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When Shinsuke Saihara got the call from Hope’s Peak Academy he was furious. No. Strike that. Shinsuke was furious long before that. He was furious the moment he got the call from the Tokyo Correctional Precinct. The moment he learned that the bastard who’d traumatized his nephew had escaped.
Shinsuke wasn’t one to get mad easily. Oh, sure, he got irritated. Rubbed his temples to soothe an oncoming headache brought on by annoying paperwork and frustrating cases. But not mad. Mad was a stronger emotion, a larger emotion. Mad was a billowing fire where irritated was just some sparking coals. Shinsuke got irritated, but when it was time for the fire to finally light it just… didn’t. He got tired, not mad, and the sparking embers died down into nothing.
The best example Shinsuke could think of was Shuichi’s parents. Shinsuke’s… brother. God, what he would give to be mad at that man. Mad at him for abandoning Shuichi, for treating his son like trash, for all the pain and suffering he’d caused. But no matter what, Shinsuke just… couldn’t bring himself to be mad. Maybe it was the fact that Shigeru was his brother. Maybe all those childhood memories had wedged their way between him and his rage. But Shinsuke wasn’t mad at his brother. Just… tired. Exhausted by the weight of his actions and too tired to be anything but viscerally upset and disappointed. Upset that THIS was how everything turned out and disappointed with who his brother had become.
Hana said that was fine. Shinsuke didn’t need to be mad. She held enough rage for the both of them. Should Shigeru and Masami Saihara ever dare to show their faces again, she’d handle it. After all, hell hath no fury stronger than hers.
God, Shinsuke loved his wife.
All that was to say, Shinsuke didn’t get mad often. But when he learned that Shuichi could be in danger, all logic went out the window. It was like that dreadful day all over again. His first instinct, his only instinct, was to rush over to Hope’s Peak to protect Shuichi himself. To make sure the boy never left his sight, so that no asshole could whisk him away while his back was turned like last time.
Shinsuke didn’t think he could ever forgive himself for last time. For letting Shuichi take that case. For bringing him to the police station to present his findings. And, most of all, for letting Shuichi out of his sight.
Shinsuke didn’t get mad often. But that day? He was furious.
A child. They brought a CHILD to the arrest. A kind, shy, innocent child who just wanted to help, who didn’t sign up for any of this, to the arrest of a dangerous murderer. They brought HIS NEPHEW to the arrest of a dangerous criminal WITHOUT his permission.
The coals didn’t just spark. They ignited.
God, the look on Shuichi’s face when Shinsuke finally arrived at the scene. The fear. The terror. Shinsuke was barely able to maintain enough composure to guide Shuichi into the car before he lost it on the officers. Years worth of anger flowing out of him all at once. Righteous fury aimed at every single person who had ever caused his nephew grief.
For a moment, he let himself be mad at his brother, childhood memories be damned. To hell with late nights reading manuscripts Shigeru wrote just for him under the covers. Shuichi was sitting in the car with a thousand-yard stare, looking traumatized out of his mind and his father wasn’t even there. Wouldn’t even give a damn if Shinsuke called him. How dare he!
How dare these people come into his life and hurt his child! It didn’t matter that Shuichi was his nephew and not his son, that was his child. His! And they hurt him!
Hadn’t he been hurt enough?! By his mother. By his father. By the entertainment industry. And now by the bastard police officer who thought it was a smart idea to bring a minor to an arrest. Shinsuke never screamed louder than he had that day. Yelling at the rotten people who dared to hurt his kid.
The rage didn’t last though. No, by the time Shuichi had locked himself in his room, refusing to come out for days (such painfully long days) all that was left was exhaustion. Tired. Once again, Shinsuke was tired, and all he could do was knock on his nephew’s door and pray that someday it would open.
When Shinsuke heard that the man who had traumatized Shuichi had escaped from prison he wanted to march into Hope’s Peak and drag his kid to safety. But Hope’s Peak wouldn’t allow him on campus.
It was so stupid. Some nonsense security protocol that made no sense combined with a restriction that was no doubt put in place just so the school didn’t have to deal with worrywart and overprotective parents visiting every weekend despite the fact that their kid was technically in a boarding school.
They assured Shinsuke that someday he would be allowed to visit the campus. That each class at some point got a Friends & Family Day where everyone got to mingle and explore the campus but Shinsuke didn’t care. That didn’t help him in the moment. He didn’t care if he got to visit later. He needed to be there now.
Hope’s Peak assured him that his nephew would be safe. That they had the head of security on the case and that Shuichi was in good hands. Shuichi himself had, when Shinsuke called him, told him that he was doing his best to stay safe and that he had people he trusted to look out for him.
And, while it was reassuring that Shuichi had people he trusted (Friends. Did he have friends? Did his nephew finally manage to make friends? God, it would be so good if that were true.) Shinsuke couldn’t help but worry. Still. He accepted there was nothing he could do, did his best to stop Hana from tearing Hope’s Peak apart brick by brick if it meant getting to Shuichi and bundling him up in her arms, and waited with bated breath for something to happen.
