Thanks for checking this out! This story came about because of a prompt I received from the lovely kuroiyousei a long, long, long time ago for post-proposal cuddling.
I'd like to extend appreciation to thefightmerchant and HakuSaitoSan for giving this a read-over at various stages of its creation.
.*Hold Tight, Never Let Go*.
The curtains had been drawn apart in the sitting room, revealing sliding glass doors that led to the outer wooden porch and further yet, these features setting the stage for transformation in Saito's back yard. Colder nights had ushered autumn in with full force, the bright colors of summer at last relinquishing their long-abiding reign to the reds and golds and oranges of October.
The changes this time of year brought were often welcomed by Sano, with milder weather and a palatable, irresistible shift in seasonal menu. However, as he laid on his side before the scenery with inexpressive half-lidded eyes, Sano's mind was distant from these agreeable developments, and the air of pensive melancholy about him mirrored such apathy.
His current disposition could easily be pinned on lethargy, and lethargy on fatigue, but there was more to the story than that.
After having Saito read him like an open book one too many times, he'd come to understand how much his countenance gave away of his innermost thoughts, especially when he preferred to keep them unheard. Therefore, Sano had taken care to flop down on the tatami with his face out of sight, allowing him some quiet consideration without being once again sized up by his stark opposite sitting nearby.
Their contrast was striking, even in casual configuration. Unlike Sano's complete lack of posture, Saito had arranged himself in proper seiza form and fixated on the thick report that detailed his most recent case. As such, there was no deviation from this fact, ever: everything he did was immaculate, from the way Saito carried himself to how he sat unnecessarily perched on his knees while working at home. Naturally, it was also his day off.
A strange and unlikely pair they appeared, when Saito's attributes compared with Sano's—who couldn't sit respectably for more than two minutes without his legs aching, who found erratic transitory work at random points of time before going jobless again soon after, who was infinitely more laid back about the red tape of pointless formalities. Even so, the disparity in their natures had never been a stumbling block to finding what appeared to be mutual contentment, when the proverbial ocean was calm and there was nothing to be uneasy over.
Now, however…with a little context for concern, the asymmetry of their persons presented itself front and center alongside other looming anxieties, and all of these unvoiced things combined stranded Sano in a silent, pensive state. Seconds turned to minutes and minutes neared an hour, with the only sound in the room originating from Saito's gradual flipping of pages as he read.
Interesting, how time could slip by when one was preoccupied with apprehension. Fascinating, how late afternoon blurred so seamlessly into the haze of early evening.
And so, dusk began its descent, with the sinking sun crimson at the horizon and from the sky a peculiar amber glow hazing through tree branches. The softer light formed a perfect backdrop for those falling leaves which Sano's vacant gaze looked right past—as it wasn't autumn on his mind at all, but winter.
Katsu's mail from the north arrived a little over an hour ago.
"…It's too early yet for the southernmost cities, but so much snow's been falling in north Hokkaido! Can you imagine, plenty of snow in October? How different from back home. I really wish you could see it. Though, the change in weather is nothing compared to the change in political climate... The rumors of a rising rebellion, Sano. They're true."
That was the moment when the letter fell limp in Sano's hand, when his good mood vanished and his stomach dropped with an impending sense of…
He swallowed hard. That he should feel loss seemed unsubstantiated, as there'd been nothing taken from him. However, his intuition still triggered an all too familiar red alert of coming turbulence even if the catalyst was simple hearsay in a message, for this well-known dread gripped Sano despite consciously telling himself he was overreacting. It was dread he'd been through more than once in his life, and something he'd decided he couldn't possibly endure again.
Awkwardness consumed him as he tried to negate this sudden and unexpected encumbrance. A sharp inhale through his nose preceded rubbing the back of his hand across the septum in quick succession.
And of course, like clockwork, that had been when Saito neared with muted interest in the correspondence, jarring Sano into concern over how he was presenting; the last thing he needed was a request to explain why he appeared uneasy, when the answer involved a subject he found utterly repulsive. Therefore, he was sure to allow the quiet smile pulling at his lips before offering the letter. "Wanna read?"
