from it. Now, it’s returned even more desperately. “Nah, not her,” he emphasizes, a note of warning in his voice. “You.” That’s enough to surprise you and you choke on nothing. After a coughing fit, you take a final gasp of air and say, “Me?” “Sure. Why wouldn’t we?” “But…” As soon as you’re about to voice your objection, you catch yourself. There’s no point in arguing this anyway. Regardless of if Toji is telling the truth, you can’t help but be both warmed and saddened. You see Megumi and Tsumiki as your children; you’ve been with them for almost a year now. But you’ve never expected to be anything other than ‘Auntie,’ and while you glow with the happiness that they return your love, you’re also sad that Megumi—supposedly—sees you as his mother instead of Kimiko. But you do feel kind of glad for Kimiko. If she’d lived, she might have been able to raise Megumi and more, but you don’t know how long Toji would have stuck around with how much he’d loathed her. That would have cut her deep; she’d adored him with all her being. “Okay,” you say instead. “That’s nice.” Toji scoffs. “That’s nice’? Thought you loved ‘em.” “I do,” you insist tiredly. “I just never really expected it. I’m… tired. It’s hard to be excited when I’m half-asleep.” The scarred corner of Toji’s lips quirks lasciviously. “You need me to wake you up?” You smother the flinch at the idea of more sex. You’re already so sore, even though you’ve been adjusting to his size for months now. You’re just fundamentally too small for him, no matter how he tears you in two every time he forces himself on you. “So you want to get married?” you ask quietly, doing your best to change the subject. “For the kids.” “Yeah.” You sigh and close your eyes again. “Toji, be honest. Do I really even have a choice?” He kisses you and you let your lips part for him. You respond enough that he doesn’t get pissed that you’re just grinning and bearing it, but there’s no passion in it for you. The kiss lasts long enough that you start to get worried it’s going to turn into more, though you have no control over it either way. But fortunately, he’s satisfied with just that. Staring deep into your eyes, noses almost touching, he says, “No.”
Chapter Fifteen: The Breaking Dawn
Toji makes a big deal out of proposing to you, but he also doesn’t wait long to make his move. He proposes to you at a fancy restaurant while the kids are with a babysitter. It’s extravagant and almost gaudy, but it’s also in public so you have no choice but to say yes. Then again, you were never going to be able to say no, so you’re not sure it matters. At least the food was good. Within a month of engagement, wedding plans are already underway. He’s taken most of the responsibilities out of your hands, instead hiring a wedding planner and other various professionals to get everything set up. His excuse is that he wants you to dedicate all this time to Megumi and Tsumiki before your luxurious one-month honeymoon at a resort in Hawaii, but you see through him; he just doesn’t want you alone with someone who could get him into trouble if you revealed even an iota of the truth of the real Fushiguro household to them. You dread the honeymoon more than anything so far. You’ll be alone with him, entirely at his mercy, with no kids or other miscellanea to distract him. Even now you still often limp after a rough night with him, but on this surprise trip you expect you won’t be getting out of bed without his help. Toji doesn’t really care for gentle, loving sex, and you’ve learned that all too well. “Hey, kids,” you say one day when you’re left alone with them. “Do you want to play Cat’s Cradle? I got you some pretty new string, Tsumiki-chan.” You’ve considered packing your bags and theirs and running, but even though you’re not supposed to know it, Toji has security cameras installed around the house. He’ll know if you try to leave, and despite your general acceptance, if not surrender to him, you never want to find out what those repercussions would be. Quite frankly, you expect some kind of injury that would permanently prevent you from walking far, if at all, and you’re not willing to put yourself through that. Toji is intelligent, scheming, and manipulative. He’s got bulk and strength and size. He has everything he doesn’t deserve, and on top of that, Toji’s supposed ‘love’ for you—his obsession—has twisted him from the loving older brother you’d loved to a crazed man determined to keep you with him at all costs. He has the money, too, to just take you and the kids to another country, leaving you absolutely stranded and at his mercy. He could, and you think he would if he had to. Oh well. “Yeah!” Tsumiki cheers. Megumi raises his chubby fists in excitement. “Yeah!” You set them up to play with each other and then settle back to watch. You’ve considered that these kids, in your mind, your kids, are the reason you can’t just surrender to Toji. That they power that unbroken piece and keep it whole, because you can’t just leave them with Toji, and you can’t escape Toji, so the three of you are trapped with him whether the kids realize it or not. You wonder what’ll happen when they get old enough to start understanding what they’re looking at and that it’s not normal. You don’t know what you’ll do when that happens. You hope you’ll be totally bowing to Toji by then and you don’t have to deal with their suspicions because you’ll be perfectly brainwashed. Toji doesn’t hit you. He doesn’t verbally demean you or put you down; you think on some level that the ‘love’ he feels for you prevents him from abusing you beyond sexually. Because, of course, that’s natural to him. In his insanity, rape is acceptable if it’s born from a place of affection—and you’re