POV Takao
I was packing the contents of Shin-chan's bookshelves when I heard a soft knock on the door jab. I looked up to see Mitobe's soft smile beaming down on me.
"Chatterbox! Come on in," I said, and he came forward. "So what's up, man?"
[I came to help Takao pack.] He showed me the screen of his cell phone, having obviously shown the same message to Okasan, Otousan, or maybe Kaori, in order to make it this far into the house.
"Chatterbox, you are my hero. What's the best way to pack manga?" I asked, showing my poorly organized box. He chuckled silently and dumped them out and began very carefully arranging them, spine up, and organized by number. I might not tell Shin-chan that I didn't pack this box.
We worked in silence for an hour, me passing things to him, and him consolidating everything in the best way to fit everything in one box.
"You've been Osaka for a year now, right? How's it going? Are all the members of the Imayoshi family as odd as Saint?" I asked.
He stopped and pulled out his phone and typed for a few minutes, erased part of it, typed again, and then re-read before he handed me the final draft.
[It's different, quiet, sometimes lonely. I miss my family, but I like the job. Did you know a horse only sleeps about 3 hours a day? Crazy, right? Imayoshi's dad is cool, but his mom is awesome. She makes dinner for me everyday and does my laundry! Saint visits often, more often than before, according to his brother. I'm getting use to the accent, finally.]
"You're so brave, I don't know if I could live with a Yakuza family."
Mitobe laughed and shook his head.
"I know, I know, they're not Yakuza, but it's fun to pretend."
I looked over to the boxes I'd already done, wishing he'd been here earlier.
He tapped me on the shoulder and showed me the screen. [Do I need to re-pack those?]
"Would you?"
He nodded, headed over to the boxes, and cut open the tape. His snicker turned into deep soundless, shoulder shaking laughter.
"I'm a Point Guard, not a Tetris master," I squeaked in protest.
Okasan brought us snacks after about an hour and we took a break for tea and cookies. Mitobe went straight back to work on the Basketball Monthly Magazines while I sorted through photographs and mementos of our friends and family.
"It's really awesome that you came to help, Chatterbox, but I feel bad that you came all this way for me, since this isn't your week to visit with your family."
[Don't feel bad. I had to change my schedule this month. There's a big race next weekend and I wouldn't have been able to get away.]
"Well, I still feel bad that you're here with me instead of spending time with your family."
[I am spending time with my family, right now, because I'm here with you.]
At the end of the night, everything in the bedroom that belonged to Shin-chan and 90% of all of my belongings snuggly fit into four small cardboard boxes. Every few centimeter I saved, was another can of red bean soup I could pack.
"Hey, if you promise to never, ever tell Shin-chan I did this, I'll give you first pick on all of his lucky items left over after Kaori and I pawed through it. He wants it all gone. There's a mound of school supplies and tons of toys for your brothers and sisters."
Mitobe lifted the corner of his mouth and one eyebrow, giving me what I couldn't help think of as his are you serious look?
"Sorry, sorry, you are a Point Guard Poker Player, you'd rather split your stomach open than betray our trust, but it's just… well, I've promised Shin-chan to never tell anyone about his collection either, so it's just an extra precaution, you know?"
He slapped me on the shoulder.
"Ok, let me get some empty grocery bags, trust me he's got some good stuff."
POV Midorima
When the crate arrives three weeks before Takao, the movers knock on the wrong door and try to deliver it to Quentin. The family comes to my door and we all look at the box sitting in the hallway wondering how the movers brought it upstairs. It won't fit through the narrow door.
"We could open it, unload it, and then throw it away," Quentin suggests. "I'll go get a crowbar."
Elizabeth is bouncing up and down she is so excited to see what goodies are in the plain pine box. Quentin manages to pry it open and every inch of it is packed full. I can see my mother's handiwork in the precision.
Each box is labelled for its intended destination in both Mom's beautiful Japanese and Takao's sturdy English. Quentin, Roxanne, and, I carry the boxes inside while Elizabeth supervises. I give her my phone and ask her to order pizza. She's only nine but she can do this much better than I can.
Roxanne retrieves her ironing board, goes upstairs, and works on the new occupants for the closet. Quentin reassembles the kotasu and then does the same for the bookshelf that came from our bedroom back home. Elizabeth helps me decide where the kitchen supplies are supposed to go, that is until she sees the tea set with the delicate cups and ends up on the floor, on her knees in front of the kotasu to play tea party. The set is older than her and has just made a traumatic journey, but it is sturdier than it looks.
It is almost a complete home. I catch Quentin looking through my basketball magazines as he places them in plastic holders on the book shelves. I drag Takao's compact stair step machine into the back room and put it next to my weights. He says he wants a treadmill eventually and there is plenty of room for it.
I have carefully purchased each piece of furniture that Takao calls 'essentials' and a few extras that I could afford in the budget. The spices are in the cupboards; the rice cooker is on the counter; our family shrine and kotsu are placed just right. The couch is convertible and can be made into a bed. The office has only a desk and chair, a single bookshelf, and my laptop. The drying rack is in place in the downstairs bathroom, but I doubt we will need it now. The dolls my sister gives me each year adorn the low book shelf in our new bedroom. They live nestled among the photographs we have both collected over the years.
Takao's essential are already in the bathroom. His cologne bottle is on the shelf above one sink. A holder awaits his toothbrush where it sits next to a cup. There is a complete set of towels; they are new and a present from Mom and Dad. I open the cabinet on his side of the bathroom and find his hairdryer and other supplies are waiting; it is as if he's just gone out of the room and will be back in a moment.
"I tried my best to figure out which was your clothing and which belonged to your boy," Roxanne tells me as I enter the closet. She is standing in the middle of the mess, ironing our shirts. "He's a lot shorter than you, so it's not too hard."
"You shouldn't trouble yourself," I say.
"I like to help," she says, and I nod. She must see something in my face, because she puts down the iron and comes over to me, putting her arms around me like I am her child. "Everything reminds you that he's not here, but just think, this means he's on his way."
It is the only thing she can say that will make me feel less miserable, less alone, even though the only three friends I have in America are all here with me.
"Yes," I say, and wipe that stray tear off my cheek. She laughs and points behind me. Elizabeth is wearing my yukata and she looks adorable with it pooling around her feet.
The pizza arrives and we eat off my new plates, seated on the floor, like proper Japanese. I drink the first can of red bean soup in months and I feel... almost normal.
Author's note: OMG, just a couple of chapters left! Hang in there with me and I'll get our favorite boys back together!
Once the stories is complete, I will need to make a final summary for the story so that new people might find Partners after it is finished and hopefully enjoy it as much as you did. If you have any ideas/suggestions on what would best represent this story in a single summary, I'd love to hear from you. Heck, let's make it a contest and whoever gives me the best summary will earn the dedication on the final chapter of Partners! PM or leave a review with your suggestions.