He tried to not draw attention while studying the blank face Saito kept during his perusal, but Sano searched with a longing look for anything that might provide insight to his thoughts on Katsu's news. Unfortunately, Saito remained flawless as ever in his lack of expression, right down to handing the note back without a word and immediately retreating to the sitting room after.
Sano took a deep breath, attempting to rid the lump still welled up in his throat and letting his gaze fall to his feet, before he folded the letter and quickly took off after Saito. It seemed practical at the time to seek comfort in simply being near him—but instead, he found himself facing quite the opposite: stewing in the quietude and making everything worse.
He'd hoped that Saito's reticence was indicative of things going in his favor, but the more Sano thought, the worse he tangled his ankles with the sanguine tape of inner turmoil.
Facts were facts, after all; he knew he couldn't run from them forever. Another threat of rebellion meant another threat of war, which meant another threat of yet another covert mission. And though putting Shishio down for good was the only official undercover assignment he'd been involved in—albeit indirectly where the government was concerned—Sano knew how the Meiji worked well enough to know what was coming.
That something was Hokkaido. And Hokkaido was why it was the notion of an early winter that engrossed him so in the present. He never much liked the cold, but if that's where aku soku zan would make its next grand debut…
Sano slowly blinked, his lips parting and his thumb beginning to stroke the tatami. His life would be shaken up drastically by such a major move, but if Saito's fate was to end up in the north, that's certainly where his own lied, too. Sano believed that was something they would both agree on, so why he should have had this particular upheaval of anxiety encompassing him was inexplicable.
After all, it was so long ago when the first big exodus happened and everyone took off for Kyoto—when he'd been initially ordered to stay out of it. His relationship with Saito had moved past all of that in the interim and this time, things would be different for sure. They'd been together long enough and knew each other so much better. Most pertinent of all was that Sano had had the chance to prove himself since then, and Saito—
Sano's hand stilled suddenly upon that musing, which seemed to shift the entire world in a single bated breath. All of his worry came into clear focus with just one question: had he proven himself to Saito yet?
Mastering the futae no kiwami was no small feat and Sano knew that Saito wouldn't have tolerated his tagging along as a liability back when they were hot on Shishio's trail. But still, a small nagging voice remained in the back of his head, repeating over and over that enough was never enough, that he'd have to keep growing stronger and convincing everyone he was worth-the-while to keep around.
This ideology was nothing new; it was the same burdensome apprehension that clung to Sano like an incurable disease since his youth. Everything began with pining for the absent acceptance from a ne'er-do-well inebriate, his biological father. That resulted in running off and, despite being only a child of eight, trying relentlessly to prove himself useful once he joined the Sekihoutai. Though the praise and encouragement Taicho, a real father figure, had offered were always sincere, the hardest work was perpetually left to the other men.
It remained true right up until the end, when they'd all huddled before Sano to protect him from the barrage of gunfire: the metal curtain of betrayal which signaled the premature finale of the Sekihoutai's great cause. For that, for his life, they'd all lost their own. And if that hadn't convinced Sano of the need to become stronger than any of his potential enemies, then nothing would have ever been more compelling.
Losing so much at such a young age taught him of other things too: like taking care of what mattered most and who he loved. That was partially why he'd chased after Kenshin to Kyoto, why he promised Jou-chan he would bring Kenshin back to her…and why, after Sano found out he hadn't actually lost Saito there, he'd thrown his arms around that fucking perfectly ironed uniform so tightly and never let go.
They'd lived together for a little over a year by now and life—it was good, Sano thought. Real good. He'd never been happier, never felt more stability than the present. The routine they'd fallen into made it easy to ignore that such security, in the long-term, was transient.