pretty sure that in his delusions, he doesn’t actually think it’s rape. And that’s terrifying, or would be if you hadn’t just given up on saying no or resisting him. You see Megumi starting to get frustrated and he pulls away. Tsumiki drops her hands, the string forgotten. They both turn to you, hesitant and almost frightened looks on their faces, but also the kind of determination that only kids can have. “Auntie?” Tsumiki starts a little fretfully, though her eyes are clear. “What is it, Tsumiki-chan? Is everything okay?” You lean forward, a genuine look of concern on your face. These kids, you just love them so much. “Can… can me’n Megumi call you… Can you be our mom?” You jerk back a little in surprise. Toji had told you that Megumi was referring to you as ‘Mom,’ but first you hadn’t really believed it, and then he’d never mentioned it again, so you’d chalked it up as emotional manipulation to get you to agree to the wedding. Not that it was necessary when you couldn’t say no. Then you smile, the brightest since you got here. “Of course, you two! I’d love to be your mom.” Whether this is coming from Toji’s honeyed words to the kids or if they really feel like it, you’ll never know. But it still makes your day. Your year. Then there’s a knock at the door. You’re expecting the wedding planner, so you get up to answer it, and find both her and Toji standing there. “Oh, hello, Sumiko-san,” you say, opening the door wider. “And Toji, I didn’t think you’d be back until dinner.” As you’ve been instructed, when he walks in you give him a quick peck on the lips. This is fairly harmless; he at least keeps the violence in the bedroom and out of Megumi and Tsumiki’s sight. “Sumiko,” Toji says, “I gotta talk to my fiancée.” “Of course,” the tall woman responds. “I’ll just wait here.” Toji leads you back to his bedroom and firmly shuts the door. “I got a job,” he says abruptly. “‘s gonna give us two months of honeymoon instead of one. So I gotta leave for a bit.” Your eyes widen. Does he really trust you that much? To not run away? You’re not sure his trust is misplaced, and that hurts like a sharp poke to the side. “Gonna have guys watching you every second,” he says lowly, a growl in his voice. “You try to run, I’m gonna cut your Achilles’ heel when I get you back.” Blood drains from your face as your worst fears materialize. You knew he’d maim you, on some level, but you’d somehow never really expected to hear it. “You got me, mouse?” he demands. Hiding your fear, you dip your head and say, “I won’t run, Toji.” Relaxing, he presses a kiss to your forehead. “Good. You keep planning the wedding, I’ll be back in a week.” You head out of the room, Toji leading, and go to over to Sumiko. As the two of you speak with Toji lingering in the background, you can’t help but let yourself dream a little: outsmarting Toji’s hired henchmen and getting to safety; calling the cops; going home; going back to your residency; raising Tsumiki and Megumi in the cozy little house you buy for the three of you— “Fushiguro-san?” says Sumiko, and you’re snapped out of your hopeless daydream to the present. “Did you hear what I said?” “Sorry, Sumiko-san. Can you repeat that?” You swear you feel Toji’s dark, suspicious gaze on the back of your head.________________________________________ Toji leaves two days later. He’s rescheduled a few appointments so that you’re not alone with anyone but you keep going with the arrangements over the phone. Every day Toji’s gone is a blessing, and after a few days, you even start to walk normally. It’s been so long since you haven’t hurt between your legs and in your lower abdomen that it actually feels strange. No soreness, no limp, no rawness—truly, it’s somehow one of the best things that’s ever happened to you. You can walk. But even as you play with Tsumiki and Megumi with increasingly good spirits, you know that every moment spent being called ‘Mom’ and returning their bright smiles is just one less before Toji comes home. You try not to let it taint the good time you’re having, but it’s a struggle. Toji is supposed to be coming back on Sunday, likely a huge, stuffed-to-the-brim duffel bag full of cash on his shoulder. You put the kids in front of the TV and sit at the bay window in the front room, staring out the window bleakly as you wait for Toji to leave a cab and walk up the driveway. You put the kids to bed at seven and then return to your vigil. You’re so anxious you can’t focus on anything else, and you’re eager to prove to him that you hadn’t run and deserve to keep your mobility. You wait until eleven before you’re too tired to keep on. Wary of his return, you go sleep in his bed—you’ve never once thought of it as your bed—instead of the soft, fluffy, unused mattress in the basement. It’s tempting, but you don’t dare be on anything other than your best behavior. Monday dawns cloudy gray. No sign of Toji. Tuesday. Partly cloudy, but there’s some sun peeking through. No Toji. Wednesday passes with light drizzle and hazy mists all day, unseasonably so. Still no Toji. You spend the first two days panicking. You don’t know what to do. Is this a test? You can’t fail it. If you lose your ability to walk—though he’d mentioned that it would only be one of your heels, not both—it’s all over for you. Maybe it’ll finally get you to give up entirely, but… No. You can’t let it happen. Tsumiki and Megumi are starting to ask after him. You wish they wouldn’t, but he’s the only father figure they’ve known. So you create believable lies to assuage them while your anxiety mounts to a fever pitch. On Friday, you run out of groceries. Since you have no choice and you’re not running, you decide to take the kids with you to the grocery store and