Chapter 12

Hiroki yawned as he strode into the office with a short stack of textbooks cradled in one arm. He had visited his father in the hospital two days prior, and since, his restless work life had shifted back into order. Seeing his parents again had disturbed what little peace Hiroki had, so he was grateful to be teaching again, to have something hefty that demanded his time and energy. Yet he couldn't ignore how troubled he felt about his father. Hiroki sent his mother a handful of messages since the visit, asking about his father's health. There was no making up for lost time, but he could at least be a more considerate son.

Hiroki had less than twenty hours before he revealed his "secret" to his father. He and Nowaki had agreed to travel to Hiroki's childhood home just outside of Tokyo where his parent's lived. The anticipation of the trip alone made Hiroki's chest heavy; he could already see his father's troubled face, the defined frown that would cross the man's lips. And with his father's deteriorating health, Hiroki was weary of giving him a heart attack inducing surprise, assuming his mother hadn't already spilled the details. Maybe it wasn't a good idea to tell him?

Groaning, Hiroki faced the bookshelf. After avoiding his parents for so long, such evasiveness had been embedded in his mentality. "This isn't the time for such nonsense," he hissed to himself.

"You look agitated," Miyagi commented, approaching Hiroki who began sliding textbooks into place.

Hiroki peered back at his superior, irked that Miyagi would mention something so evident. The subject of his parents wasn't the only thing troubling Hiroki. He was sure Miyagi heard it too—the whispers among the staff, the speculations of Hiroki's relationship status. All thanks to his engagement ring. Hiroki had only started wearing the ring regularly about a week ago. In retrospect, he may have subconsciously kept it off at work to evade the speculation he was currently dealing with.

Hiroki pushed in the last book then pressed his hand against the row, splaying his fingers over the book spines. He was proud to wear his ring and proud that people saw it. But if he were in a situation that forced him to reveal the complete truth, could he do so without fearing for his reputation, for the longevity of his career?

"Don't worry," Miyagi snaked his arm over Hiroki's shoulders. "The dean won't care that you're gay."

"No," Hiroki grasped Miyagi's relaxed forearm and flung it off him. "But he'll care that you are."

In a flash, Miyagi was seated at his own desk nervously sifting through papers. While Hiroki took no pleasure in dealing low blows, mentioning anything related to the peril of Miyagi's relationship with Shinobu was a surefire way to get the man off his back.

"Is your soreness gone?" Miyagi asked, focusing on his so called work.

"What are you talking about?" Hiroki walked to his desk and pulled out his chair.

"Earlier this week you stumbled in here with a hand pressed on your lower back. I guess it isn't easy being the bottom for a hyper younger lover."

Miyagi's earlier question suddenly clicked. He was referring to the staff meeting that past Monday; that morning Hiroki and Nowaki had gotten into somewhat of a competition in bed, leaving Hiroki slightly incapacitated for the remainder of the day. Hiroki's cheeks flourished red as he glared at Miyagi, tempted to hurl his writing utensils in his superior's direction.

"One low blow for another," Miyagi cast a satisfied smirk.

Hiroki snarled before pressing his lips, quietly accepting Miyagi's jab. He settled back in his seat and opened his laptop, waiting for it to boot. Reclining back, he let his arms dangle at his side, as his eyelids fell into a temporary mist.

Hiroki had the habit of thinking himself into a corner. Too often he'd masquerade his own fears as consideration for others. He did it last fall when he and Nowaki were drifting apart; Hiroki had let his concerns for Nowaki's well-being overshadow the fact that he was feeling terrified and lonely over his, perceived inadequacy as a partner. He may be doing the same with his parents...

"Hey, what's on your mind?" Miyagi's voice grew louder with progressing steps.

Hiroki slowly opened his eyes and turned in the direction of Miyagi's voice, finding him less than a foot away from his desk. Their last personal conversation left Hiroki with a clearer mind and a stronger incentive. Miyagi's love life weathered circumstances much more severe than he and Nowaki's, but Hiroki couldn't help probing Miyagi's wisdom on the issue.