Sano had always known that Saito's occupation was of volatile nature even if they hadn't spoken of it. This much was obvious: working for internal affairs meant that his destiny was to keep on the move. Trouble from the underground never bred in just one place, and the unavoidable, eventual reality was that a permanent transfer to somewhere far away could happen overnight. Neither could deny that luck was on their side that the orders hadn't already come through.
Still, no news was good news for the nerves. Dealing with the threat of a foundation fated to crumble was easy enough to put off, since nothing of compelling nature had risen on the political side of the justice system. There was also the fact that Saito had purchased his house here two years ago and never mentioned uprooting. And while Sano knew these matters gave him a sense of security that was completely false, he was content to take whatever comfort he could.
Now, however, the letter from Katsu drummed up all the dormant ghosts of his past again, and caused him to worry about the future Saito and he had never even discussed. If Sano were honest, there'd been a calculated reason for never initiating such a talk, as he wasn't sure he'd much like the result of it.
Once again, he had everything to lose. But as for Saito…so impeccable and put together and having gotten along just fine on his own for years after the war…how long would it take for him to no longer notice the vacancy of someone like Sano from his life? Would he even bat an eyelash at the disappearance? Or worse, would he be grateful to have reason to oust a jobless, burdensome person from beneath his roof?
The potential answers were painful, and for as difficult as they were to consider, it was even harder to keep the grief they caused bottled up any longer.
Sano did not want this conversation, and yet he couldn't control the suffocating upheaval of negative emotion, leaving him feeling as though he'd been paralyzed and dropped in the middle of the sea. He reeled on the splintering precipice of indecision, his heart pounding echoes in his ears and urging him to talk, while his brain insisted he remain silent and wait it out for better timing.
And that's how for nearly an hour, Sano lay on the tatami, floundering and trying to figure out how to escape this situation. He'd never been one to conceal his emotions or strongly consider his words before voicing them, but there was just too much at risk now to speak candidly. Yet, at the same time, Sano realized this compulsory need for the truth about the future would haunt him to the point of obsession, and avoiding it today was only putting off the inevitable.
Back and forth, he flipped between two extremes, until it all became too much and the breaking point hit him. Coincidentally, that was when Saito turned the next page like an invitation, and it triggered a gut reaction for Sano to do exactly what his instincts warned him against: speak.
"Ne…" he said suddenly, his voice softer from another lump that formed in his throat. He continued to stare out into the yard. "About Katsu's letter."
"Mm." Disinterest colored Saito's tone, though it was likely from his concentration being intruded upon.
Sano swallowed, waiting for more than a simple sound of confirmation but nothing else had been offered, and he therefore pressed on. "…What do you think about it?"
An airy exhale followed, trailed by a clinical response. "It's nothing more than what I'm already aware of. If an uprising takes place, it'll be put down quickly and methodically as it always is. The government can't afford to lose what little confidence the people already have in it." A pause, then the sound of turning to the next page. "That's always the case."
"And to do that, they'll send in the best they got, I guess," Sano mumbled, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
"Naturally."
This exchange was progressing as abysmally as Sano had dreaded, or possibly even worse with the infuriatingly hurtful nonchalance in Saito's replies. If he hadn't been in such turmoil, Sano likely wouldn't have even blinked at the indifferent tone, because that was just Saito being Saito. However, hearing it now in this context clearly confirmed that the balance of power was tipped so greatly against his favor, and that, on top of everything else, sent a wave of desperation suddenly flooding through him.
After all, a one word reply to Sano's implication of a major imminent move was the only evidence necessary to convince him that Saito wasn't thinking about the impact it would have on anything other than his career. Treating the topic like it was some trivial local assignment showed how little he concerned himself with the future of their relationship, and while Sano hadn't expected a monologue to coddle his insecurities, he certainly had expected more than a single word.
It was true especially because he wanted so badly to have his premonition of loss proven wrong, to gain even an inkling of hope in Saito's response that the scars of his past were causing unfounded misgivings in the present. Instead, Sano found himself receiving the exact opposite and having all the negativity his intuition warned him about being validated.
