Satoru would not have described things as being back to normal, not by any stretch of the imagination. But things were certainly changing for the better. It was a lot of small things, such as the fact that his mother was finally starting to date again. It had been many years since she had even considered it, and now here she was - marking out dates on her little written calendar, smiling more than she used to. He was happy for her. He really was.
Airi Katagiri was finally working in an elementary school. She was a popular teacher, more so than she would claim she could have hoped for. She adored her students, and there was no one more dedicated to their passion than she was. Satoru's relationship with her had changed, more so than he ever thought it would. They were closer, now, much more than in the past timeline and for that he was glad.
Even Kenya seemed to be doing exceptionally well. He was following through with his dreams and he was now the town's go-to lawyer. He was on a streak where he never lost the cases he chose to take on, and because of his consistent wins, he was in very high demand. He was in high-demand everywhere, even to some of society's most elite women, but he had his eyes fixed on one alone. A woman Satoru didn't know. She and Kenya were going to be married within a few months. They had only known each other for about that long, but she was the sort of person to hurry things along. Kenya never seemed to mind it.
For Hiromi and Kayo, nothing much had changed. They were still married, they were still blissful together. Mirai, who had once been their irresistible little baby, was now turning into a toddler – running around, jumping, and asking a thousand questions all at once. Satoru never could figure out exactly how one little brain could conjure up so many questions. But Mirai would rattle them off faster than anyone and then dart out of the room, gone before he could even get his answer. He liked that about the kid, how happy and full of energy such a tiny boy could be.
All things considered, his life was also going well, not leaving much to be desired. He was having great luck with his manga, and he was getting consistent work as the successes and awards continued to pile on top of each other. He should have been content. For the most part, he was perfectly content.
There was just one thing. This little doubt chewing at the back of his mind, enough to start eating him away. He couldn't quite shake it off, and he didn't know what to do about it. Because the truth was, he couldn't shake off the connection he felt with Kayo. It had been easy enough, for a little while, to work on diminishing those feelings – keeping them at bay while he was still peering at her through a child's eyes – the gaze of his past self. He had been focused, then, on only one thing – the intense need to rescue her from her own fate. Of course, that had been complicated, and it would not have made any sense for him to pursue her then. Things were not much easier now that they were adults, existing alongside each other in the same coherent timeline. It was much easier for a child to dismiss those things.
Of course, he wondered – every now and again – if she felt it, too, or if he was just going crazy. It was probably the latter, but that did not stop him from wondering – or from noticing the small signs and reading love in every odd gesture. They would brush shoulders in the hallway and his heart would skip a beat. They would reach for the same pitcher of tea and her fingers would brush over his, and for a moment it seemed like the whole world had come to a complete stop. Satoru would often catch Kayo staring at him – always these long, lingering gazes that he found so bizarre. It was like she was trying to see right through him, like she could stretch his pupils wide enough to climb through his eyes and peer into his soul. He often found himself wondering if she was actually staring at him, or if she was just staring off into space, gazing at the wall behind his head – it was possible that all of this was his imagination. He had never really spoken to her about it. He would be the first to admit that he was afraid to do so. Well, maybe not afraid. But he was certainly nervous.
It wasn't that he thought she would be cruel about the subject. Kayo had always been very understanding of Satoru, something he valued deeply. No, it usually ended up being that Satoru had a habit of over-thinking and would often think himself into a corner until he was on the verge of driving himself crazy. Satoru loved Hiromi like a brother. He loved Mirai like a nephew. He would never want either of them to feel betrayed. He would never want them to assume that he had come in to tear their family apart. He just wanted to be…known. To be acknowledged. He knew that Kayo was never going to find out about the things that Satoru did just to secure her well-being. His intention was never to interfere with the life that she had Hiromi had built for themselves.
As if he could. In all honesty, it didn't really matter how he felt – Kayo was stubborn, she would not let even Satoru tear down what she would not have taken care of herself. He knew why she was that way – there was a lot of baggage in her past. A lot of abuse, a lot of awful things that she would never want to talk to him about. He knew it still haunted her. He could see that shadow cross her eyes whenever she and Hiromi had an argument. Kayo was a loyal friend and wife, she would die for anyone that she cared about – but she was hurt. And Satoru had spent a lot of time trying to come to terms with the fact that maybe he was not the one fated to help her recover from the traumas of her past.
Of course, he could still visit. He liked to drop by her place. It was always so much more relaxing than his own – because Kayo had that special touch. Everything she brushed her hand over suddenly felt like home to him. One day he would have to stop thinking that way, probably, but he doubted he ever could. He was seated at the kitchen table, long legs stretched out underneath it, his arms folded across his chest in a comfortable position. Hiromi had gone to work a while ago – he had been absent maybe thirty minutes, or even a full hour – already. Mirai was nearby, but he was too consumed by his crayons to really notice that the adults were having a serious conversation. Satoru sort of envied that about the kid – that Mirai could just pick up a fistful of crayons and call it a stress reliever. It was stupid to be jealous of a toddler, but that was just the sort of mindset that Satoru was in today.
