** (c) to original owner for cover photo.

II

[Kouen Ren, Put Your Pants On]

Her conscience wouldn't forgive her if she were to send the redhead off to somewhere and never be heard of. So she had contacted the police, claiming that she found a lost and confused man in her house. Luckily, it didn't take a while for sirens to bleat out of her home but it took some time to convince Kouen to enter the car as he was severely glaring at the officers along with the vehicle. Rico begged for the strange man to stay, but his pleas were fruitless. He had to leave. That was the extent of the hospitality she had given him.

"It's all right," she soothed Kouen again, rubbing the side of his shoulder reassuringly. "They'll help you get home."

The officers provided him with questionable looks at first, like what the hell was he wearing? Then they later joined her in convincing him to enter the car.

When he finally did, the door was shut locked and she waved goodbye at him as the car growled and began to move forward, away from her house. He stared back at her through the glass window then looked forward without meeting her eyes again.

He was gone.

Since then, she was somehow saddened by the empty look he gave her. Did he leave thinking that she was that desperate into kicking him out? She mentally admitted that she did frown at him throughout the time of his short stay and her actions in front of him were often heavy with jealousy when he played with Rico. And her opinion differed too much from her nephew, Kouen got along with the boy even for a brief moment and she didn't. Did that make her the villain of all this?

She helped him, didn't she? She did the right thing.

Yet she was being punished by the shade of guilt of her feelings, and by her nephew who refused to interact with her since Kouen left.

"It wasn't me who sliced your TV," she reminded the kid who sat alone in the couch. He only pouted at her while he endured watching cartoons on a much smaller screen of a phone.

She sighed and endured as well. A sudden distance decided to exist between her and the boy, and it was a terrible echo in her heart.

The silence was deafening as she read old text messages across her nephew. Not another word was said that day.

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The tattooed woman held her head in between her hands, biting at her lips nervously. Sunlight rushed through the hole of her roof and birds were peeping and tweeting from there, trying to lift her mood with their songs.

But the paleness wouldn't abandon her face. No project arrived to her this month, which meant there was no money to wring from for all the expenses brought to her at once. Even her strained relationship with Rico downed her more.

How can one guy cause all of these trouble?

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Her nephew was quiet even when he sat on the dining table with her, he didn't play with his food like he used to, nor share some of his baby food with her. He probably enjoyed Kouen's company a lot and had seen a glimpse of a father figure in him.

She didn't want to make the boy's life even more miserable, that was why she granted him all the things he would want. He already had enough unspeakable occurrence before his birth. That was why she promised his busy father, her brother, to make up for all his lacking as she loved the boy too. A bit too much. She would give everything just for her nephew to smile.

Putting down her barely empty bowl of meal, she knelt down and Rico finally peered at her through his lashes, she called his name as gentle as she could.

"I'm sorry I had to make your playmate leave. He has to go back to his family because they'll miss him." Her hand caressed the top of his head, ruffling soft locks of hair, "Don't be sad, I'm sure you'll see other again. You're friends after all," she smiled for him and his expression, little by little, had an upturn.

But though he began approaching her again, he would always tug at her clothes and look for his playmate, being more talkative and demanding than usual.

"En, En," he'd tell her.

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The bed was large enough for two, spacious and cold, but she never slept on the middle. She tended to sleep on one side, the space beside her was always left empty, as though reserved for someone else...

She kicked off the blanket and placed an arm over her forehead. The ceiling was just a dark canvas and there her thoughts flowed endlessly, from how her day began, to how her day ended – and oh – Kouen.

Kouen Ren.

His face when he left was bright and clear, consuming every space in her mind. He tended to become a ray of thought even if she barely interacted with him. She thought of him even when she didn't. Like how he was doing and if he came home safely. She was worried for him even though he was just a stranger.

She scoffed at herself. It was easy to know how he was, though. Just one call. But she couldn't muster up the courage to dial the police again and ask about him, because that would provide her relief, and relief would lead to more curiosity.