Fueled entirely by emotion now, Sano abandoned whatever rationality and restraint he'd attempted to earlier enforce and slammed his palm against the mat. Shoving himself up on all fours, his eyes pierced Saito and his voice raised with an angry demand. "So?! Are you going to Hokkaido then?!"
Dark brows twitched slightly and Saito, at long last, looked up from the report. "There's no plan." A beautiful, comforting second of relief and then… "But if I receive an assignment, of course." His lips pursed, but if he'd intended to say anything further, he hadn't spoken quickly enough.
"Okay," Sano said with a strong nod and pivoted on his knees to face the doors again. "Fine." The action, ironically, left him in seiza. Predictably, he was filled with regret for initiating this conversation and all he wanted was to reverse and freefall back into the comforting embrace of blissful ignorance.
But of course, Saito would have something irritatingly obvious to say in return… "The nature of my job is to travel, sometimes for long periods. Or relocate, if necessary."
And Sano would be irritated… "I know that."
…And a tiny, burning match would be the catalyst for igniting a bonfire. "All right."
"All right…" A forced airy laugh fell from Sano as his head lolled and shook, repeating those last words beneath his breath in disbelief. "All right." His attention snapped back to Saito. "What the fuck makes you think that?! Nothing is all right about this!"
An awkwardness had come over Saito, his elegance traded for stiffness and the ever-present air of confidence for…Sano couldn't be sure. Even now, he hadn't turned his face or moved, except for his eyes, which were unblinking and fixed on Sano from the corners.
"If you're," Saito began and paused briefly to consider his next words, which resulted in them both speaking at the same time, "…concerned…"
"Must be nice, not giving a fuck."
"—about where you'll live in the future."
"Not getting attached, having everything when you want it—"
"I don't intend to sell this place any time soon."
"—and not when you don't. We should all be so fucking fortunate."
Saito's brows knitted inward as his head jerked to the side, the report slapping down on the floor—something for which Sano felt the tiniest pang of victory as he'd at last elicited some kind of reaction. The triumph, however, was empty. "What do you want from me, you idiot?"
The question sparked a fresh influx of fury within Sano, because how could Saito not know by now?! After all this time, after all they'd been through, how could he even ask something that was so blatantly obvious? Sano felt heat blaze across his cheeks as his eyes widened and his mouth dropped to retort, but Saito was quicker this time—and what he said managed to douse that anger in an instant.
"Should the need arise, you can just stay here." Venom was present in his tone and he reiterated, "…If that's what you're so concerned about."
Those words, as few and simple as they had been, were like repercussions from the past—an excruciating uppercut to the chin, a dangerous echo of, 'You are nothing but a fledgling, so sit quietly in Tokyo. Don't get involved.'
Sano's pulse raced and whatever he'd intended to lash out with earlier dissipated into the void. The full circle was complete. He blinked, his shoulders rising and falling with more labored breathing as that same torment he'd experienced while reading the letter consumed him once more, but on this instance, it swallowed him whole.
Because this…this was the same feeling of utter powerlessness while watching Saito walk off into certain death all over again. It was Sano screaming his name across a chasm until his voice went hoarse, until Aoshi pulled on his arm to bring him to his senses. It was the start of Kyoto, the end of the Sekihoutai, the disapproving gaze of that deadbeat piece of shit who fathered him.
It was the harrowing testimony that Sano's intuition had been correct all along, that Saito's plan was to leave him behind the moment a transfer came in—despite all of his effort to become more than what he already was, despite the time and energy invested into maintaining a mutually gratifying relationship, despite how he endeavored to justify his worth by training and working when possible and being a little more responsible.
Despite all of this, the inevitable conclusion was that it would never be enough. And that…that was…
It was unacceptable. Distressing. Unthinkable. But most of all, most of all, it was agony in the purest form and whatever confidence Sano had gained in the time he'd spent with Saito, for both himself and their life together, was incinerated in the expanse of mere seconds.
