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He tends to let his calls go to voicemail these days, especially those that come before 9 AM, with the sole exception of when the caller ID lights up with his son’s name. Those he refuses to miss.
“Shou,” he answers, voice cracking with its first use of the day. “Is something wrong?”
“Yo, good morning to you too,” comes Shou’s exasperated voice through the speaker. “No, nothing’s wrong, geez.”
“You don’t usually call this early,” he says, rising from the table he’d been reading the morning paper at a moment prior.
The apartment he’s in these days is a bit small, made smaller by his habitual pacing, but it comes with the territory of attempting to live an unassuming life on the government’s short leash. He considers it a hell of an upgrade from the alternative.
“I was just, uh, wondering,” Shou rambles, dragging out each of his words like he’s bringing them into existence kicking and screaming. “Since it sounds like things aren’t as strict for you now, congrats by the way, if you’re not busy– not now, tomorrow night, I mean– if you want, I’m making dinner. At my place. And you can come over about it.”
“You’re inviting me to dinner?” He asks, trying not to sound incredulous. That’s a perfectly normal thing to ask of your father. It’s just that “perfectly normal” couldn’t be a less apt descriptor of how they are.
“You don’t have to make a big deal out of it.”
“I’m not.”
“Right, cool.”
A pause stretches on for a beat too long. He can hear a faint tapping on the other end of the line and suddenly has a very clear image of the way Shou tends to bounce impatiently appearing in his mind.
“Is there an occasion?” He asks, when Shou doesn’t continue.
“No, not really,” Shou says, sounding strangely hesitant. “But Ritsu’s sis is coming over too, so, you know, it makes sense, and all.”
“I see,” is what Touichirou replies with, instead of what he’s thinking, which is Ritsu has a sister? Since when? What do you mean there’s three of them? Because the last thing he needs to do in this situation is give Shou any reason to think he’s not taking an interest in his life. He’s trying to be a better listener. Surely he just missed some earlier mention of her.
“Is that a yes?” Shou sighs through the receiver.
“Of course it is.”
His son has been… cohabitating with one Ritsu Kageyama for the better part of two years, at this point. The little brother of the most powerful esper alive, he was mildly shocked to learn. They’d reconvened after university and rejoined themselves at the hip shortly after, moving in together even though Kageyama apparently got some impressive high-powered job after graduation, and hardly needed the assistance.
No, that’s not quite accurate. Obviously they’re dating. They just don’t use that word often. Shou always just calls him “Ritsu” when the subject arises, never “my boyfriend” or “my partner” or however it is he might refer to him with other people. But that’s what he is.
And that’s fine, by the way.
Shou seemed to have got it into his head that he had a solid “fuck you” with this one, only to bizarrely be disappointed when announcing his male paramour barely got a raised eyebrow out of him. Honestly, he really thought he did a better job of conveying where he stood on the matter, which is that such things are an utterly irrelevant detail next to what a person is capable of. Besides, who hasn’t dabbled in… Never mind. Not the point. Which is that he’s never cared about such a mundanity.
But that probably got a bit lost in all the noise.
In any case, he’s known the address of Shou’s current residence, a nice condo in a nice part of town, he’s assured, since he first moved there. Despite this, he’s never actually been to see it in person– something that was initially the fault of certain state-mandated limitations, but ultimately has had more to do with his frayed-rope relationship with its occupant. They tend to avoid interactions like that.
He may be overthinking the sudden invitation slightly.
Dinner with your son probably doesn’t warrant agonizing over what to wear, but he went back and forth on where the line between “nice” and “ostentatious” is, exactly, for longer than he’d care to admit. (The days of tailored business suits are behind him, but he still has standards. Classy sweaters and slacks are an acceptable enough substitute for casual attire, surely.) He’d wandered around a local liquor store for twenty minutes, aware that going too cheap or too expensive would land poorly. By the time it occurred to him that he’s never even seen Shou drink, it was already too late to stop somewhere else on the way over.
Standing on the joint Suzuki-Kageyama doorstep with a half-decent bottle of junmai sake that’s almost certainly too sweet for his tastes, but hopefully not for theirs, he finds himself oddly hesitant to ring the doorbell. Not sure why. It couldn’t possibly be because he’s nervous.
“‘Sup,” Shou says nonchalantly as the door swings open.
His hair is half done-up today, pushed back into a sleek style that bursts into a mess of orange waves at the nape of his neck. His jeans are ripped terribly at the knees, even though that’s been passé since he was a child. He hasn’t shaved. And he’s wearing that single, hideous earring that he knows he hates.