Hiroki straightened his back and reclined forward, resting his forearms over the desk. "If you were to tell the dean about your relationship…how would you do it, knowing he'd disapprove?"

"Oh!" Miyagi exclaimed nervously at the specific question. The man paused after a muffled laugh. "Well, I supposed there would be no other way than to do it. As for knowing whether he'd disapprove or not, I can't know until I've done it, right? I can have my assumptions, but there's always the possibility I'm wrong, even if I think I know the person well."

Hiroki never truly considered the idea of his father accepting their relationship. His father was a man of hard work and tradition. He wanted grandchildren to carry on his legacy. Hiroki's life with Nowaki wouldn't allow for that, and it wouldn't matter how well they explained themselves. They were both men, and that was a deal breaker. His father was well past middle-aged. It was unreasonable to expect him to set aside his traditional beliefs and desires for Hiroki's choices.

"I've actually been thinking of telling him," Miyagi said, gazing out the window above Hiroki's desk. "If Shinobu decides to stay with me after he's finished college, then we'll have to reveal our relationship. Keeping it a secret beyond that would be inconvenient." He crossed his arms, "But that's assuming he'll still want to be with me. If he decides to break it off before then, our relationship is better left a secret."

Hiroki never thought he'd find solace learning about Miyagi's relationship. That Miyagi would even share the details with him was easing in itself. Though Hiroki wasn't being helped by Miyagi's words in the way he'd hoped, he wasn't regretting the conversation either.

"Well, if you do tell the dean, you have my support." Hiroki slipped on his reading glasses and focused on his computer screen.

It was probably a bad idea to give Miyagi hope, but Hiroki had no doubt that Shinobu would stay with the man. Miyagi and Shinobu were on the fringe of taboo, but Miyagi's commitment and tenderness towards the matter was undeniable. Miyagi was just like Hiroki, a cautious man in love.

Hiroki began flipping through the separators of his file case, shifting his focus before he grew sentimental towards the topic. Just as Hiroki thought he'd successfully distracted himself, he realized he was missing a file for the class he'd just taught. "Shit!" he gasped.

"Did you forget something again?" Miyagi said.

"I'm heading back to my classroom." Hiroki left his desk and paced to the door.

Just as he stepped out the room, he noticed a figure beside the door. It was Shinobu holding a clothed bento box in his hands, eyes fixed on the floor. Hiroki made a quick note of Shinobu's blush-ridden face and concluded that the young man had ease dropped on their conversation.

"Are you coming in?" Hiroki asked. On a regular day, he would've found Shinobu's presence intrusive, but he was feeling generous today.

Hiroki half expected Shinobu to react with a glower and tightened lips. Instead, Shinobu simply nodded and walked in as Hiroki held the door. Miyagi's eyes perked as he saw Shinobu enter the room.

"Wow, this is unexpected," Miyagi said in a cool manner though his smile showed a contain excitement.

Shinobu walked over, presenting Miyagi with the bento. "I said I was bringing your lunch today. Did you forget?" A smile swept Shinobu's lips as Miyagi accepted the bento.

Their eyes met in a gaze similar to the one Hiroki had witnessed between Akihiko and Misaki at their wedding. They were beaming, completely focused on each other, taking in every micro-expression, every breath as though each motion were precious. A cozy warmth blossomed through Hiroki as he marveled at the scene. After a pause, Hiroki left the office to retrieve his folder. They would be fine.

-–––-

The next morning, Hiroki and Nowaki left on the bullet train. Hiroki had endured a sleepless night despite his persistence to stay in bed and Nowaki had come home late, leaving them both low on energy for their trip. The subtle, almost soundless motion of the train had the couple drifting to sleep shortly after boarding. Hiroki was leaned on Nowaki's shoulder, having neither the energy nor capacity to care about their public display of affection.