What could even be said? He struggled to find a reply. It wasn't until after several moments had passed when Sano finally spoke up again with a calmness, a near gentleness, that betrayed the inward havoc which ravaged him. "I can't—" There was another beat, as his gaze wandered off to nowhere particular. "I can't believe this. This is…" He huffed. "This is my lot in life, isn't it?"
"You assumed I would kick you out on the street. How interesting."
"And why the fuck not?!" Sano shot back. "It's your fucking house and your fucking life. That much is obvious."
Saito's lips parted before his chin dipped in a nod. "My," he spoke, as if to affirm not the truth of that statement but if it was what Sano had actually implied.
"Let me ask you something, yeah? Fujita-san." Sano sat even taller. "Since you're such an analytical and smart person, so invaluable to the fucking government and so perfect and flawless and can read anyone and know everything. Answer this then!" His arms flew out to his sides. "Why the ever-loving fuck would I want to live here if you're somewhere else?!"
It wasn't often that Sano could witness such a large shift in Saito's expression; he still appeared angry, but the change in his face and slight cant of his head indicated the inquiry not only perplexed him but also caught him off guard.
"Why the fuck would I want some kind of fucking pity handout from you because you don't want to stay with me? It's almost like—" Sano squinted. "—like you almost have a conscience for inserting yourself into my fucking life and then just dumping my ass whenever it's most convenient for you."
That was the cold hard truth, no matter how hard it was to accept. And now, after this disastrous exchange, Sano found he needed to remove himself from it immediately before he wound up looking any more pathetic than he already did. Because this was pathetic; he was the only one distressed and breaking down: an absolute mess in the face of perpetual composure.
Saito's mouth opened again, but he paused before calmly stating, "Aho." It hadn't carried the sound of insult, but mirrored those strangely favorable instances when he'd used it as a moniker for addressing Sano. His features remained sharp but they'd lessened in severity, indicating further just how unaffected he'd been by all this. And if that wasn't convincing of how lopsided their relationship was, then…
Sano's eyes widened. "Fuck this." His palms slammed against his smarting thighs—to hell with seiza, too—and he stumbled to his feet in a graceless lurch.
"Sagara."
"And fuck you!" His voice became rough and he tore himself from Saito's scrutiny, pivoting on the soles of his bare feet and taking off for the hallway. "I can't fucking deal with you thinking I'm just a fucking—"
The tirade was stolen from Sano's lips by a hand lashing out against his bicep, gripping it and hauling him back several steps with a forced turn. When Saito had stood and how he'd gotten this close so quickly was unknown, but that he possessed the gall to attempt manhandling Sano now overshadowed those questions and caused the entire world to go red.
"Sa—"
Sano threw his shoulders askew, ripping his arm free and interrupting whatever Saito had intended to say. His pupils shrunk, his digits curled into a fist, his mouth gaped, his body tensed, and every ounce of anguish went into the fist he sent flying forward.
The assault was slipshod and overly emotional; his eyes squeezed in the middle of it, destroying his aim and allowing his punch to be easily deflected. Had he wanted the hit to land and actually focused, he could have dealt considerable damage, but what Sano desired most of all was not to inflict pain on Saito. It was to expel his own, to get a grip on himself again and stop this mortifying plight from getting any worse.
"Fuck you!" The words exploded from him in a broken shout when his wrist was taken in a firm hold. Still without opening his eyes, Sano thrashed his bowed head from side to side when he felt Saito pull on him again, and then attempted hurling his elbow back to wind up another blow. "Just fuck you!"
"Sanosuke."
The entirety of Sano's momentum skidded to an abrupt halt, every fiber of mounting tension reaching the apex and dangling there.
—not aho, not Sagara. Not a taunt, not a provocation, not a disproving remark…just the sound of his name—his actual name—grated out roughly through the teeth, leaving Saito's lips for the first time ever.