Her hands remembered how it was like roaming his body – with soap, of course. His back was broad and hard, with no imperfections tainting his skin, and he had a heavy set of arms that were thicker than hers combined. His magnificent form would put gaudy models to shame, he could really grace magazine covers over them. She wouldn't exaggerate. And when her fingertips delved into his mane of red hair, there was just softness.

Her nose remembered his strong scent and –

Enough about him.

In the end, he would only be a fresh memory that would fade away soon.

She finally closed her eyes as the midnight chills caressed her skin.

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A series of loud knocks on the door came in rhythm with the hiss of kettle boiling. She clicked her tongue, still groggy and grumpy without caffeine in her system.

Rubber-soled shoes made heavy steps towards the entry, she grabbed and turned the knob to see an annoying grin greeting her.

"Yo!" exclaimed Officer Kurosawa, the clown, happily. Carried on his shoulders was… Kouen, who lacked awareness. His head was lowered and his long fringe concealed most of his face.

Before she could voice out her questions, she gasped. Kurosawa abandoned Kouen into her arms with a smile. He was no doubt heavier than he looked, her trembling knees could vouch for that.

"O-Oh… Attractive. What is he doing here?" she asked with eyes flared for answers.

They moved Kouen to the couch before any discussion could start. He slept there properly. His appearance had drastic changes, though he wore the same clothes, there were dark bags under his eyes and he smelled of sweat. Quite far from his look when he left. What sort of treatment did he receive from the station?

Kurosawa cleared his throat then he began with a stern look her way, "He has no passport, no driver's license, and no citizenship connected to his name! Is Kouen Ren even his real name?!"

The noise her ears sustained made her plunge her index fingers into them and she glared at the officer, "Why are you yelling? As if he'll hear or understand you."

"It's more intense that way," he explained, nodding to himself. "To add, he doesn't speak any known language. What is he?" Kurosawa rubbed his chin with a thumb as he looked more and more confused.

"Well, he's obviously Asian," she said, arms crossed over her chest. "He probably belongs to some civilization far from modern society, or something," she shrugged. "Now the most important question of all, why bring him here?"

The world must had thrown a bone at Rico, he's going to be happy to see Kouen. Well, not in his condition.

"He doesn't really have a place to stay and can't be left alone," he turned his head at Kouen's sleeping form, the side of his lips twitching. "Everyone at the station are either men with daughters or single women. But don't worry, I assure you that he's not gonna jump you. Women are more likely to jump him–"

Kurosawa shrieked in horror as his feet hovered from the ground, his necktie tightened around his neck as he was lifted by her, spitting fire at him, "You meant to tell me that you're leaving him to me? Like he's some puppy?! I am not babysitting a grown man!"

"C-C-Calm down! You said you're troubled about the roof repairs, right? We'll help with your finances, just take care of him! He wouldn't eat, sleep or even take a bath. He wouldn't trust us. He just goes and looks at the mountain – here – he wants to be here. With you, for some reason."

"What?" she breathed and loosened her harsh grip on him.

"He wouldn't talk to us, really. He mentioned your name though, with a deadly glare. And another one. Probably someone he knows."

"Who's the other person he mentioned?"

"Sinbad," Kurosawa rubbed his scalp and groaned, "No luck, he didn't tell us the last name. It'll take us forever to find who that is." He then reached for a folded paper in his pocket, it seemed to be a contract of some sort and he held out a pen for her, "Please, could we entrust him to you? Once we find out more of his identity and that Sinbad he mentioned, we'll swipe him away. Immediately. I know he caused some major trouble for you, but just this once, don't let your anger speak. I'll do anything I can to help you with this. You have my word, Ebina."

He bowed his head desperately as her thoughts ran wild.

Kurosawa tended to not take things seriously, he made too many jokes in his lifetime, over the years she knew him – that was just how he was. Yet in his uniform and hat, he was a police officer who loved to help people.

"Let me drink my coffee first," she told him, already stepping into the kitchen to fetch her cup.

"Ugh, no wonder your mood was terrible."