Time lapsed quickly for them, and before Hiroki could fathom it, they'd reached the wooden front gates of his parent's residence—his childhood home. The two-story traditional Japanese-styled house brought a flurry of memories to Hiroki's mind, many of them unpleasant recollections of calligraphy, kendo, and cram school. Simply standing there reminded Hiroki of the countless times he'd bolted out of the house in frustration.

"Did you call your mother?" Nowaki asked.

"I texted her when we left the station." Hiroki sighed. His mother said she would leave the gate unlocked for them, but apparently her habit of not answering the door promptly hadn't died. Hiroki wasn't expecting any sort of special welcoming, but since Nowaki was with him, he thought she'd at least make some effort to appear courteous.

Nowaki took a few steps back and viewed the scope of the expansive two-story residence. "It looks like a traditional inn. Does your family provide services?"

The residence seemed elegant enough on the outside, but inside it was like any other Japanese home, only more spacious. "No, but we have a dojo. My father used to hold kendo lessons here. I learned from him."

"That so amazing!" Nowaki's eyes gleamed with interest. "You never told me you were a martial artist! Hiro-san, teach me sometime!" His spiked enthusiasm echoed through the street.

"Keep it down," Hiroki groaned. He had no issue with his partner's excitement, but he didn't want their visit to be marked by such racket.

Shortly after, they noticed movement through the louvers of the gates, a figure approaching from the other side. The clinking of keys was followed by small rumbling noises before the door opened, revealing Mrs. Kamijou.

"I'm sorry, Hiroki!" she apologized with a smile, not a hint of remorse in her expression. "I was preparing tea and lost track of time."

Hiroki plastered on a semblance of a smile to bury his miffed mood. Losing track of time was no excuse, but he wasn't here to argue. He cleared his throat and extended a hand in Nowaki's direction. "Mother, this is Kusama Nowaki. My partner."

Nowaki bowed. "I hope I don't cause too much trouble." He straightened up with a gentle smile, exuding a charming aura.

"Oh, dear," she blushed. "You're even more gorgeous in person!" She flew forward, taking Nowaki's hands in her's, eyes staring firmly into his. "You have amazing eyes!"

"Thank you." Nowaki's smile grew wider, the corner's of his eyes crinkling.

Hiroki turned away from the scene. "No accounting for personal space," he joked. It was unbelievable, his mother flirting with his lover!

"Hiroki-kun!" she turned to him in girlish fervor. "Get married immediately! He needs to be my son-in-law now!" Her voice climbed with each syllable, louder than Nowaki had been minutes ago.

"Can we please, come inside?" Hiroki grumbled, bringing a hand to his forehead, fingers combing his bangs.

"Oh, right!" she clapped. "Where are my manners?" She shuffled back and gestured them through.

Soon they were standing in the gray stone-matted genkan, switching their shoes for house slippers. To the left of the entryway was a bloomed bonsai plant placed on a drawer. Above it hung a vertical scroll depicting a Chinese landscape, a full shot of distant mountains surrounded in mist.

As a child, Hiroki was constantly surrounded by classical art of all disciplines, from music to literature. His mother would switch out the paintings on the wall every few months to expose him to different artists and styles. A chill rippled through Hiroki at the memory. Back then, Hiroki had been so focused on his studies, he never considered his parent's efforts to keep him mindful and intellectually stimulated.

Hiroki thought they would go to the living room to the right of the entryway, but his mother led them in the opposite direction. As they approached a door at the end of the hall, Hiroki realized that his mother hadn't offered to take their jackets. They'd left their bags near the drawer, but that was of their own volition. It seemed their visit was meant to be a short one. Though Hiroki hadn't planned to stay long, the thought was disheartening.

Entering the room, they were greeted with a lush green view of the zen garden showing from the opened shoji screen. This was the tea room, a small humble space of serenity, hosting a single low table in the center and a hearth to the far right. Hiroki had only stepped foot in the room a few times as a kid. It was his father's favorite place to reprimand him. Fortunately, Hiroki was, for the most part, a well-behaved child, so the room was never a common setting for him.