pick up some essentials. You can eat ramen for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, though it’s not healthy or pleasant, but Megumi and Tsumiki need proper nutrition. No one tries to stop you from leaving. You’d been expecting to have to explain yourself to one of your watchers when you tried to leave the house, but no one’s there. They must have hid themselves very well. As you walk up and down the aisles at the store, letting the kids pick out one, just one, piece of candy for themselves while you shop for the real food, you feel a light start to flare inside you. Maybe… Maybe Toji’s not coming back. Maybe… Maybe he’s dead. Somehow. Who cares how? He could be well and truly gone, and you could be well and truly free. You don’t dare to hope. ________________________________________ Money is running out. You’ve been pulling it from Toji’s account, which you have access to for necessities, but it’s not sustainable. Toji’s house is expensive, funded by his incredibly well-paying job. Without his income, things are starting spiral in a very bad way. You’re almost positive Toji is dead. You don’t know how or when or why, but you’re starting to believe it. No money has been deposited in a month. You’ve even had to put the wedding planning on hold—no point in spending more money when the wedding might not even happen. But your wounded mind keeps insisting it’s a test of your loyalty and you’re too scared to do anything other than stay here with the kids. Tsumiki’s been missing loads of school but there’s nothing you can do. You hope she doesn’t have to be held back yet another grade. The kids have picked up on your restlessness, too, so you’re dealing with more tantrums. Tensions are high in the family but you’re just… you’re helpless. You don’t know what to do, but everything’s falling apart at the seams. You never thought you’d wish for Toji to return but you’re desperate for anyone to save you, because you sure as hell can’t save yourself. Then, one bright and sunny Monday morning, you get a knock on the front door. You wait for them to leave, but they don’t stop knocking until you’re annoyed enough to go answer it just to get them to quit. The person in front of you, while taller than you by far—though thankfully not as tall as Toji—is just a kid. He’s wearing round sunglasses, an upper high school uniform, and has white, shaggy hair, which is an interesting fashion choice but—well. You don’t care. “Can I help you?” you ask, trying not to sound as stressed out as you are. “I’m looking for Fushiguro-san,” he says. “Toji, or…?” “His wife,” the man clarifies. You narrow your eyes. “She’s dead. I’m just the caretaker.” He tosses his head back so his hair falls over his eyes more enticingly. “Well,” he says with a shrug. “I’m gonna assume he meant you.” He clears his throat. “My name is Gojo Satoru, and I’m here to tell you that Fushiguro Toji is dead. His last wish was for Megumi to be cared for by the proper—” You gasp. “He’s—he’s dead?” you whisper, not daring to hope. Goji looks uncomfortable. “Well, uh—” “He’s dead?!” you demand. “Er—yeah. Like I was saying, Megumi—” Your legs give out on you. Somehow, some way, Toji is dead. You hadn’t been stopped from leaving the house because your watchers were no longer being paid, so they’d scarpered. He’s dead. He’s dead. He’s DEAD. And you’re free. Shakily, you find your feet and stand up. “Come in, Gojo-kun,” you say, opening the door wider even as gushing tears of relief streak down your face. “Tell me everything."
Epilogue One: The Evolution of a Man
The phantom ache of his missing left arm remains a stubborn irritant ever since his last fight with the Gojo heir. A brat in all ways, but a damn strong one. Toji has decided that pursuing him a third time, however, is a bad idea. The problem is that Gojo Satoru is the one obstacle between him and you. You’re significantly older than the kid and a monkey at that, but Gojo doesn’t seem to mind it—he’s with you every possible second he can be, raising Megumi and the little girl—what’s her name again?— like his own. You’re there, of course; once he’d recovered enough to track you down, he’d found that you’d quit your residency to raise the kids full-time with Gojo as your financial support. As far as he can tell, the relationship is platonic. You always were very resistant to public displays of affection, though, so for all that the two of you only appear to be friends—very close friends—that doesn’t preclude you from being a romantic couple. Gojo seems like the kind of kid who would be into older women anyways. Would you go for someone younger? Toji doubts it. Especially that much younger. For all that he’s the head of his clan, the brat is still a kid. Late teens at best. Legal, but that much significantly younger than you? You’re in your late twenties. You should have nothing in common, except for the fact that Gojo was apparently informed of Toji’s ‘abuse’ of you, and maybe the kids but really, they’re both accidents, one happier than the other. That even at his young age, he’d taken Toji’s family in to ‘protect’ them. Toji doesn’t give a single fuck about the little girl. Tsukimi, Tsumaki, Tsumiki? That’s it. Megumi has outlived his primary usefulness, which was the happy accident that led to his bitch dead wife dying in childbirth. He hadn’t even had to orchestrate it, which was a few million yen and a pain in the ass cheaper. But Megumi isn’t all bad—although your sister is his biological mother, he actually takes more after you—and Toji supposes he cares about him to an extent. Love might be a strong word, but there’s at least some gratitude. You, though. You. Had he known what would unfold the moment after he bought you your exorbitantly