Chapter Text
Kazuma's eyes were closed as he flowed through the movements of the kata, not needing to see when he could just feel.
How many times had he performed that kata, and so many others, over the course of his life? How many times had he gone through that same flow, kicks leading to punches leading to blocks and strikes. Leaps. Pivots.
The same precise movements, performed with the same crisp sharpness he'd always brought to his kata, and to all his karate practice.
How many times had he gone through that routine in this very room, the largest practice room in the Sohma Dojo? First as a young student, wide-eyed and eager to learn, then as a teenager, cocky and confident, desperate to prove himself and not caring how aggressive he was in the process. As a young man, finally appreciating the importance of control. A middle-aged man, happy and at peace.
And now...
Hundreds of times. Thousands. He was alone in the room, but he also wasn’t. With his eyes closed, he could almost see his younger selves moving beside him, all their movements in tandem. Younger selves pushing themselves, working to improve, bit by bit, and day by day.
How many more times would he perform that routine, comfortable and precise, before it became too much? Before the arms and legs that moved easily now became stiff and twisted with age, before the movements that had always felt natural became too painful to keep performing?
Before that space, his space, was no longer his, and the entire dojo had passed into someone else’s care?
Kazuma's eyes remained closed and his steps never faltered, even with such painful thoughts passing through his mind. He felt confident that it would be some time yet; years, with any luck, if not longer. But someday, at some time...he, like everyone who had come before him, would have to accept the limitations of age, and it would be his turn to bow out of the dojo for one final time as its master.
But not that night.
Finishing the last steps of his kata, Kazuma came to a final resting position, open hands raised and one leg stretched back behind him. For a minute he held the pose, feeling the stretch in his muscles and centering himself as he always did after a routine, then he opened his eyes.
"You can come in, if you want, Hajime."
From behind him, he heard a quiet chuckle, and the sound of soft footfalls crossing the tatami. Straightening up, Kazuma turned, his face breaking into a wide smile at the sight of his oldest grandchild.
"How did you know it was me?" Hajime asked, walking up to Kazuma with a sheepish smile. And Kazuma laughed, reaching out and giving Hajime a hug.
"I could feel it. There are very few people it could have been, and you're the only one who should be closer than Aomori prefecture," Kazuma said, releasing Hajime and looking him over. "Though I have to say, this is still rather unexpected. Is anything the matter?"
It had been months since Hajime had moved out of the dojo and into the old Sohma house where his parents had once lived. Hajime's second year at Kaibara High was well underway, with winter break on the horizon in barely over a month. While Hajime still came to the dojo twice a week for karate and once a week for dinner with Kazuma, Thursdays were not one of those days.
Kazuma had meant it when he told Hajime he could feel him watching. Kazuma had always been able to feel it, and it made him smile just as much now as it had all those years ago, back when it was Kyo watching him, wanting to talk. Now Kyo was grown, but old habits died hard; Kyo would still come up behind Kazuma sometimes, hesitating as he tried to figure out what he wanted to say.
And it was a habit that he’d passed to his children.
But at Kazuma's question, Hajime shook his head.
"No, nothing's wrong, Grandpa. I just..." he hesitated, and suddenly Kazuma realized that he was nervous. Normally Hajime was calm and collected, the polar opposite of his father at that age in so many ways.
But not that night.
Which begged the question ‘why.’
"I just...wanted to talk to you," Hajime said finally, hastening to add, "if you're not too busy."
Kazuma looked at him thoughtfully, then glanced at the clock on the wall. It was just after eight, on a school night to boot; Kazuma couldn't think of the last time Hajime had dropped in unexpectedly, especially not so late.
And he was nervous.
Again, why?
But Kazuma shook his head anyway. "No, I'm not busy. Please, sit," he said, gesturing to the tatami. "We can talk."
Both of them dropped to their knees, facing one another. And at first, they both were silent, Hajime staring down at the tatami and Kazuma silently scrutinizing Hajime's face and body language.