They sat at the table, Hiroki and Nowaki opposite his mother. For ten minutes, Mrs. Kamijou asked them about their lives, what their daily routines were like, what they did in their free time. At some point, Nowaki and Mrs. Kamijou started sharing their favorite stories of Hiroki, with his mother bringing up certain childhood incidents that were better left forgotten.

"So...um." Hiroki wanted to be more assertive in his interruption, but the content of their conversation left him too flustered. "Is father feeling okay?" Mr. Kamijou hadn't shown himself yet, and Hiroki, more than anyone, was anxious about seeing him.

"He's fine. He's only gotten better since his hospital visit," her mien slipped into one of reassurance. She held back her draping sleeve and began pouring tea into the cups with more focus than necessary. "By the way Hiroki, I've already told your father…"

Hiroki figured so. She hadn't promised not to say anything, and to assume she wouldn't would be unreasonable.

She continued, "I wanted to give him some time to settle with the idea before you guys came to visit."

By the sound of it, his father hadn't taken the news well, just as Hiroki had predicted. The faint scent of matcha swirled into his nostrils, a cup of tea had been pushed before him without him noticing. Hiroki brushed his fingers along the blossom print of the cup. "Is he willing to see us?"

"Of course he is," his mother explained, settling back on her cushion. "But I told him you wouldn't be arriving until later." Her smile resurfaced as her attention shifted to the view of the zen garden. "I wanted to give him more time to rest, and I wanted to speak with you two before any serious business happened."

"Business?" Hiroki questioned, reeling his mother's attention back in.

Her frame stiffened and a small gasp left her lips as though she'd revealed something she wasn't supposed to. She averted her eyes, taking a graceful stand to her feet. "I forgot the snacks." She chuckled and wore her default smile as she shuffled out of the room, leaving Hiroki and Nowaki to themselves.

Deciding not to make an issue out of his mother's odd behavior, Hiroki cast a sidelong gaze at Nowaki who was taking a sip of his tea. Until now, Hiroki never considered the contrast of their upbringings. Hiroki had left the privileged life of this household after high school and opted to live in a humble one room apartment setting for years, so he and Nowaki had gotten to know each other in that context.

Hiroki had an undeniably privileged childhood; he was born into a wealthy family and was surrounded by all the books he could ever want. But when regarding affection, Hiroki's childhood was sorely lacking.

Since his elementary days, Hiroki had been a hard studier. He was a kid of stubborn perseverance and he'd learned early on not to rely on others for success. As a result, Hiroki never asked his parents for help, and he rarely went to them for comfort. Though Hiroki's mother had always been around him, she was mainly a ditzy housewife who took far too much pleasure in teasing her son. Even if Hiroki had wanted to seek consolation, his father's dissonance only reinforced Hiroki's reserved behavior.

His parents had provided him with plenty, and he truly appreciated that. But he couldn't say he had a single precious memory with either of them. Hiroki was almost jealous of the affection between Nowaki and his foster parents. The Kusama family had their fair share of hardships, and despite not being blood-relatives they were the definition of love, acceptance, and support.

"Hiro-san." Nowaki captured Hiroki's hand, the warmth of his palm branching up Hiroki's arm. Closing the space between them, he leaned into Hiroki, resting his head against his. "Thanks for bringing me here."

The swift motion set Hiroki's chest ablaze. He should've been averse to the motion, but after reflecting on his childhood, Hiroki needed his partner's comfort. He rested his eyes and wrapped his hand around Nowaki's.

"I know this isn't easy for you," Nowaki continued, placing a kiss on Hiroki's cheek. "But I'm happy to learn more about you."

Hiroki could've said the same for Nowaki when they visited his family. "Nowaki…" Hiroki turned his head to look at him, letting his lips brush over his partner's before pursuing a fleeting kiss. "Thanks for being here..."

-–––-

After fifteen minutes, his mother hadn't returned. Surely getting snacks wouldn't take so long. The walls weren't thin, but with the house primarily silent, it wouldn't be difficult for them to hear voices or distant noises of movement if something had happened. Hiroki steadily rose to his feet, deciding to check for himself.