"Do you want more tea?" Kayo stood up. Satoru's eyes followed her ascent, watching as her delicate hand swept up the teapot and waved it in front of him, indicating he should speak now or forever hold his peace. Err, hold it until she made the next pot, at least.
"No," he said, shaking his head. "I'm good, thank you." He leaned back a little further in his chair, fully aware that he was starting to sink into the seat. He could be content just sitting there forever and watching her move. She had such nice, graceful footsteps. Yet they were fully confident, the strides of a warrior. He appreciated everything about her, including the nuances that no one else would probably ever notice.
A lull in their conversation followed as Kayo prepared the next pot, dropping teabags into the boiling water without even a second thought. She had several kinds, and Satoru would not have been surprised if two different kinds entirely ended up in the same brew. Maybe he should have picked the tea instead, just to save her from herself. He allowed himself a small, amused smile at that.
"Do you think Hiromi will be late?" Satoru finally filled the silence, which was stretching on much longer than he found comfortable, with what he deemed to be a safe question. Kayo shook her head.
"I don't think so," she said. "I threatened him with a wooden spoon across the hand if he worked overtime again, this week."
"A dreadful threat, I'm sure." A smile leaped onto Satoru's mouth. He could just see Kayo wielding that wooden spoon in an ominous – if empty – warning.
"I'm used to waiting," she said, a sort of off-handed comment that he found strange out of context. He paused to see if she would elaborate, and when she didn't, he ventured to ask.
"You are used to it?" He tilted his head. She shook her own head and didn't reply for a long minute, sweeping the teapot up and bringing it over to the table.
"You should know that," she said. And then her voice dropped. When she finished her thought her voice was barely audible, just a tiny slip of a heated whisper in the darkness, "I mean, I waited for you for…years."
It was almost as if she was hoping he wouldn't hear it. But he did. He didn't know what to say, at first. How was he supposed to respond to something like that? He searched her face for a hint of anything that might give him some clue as to how he should react – some sadness, some anger, some sense of abandonment. But no, her face was as serene as the moon. He could not read her expression in the slightest.
He knew to what she was referring, of course. She was talking about the coma – his coma – and how long she had waited for him to wake up. He wondered if there was a point where she had given up, convinced he would never return.
He doubted that happened. She was resolute, and far too remarkable to let herself be crushed by doubt like that. She had to have known he would wake up. Something must have just told her. Instinct, something like that.
"I…" he wanted to say so much. How could he possibly explain himself? He wanted to apologize, but she didn't like apologies. Besides, what would he be apologizing for? She wasn't going to accept something so artificial from him.
She reached out – her hand gliding over the surface of the kitchen table as it hovered over his. He looked up at him, a soft curve of her lips, and her smile spoke volumes. Satoru found himself holding her gaze with his own – her touch was electrifying. Her very fingertips were like threads of lightening sliding around his spine. She was remarkable in every way – and she had waited for him. She had waited for him all that time.
His ears were burning. He wanted to tell her. He wanted to spout out that he was the one – he was her knight in shining armor. He had risked everything for her, but he knew what the answer would be. That was fine, but it wasn't enough. Fate had different plans from the beginning, and everything was already set in motion. Satoru could not change her path, not now – not when she was so deeply invested in this life she had built for and with Hiromi. He respected that, of course, he did…
She looked up at him, a beguiling look from behind long dark lashes. She was beautiful, and he wondered if she knew that. She smiled at him and squeezed his fingers, patting his hand before she pulled her own away entirely. She understood. She knew. She could tell that Satoru had probably done the unthinkable. She could not even fathom how much he had risked. But of course, she understood.
She looked like she wanted to say something. Like the words were resting right there on the tip of her tongue and her soft lips were the only thing keeping them back. Satoru loved the way she looked at him. It was always slightly mischievous, but mostly just so pretty, so wise – so understanding. She knew him, and because she knew him, she wasn't going to let him go. Not easily. He supposed he should be grateful for that much, in the very least.
"Ah…" his eyes dropped down, and he looked at the teapot sitting on the table. He licked his lips and smiled, though he still did not look back up at her. "I think I will have some tea now."
"Of course," picking up the pot and tilting it over his cup. He could feel himself started to relax a little now that she was not touching him directly, but moving was highly overrated.
She gave him another look, and he could tell – she understood. She understood how all of this worked, how he had done so much that he would never be recognized for. How the most he could seem to hope for was that she would live her life and be happy. And that she would keep him in it – but he realized, then, that he could not go anywhere if he tried. Their bond was too strong. Nothing – not even petty jealousy or any sense of obligation could break what was between them.
It did not need to be spoken. They both knew the bond was there. They both honored it, they both reveled in the fact that it was there. It was their own delicious secret. Their own shared sense of longing and what if.
Knowing that it was there, that she acknowledged it as well, was enough for him. Satoru and Kayo did not need words. All they shared, all they had together, all of those fleeting trembling emotions that they had fought together to name – were all packed into this moment.
She slid his teacup across the table. He picked it up and pressed his lips firmly against the rim, smiling at her as he did so. She smiled back, and his heart leaped again.
Maybe it wasn't what he had pictured for so long. But it was what he needed. It was enough.