Hajime had started karate when he was five; he knew how to sit in seiza, and his posture in many respects was impeccable. But Kazuma's sharp eyes took in the way Hajime's hands were tightly gripping his pant legs just above the knees, the way the muscles in his arms were rigid. The way his jaw was set in that familiar hard line, in a way so very similar to Kyo's.
He was so very similar to Kyo, Hajime. Similar face, similar build. Similar hair, even if it was darker. Identically shaped eyes, even if they were brown instead of amber-red. A similar way of watching Kazuma, and a similar way of stiffening when he was trying to work up the nerve to talk about something serious.
What?
Kazuma sat calmly, his face and body relaxed, but inside he was a mass of questions.
Hajime had said there was nothing wrong, and Kazuma wanted to trust him. Hajime had never given him any reason not to trust him; responsibility might as well have been his middle name.
But it was hard for Kazuma not to feel anxious. Too much of this was unexpected; even with Hajime's assurance that nothing was wrong, there was clearly something weighing heavily on Hajime's mind, and Kazuma could only hope that talking about it would help.
Hajime was struggling to begin, and Kazuma didn't push him. Depending on the person, leading questions could often be helpful...but he'd always found that Hajime did best getting started on his own.
And there was no rush; Kazuma could be patient.
Instead, he continued to watch, and to wonder.
He'd just seen Hajime on Tuesday, and everything had seemed fine then. Casting his mind back, Kazuma couldn't think of anything that had seemed amiss in at that point; Hajime had looked and sounded the same as he ever did, and there had been nothing they'd talked about that seemed like it might be a concern. There were no parent-teacher conferences; Hajime's class trip was over and paid off. Exams were coming up, Kazuma knew, but when they'd talked about those on Tuesday Hajime had seemed almost dismissive. No one was sick, no one was injured...
So what?
When Hajime finally started speaking, his voice was soft, and he didn't lift his head. His eyes were so focused on the patch of tatami that they could practically burn a hole in it. But quiet as Hajime's voice was, his words immediately got Kazuma's undivided attention.
"I wanted...to talk to you...about Dad."
In spite of Hajime's assurance that everything was fine, the first and only thing Kazuma could think of was that something was wrong. Why else would Hajime be so serious, and appear so unexpectedly? Maybe not something health related, but something else? Something with Kyo's dojo? Something with Tohru and Kyo's home?
Kazuma's voice was suddenly sharp, and he could hear his own anxiety as he asked,
"Is everything alright in Hibe? Have you heard anything from your parents?"
Hajime could hear that concern, and he briefly looked up and met Kazuma's eyes as he rapidly shook his head. "No, it's nothing like that, Grandpa. Dad's fine, everyone's fine up there. Everything's fine up there," he corrected, and Kazuma let out a slow, relieved exhale.
But now, he was simply confused.
"Hajime, I'm afraid I need you to explain."
Hajime's gaze had dropped back down to the tatami, and as Kazuma followed it, he could see that Hajime's grip on his pant legs had tightened to the point his knuckles were white. Hajime had nodded in response to Kazuma's question, acknowledging the need to explain, but once more unable to find the words.
At first.
"Grandpa...have you ever...did you ever..."
Kazuma sat, quiet. Waiting.
Listening.
"Did you ever...when you..."
Hajime was stumbling over his words, trying to say something but not knowing how. And Kazuma heart ached as he looked at his grandson, seeing in Hajime's rigid body and hearing in his somewhat shaky voice just how incredibly hard this had to be.
But he couldn't do anything then, except for give Hajime time.
Hajime's voice got even quieter.
"Was there ever...a time...when you had to tell Dad..."
He swallowed hard, his head tipping even further forward so that Kazuma couldn't see his eyes. Then Hajime gulped, and Kazuma watched as his fingers clenched and re-clenched against his legs.
"That you were different?"