expensive phone, money he had been happy to spend out of sheer spite for his family, he would never have— No, he’s lying to himself. He absolutely would go through it all again. Every step next to you, every smile, every hug—being inside of you at last, finally, joining your bodies in sacred intimacy he’d craved and suppressed since you were much too young—will always be worth it. And it’s not like he’s never going to see you again. He watches you, perfectly hidden inside Tengen’s barrier, invisible still even to Gojo. Every smile, laugh, light touch for the Gojo kid should be his. He’s not sure how he’s going to separate the two of you—leaving his kids behind is practically a requirement, he doesn’t want them taking up your time like before, time that was meant for him—but he will. He just needs to catch you alone and you’re gone, back in his arms. This time he’ll play it safer. He has plenty of cash. A bit more frugal of a lifestyle and moving to a cheaper country will ensure you’ll both live well for the rest of your lives, outside and away from Gojo’s jurisdiction. It’s not like he plans to disclose that information to anybody, not even you. Perched high in a tree at the edge of the park where you, Gojo, and the kids are relaxing, Toji watches with envy. Not the latter three, only you. You’re smiling and laughing, poking the kid heir in the shoulder teasingly. A decade ago, that was you and him. He’s thought about it a lot, especially while he was recovering from his final fight with Gojo. What could he have done differently? How could he have avoided marrying your bitch sister and his whore of a second wife? How could he have stayed, have waited, until you could return his feelings? At the time, he hadn’t necessarily had the excuse of being a kid, but looking back, he’d been bitter. Impulsive. Hadn’t thought things through like he normally did, too cut by your unwitting rejection. Hadn’t taken the time to remember that you were only sixteen and not the young adult you acted like. You’d always been mature beyond your years. It'd fucked up the rest of his life. Reclining in the tree, Toji closes his eyes and basks in your presence, choosing not to look at you with your companions. He only cares about you—hell, he thinks you’re the only person he’s truly ever cared about, liked, and, of course, loved. Sure, when he bowled you over when you were what, twelve? He’d never expected anything to come of it. He thought you were a cute little kid with an attitude—you were so hilarious in your bossiness over a giant stranger, fearless and so confident—that, combined with his shitty clan’s bitching at him earlier that day, he’d been happy to splurge their money on you, a monkey like him. Then you’d so adorably asked for his number, precocious bordering on brazen that his amusement had him giving you his actual number. When you’d actually texted him later that night, it wasn’t so amusing. He was nineteen and you couldn’t have been older than thirteen. The two of you had absolutely nothing in common. He was a killer for hire, just starting to make a name for himself—at the time he hadn’t earned the title of Sorcerer Killer yet—and you were an innocent little kid. He’d never considered that he could be a corruptive force before then, but your naivete was such that it occurred to him for the first time. It had also occurred to him just how very lucky you were that he was the one who had broken your phone and not some other dangerous man. Toji has always been aware that he’s dangerous, but not to little kids. Not like that. You so easily could have been scooped up off the street with no one knowing where you were or what happened, horrors done to you until you died or were killed, never to be seen again. Your scum-of-the-earth parents probably wouldn’t have been all that worried, Toji thinks in hindsight, and wishes he had killed your mom himself instead of waiting for it to happen naturally, but he couldn’t risk anyone suspecting him for killing your dad. The old fool had deserved it, despite it not being nearly as violent as he would have liked and had envisioned. The way they treated you, the deserving golden child instead of your vain, spoiled older sister, makes his blood boil to this day. They deserved worse. Much, much worse. But it had been Toji you’d met, and after a few hours of on-and-off deliberation at the gym, he’d decided that knowing what little he did about you, you were likely to end yourself up in dire straits with no one to support you. At the time he hadn’t even known about your parents neglect; he just felt an instinct to protect you. So when he’d collapsed into bed after showering, he decided to text you back. He was not expecting a response from you, but he got one, and it was actually a little fun trolling you. After a couple of weeks of daily texting, which revealed you to be much more mature than he’d expected given your attitude and much more intelligent than he’d originally given you credit for, you asked—damn near demanded—to meet up. He took you to a cheap hole-in-the-wall ramen shop. He doesn’t remember exactly what he expected of it, but he does know that it wasn’t anything like it. And so in between jobs, he’d come and take you out to eat. It was funny for him and fun for you, and much against his will he’d found himself connecting with you. Nothing anywhere beyond platonic, but for all that you were young, you occasionally said something profound that would make him think. It was for those nuggets of words he ended up sticking around past the point when your novelty wore off. For all that he’d kept you a secret from any and all, still has, he’s never regretted the choice. Then it all went to shit. He was often out of