And OH. Did something HAPPEN.
It was early in the morning when he got the call. And when Shinsuke said early he meant EARLY. Like, four in the morning early. He and Hana were woken up by his phone blaring at the god-awful time of four in the morning just to find that the killer had snuck his way into Hope’s Peak, found his nephew, and severely injured him before finally getting caught.
And he still wasn’t allowed to visit.
Oh, Shinsuke felt like he could burst a blood vessel. They said he would be safe! That they had everything under control! The liars. The rotten miserable liars! Shinsuke could only pray that SOMETHING good had come out of Shuichi going to that school because if it didn’t Shinsuke was pulling him out and suing that place for everything they were worth.
Shuichi seemed to think so, if his text a couple days later letting Shinsuke know that he was safe seemed to imply. He couldn’t call because he had to let his throat heal (and God was it nerve-wracking to have his nephew be so far away and not be able to hear his voice) but he was safe and insisted he would be fine.
It all seemed to come back to those people he trusted. Shinsuke supposed if Shuichi was able to make friends then everything else would be worth it. He just hoped those people were real and not just something Shuichi made up in order to appear as less of a burden. God knows that kid needed someone his age to confide in.
So maybe Shinsuke was a little nervous now that Shuichi was coming home. Nervous to see just what Hope’s Peak had done to him. Desperately hoping it was a net positive and not the disaster Shinsuke feared it was. That the wretched school had been good for something and not just a new place for Shuichi to gain trauma.
Shinsuke prepared for a lot that day. He prepared for Shuichi’s over-politeness. For him to come home a patchwork mess of anxiety and pain. For the same side-stepping of kindness Shuichi always did, refusing to take even a smidge of anything. As if taking was the worst thing one could do. Hana flitted about the room, desperate for a way to keep her energy low so she wouldn’t overwhelm Shuichi when he arrived. Going over her list of foods Shuichi would eat again and again to assure herself that she’d prepared enough things he would feel comfortable eating.
They’d both prepared so much. Prepared for the worst possible outcome. Which, perhaps, is why it felt so strange when Shuichi finally walked through the door.
“Hi Uncle. Hi Auntie.”
One day after Shuichi came home, Shinsuke took back every bad thing he’d ever said about Hope’s Peak Academy.
Ok. Perhaps that was an exaggeration. He still held a grudge against the jerks who refused to let him see his nephew when he was injured. But everything else was water under the bridge after Shuichi arrived home that day.
God, where to even start?
The hat. Shuichi had taken off his hat. After a warm but quiet dinner and an early bedtime, Shuichi had made his way into the kitchen the next morning. Still in his pajamas, hair messy from sleep, he stood with his hat in his hands and a nervous shake to his shoulders.
“A-At… At Hope’s Peak… I was able to take off my hat,” he stuttered out, “On… On good days. I-I haven’t really… done it since… you know. But… I want to get into the habit again. And I thought it’d be easier to start over the summer. With… with you guys.”
Shy eyes looking up at his face, it took everything Shinsuke had to avoid wrapping Shuichi up in a hug right then and there.
It’d been so long since Shinsuke got to see Shuichi’s eyes. That horrible case happened when Shuichi was just thirteen. He was sixteen now. God, had it really been three years? Three years since that terrible day. Four years since he stepped into Shinsuke’s home, so tiny with so many stains from the past. Four whole years.
In all of those years, Shinsuke couldn’t recall a smile brighter than when Shuichi talked about his friends. When he talked about his BOYFRIEND.
Breakfast that morning was emotional. For one, Shuichi rarely if ever had breakfast before. So the mere fact that he sat down to eat at all was a miracle. Hana nearly tripped over herself to get him a plate, smiling wide as she did. Beyond that, there was just… a lot to talk about. So much to finally unpack.
Shinsuke hung off his nephew’s every word. Voice so full of emotion, soft, but no less powerful for it, he let the events of the past year wash over him.
Shuichi had therapy appointments (now teletherapy) with the former Ultimate Therapist, Ms. Gekkogahara, every week. Shuichi was learning piano thanks to one Kaede Akamatsu and was wondering if they could get an upright piano so he could continue practicing over the break. Shuichi had training sessions over video call with his friends Kaito and Maki every night, exercising in the backyard despite almost never stepping foot in the backyard before. Shuichi had a boyfriend who was funny and charming and never failed to get him to smile. Shinsuke felt like taking out a notepad and pen just to get everything down.
There was a Kokichi and a Kaito and a Kaede and a lot of K names if he was being perfectly honest but Shuichi spoke of them like they were national treasures and that’s all that mattered. All that mattered was that Shuichi had gone from having no friends to having all the friends in the blink of an eye and Shinsuke couldn’t be happier for him.
Hana was right. Apparently, all it took to get Shuichi to finally realize he was worthy of love, no strings attached, was some friends his own age. People who he didn’t rely on for clothes, housing, and food to spend time with him for no other reason than that they enjoyed his company.
“You guys… love me,” Shuichi spoke, “Don’t you?”