The words were barely above a whisper, but they hit Kazuma with all the force of a punch. His eyes widened, and he stared at Hajime, at the tense, anxious figure that normally stood so confident and proud. At the boy who couldn't lift his head, couldn't look Kazuma in the eye, could hardly find his own voice.
A boy who, nonetheless, was so impossibly brave.
Kazuma's mouth was dry, and he found it hard to swallow. He knew Hajime was waiting for an answer; Hajime's body was still tense, but there was the smallest hint of relaxation there, now that he had said what he needed to say.
Kazuma needed to say something...but he couldn't. Not yet.
Silence hung heavily over the two of them, neither one of them moving. Hajime's gaze remained fixed on the floor, Kazuma's on Hajime, and neither one of them spoke for what felt like an eternity. Then, finally, Kazuma recovered...
And he hated himself for it.
"No."
Hajime's head jerked up, and he looked at Kazuma in wide-eyed surprise.
"No?" he repeated, his tone confused and his expression bewildered, and Kazuma gave Hajime the barest of nods.
"No," Kazuma confirmed quietly. "I've never told your father...anything like that."
Silence followed Kazuma's words, and he felt bare and exposed under the confusion and distress in Hajime's face. It felt like hours, but it was really only a few moments before Hajime was rising to his feet, his head ducked and his eyes averted away from Kazuma's.
"Never mind, Grandpa. It's not important, anyway. I just-" He broke off, shaking his head as he turned to go. "Just never mind. Forget I asked."
"Hajime-" Kazuma began, standing as well, but Hajime was still shaking his head.
"Like I said, never mind. Good night, Grandpa, I'll see you on Saturday."
Kazuma wanted to say something, but he couldn't. Wanted to follow him, but felt as though his feet were rooted to the ground. And as the door closed behind Hajime, Kazuma slowly dropped back to the floor, his body automatically taking the seiza position he'd spent a lifetime perfecting.
One of so many things he'd spent a lifetime perfecting.
And he sat there, lost in his own thoughts without seeing the room, or noticing the passage of time. He was so wrapped up that he didn't notice the door open, or hear the footsteps; it wasn't until he felt the hand on his shoulder that he knew anyone else was there, and he responded with an extremely uncharacteristic jolt, jerking away and looking up at Kunimitsu with startled eyes.
Kunimitsu was clearly almost as surprised as Kazuma, and Kazuma could hardly blame him. How many times had Kazuma been told, by students and family members alike, how freakishly unfair his senses were? Kazuma, who could feel when he was being watched, who could identify who was walking up behind him by the sound of their footfalls...he was never snuck up on. Never.
"Whoa, Kazuma, you ok?" Once the surprise had passed, Kunimitsu's expression reflected concern, and he lightly replaced his hand on Kazuma's shoulder. "Is everything alright with Hajime?" he asked, suddenly worried.
"Hajime?" Kazuma's own voice was surprised, and Kunimitsu nodded.
"Yeah. He stopped by the house looking for you earlier, and I told him you were out here. Didn't he find you? It was over an hour ago," Kunimitsu said, looking up at the clock with a frown.
A glance at the clock told Kazuma it was already nine-thirty, and his eyes once more widened in surprise.
How long had he been sitting out there, alone with his thoughts?
"Yes, Hajime stopped in a while ago, of course," Kazuma said, rising to his feet. "He had something he wanted to talk to me about, but everything is fine. He left some time ago, and I was just...thinking."
"Clearly," Kunimitsu said, the frown back on his face as he studied Kazuma closely. "Kazuma, are you-"
"-Yes, Kunimitsu, I'm fine. I'm fine, Hajime is fine, everyone else is fine, too. As embarrassing as it is for me to admit, you simply caught me spacing out," Kazuma said, giving Kunimitsu a smile. "I suppose my age is finally starting to catch up to me."
Kunimitsu snorted at that, but he could tell that Kazuma wasn't going to say anything else.
"If you say so."
And although Kazuma knew Kunimitsu didn't believe him, that was ok.
He didn't need him to.