town for work, more and more as he established himself as a top-notch—not quite the best yet, but close—assassin. It meant that every time he saw you, you were that much more grown up. You were often in contact but Toji did his best to remain radio silent when he was on a job. Especially as you grew older—he wanted you to know about what he did for a living less and less. It wasn’t shame, no, Toji has always been quite pleased with what he does—did—for a living. Every sorcerer he killed had always been a fuck-you to his shitty clan. They had underestimated him, and the first time he’d been contracted to kill a Zen’in, he’d taken it even with the lowliness of the target and the cheap price on offer. He’d made sure to make waves with that one. No, the reason Toji hadn’t wanted you to know was because for all that the two of you had miraculously found each other and actually bonded, you wouldn’t understand. You wouldn’t—you couldn’t. It was something that, for all the flaws you tolerated in him, he didn’t think you would be able to reconcile. After he’d dropped you off at home the day you’d met him at the airport, he’d been certain you understood that it was something illegal, something you wouldn’t like the truth of. But you’d never asked, never so much as implied anything. That was enough for him to realize you truly accepted him—all of him. After that, he’d started looking at you differently. It wasn’t until your sixteenth birthday that Toji had been forced to admit that his feelings had changed. It would have taken him longer to admit it if he hadn’t heard about your new boyfriend, who he’d planned to scare off before he left on another job. He’d always disliked you in any relationships with other males, though not because he was jealous—because he was possessive. You were his friend and you needed no other man in your life, not even your degenerate of a father. You were his. He hadn’t been able to admit it before then, but after you were settled next to each other on that bench, he couldn’t keep his damn mouth shut and had subtly—too subtly, and he shouldn’t have been doing it at all, should have waited until you were at least a year older at the least, ideally two or more—implied his feelings. When he’d reflected on it later—the years during his grudging first marriage—he’d had to admit that he couldn’t blame teenage you for misunderstanding him. Did it ease his resentment? Not at all. But he still saw you occasionally, and you always wore his necklace. It gave him hope that one day— But no. He’d doubted you’d date him after your sister became his late wife. You were the kind of person who wouldn’t want to corrupt her memory, and you had the dignity not to go after your sister’s widower. Before he’d stormed out of the hospital in fury—not because your sister had died but because he was now at loose ends with a kid and he was no closer to being with you—he’d seen his necklace still on you, resting in between your collarbones, and it had occurred to him that oh. You still cared. You’d tried over the years to contact him. He was bitter though, and angry, and the way that clashed with the desperate, aching love in his heart that only grew more suffocatingly obsessive every day made it impossible to reach back out. It was like being torn in two, and on top of that he had to admit that the abandonment was on him, not you. He was the one who rejected your attempts to reunite and he couldn’t have a grudge against you when he was the problem. In the end, it stemmed from a fragile tether of possessiveness. He knew that the moment he was alone with you, he’d make advances, and if you rejected him again, he wasn’t sure what he would do. What he was sure of was that you’d end up hurt one way or another, and he didn’t want that. The Toji of the present doesn’t bother to suppress his sardonic smile at the thought. He’d stopped caring about that a long time ago; now all he wants is to possess you, for you to be his and his alone, until one or both of you die. He doesn’t care how it gets done, only that it does. He can’t live without you, so he won’t. Back then, though, he’d still cared, so he’d stayed away. The years passed and he was still no closer to getting you back, instead getting caught up in gambling and alcohol. That had arguably put him in the worst position he’d ever been in: one of the loan shark’s daughters fell in lust with him and decided she wanted to marry him, and in return his debts would be forgiven. It was quite convenient for her, too, because she had had a young a daughter out of wedlock and it would be easier to regain her pride if she could claim she was still with the father of her child. They fought. Or, rather, she’d yelled at him and he’d lay drunk on the couch, either thinking about you and all the differences there were between both of his wives and the love of his life or struggling not to bash the his bottle of beer over her head. If he killed her, daddy loan shark would come after him for not just the debt but for his daughter’s death. Even though she robbed him blind before she walked out and had left her daughter behind, the day she disappeared was one of the best of his life, on par with his first wife’s death. He’d sobered up enough to get his shit together and start saving. It was necessary. After his awful second wife, he wasn’t going to wait any longer for you. Third time’s the charm and all that, and he wasn’t going to fuck it up this time. With minimal care for the kids, he went back to work. He soared right to the top again, many having missed his reliability, and began refilling his stash. Of course he wasn’t going to use a bank account. He wasn’t stupid. For a while he paid the daughter of one of his neighbors