To think that something so trivial could have such an effect on him… Sano's heart pounded, the fire in his muscles raring for attack seconds ago snuffed out and taking him completely off the offense. So, that was that. He'd been bested once again—proven mentally and physically outmatched, simply because he loved someone who couldn't and wouldn't love him back with the same intensity. And all it took was hearing Saito's use of his given name. What a pitiful person he'd ended up as.
Again there it was, even softer now, when Sano faltered. "Sanosuke."
What was the point in fighting it? He'd always known it would come to this, that he would never be good enough no matter how he tried. It was his lot to be the one left behind, to always be miles back in tow.
Sano's white-hot fist unclenched, his fingers loosening and his head still hanging. He hoped that whatever it was that Saito was about to say would be quick, so he could nod, take his leave, and disappear somewhere to just…deal with his entire life being wrecked all over again.
The grasp Saito kept on him tightened before slowly letting up—and then suddenly squeezed again. Finally allowing Saito to have his way without resistance, Sano let himself be tugged toward him, until he was close enough for lips to hover near his ear.
"Apparently…" Saito's hand slipped off of Sano's wrist at last as he spoke, his voice low and cool. "…there's been a misunderstanding."
Sano's lashes barely parted to the view of a shoulder as robust as his own, dressed in its familiar blue and nothing like the expressive street attire he clothed himself in. The clashes in their individualities were everywhere, and how anything between them had worked for even this long suddenly seemed incredulous.
Though Saito had released him, he remained standing where he was—remained so near that Sano could still feel breath spilling over and tickling his neck, but he dared not move.
"I'm going to say this one time, Sagara—once." Sano felt Saito's head turn slightly so that his mouth was even closer. "I have no intention to separate from you."
…Silence.
Sano didn't move, didn't breathe, didn't even think. Everything went white as even his heart might have stopped for a few beats. His lips fell open, helpless and futile as he had no hope of attempting to formulate a response. Luckily, Saito hadn't been waiting for one. His tone was still soft yet unaffected, but the weight of what he said carried the sincerity of feelings he couldn't outwardly express.
"If I'm transferred and you want to move with me, then…" Saito's hands raised slightly up and out from his hips. "That's it. That's how it will be."
And with that, he stepped off.
Caught in another confused and pensive state (though very different from the last), Sano picked his face up, the inner ends of his brows lifted slightly and his mouth still parted. He watched nonplused as Saito approached the place where he'd been sitting earlier, dropped back to his knees, and took up the report once more.
Moments passed before Sano found his words. "What—" He started in a much quieter voice than intended and swallowed to clear his throat. "Then what was all that about me staying here?"
"It's been on my mind, being transferred." Saito didn't look up. His thumb rifled through the pages as he sought where he'd previously left off. "Especially with the tension rising in the north." His chin elevated then, and he cast his gaze at the darkness easing into the yard beyond the sliding doors. It seemed as though he'd left his thought hanging, but then barely tilted his head. "You're established here. You have close friends. I was quite certain you wouldn't be willing to walk away from all that."
Sano's features went slack in muted disbelief, followed by a subdued huff.
"So, I decided that the choice, when it needed to be made, would be up to you. If you decided to remain in Tokyo, you could stay here. If not, well." This sentence remained incomplete as Saito's attention fell back to the report and he continued his search—ah, there it was. His fingers slid along the face of the paper, smoothing it and pushing the former pages curled over the top back. "It's up to you. That's all."
For some moments after, stillness persevered like a scene painted on canvas.
Despite it evading him in the present, there was humor in this situation somewhere, Sano was sure. For as long as he had allowed himself to inconspicuously worry about Saito so easily leaving him behind, it appeared that Saito, himself, had been facing a similar uncertainty.
Just how long had they been falling asleep next to each other with a comparable anxiety plaguing them? How many times had Sano woken up to find Saito studying his face through the darkness? How many times had he done the same?
The muse broke free from his sketched prison and Sano found his voice.
"Saito," he whispered beneath his breath and staggered forward. "Sai—" His feet dragged against the tatami until he clumsily fell to his knees. From behind, his arms slipped beneath Saito's and crossed before his chest, pulling gently and drawing them together until Sano could lower his forehead and rest it against the juncture of Saito's neck and shoulder. He tightened his embrace.