Opening the door, Hiroki met with his mother and father approaching him. His father was wearing a plain royal blue kimono and white obi. Hunched slightly, Mr. Kamijou supported himself with a cane in his right hand and his free arm hooked with his wife's. Mr. Kamijou's hair which was usually brushed back was left in a messy cascade over his forehead and ears, much like Hiroki's hair.

The sunken pale face Hiroki remembered from the hospital was now a near golden tone, his brown eyes more lively and alert. Mr. Kamijou peered at Hiroki over his glasses hanging just below the bridge of his nose.

Hiroki's arms prickled with goosebumps as his heart accelerated into an unpleasant rhythm. He was in his right mind to bow in respect but remained frozen as his parents advanced towards him. Stepping aside, Hiroki held open the door and offered them a quiet greeting, giving a light bow to his father who approached. Whether subconsciously or not, Hiroki had demeaned himself; his position at the door resembled that of a servant rather than a son. Being near his father had slowed every moment, every action, making for a daunting, bitter experience.

After his parents entered the room, Hiroki returned to Nowaki's side intending to introduce him, but his father hadn't even glanced their way as Mrs. Kamijou guided him to the table. Hiroki silently cleared his throat and waited for his parents to settle on their cushions before speaking. Once seated, Mr. Kamijou's eyes wondered to Hiroki, ignoring Nowaki who was sitting parallel to him. The mere implication of the behavior left knots in Hiroki's stomach. If anyone deserved to be ignored, it was Hiroki without question. Nowaki deserved better.

"Father, this is Kusama Nowaki," Hiroki managed to state calmly. "He is the person I've decided to spend the rest of my life with." Using partner to describe Nowaki wouldn't suffice, his father needed to know exactly what Nowaki was to him without vagueness of terms.

Mr. Kamijou paused and fixed his eyes on the space between the two men. He gave a single nod of acknowledgment before he finally locked eyes with Nowaki. On the surface, there was nothing to assume from Mr. Kamjou's gaze, except that he knew nothing of the man in front of him. Hiroki, however, detected an icy undertone. The way his father's lips were relaxed, how not a single muscle twitched on his face, gave off an air of disinterest. Regardless, Nowaki remained reverent, giving nothing for alarm.

Mrs. Kamijou set a cup of tea before her husband, the clank of the cup dispelling the tension. Taking a deep, slow breath, Hiroki's father rested his eyes for a brief second. "Let's get to the point." Mr. Kamijou brought his attention to his son, "You came here because you wanted my say, right?"

Hiroki kept his eyes leveled, "I came to pay my respects by not keeping secrets from you anymore, and to apologize again for being distant all these years. Of course, I care about your say equally as much," Hiroki stated with composure, momentarily taming his chattering teeth and trembling hands.

Mr. Kamijou raised his cup to his lips and took a quick sip before speaking. Mr. Kamjou looked straight into his son's eyes, features growing stern. "I'm not interested in getting to know who you've decided to be with unless I'm getting a daughter-in-law and grandkids in result." His tone was searing, diminishing any inward composure Hiroki had.

With a few sentences, Hiroki's father had halted any potential development in their conversation. He knew his father would disapprove, but he hadn't prepared himself for the man's lack of empathy. Yet, Hiroki respected his father and his stance on the matter. Everything would be okay. It wasn't as though his father expected them to split up for his convictions. So why did Hiroki's chest feel heavy? Why did his throat feel so wrecked? Why couldn't he bring himself to respond? Hiroki weaved his fingers under the table, squeezing hard at his knuckles.

Mr. Kamijou turned his focus to the zen garden. "You're a grown man who's established himself in society," he commented with a monotoned, but softer voice. "I'm in no place to dictate your life. But all the same, I don't approve of this lifestyle."

