When Miyagi entered the office the next school day, he found Kamijo in another mood. It wasn't so unusual that he was in a mood, but the mood itself was odd. He was quiet, and pale, not so much as looking up when his boss entered the room. In fact, what was odd, which Miyagi noted mentally but made no physical reaction to, was that Kamijo seemed as if he were concentrating on not noticing Miyagi's entrance. The truly weird part about the mood was that it didn't seem to be in the least bit out of anger, rather a discomfort that made Miyagi's brain itch. After about half an hour, Miyagi turned his rolling chair around and rolled silently up behind his coworker. He waited there, leaning closer and closer to the back of his neck until he could see the slight sheen of sweat against the milky skin. He leaned in even more.
"Kamijo." That was all it took. Poor Hiroki nearly jumped twenty feet out of his chair, yelping in shock as Miyagi rolled back enough to give him some space, looking unamused. Kamijo turned around and looked at him nervously. No yelling, no throwing of books. Something was very wrong in the world, Miyagi thought, very wrong indeed. Everyone had gone insane. Absolutely bonkers.
"What's with the face?" he tried to say casually, but it came out a bit dry. Kamijo blinked, then lowered his head a little.
"The dean was in here this morning. He said he wanted you in his office during your afternoon recess." Miyagi swallowed. That was it; what he was trying to avoid had knocked directly on his office door. Life was over. There was nothing left for him to do but face his destiny. At that thought, his mind shifted to the kid, another source of doom. What would this mean for him? What would it mean for the both of them?
"Ah. Let my kids know I won't be here, then." He got up and moved over to the window, opening it and lighting up, not caring that he was on school property. He waited a minute before looking over at Kamijo, who was staring blankly at some random scrap of paper on his desk.
"Aren't you going to scold me or something?" he asked as he puffed on his cigarette. Kamijo looked up, but looked through him rather then at him.
"I don't think so." Hearing those words, in that anxious, almost pitying tone, Miyagi had to leave, putting his cigarette out against the windowsill and grabbing his jacket in a rush. He wandered through the halls, walking slightly faster than he usually did, not really bothering to think about where he was going. He was just going. After about half an hour of aimless wandering he found himself outside the office of the director. His secretary looked up at Miyagi, noting the time.
"He's in with someone right now. They should be done soon if you'd like to take a seat and wait." Miyagi did just that, sitting with enough nervous energy to run a mile. All he had to do was stay calm and explain himself and nothing that he didn't deserve would happen to him. Except he wasn't sure what exactly he deserved for being in the sort of relationship that he was in. It couldn't be helped though, not if it was love. Love. As if a single word could explain everything. If he had been younger, Miyagi thought, the same young person as he used to be he would have believed it wholeheartedly. Now, ho knew better. He knew that the standards and expectations of society would not just fold to a simple word, no matter how powerful he felt it. There was no use. He was done for.
The door opened and Miyagi stood reflexively. A pale Shinobu nearly rammed right into him, barely stopping short in time in his shock.
"Miyagi…" His wide eyes and pale skin made his face for some reason unreadable at that second. The older man started to open his mouth to say something but was interrupted by a cold, chilling voice.
"You should not be addressing him like that, Shinobu, no matter what your level of intimacy is." The director was standing behind the boy, stern and foreboding. Shinobu swallowed.
"Sumimasen, Miyagi-sensei," the boy muttered, obviously upset. He strode past the other man, brushing shoulders, not looking at him. Something had happened. Something bad. Miyagi would have watched the kid leave if not for the fact that the eyes on him were unwavering.
"You wanted to see me?" He said it dryly, devoid of emotion, hoping to cover up the fear with disinterest. He didn't so much as nod.
"Come in, and close the door behind you." Miyagi did as he was told, following him into the much too large office and sitting when he was directed to do so. He found it odd that the director had asked him to sit on the couch rather than at the chair opposite the desk. This seemed too casual, too beyond his expectations. That made him all the more nervous. It was even worse when the director reached behind a thick volume of Thoreau on the bookshelf and pulled out a bottle of amber liquid and a glass. It worried him terribly.
"I'd like to talk to you about the boy." The director said as he poured himself a decent glass of whatever was in the bottle. Miyagi could smell the alcohol from where he was sitting.
"You mean Shinobu-kun?" He was getting cotton mouthed. The director nodded, swallowing what was in his mouth.
"Yes. I'm a bit worried, you see, about his relationship with you." Miyagi's palms began to sweat. He wiped them on his pants, hoping that the director didn't notice.
"How so, sir?" The man drank again, this time draining the glass. He swirled the residual liquid around the bottom, as if to keep himself momentarily distracted.
"You see, when he first returned here from Australia, well, his living with you was plainly convenient. It was business, as you knew from the beginning. Now, though, it seems things have progressed in a different manner." He walked over to the couch opposite of Miyagi, placing his glass on a coaster and beginning to refill it. Miyagi was getting uncomfortable, more than uncomfortable. He was finding it hard to sit still, let alone find words to respond to the man. Still, he was a professional, and answered coolly, not that he felt it at all.
"How do you mean?" The director sighed, sitting.