to take care of the house and kids. She didn’t report his neglect or blatant alcohol abuse, and he continued to pay amply her for both her shoddy work and her silence. It was actually from her mouth that he’d been given the idea. “Respectfully, Fushiguro-san, you need a wife to be doing these things. I don’t even like kids.” But the pay is too good to pass up, went unsaid. Toji will forever blame the fact that he spent 90% of his time sloshed that he didn’t come up with that himself—it was stupidly obvious. But he knew that after all those years you wouldn’t just waltz back into his life. You had to hate him at this point, and you hadn’t spoken more than a few words at a time since the first wedding. It was going to take some convincing. He was gratified that he barely had to do anything at all to bring you back to him. A sob story, bringing up Megumi and his mom, and you were on your way. You even put aside your residency, and ultimately your entire career, to be with him. It had seemed at the time that you were just as eager to reunite with him and he was with you. Then he’d made the idiotic decision to drink the day you’d arrived. That hadn’t started things off well but good god was it a relief to finally see you again, face to face, and you’d still worn his necklace. It was enough to give a man ideas. And encouragement. You brought him out of his drunken stupor, but he’d already made the impression of a drunkard so he decided to capitalize on it. He was never actually drunk after that, only feigning the depressed alcoholism to keep your guard down, making you think you were in control when you were actually in the water being circled by the shark that was his obsession and desire. He will forever remember the victory of that night when you’d so innocently ducked under his arm to put him to bed. Even if you hadn’t made it as far into his room as you had, you weren’t getting away from him. Touching you that night, caressing, feeling you in his arms left him in a frenzy. Being inside you was a spiritual experience. He hadn’t planned to be quite so… rough the first time, but he’d never been one for soft, gentle sex and his sheer desperation for you didn’t encourage it either. It feels like even after all that, he’s still just as desperate for you as he was that first night. He hadn’t planned for Gojo to live through that first attack, and as he stands up on the branch, watching you pack up your things and lead the kids to the car with Gojo spinning a keyring on his finger, he wishes he hadn’t been so sloppy. It’s ultimately his own fault; he’d been missing you, and thus missed the most crucial part of his job—making sure the dead thing was actually fucking dead. It burns like acid that if he’d just checked, felt for a pulse, anything, he would have known to decapitate the kid like he’d later gloated was his mistake. And now you’re in the hands of that little shit instead of his. After you and your companions drive off, Toji steps off the branch and lands lightly on his feet. There’s no alcohol this time to mess him up—but you still haven’t learned your lesson. You think you’ve left him behind, not requesting a funeral, not requesting a body. No one else had either, and so he’d been left to recover with a crazy curse-user playing at being a witch. She was expensive but she got the job done. One more payment will have her restoring his arm, not with flesh and blood but a prosthesis that will function just as well. It's money he’s happy to pay, he just has to find a source of it that won’t reveal him. His presumed death is what’s keeping him from being hunted down right now, but it just won’t be right if he can’t choke you out and make you come on his fingers at the same time. Among other things. He’ll find the money to get a second left arm; he has to before he leaves with you to, hm… he’s been planning on somewhere in Central America. Leisurely, Toji pulls up the hood on the gigantic hoodie he’s wearing and ambles down the street in the direction of his motel. It’s not too far from the jujutsu school campus, but far enough no one will take notice of his presence. He takes his time, stopping at a sushi stand and ordering your favorite type of fish. It brings him back to the fateful day it all fell apart. But he’s a different man now. He’s not so out of control; he has a handle on the myriads of emotions inside him. His ever-present desire, love, yearning, possessive obsession—it’s all there and more, feelings no longer a hindrance. This time, he won’t fuck up. This time, you won’t get away. This time, you’ll learn to love him. And if you don’t? Toji looks up at the cloudy sky and grins, the takeout bag of sushi in hand. Love him or hate him, you’re his.
Epilogue: A Touch of Sunset
It’s selfish that you know and don’t say anything about it, but Gojo—Satoru—has a forbidden crush on you. He’s barely legal age and you’re at least a decade his senior. He’s powerful, protective, and treats you like the queen you don’t feel you are; he spares no expense for you and the children’s needs, and often spoils the three of you like you’re his own. And that’s when it gets a bit complicated, because just six months into your arrangement, Tsumiki calls Satoru “Daddy,” and Megumi quickly follows. Despite the trauma they faced with Toji as their primary caretaker for the majority of their young lives, they seem to have sensed Satoru’s inner goodness and now they cling to him, shrieking “Daddy, Daddy, let’s play!” Honestly, if you were a bit younger and less traumatized by Toji’s abuse, you might have considered accepting Satoru’s advances. The good news is that he’s never pushed the boundary; he’s never so much as hinted at it, and you’re not surprised. Satoru has