She sat on a cushioned ottoman with a saucer on one hand and her hot coffee on the other, "Take a seat." Kurosawa nodded and seated himself on the couch, just beside Kouen's feet. Normally, she'd sip her drink slowly but the thought of living with Kouen made her toss back the caffeine in one gulp, warming her throat instantly. She couldn't really turn down financial support when her pockets were in grave danger, but still, living with a mysterious stranger was just… "Rico would be happy, he likes him for some reason," she mentioned out of the blue. She never failed to regard the boy's joy first.

Kurosawa grinned, "Maybe he saw your potential husband?" he joked. "I see the way you look at my daughter. You want one, but first, you'll need a husband." He emphasized his ridiculous point with a wiggle of a finger.

"I'm not that desperate. I only need Rico with me," she said with her eyes lowered.

The grin faded instantly and was replaced by a curl of a disappointed frown, "Don't go and wait for the worst of the worst. As harsh as it sounds, Rico is not your son. Once summer ends, he's gonna leave and what will you do?"

"Wait for summer again…" she replied, not impressed by her own answer.

"That's just sad, even for you." Kurosawa was stern, which was a rare sight of him, "You're like the sad principal who needs to quit." His words caused a sharp ache in her heart because he was right. He always knew where to strike, where it would hurt the most. "Look at it this way. Keep Kouen. It will be an opportunity for you to prove to your best friend – my wife – that you are capable of having connections with people who aren't from ten years ago and is not a toddler."

I am not socially inept.

… Am I?

She only sighed and dropped her shoulders. If she was beginning to worry someone then she was in the wrong here, that, and considering that she was being lectured by him of all people.

Snatching the contract from Kurosawa, she left her signature on the paper.

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She was supposed to step out for a jog under the sun but she just couldn't tear her eyes off him as he slept a deep sleep. Kurosawa had left and Rico was still sleeping as well.

Reaching for his peaceful face, her fingers drew back stray locks of hair from his cheek. Kouen was just beautiful, his facial structure was fine and had the symmetry. She was sure that women weren't the only ones who'd go after him. However, there was one thing that didn't go well with his image — his goatee. She would be lying if she didn't have the urge to shave his chin, it only made him look older.

Then unexpectedly, his forehead started to crease and his teeth gritted. He must be experiencing a terrible nightmare with his face contorted in pain.

And it must be frightening for him too to be in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar people. She couldn't imagine his own hardships just by being here. Of course he'd be confused and alert of everything.

His eyes shot wide open and there was a tight squeeze on her wrist. She winced at his sudden movements. He sat up and examined his surroundings, panicking slightly as his breaths went uneven. Then his eyes fell on her and he let her go, he calmed and set his back down on the couch, still facing her.

"You're okay, it was just a dream," she said kindly. He then slowly reached for her face with an uncertain expression, as though trying to verify if she was real through his weak touch.

His palm was calloused but warm against her cheek. "Ebina?" he asked in a raspy tone, still dazed from sleep.

She nodded and held his hand for a moment, then she returned it to his side. "I'm sorry for my nasty attitude during last time we met. I'll support you as best as I can so you can quickly adjust to Japan until you get home."

Why do I keep talking to someone who wouldn't understand a thing I'm saying?

"You must be tired. Close your eyes."

And he did.

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Kurosawa had left some instructions for Kouen to cope up with his new lifestyle. She needed to show him the ropes until he could become independent, if possible. He handed her some clothes for Kouen as he refused anything from him. It was up to her to dress him for the season.

So she had tossed his dirty robes onto the hamper and set the new ones on the bed. Which were a pair of pants and a black wife-beater shirt. And thankfully, he was able to bathe on his own after she taught him to use the bathroom for the first time.

Wait a minute… She paused under the doorframe, her expression went sour. He can't wear pants without an underwear. Officer Idiot probably forgot.