"How should I put this… at first it was strange that he lived with you for as long as he did. Money is certainly not an issue, so finding an apartment should have been easy for him, especially since his sister and I had just about turned over every stone in Tokyo for him." This was news to Miyagi. Since when had Shinobu been encouraged to find an alternate living space by anyone other than him? The director continued. "Then whenever I talk to him, all he has to talk about is you. A healthy young man of his age should be out socializing and studying, not spending all of his time with an older professor." He took a swig of what was in the glass. "Not to say anything about your age, but you understand." Miyagi nodded blindly. Where exactly was this going to take him?
"Then he tells me that he's applying to my university. Of course I was glad to hear that, but the boy can do better, we both know that. When I asked him why he said that he had to take your class and become the top student in the Literature Department. Now, mind you, I thought that you had put him up to it, but he assured me that he wanted it. That brings me to the current issue." Every muscle in Miyagi's body tensed. He held his breath. There was no going back now.
"He told me that he had found a new place to live, a place of his own. Of course, I was thrilled for the boy." He raised the glass to his lips again, this time watching Miyagi as he did so. "I looked at the address he gave me. It's the apartment next to yours. Odd, isn't it, how he managed to find, out of all the apartments in Tokyo, one right next to yours that needed a tenant? Now I hear he's moving out again. To live with you. I have to wonder what the intentions behind that are." Miyagi almost forgot how to speak. Talk your way out of this. You're a class A bull shit artist.
"Well, sir, there was no need for him to move out in the first place. We go to the same place every morning, leave at the same time, and I have the space. It seemed more convenient for him to have someone to depend upon around." He shrugged, as if it was nothing, just two men talking about roommates. Inside, he felt like someone was stepping on his stomach.
"I find it strange, though, that an independent bachelor such as yourself would take in a moody teenager such as my son." Miyagi let a small laugh escape, surprised at how real it sounded.
"He offered to cook and pay half of the rent. Pardon me, sir, but my teacher's salary can't cover everything." At this, the man's eyes crinkled slightly, as if he would have smiled. His mouth did not move, however.
"I just want to make sure that you're not doing this because he's my son. I know what kind of pressure can exist because of workplace relationships and wanted to make sure that you didn't feel obligated to play along with my son's whims because of it." At this, Miyagi went from relieved to irritated. Is that what the director thought of his son? That he would force Miyagi to do whatever he wanted under the context that his father was his boss? Miyagi sunk into the cushions slightly.
"I am not the kind of person to act out of obligation, sir." He regretted it as soon as it was out of his mouth. Damn it, you were almost free! Now look what you've done. The director had stood, turning his back to Miyagi for the moment, but at this he turned around and struck him with a look.
"Then why, Miyagi-san?" This was the first time he had been addressed by name. It took Miyagi by surprise, but he was still thinking on his toes.
"Sir, having Shinobu-kun around is not a bother. He's more than just the director's son," at this the director raised his eyebrow, "I enjoy him. It's like having a younger brother." Or something like that. The director watched him for a moment, then sighed, replacing the bottle and glass in its hiding spot.
"I suppose. Just don't let him bully you into keeping him around. The kid's persistent as hell." Miyagi nodded, standing up and bowing to his superior.
"Of course, sir. I wouldn't dream of it." The director led him to the door, the subject changing for the brief amount of time to business until they got to the secretary's desk. They parted ways and Miyagi stood there dumbfounded. He had gotten off without so much as a slap on the hand. The director was oblivious, or at least as oblivious as someone who was financially responsible for the kid could be, but it was good enough. Miyagi could have skipped down the hallways in his joy. But if the director hadn't confronted Shinobu, then why did he look so upset before? Miyagi didn't wait to think about it, just set off in search of his young lover. Neither of them had anymore classes for the day but Miyagi searched the building anyway. One of the first places he looked was the Lit Dept. office.
Kamijo was right where he had left him, elbow deep in a pile of papers. He had gotten nothing done at all while Miyagi was gone, being too worried about his boss to focus on anything. Not that he would admit it. Kamijo the Demon would never admit to something so sappy as to have been worried over Miyagi's wellbeing, especially when he disapproved of what he and the kid had been doing in the office that time. H began shuffling the papers around when Miyagi entered, trying to look busy, but succeeding only in disheveling his desk.
"Have you seen Shinobu?" Kamijo blinked for a second, not used to hearing the name. He had always been referred to as "kid" or "brat" by Miyagi before. After a second he answered. "No, he didn't come here." Miyagi thanked him and rushed out, not even bothering to tell his colleague that he still had a job.
Hiroki just sat there in silence. Of course, Miyagi had left him there again with a pile of worries and an equally enormous pile of papers to grade. No, Miyagi wouldn't tell him about his meeting with the director until the next day, when he asked, if he even showed up for work. No, he wouldn't ask him what had been troubling him and make fake passes at him during his only other break for the day. No, he would be too caught up in his own little world that only revolved around him and his little lover. Hiroki almost smiled. Yes, it was good to be in love, but even better to be loved. Finally, Miyagi was giving in to it. The image of an overly tall, clumsy looking fool came to mind and he shook his head rapidly, as if to shake it off. He knew the kind of love that those two idiots were falling into. He just hoped them more success than he had been having lately, especially with his stubbornness and his lover's cute dimwittedness. This time, he did smile. Miyag, he thought, run like hell to find him.