The soft hum of cicadas filled the air as Ryoma pushed open the door to his family home, a familiar creak breaking the silence. The scent of savory curry wafted through the hall, mingling tantalizingly with the warmth of nostalgia. He stepped inside, and beside him, Sakuno quietly took in her surroundings, her eyes wide with wonder.
In the living room, Ryoma's gaze immediately swept to the couch where Nanjiro sat immersed in the folds of a newspaper. His carefree demeanor, forever unruffled, broke into a grin as he looked up, "Oh, you came, Seishounen. Sakuno, you're here too!"
Sakuno bowed slightly, a soft smile illuminating her face. "Yes."
Just then, Rinko stepped gracefully from the kitchen, wiping her hands on a towel. Her eyes sparkled with delight at the sight of the young couple. "You two are here. Perfect timing; let's have dinner together."
"Oh, is there anything I can help with?" Sakuno offered, stepping a bit forward, her heart swelling at the warm family atmosphere.
Rinko chuckled softly, her laughter like gentle bells ringing in the quiet room. "This is like having a daughter. It's okay; I've finished everything. Just sit."
Ryoma, however, seemed more preoccupied. He scanned the room, searching for a familiar face. "Where's Aniki? He said he wanted to give me something."
Nanjiro shrugged, leaning back against the couch. "How would I know? He barely comes home, maybe he won't come back tonight."
At that moment, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway, and out emerged Nanako, radiating warmth and light. "Ryoma-san! Long time no see." She called, her eyes brightening at the sight of him.
"Nanako-neesan." Ryoma exclaimed, his voice rising in surprise and affection. "What are you doing here?"
"My husband has work nearby, so I decided to come and visit," she replied with an infectious smile. Her happiness was contagious, spreading throughout the room like sunlight peeking through clouds.
Ryoma noticed a small figure in the corner of the room, a boy with tousled hair focused intently on a piece of paper, crayons scattered at his feet. "Naoki." Nanako called, her voice echoing with motherly pride. "Come greet your uncle."
The little boy looked up, his big eyes sparkling with excitement. "Hello, Uncle Ryoma." he said, bowing awkwardly in a cute imitation of his mother.
"Hello," Ryoma said, awkwardly mimicking the child's bow, his heart swelling with a strange mix of joy and fondness.
With dinner set before them, a colorful spread of rice, curry, and fresh vegetables, the atmosphere became even more vibrant as conversation flowed. They shared stories, laughter bubbling over their dishes, while the light in the room dimmed to a soft golden hue. Sakuno watched Ryoma with a shy smile, admiring how he interacted with his family. It was a side of him that rarely revealed itself, and each moment made her heart flutter.
After having dinner, Ryoma walked Sakuno to the stairs. "You should go upstairs, Sakuno. You must be tired." His voice was gentle, yet firm, like the way an old tree offers shelter from a storm.
Rinko instantly perked up, concern flashing across her features. "Sakuno, you are tired? Do you perhaps have nausea or something?" She leaned forward slightly, eyes wide with maternal worry.
Ryoma raised an eyebrow, unsure of where these sudden concerns were coming from. "What are you talking about, Mom?" There was no nausea; why would Rinko leap to such conclusions?
Sakuno waved her hand dismissively, a small smile creeping onto her face. "No, I don't have nausea, just feeling tired from school." Her voice was soft, but there was a hint of exasperation.
"Oh, right," Rinko said, her tone soothing. "You should take care of yourself. It's okay, go rest."
"Then I'll be upstairs," Sakuno replied. She continued walking on the stairs, and made her way toward Ryoma's room.
The chatter at the table resumed once she left. Nanjiro couldn't resist the urge to poke fun at the younger couple. "I told you, Rinko, Ryoma can't do it on the first try," he remarked slyly, clearly referring to the unspoken expectations surrounding Sakuno's fatigue.
Rinko shot him a disapproving look. "It doesn't matter, I'm just worried about Sakuno-chan." Her voice brimmed with affection as she spoke her daughter-in-law's name.
Nanako giggled at the exchange. "It's okay, Uncle, Aunt, let them enjoy each other's company a bit longer."
"What are you all talking about?" Ryoma asked, irritation clouding his typically composed demeanor.
Nanjiro grinned, unfazed by Ryoma's annoyance. "Your skill must be the worst."
"What?" Ryoma's face twisted in incredulity.
"Don't mind your dad," Rinko intervened soothingly. "He just doesn't have the patience to have a grandchild yet."
"Ack! Why only me? You've been knitting the baby's sock for a while, Rinko." Nanjiro huffed, crossing his arms defensively.
A blush creeping onto Rinko's cheeks, which only elicited more laughter from Nanako. "T-that's just a hobby." Rinko said.
"Well, everyone will be happy, right, if there's good news?" Nanako added, her playful innocence providing a brief moment of lightness in the thick air of future expectations.
Ryoma, however, merely rolled his eyes. "Don't expect too much. We both don't plan on having one right now," he stated with a hint of finality, his tone serious as he looked pointedly between his parents.
"Why is that?" Nanjiro pushed, not ready to let the subject drop.
"We're both busy. Who's going to take care of the kid?" Ryoma replied, a mixture of frustration and practicality welling up within him.
Nanjiro chuckled, leaning back in his chair. "You think I'm too old to take care of your child?"
Ryoma shot him a bored look. "You are the last person I'll ask to take care of my kid."
"What? What's wrong with me? Look at you, I took care of you until you grew up to be a fine man, tch! What an ungrateful son."