“Always,” Hana insisted, “You’re a good kid, Shuichi. Couldn’t possibly ask for a better one.”
“Right…” Shuichi nodded, laughing softly, “It’s funny. Took me so long to realize that but, looking back, it seems kinda obvious.”
“Things tend to be obvious in hindsight,” Shinsuke pointed out, “When you’re in the moment, things get clouded. That’s not your fault at all.”
“Thanks… I,” Shuichi paused, “Really. Thank you. You’re more parents than my real ones ever will be.”
Shinsuke swore he felt his heart melt.
Things weren’t perfect right off the bat. Of course not. There were days when Shuichi wore his hat low over his head. Where the sound of gut-wrenching sobs echoed from his room during teletherapy. Moments when he skipped breakfast, where Hana had to remind him that it wasn’t a sin to have a little snack if he was hungry. But things were BETTER. So, so much better.
Even everyone at the office could tell! Shinsuke watched as Shuichi let himself get roped up in the pointless arguments Daichi and Kiku always had. Bickering about the merits of vanilla over chocolate or whether smoothies were better than shakes. He watched as Shuichi laughed at Nao’s sarcastic barbs. Actually joining in when Nao made yet another blithe remark about the police and their stubborn pride and stupidity. Shinsuke watched as his wonderful nephew spoke up and traded theories and finally grew out of his tiny corner loveseat and coffee table to sit at a proper desk. To take up space without feeling bad for it. To feel like a proper part of the office. A part of their family.
Chika snuck up behind him one night at the office, as the sun set and Shuichi’s laser focus on a case resulted in him setting up for his nightly video call with friends at his desk. Taking his laptop down and setting it on the floor so he could do situps and pushups as Nao went over a robbery and Kiku looked over an infidelity case.
“He’s smiling more,” she said, bumping him on the shoulder, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him this happy.”
“Yeah,” Shinsuke agreed, “He’s doing better.”
Daichi let out a whoop as Shuichi started his pushups, cheering him on as he waved to the kids on the other side of the screen.
Chika laughed, “At this rate, he’ll be buffer than everyone here. Can you imagine? Little Shuichi, all grown up with a six-pack. Gone from raising an actor, to a detective, to an athlete.”
“To a pianist,” Shinsuke added.
“Oh?”
“He became friends with one at Hope’s Peak,” Shinsuke explained, “Kaede, I believe is her name. She started giving him lessons and, well, he wanted to continue practicing during the break. It’s just a small upright, nothing too special, but the house has been filled with quite a lot of music lately.”
Chika shook her head in disbelief, “You sure he didn’t get replaced with a doppelganger over there?”
“Believe me, I could hardly believe it myself.”
Shinsuke spared a glance at his nephew, only to see Kiku ditching her casefiles in favor of challenging Daichi to a pushup competition. As if neither were willing to admit that they were more out of shape than a scrawny high schooler. One of Shuichi’s friends said something muffled over the call, causing him to snort and chuckle, nearly falling on his face as he laughed. Nao just rolled his eyes, but Shinsuke still saw a small smile creeping over his face.
“It’s nice,” Chika said, “The office is always lively, but it’s a coffee-induced twenty-fifth hour kinda lively. This though? This is nicer. …Better.”
Better. Not perfect. Not fixed. Just better. Like when you wake up in the morning and you still have a headache, but it’s softer. No longer throbbing. Just a dull ache in the background.
The past clings to you, like a coffee stain on a shirt. Something that, no matter how hard you try, never quite goes away. Just fades.
Shinsuke could see all the stains adorning Shuichi’s body. Saw them the moment the little boy set foot upon his doorstep. Finally acknowledged them when Shigeru pushed back the clock that very first time, leaving his excited son to crumble as he realized that mommy and daddy weren’t coming home when they said they would. That they might not be coming home at all.
All the stains were still there, now accompanied by some newer, fresher ones thanks to one Ichirou Hashimoto. But they were fading. Deep stains finally starting to fade thanks to the collective efforts of so many people. So many people that truly, deeply, genuinely cared about his nephew. His nephew, who was finally starting to peek through all the stains. No longer covered to the point where he could barely be seen.
THIS was Shinsuke Saihara’s nephew. Clever and driven and so SO kind. A wonderful boy Shinsuke couldn’t be prouder of. Deserving of love and care and the best the world could offer.
And maybe Shinsuke couldn’t give him the best. Maybe perfection was an impossible ideal and nothing Shinsuke or Hana or anyone could do could quell the tides of misfortune. But that was fine. Because things didn’t need to be the best. They just needed to be better.
Standing in the office, watching as Shuichi pushed himself to achieve a better physical and mental state of being. As his ragtag group of detectives laughed and joked and improved their lives as much as they improved their skills. As he recalled how Shuichi played that brand new upright piano in their living room, as Shinsuke and Hana danced around the living room and all three of them sang and stumbled over themselves in joy.
“Better,” Shinsuke repeated, “Yeah. Yeah, everything’s gotten a whole lot better.”
“A hundred and twenty-five pushups!” Kaito yelled through the computer, “Bro, that’s a new record!”