Kirishima's eyes fluttered open in the muted light of not-quite dawn, when the mesh of sleep still entrapped the rest of the little house.
That, in itself, was strange, but the eerie déjà vu that flooded him at the sight of the indistinct contours of Yokozawa's turned back, had his body tensing and heart beating faster.
This wasn't another of those dreams, was it?
Momentary apprehension shivered down his spine, but even as he leaned over, across the body-warmed sheets and the gentle rise and fall of Yokozawa's – yes, Yokozawa's body in tandem with his breathing, he knew it wasn't. The figure's masculine build, coupled with the set of distinct features that was so unmistakably him, instantly dispelled any and all of Kirishima's doubts.
A dream couldn't be this warm.
There was no missing the tenderness that softened Kirishima's gaze as the half-light cast Yokozawa's face into unusual openness. He brushed inky hair away from his forehead, taking in the unexpectedly long eyelashes that laid their feather-light touches over cheeks flushed from sleep. He looked uncharacteristically vulnerable, like the armor he always seemed to carry on his back had fallen away.
In that moment, Kirishima honestly couldn't understand how anyone could think of this man as anything but so unbearably cute.
Even before he realized it, a smirk had crept to his lips. Seeing Yokozawa in such a defenseless state set his mind to formulating a thousand evil schemes. It pretty much gave him free reign to do anything he pleased. After thinking for a moment, he rummaged around for a sticky note and began to scribble, smirk widening by the second.
By the time he emerged from the bedroom, the sky was just beginning to flush a purple-rose, waking up from its slumber with the scent of the stirring earth, punctuated occasionally by the chirp of a bird flying free, swallowed up by the horizon.
"Figures," he muttered to himself, getting out a skillet. The ridiculously early hour had already begun to tell on him. It seemed like the night's sleep had done exactly nothing to refresh him, but he didn't feel like going back to sleep.
He smothered a cough as he tried to shake off he now-familiar ache in his bones, only intensified by the nip of impending winter in the morning air. Maybe he was getting old.
He should really take Yokozawa's advice and consult a doctor. Making a hasty mental note, he soon pushed the though to the back of his mind as he set about rooting out supplies from the kitchen shelves.
The omelets were sizzling in the pan by the time Hiyori emerged from her room, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.
"Good morning Papa, Yokozawa-onii- oh!" she began, and then uttered an exclamation of surprise at the ominous sight of Kirishima at the kitchen counter. Her sleepy expression immediately changed to one of apprehension as her mind processed the image. "Papa, you know you're hopeless in the kitchen! You should just leave the cooking to oniichan."
Her eyes darted about the kitchen, looking for any imminent disaster brought about by Kirishima's culinary endeavors.
"Hey, even I can handle an omelet." Kirishima said, turning them over in the pan. "It even smells good, see? Go wake up your oniichan and I'll serve you- he's in my room."
"Ye…s," Hiyori conceded reluctantly, pattering off down the hallway.
He kept one eye on the skillet even as he focused on listening to the conversation from the other room. An amused smile played at his lips as he heard Hiyori's cheerful greeting, followed by a slightly higher-pitched interjection of surprise. Yokozawa's resultant sound of irritation had his smile widening into a full-blown grin as the door to his room burst open. He counted backwards in his head.
Three, two, one… any moment now.
"Mind explaining to me exactly why I woke up with 'I'm madly in love with Kirishima Zen!~~~~333' taped to my forehead? And why you sent Hiyo in to wake me twenty minutes before my alarm?!"
"Early riser privileges~" he replied, an irrepressible laugh escaping him at Yokozawa's obvious annoyance.
"Early riser my ass. No one does shit like this to you when I practically have to drag your ass out of bed every day!"
"Oh, I'd love to wake up with 'I'm madly in love with Yokozawa Takafumi' written on me." Kirishima loved toying with Yokozawa like this. The man just got adorably riled up over the smallest things.
"Why you—!"
"It's the truth, after all~"
Yokozawa was mercifully delivered from any more of Kirishima's relentless teasing by the appearance of Hiyori, who laid the table with a "I made your bed, seriously, you guys are so untidy!"
"And I even made you breakfast as a penance," Kirishima said, transferring the cooked omelets to three plates. "Come on, wipe that surly look off your face. Although I must admit, it only adds to your cuteness."
"….!" Yokozawa blushed a faint crimson, but wisely chose not to contend the matter in front of Hiyori, instead reining in his burgeoning exasperation as he helped Kirishima take the plates to the table. Granted, the omelets weren't as soft as Yokozawa's, but, on the upside, the kitchen wasn't a smoldering wreck, either.
"Mmmmm, that looks good~" Hiyori said, looking over them with a critical eye.
"Thanks for the meal!" they chorused as they dug in. Kirishima looked over them fondly, at Hiyori pleading with Yokozawa to do her hair that way you did it yesterday again, at Yokozawa's uncharacteristic smile as he yielded to her demands.
They were his family.
"Are you trying to tell me that Kyou-sensei's manuscript has still not arrived?" Kirishima, seated in his chair, said to Hitomi, who was frantically barking orders into his phone. A note of annoyance was barely audible in his voice.
It was only the early days of the cycle, but Ijjuin Kyou, the erratic mangaka of Monthly Japun's bestselling series, Za Kan, was supposed to be sending in its first few pages that day. Any disruption in the pattern would lead to a frantic scramble on the last days, a situation Kirishima wished at all costs to avoid.