She searched through one of the cabinets in the storage room for some underwear. Digging through old clothes, she began to doubt that the shirts would fit a brawny man like Kouen. The clothes belonged to her father who was only a tall lanky man. But after minutes, she got lucky enough to spot one pair of polka-dotted boxers in the drawer with most dust on.

Stretching the colorful fabric in front of her, she sighed in relief. This can fit him, at least.

When she returned to his room, she was greeted by an explicit scene. Kouen was out of the bath. There was a towel on his head and his fit muscles were exposed, demanding attention. In his hand were the pants, which his eyes were currently examining.

Her gaze trailed downward to his bare lower half and her mouth expanded in shock. He wasn't active but he was big. He only noticed her presence when she fired boxers into his face, running off to the hallway, screaming, "PUT YOUR PANTS ON, DAMMIT!"

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He wouldn't look at her but it had been obvious that his ears were bright red from embarrassment. And she wouldn't look at him either as her face was heated, red as well. There was no way she'd forget what she had seen, not when it was too fresh in her mind.

But Kouen had to be taught to lock his door, for his own privacy. So she swallowed the awkwardness and showed him how to twist locks before dinner.

She was unsure of what kind of diet he preferred so she cooked just about anything she found in the fridge, and he ate them all. He was that hungry, but he was stern in rejecting Rico's food when the boy tried to happily share.

Her bowl of rice was untouched when she watched him eat. "Here," she offered and he gave her a declining look even though he seemed to want more. She lifted her hands and shook her head, then placed her bowl next to his as she abandoned her seat at the table.

"I love you," he said to her.

She froze. Her heart stopped for a second.

"What did you say...?"

Then a realization hit her after moment of deep thinking, because she couldn't be fooled. She poured some juice on his glass this time and he spoke once more, "I love you."

I knew it.

"You're welcome," she dropped those words quickly and headed to the living room, she dialed Kurosawa's number on her phone.

The officer picked up on the call immediately, "Hello?"

"You do realize that I'm a single woman too and I'm likely to jump him anytime soon."

"No, I know you wouldn't do that," he replied.

"Which is why you're trying to tempt me by teaching him that I love you means thank you? And by not giving him boxers?"

She heard laughter on the other end and she twitched in irritation. He was only confident because he knew he was safe from her rage, "Oh hoh, so that's temptation for you? Boxers...? What about boxers?"

"Never mind. I don't know what you're trying to do here, but just don't. Don't try to dirty my relationship with him."

"All right, all right. No more putting dirty things in your head. But he'll be a convenient companion, yes? You live with a kid in the middle of nowhere. Get a dog at least."

"Enough lecturing, I agreed to take care of him already," there was a frown on her tone.

"Yeah, you bathed him too so might as well go all the way for Papa Kouen."

She blinked twice at what he said, "What did you just call him?"

"Papa Kouen? Everyone here at the station calls him that, the women especially."

"So, what else did you teach him?"

"D-Don't hit me please." Kurosawa's voice trembled.

"Oh, I won't be the one hitting you. Papa Kouen will do that for me once he learns what you taught him actually means."

"No! Do you have any idea how buff he is?!"

"I know very well. I bathed him, remember?" she smirked at her cleverness as she dropped the call. "Don't dig your own grave next time."

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The blonde tip-toed on her high heels as she stood at the entry steps with pouted red lips that glossed under the light. Perfume was her aroma and sensuality was her makeup. "I didn't think you'd call my office just for a lipstick."

"You left it, so I'm returning it," she said to her as dry as she could. She held out the said item and the blonde gracefully took it from her hand with a foxy smile.

"How thoughtful of you. But you forgot to tell me your name. You didn't talk much when focused."

"Ebina," she told her.

"... Mine," said a deep voice that startled both women, the tattooed one especially. As Kouen's hand was on her waist with a passionless look across his face.

"Does that make me your mistress?" the blonde asked.

"He's not my husband. I told you, it's not happening again."

The blonde only simpered, saying nothing more and just drove away with her car.

Turning her head back to Kouen, she returned his hand to him, "Right, let's see what else Kurosawa taught you."

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Thank you for reading~