A strong hand pressed to one of Sano's at that moment, pausing atop it before the fingers threaded through his own.
"My friends…this place…" Sano broke the silence after some time. "They all mean a lot to me."
He could feel the words reverberating in Saito's chest as he replied, "I'm aware."
A pause followed and at last Sano raised his chin. "But not…" His digits tightened on Saito's instead of saying the rest of what he'd intended, and he settled on stating the most simple, and meaningful, fact. "What I want most of all is to stay with you."
Saito's chin fell in a nod, but Sano sensed his reply had inspired satisfaction with how he felt his spine slightly relax against him. "As I said." A pause. "My decision was already made long ago. Everything else is up to you."
There it was again: that unthinkable statement that offered the keys to the kingdom. After living his life without any important choices left to his will...after having them all made for him whether he agreed or not...it was humbling and comforting all at once. And to have Saito, of all people, as the one who gave him this confidence had Sano's chest flooding with warmth again.
"Then we stay together."
"That's how it'll be."
"…Forever."
"Acceptable."
"...Are you actually reading that damn report when I'm telling you I want to spend the rest of my life with you?"
Saito huffed and dropped it instantly, not bothering to save his place and uncaring as the top pages that had been folded behind rolled back to the front. "Aho, I assure you I haven't been reading as much as you assume." And with that, he pulled free enough only to pivot on his knees and finally face Sano.
Dinnertime was approaching and all the stress Sano had put himself through caught up to him, with a stomach grumbling loud protests about going ignored henceforth. But as he fell back with Saito's lips against his, Sano decided that for as long as he had his arms around the person he never wanted to let go of, everything else in the world came second. He never had the opportunity in Kyoto. His embrace couldn't save Taicho or win his father's approval.
So now, he held tight.
And later, even tighter.
In Wakkanai. In Niigata. In Nagoya and Kagoshima. In Shizuoka, in Kobe, and during those few blissful months in Okinawa.
And when they at last settled back in Tokyo many years later—when Sano's jaw was dusted in stubble and long locks framed his tan face, when Saito's hair was more gray than black—they sat barefoot on the porch overlooking their yard, their hands still clasped and fingers still entwined.
Idly chewing on a long green stem, Sano watched as a pair of butterflies flitted over flowers and suddenly felt overcome with an undeniable urge to smile. A chuckle left his lips and he let his head hang back with a contented sigh.
Beside him and sitting in seiza, Saito made no attempt to look up from his book. "Dare I ask?"
"Y'know…" Another laugh. "I'm a damn good decision maker."
With his attention captured, Saito's brows pulled inward and he lowered the book to his lap. "That's a questionable claim."
"Hey, I am when it counts!"
Saito cocked his head. "Extremely questionable."
"Oi, you…"
A breathy exhale followed and Saito folded the corner of his page in to mark where he left off. "Very well. Provide an example of your best decision and we'll determine it from there."
From where he leaned back on his elbow, Sano's gaze returned to the garden and in a voice that was quiet but filled with confidence, declared, "The day I decided to hold tight…" He squeezed Saito's hand. "…and never let go."
When the only sound that followed was the chirping of birds in the distance, Sano mischievously raised his eyes. "Admit it, old man…" The pearly whites flashed from how large his grin grew. "I got you."
Saito blinked, caught in an apparent momentary loss of words, before sitting a bit taller and flipping back to the place he'd left off at. "Indeed." A pause. "…You certainly did." Then, he returned, and even surpassed, the strength of Sano's grasp.
As his smile quieted, Sano finally sat up. He lay his head against Saito's arm, closed his eyes, and placed his left hand firmly atop the one already entwined with his right. He never took the privilege of holding it for granted, and ever since that fateful evening when he found the rest of his life settled in the most pleasant of ways, Sano was sure to thankfully hold it every waking day he could.
Thanks for reading!