But it's way too early in the cycle for him to be having his breakdown…
"Kasagawa!" Kirishima flagged down a passing subordinate. "Call the front desk and check if Kyou-sensei's manuscript has arrived yet."
"I'm on it!" he chirped, hurrying to the nearest desk and dialing the extension. After a few moments, he reported back to Kirishima. "They say it's just arrived, and they're sending it over right now!"
Kirishima breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to go take a break. Tell Hitomi we've received the manuscript."
After sending the built-up stress spiraling away with the white-smoke clouds of a cigarette or five, Kirishima headed back to his desk and saw the manuscript neatly placed there. He hummed in satisfaction as he opened it, fingers almost thrilling with anticipation. Reading new works of Kyou-sensei's was always a pleasure.
The illustration that emerged, though, upon sliding out the document, was… well, a lot more reminiscent of the shojo department's works. The sinking suspicion in his chest was confirmed as he took in the title, emblazoned in hot pink amidst sundry rabbits and flashy graphics.
Diamond Heart V
"Ah fuck," he muttered under his breath, sighing as he dialed the extension for Emerald.
"Yes, this is Emerald, how may we help you?" the perky voice of Kisa Shouta, Marukawa Shoten's resident baby face, sounded over the line. Not a soul could have guessed that he was actually over thirty.
"Ah, Kisa. Could you put Takano on the line for me?"
"Oh, Kirishima-san! Takano-san's gone for the Diamond Heart Board meeting. Can I take a message?"
What.
"It seems like the front desk managed to mess up our manuscripts. I think that Takano's received this month's issue of Za Kan, because I have Diamond Heart. I'll get it sent to your department now, so could you do the same?"
"Sure, no problem. I'll go right away! Thanks for your hard work!"
When he heard the click on the other end of the line, Kirishima put down the phone, his chest stirring in discomfort.
Takano was on the Board too.
Meaning that Yokozawa and him were working together.
Of course, that was the logical conclusion, considering the fact that Takano was the editor for Ichinose Erika's Diamond Heart. But still…
Why hadn't Yokozawa told him?
Of course, he understood that Yokozawa wasn't quite ready to freely discuss him, not in general and especially not with Kirishima. And his good sense repeatedly reminded him of this fact, but the dark that so often poisoned his thoughts insisted that
No matter how he looked at it,
Yokozawa didn't trust him enough.
He flopped his head down to rest on his desk. He did not have time to agonize over his roiling emotions, not when he had an entire manuscript left to edit. A faint cloud of a million iridescent dust motes swirled into the air from the long-unused paraphernalia populating his desk. It hazed everything over for a moment before some, invariably, travelled up his nose. He groped for a handkerchief to stifle his resultant sneeze.
He had hardly opened his eyes again when he was overtaken by the strongest coughing fit he'd ever had. His throat burned like fire as the hacking coughs clawed their way up it, tearing out of it violently, like birds imbued with savagery.
When he pulled the cloth from his lips, it was stained with blood.
A cold chill crept over his heart as he took out his phone with numb fingers and made an appointment with a physician straight after work.
The blank sterility of the big, multi-branched hospital he found himself in jarred Kirishima. Hospitals had never been on his list of top ten vacation spots, especially in light of his experiences with them. He found it unnerving to list off his symptoms redundantly- he had them down by rote now, seeing as that, after a grim moment of consideration, his doctor had rattled off a list of tests he must take and departments he must visit.
Suffice to say, after having been poked with countless needles, subjected to enough x-radiation to kill off a small tissue culture, and having various body fluids drawn, Kirishima was pretty fucking jumpy.
He jumped to his feet, glad of an excuse to do so, when the white-robed figure that carried more sway than any god in this temple approached him, customary impassive expression firmly in place.
"Kirishima-san, we'll need to do a CT scan, along with a lung biopsy as soon as possible. Is tomorrow convenient?"
"Ah, yes," Kirishima said distractedly. A lung biopsy?
"Very well. You may not eat or drink anything eight to ten hours before the tests, so I suggest you come in right after breakfast time."
"Understood. I'll come by around ten-thirty. May I ask what the symptoms mean?"
"It's too early to tell anything yet, but we'll have something more concrete after the biopsy. I'll make you an appointment."
"Thank you. Please excuse me."
"Please get some rest and take care not to exert yourself."
Kirishima numbly exited the hospital and walked to the train station, mind in overdrive. If the doctor had been so worried, it could be nothing good, could it? But then again, he sternly reminded himself, it's kind of a medical profession prerequisite to look like that.
But suppose, just suppose something should happen to him? If, in the worst-case scenario, should he have to go away for treatment, what would Hiyori do? Independent as she might seem, there was no way she could spent weeks, maybe even months without him.
He knew, in his heart, that Yokozawa would take care of her as he had. But who would take care of Yokozawa? And how would Kirishima possible survive any length of time away from him? From Hiyo? And his job—
Kirishima firmly stoppered this train of thought before it could drag on any further, walking more briskly. Worrying like this would get him nowhere, except maybe on the way to a stomach ulcer in addition to whatever he had coming to him.
And hey, he didn't know what he had coming to him, so there was an equally high possibility that it was only something minor. He'd be fine. He couldn't tell Yokozawa yet, no use in getting him to worry over what was probably nothing, especially when he had the whole Editorial Board thing on his plate.
Autumn was at its close, and a chill permeated the air, its haughty gaze watching over the commuters like some esoteric god. The scent of summer sakura still lingered.