amazing intuition and you suppose he probably knows your lack of interest, or at least lack of availability right now. It’s been a year and a half now. The kids are blossoming with their semi-nuclear family. Though you and Satoru aren’t married, in a relationship, or anything romantic, you both parent with similar ideologies. It makes you a seamless team despite it all, and even though you’re “Mommy” to them and Satoru is irrevocably “Daddy,” you make a great pair and regardless of either yours or Satoru’s feelings toward each other, there’s no denying that the kids are simply happy now, for the first time since their births. “Hey, mama bear, wanna get dinner?” Satoru proposes one day when the kids are sleeping over at some friends’ place—trusted sorcerer friends, you’d been assured, even though Toji isn’t out there to cause trouble anymore. “Ugh, don’t call me that. I’ve already told you how much I hate these damn nicknames.” “Alright, alright.” He’s going to call you some other unfortunate nickname very soon. “Dinner?” “Yeah, I could eat something. Do you have a place in mind?” “Sushi?” he says, then winces, quickly retracting his offer and goes on, “Or some cold soba? It’s getting hot these days.” “Ooh, that sounds really nice right now.” You shift in your tank top and shorts. “Not really dressed for it, though.” “Eh, I’m Gojo Satoru. They won’t care.” That is one thing you don’t like about him, even though it’s warranted—and true. Satoru gets special treatment pretty much everywhere he goes, even if the people don’t know about the jujutsu world. He’s arrogant with not just a bit of a god complex, and though it irritates you when he shows those traits in him, they’re honestly earned so you keep your mouth shut most of the time. It had been a bit staggering when he’d told you about the jujutsu world and straight-up revealed Toji’s vocation: killing anyone for the right price, specifically sorcerers. Megumi and Tsumiki, Satoru said, both have the potential to be sorcerers if they want to. The thought of Toji killing people like your children, though not biological, had your mouth flooding with saliva as you held back the impulse to throw up. If anything ever happens to them—you don’t know what you’ll do, but you know it will be violent and painful and fatal to whoever hurt them. “Satoru,” you say, annoyed. “Can’t say I’m wrong, though,” he replies cheerfully. You scoff in disgust, but it’s light-hearted. “You wanna walk or do you want a taxi?” You look up at the setting sun, squinting into the bright colors of the sunset, and say, “Let’s just walk. It’s not too far and I’m a little restless.” As you start down the hill to Tokyo from Jujutsu Tech, he turns to you and asks seriously, “Restless? Why?” Ever since you were freed from Toji, you’ve been hyperalert to things around you, and you’ve developed something of a sixth sense for danger. It’s going off right now, but you don’t know why and you have Satoru. “I don’t know,” you reply. “Just a gut sense.” “From leaving the grounds or going to the soba place?” You sigh heavily. “I don’t know.” You pause, thinking about it. “Probably a bit of both. But I have the strongest sorcerer in the world with me, so gut instinct doesn’t really matter here.” You tease him lightly but your gut just squeezes, and that’s when you know. “Let’s go somewhere a little less high-profile. Like a street stall. And then we can watch the sunset while we’re eating.” “Sounds good.” Your walk is quiet and unhurried as you amble down the road to the soba stall you go to when you’re not interested in sitting down or dressing up. The soba there isn’t as good as the restaurant Satoru had mentioned, but you just feel wrong going there, so you won’t risk it. For how long you’d trusted Toji with undying devotion, and then to be… punished for it, you don’t ignore instinct anymore. Finally you get there. It’s a Thursday night so it’s a little busy but definitely not packed. You both order your food with Satoru insisting on paying for it, not that you really have much of a choice; he takes care of everything for you no matter how undeserving of it you feel most of the time. A few minutes later, you’re clutching your cold soba and swirling some of the noodles into the savory sauce they come with. A bottle of water is at your feet, ready to be sipped. Watching the clouds reflect purple and orange and red as the sun dips lower into the horizon is soothing for you, a calming pastime. It’s simply peaceful in a way that you haven’t experienced much of in a long time. “Hey, I really need to talk to you about something.” The seriousness of his normally playful voice catches you off guard and dread instantly starts to sour your appetite. “What is it? Is everything okay?” you ask immediately. He laughs sheepishly and you relax minutely. “No, no, not like that, just…” You have a feeling you know what he’s going to say, and though your dread is justified now, you don’t want to let him take the lead. He’s still young and as a true adult, you should be guiding the conversation for minimum damage. At the same time, though, you do have worries about rejecting him. Will he withdraw his support? You’re not sure. It’s likely he’ll lessen it at least. Your mind is already flashing through the backup plans you’ve made ever since you realized his crush. “Is it that you have a crush on me?” you ask gently. His cheeks pinken. “Uh, yeah, actually.” You breathe in deeply. “Satoru, you’re the best friend I’ve ever had. I don’t want this to weaken our bond or end our friendship, but I have to be honest: I don’t return your feelings.” Satoru straightens up like he’s preparing for battle. “Do you not feel the same way or is it because of what happened?” You hum