To use the word lifestyle, as if he and Nowaki's lives were different from any other couple, as if they breathed differently, experienced happiness and pain differently…

Mr. Kamijou shifted his attention to Nowaki. "My wife has told me about you Kusama. She says you're a doctor." He glanced back at his son before resuming, giving Nowaki no time to respond to the comment. "I presume you both to be respectable men." He raised his cup again. "My opinion doesn't matter here..."

-–––-

Soon after, Hiroki and Nowaki were at the front gate, being seen off by Mrs. Kamijou who reminded them of her support. The consolation, however, did little for Hiroki who was still heavy-hearted by the ordeal. Mrs. Kamijou's eyes watered over as she stared at her son.

"I'm okay," Hiroki said placing a hand on her shoulder, eyes remaining steady. "Don't worry."

Her eyes softened as she exhaled, tears never leaving. "You're a strong man."

Hiroki stepped back, returning his hand to his side. He gazed in Nowaki's direction, keeping his sight towards the ground. Strong? He certainly didn't feel like he was.

When they walked away from the residence, Hiroki's jaw and hands started shivering again. Shit! Why? He'd done what he had to. He'd told his father the truth. Though a more welcoming response would've been preferred, there were worse ways a father could treat his son. This was nothing. An enormous stress radiated his chest, straining his breath and tightening his throat.

Unexpectedly, Hiroki seized Nowaki's hand and squeezed it tight. He wanted to run, run so fast that his feet would lift from the ground. He wanted to cry and scream till he fell from exhaustion…

Nowaki went along with Hiroki's motion as Hiroki dashed down the sidewalk, then made a right turn into an endless thicket. They passed through countless streams of sunlight until Hiroki made another turn into an empty patch of grass glowing pure white beneath the skylight.

Hiroki walked into the empty space, leaving the shade. He raised his head to the sky framed by the nameless shape of foliage from surrounding trees, reveling in the delicate blue and soft brilliance of the clouds shimmering with hints of emerald green.

Hiroki loosened his grip on Nowaki's hand without letting go. His knees sank to the soil and a swell of tears trickled from his eyes, leaving faster with each quivering breath. This was the place his elementary self would run to, where he could feel with abandon, free of pressures and expectations.

Nowaki knelt before Hiroki, slipping his hand from the other man's grasp before bringing him into a full embrace. He stroked Hiroki's hair, placing a lingering kiss on his forehead. Hiroki tugged the front of Nowaki's jacket, laying his head on his partner's shoulders as his sobs strengthened with his hitching breath.

"I—I knew…" Hiroki tried to speak through the tears, desperate to reign them in. "I knew he wouldn't approve...but I really wanted him to. Even if it was unlikely...I thought...maybe." While saying these words, he realized how much he'd underestimated his father's impact. Hiroki had longed for the man's approval, and to be denied it was crushing.

Nowaki's hot hands caressed Hiroki's back, melting his shivers. "It's true that he doesn't approve of our relationship. But he seems to have accepted it, at least."

The comment caught Hiroki's ears though he hadn't fully processed what his partner was saying.

More tears strayed down Hiroki's cheeks as he lifted his head, absorbing into Nowaki's sweater. "What are you suggesting?"

"What I mean is, despite your father's prejudice—if you want to call it that—he's accepted the situation. So, maybe it's in our best interest to accept his feelings too. His opinion could change with time."

The message immediately soothed Hiroki's heart. They would most likely have to live without his father's approval, and that was fine. Hiroki couldn't dwell on that uncertainty. What Hiroki knew for certain was that he loved his career, he was content with the small amount of friends he had, and most of all he loved Nowaki and the life they shared together.

Nowaki rose from the grass, helping Hiroki up with him as a mild wind encircled them in the sunlight scent of foliage. Locking eyes with his partner, Hiroki felt his spirit take off, motioning with the air around them. "Nowaki, let's get married—tonight or tomorrow, or next week. I don't care, as long as it's soon."

His proposal may have seemed abrupt, rushed even, but the questions of when and how were no longer significant. After a prolonged pause of astonishment, a satisfied and smiling Nowaki nodded and took Hiroki into his arms again. "Let's get married."


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