Rinko finally interjected, hoping to defuse the escalating banter. "It's okay, just do what you think is right, as long as Sakuno-chan is okay with it."
Nanako smiled encouragingly. "Yes, that's true."
Ryoma sighed deeply, feeling the weight of familial expectations pressing down on him. "We will take care of it," he said, glancing at Nanjiro. Then, with a mischievous glint in his eye, he tossed his father's tennis racket at him. "Oyaji, let's play tennis."
Nanjiro stared at the racket incredulously, shaking his head. "Play tennis this late at night?" he scoffed.
"I will participate in the US Open soon." Ryoma insisted, his eyes sparkling at the thought of competition under the starlit sky.
With a resigned sigh and a grin tugging at the corners of his mouth, Nanjiro rose from the table. "Fine, fine."
As father and son migrated to the backyard, Rinko and Nanako exchanged glances, a silent understanding passing between them.
The moon was a golden orb hanging low in the sky, spilling its dim light over the green expanse of the tennis court beside the house. Ryoma, with determination etched across his features, stood poised at one end, racket gripped tightly in his hand. Facing him was Nanjiro.
"I'm already too old to play tennis, Ryoma," Nanjiro said, his voice filled with a teasing resignation as he bounced the ball lightly on the ground.
"Didn't you say earlier that you're not too old to take care of my kid?" Ryoma shot back, a playful smirk on his lips.
Nanjiro chuckled, waving it off. "That's a different thing entirely."
But Ryoma's eyes gleamed with an intensity that spoke of something deeper. "Play with me seriously."
"Why so serious?" Nanjiro asked, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.
"Show me your Samurai Zone," Ryoma replied, his tone laden with earnestness. There was a fire in him, a wish to transcend expectations—to prove something, not just to himself, but to everyone watching.
Nanjiro paused, contemplating Ryoma's words. The silence stretched between them, filled with unspoken memories. Finally, he sighed and nodded. "Alright then, let's go."
Nanjiro assuming a relaxed stance while Ryoma was all tension and focus. With each strike, Nanjiro could feel the years pulling at his muscles, but there was a familiar rhythm to the game, one that had been with him since his youth. As he closed his eyes, he let the wind dance around him, summoning the energy that had once made him a champion.
They began to rally. Ryoma looked at Nanjiro, made him remembered the feelings of playing with him since he was still a child. The image of the ponytailed samurai emerge from his core memory. After a while, he started breathing heavily, trying to figure out the movement of the wind. Nanjiro smirked, "Mada mada dana, seishounen."
Suddenly, the atmosphere shifted. Ryoma, feeling the pulse of the moment, matched his focus. He took a deep breath, absorbing the world around him, the rustle of leaves, the distant chirping of birds, and the cold of the night on his skin. With surprising agility, he put maximum spin on the ball and launched it towards Nanjiro.
To his astonishment, Nanjiro's eyes widened as the ball broke through his carefully constructed Samurai Zone. The force of it sent a shock of surprise coursing through him, awakening long-dormant instincts. A smirk broke across Nanjiro's face in disbelief and delight.
"Mada mada dane," Ryoma smirked, panting slightly as he felt the thrill of breaking through. Then he slumped down against the net, breaths mingling with the night cold.
But the moment was fleeting. "Ow, my back!" Nanjiro called out dramatically as he fell back onto the court. His animated cry echoed through the still air as he lay down on his back on the house floor with a pillow under him.
"You're so weak, oyaji," Ryoma said, bending over to grab a tube of balm. He took some onto his fingers, gently tapping it onto Nanjiro's back.
Nanjiro glared up at him, a mixture of annoyance and affection in his gaze. "I told you I'm too old to play! Ow! Ow! Put it on gentler!"
"Yes, yes," Ryoma replied, feigning exasperation as he continued to massage Nanjiro's aching back. A tranquil moment settled between them, the noise slowly fading into comfortable silence.
As Ryoma worked, he became aware of the warmth radiating from Nanjiro. Rinko, who had been watching from the side with a soft smile, felt her heart swell. The bond between father and son was both hilarious and touching.
Later, Ryoma stepped softly onto the creaking stairs, the familiar sounds enveloping him like a warm embrace. The day's exhaustion weighed on him, yet the thought of Sakuno brought a smile to his lips.
Reaching the landing, he opened the door to their room, and there she was, curled up in a peaceful slumber, her brown hair spread like a silky curtain around her. Dust motes danced in the air, illuminated by the silvery light spilling in from outside.
He tiptoed into the room, as quiet as a gentle breeze, not wanting to disrupt the tranquility that surrounded her. With a sigh, he made his way into the bathroom, letting the warmth of the bath wash away his fatigue.
Emerging refreshed, Ryoma slipped silently under the covers beside her. The bed felt welcoming, its warmth wrapping around him like an old friend. He turned to Sakuno, studying her delicate features as she slept. Her lips were slightly parted, and her chest rose and fell rhythmically. a serene vision of innocence that made his heart swell.
He reached out carefully, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lingering against her cheek, tracing the outline as if sketching her face upon his heart.
With his thumb brushing lovingly against her skin, he locked eyes with her even in sleep, imagining the warmth of her gaze meeting his, brightening the darkest corners of his day. And just as he had done countless times before, he brought his lips to her forehead, kissing her softly, a promise of dedication wrapped in tenderness.
As twilight deepened into night, he closed his eyes, surrendering to the lullaby of Sakuno's heartbeat. Ryoma pressed his body closer to hers, relishing in the simple intimacy of their connection.