in thought, open to speaking about this with him. There aren’t many secrets you have from each other. “I do like you, Satoru. I think that, once you’re older, we could come back to this conversation and see if anything’s changed. Your youth does concern me, but I know you and I’ve seen you with the kids. They already call you Daddy, and me Mommy, and though they’re smart enough to understand and accept that we’re not together… hearing them call you Daddy always warms my heart. “And it’s not just your age. I need time to heal, probably a lot of it. And you might move on before then. But if I can heal and get to a healthy place where I can be a decent partner, and like I said, feelings remain the same, yes, I would return your feelings.” Satoru listens to you with uncharacteristic calmness, not interrupting or even staring off during your little speech—you know he has a hard time concentrating sometimes. But he’s looking at you, alert and attentive, and when you stop speaking, he turns back to the lingering vestiges of the sunset. After a long moment, he says, “I think you’re right.” It’s honestly said with more maturity than you’d expected, but it goes even further than that. And more than that, the rare instance of him being humble. “I can wait,” he says. “I don’t just… like you. I love you. I’ve loved you… uh, pretty much since we met and you trusted me, a stranger, to cling to and cry on. I think we make great parents, even if we’re not together, and I promise you that no matter what happens between us, I will never abandon you or the kids. I might be young for kids, but… there’s just something about them. And you. “So yeah. I’ll wait. As long as nothing changes now.” You smile at him. “Nothing’s going to change, I promise.” And then you kiss him on the cheek. Before your lips make contact, though, screams erupt from further down the streets. You both are immediately on your feet, running towards the cause of the sounds. “He’s dead!” an older woman wails. “My baby, my baby, please, no, God, please, don’t take my baby…!” When you arrive, you find a lanky, mostly-dead teenager with pale blond hair with a knife piercing straight through his throat to the spine behind it. The worst part is that he’s still gurgling for air, even though the wound is fatal. Holding back your grief for this woman and her lost child and heedless of the blood it gets on your bare knees, you crawl to her and gather her in your arms. She resists at first, but then you say quietly in her ear, “Say goodbye, okay? He’s still here. Say goodbye.” “My baby!” she wails. “Say goodbye,” you urge, tears dripping down your cheeks. “Say goodbye while you can.” Sobbing, the mother leans over her child, carefully avoiding the knife still sticking out of his throat, and whispers words into his ear that only she, her son, and god will ever know. While she does that, you keep a finger on the pulse of his wrist and keep counting, deciding not to warn her and just let her have her last minutes with him. His pulse was thready from the beginning, but now you can barely feel it, and then— Emergency services arrive just as his pulse stops. Everyone is cleared out of the way, excluding the mother and the boy. You take it upon yourself to catch the medics up with what you found, and they more or less get the same results. “Thank you, ma’am,” the medic says as they load the body and the mother into the back of the ambulance. “It’s the best I could do,” you say, wiping the continuous tears from your eyes. Though you’re not sobbing, the tears just won’t stop falling. You’ll never forget that mother leaning over her dying child. The thought that anything like this could happen to Megumi or Tsumiki… it sends you deeper into your despair. And the boy was so young. Not even Gojo’s age, maybe a few years younger, with the similar white-blond hair and thin build. In fact, he and Gojo bore very similar features, down to the sunglasses slid down the collar of his shirt, right below the knife. When you make the connection, it terrifies you. Gojo returns after having scouted the area and reporting to the police as you had emergency services. He takes one look at you and immediately gathers you into his arms. “Hey, hey. It’s gonna be okay. That’s not gonna happen to the kids.” Weeping, you say, “No, no, it’s not that. D-did you see the boy? He l-looked… s-so m-much like you. What if, Satoru, what if—” “No, no. You listen to me, okay? He’s gone. He’s never going to hurt you again. I’ll prove it—I’ll do some asking around, see if he might have a copycat or if it’s just coincidence. Everything’s fine, sweetheart, I promise. I won’t leave your side, ever.” You can tell he’s worried about how you’ve just fallen apart in his arms, and he does his best to lift you up and hug you tightly. “We’ll take a cab, okay? No need to walk anywhere.” Satoru flags one down and within fifteen minutes you’re back at the school and in your and his shared apartment, also big enough to give the kids a good home as well. As you settle back into the plush couch in the living room, you consider your children and try to banish the image of the same thing happening to them from your mind. Satoru brings you some exotic rose and lavender tea, which you sip on as you slowly calm down. He gathers you in his arms, where you finally, truly feel safe, and you cuddle into him. Both of you know it’s platonic. There’s just too much to do right now to really consider any kind of serious relationship, and you’re glad that Satoru feels the same way. But as you’re warm and safe in his arms, you can’t help a warmth in your heart that speaks less of platonic and more of romance. You push it away—gently—and just bask in the presence of your best friend.