“Here,” he says, pushing the bottle into his son’s hands before he can jam his foot in his mouth in record time.
“Whoa, nice, you didn’t have to do that,” Shou whistles. “Ritsu’s been trying to get me to stop getting the grocery store shit for ages, I’m sure he’ll be psyched.”
“Consider it a belated housewarming gift.”
Shou grins at that, which he takes as a good sign, and says, “Well, come in then. I’m almost done with dinner.”
He takes his time slipping off his shoes and lining them up neatly beside the other three pairs sitting in a row at the foot of the genkan. A paint-stained pair of too-big sneakers, a well-kept pair of higher end-looking loafers, and some simple, inconspicuous Mary Janes with scuff marks around the heel.
Oh, that’s right, Shou did say that Ritsu’s sister would be here too. He’s a bit curious about what she’s like, given the Kageyama track record.
He can hear the murmur of light conversation floating in from the next room and wonders what his odds are of making a remotely decent first impression.
The entryway is too small and too sparsely decorated to justify dawdling any longer, so he walks through the door Shou waved him towards, and finds the living room occupied by a matching pair of siblings chatting away on the couch.
He knows Ritsu. They’ve met a few times. He actually likes Ritsu, if you can believe it, even though Ritsu makes absolutely no secret of the fact that he does not like him and never will. That’s fine. He’s a very intense young man– driven, successful, sharp in more ways than one. Exactly the sort of person he’d want keeping an eye on his son. That he’s so fiercely defensive of him is a point in his favor, as far as Touichirou is concerned.
Next to him is a young woman sitting with her hands folded politely in her lap– this mystery sister, obviously. She seems more relaxed than her brother, but there’s a quiet gravitas to her dark eyes and tall, sturdy build. She glances over from beneath her jet black fringe and seems to startle slightly at the sight of him, shoulder-length hair fanning out around her, before offering a small, awkward wave. He returns the favor.
The family resemblance is much stronger with her; she’s the spitting image of Shigeo, or rather, the image of his child self that sat pristine and untouched in his memory throughout his confinement. Maybe they’re twins? The prospect of there being two of them is slightly chilling.
“Hello, Suzuki-san.” Ritsu says, with politeness so brittle that he’s sure it’s one faux pas away from shattering into pieces. Pieces he should take care not to cut himself on.
“Hello,” he replies just as stiffly. “I hope you’ve been well.”
“I have, thank you. And you?”
“Well enough. How’s work been?”
He doesn’t know what Ritsu does for work. His answers are always generic enough that he can’t tell, to the point where he genuinely might just be messing with him. But that could just be paranoia talking.
“Not too bad lately. I think we’ll be back on track by the end of the quarter.” His lips twitch slightly. “I hope yours hasn’t been giving you too much trouble recently.”
He’s certain that Ritsu’s smart enough to have caught on to the fact that his euphemistic “volunteer work” with the state is rarely the stuff of pleasant small talk by now. That’s never stopped him before, though.
“It’s all been very manageable these days, thank you for saying so.”
His sister looks slightly awed by the back-and-forth volleying of white-knuckled manners before her. Which is never what you want to see, when trying to act naturally.
“But you were in the middle of something when I interrupted, weren’t you,” Touichirou adds mildly.
“Oh, right, sorry nee-san, you were saying?”
“It’s fine,” she says softly. “I was also talking about my job, after all.”
The older sister, as it happens, works with children in some capacity. Particularly troubled ones at that, from the sound of it. She’s not exactly the most lively storyteller, but the way she speaks, in her low, gentle register, is so painfully earnest that her passion is strikingly infectious. And awfully familiar.
Ritsu must be the odd one out in this family, he supposes.
She’s clearly speaking to her brother first, with the way she keeps omitting details that he’s likely familiar with, though her eyes keep darting over to meet his in a quick, slightly frantic motion. He’s not sure what that’s about.
“Hey, Ritsu!” He hears Shou suddenly call from the other room. “Can you come help me out for a sec?”
“Excuse me,” Ritsu says to them, unnecessarily formally. “Nee-san, sorry, will you be…”
“It’s fine, Ritsu,” she assures him, without waiting for the rest of the sentence.
He nods, as disproportionately severe as he’s beginning to learn is simply his default state, and hurries out of the room.
…Leaving him alone with the elusive older Kageyama sister. He doesn’t even know her name. He was expecting someone to have used it at least once before ending up in this situation.
He takes this chance to observe her more closely, filing his findings away with the rest of his information on this family that his son seems unlikely to untangle himself from any time soon. Firstly, that this young lady definitely shares her brothers’ talents, if her rather pronounced and familiar-feeling aura is anything to go off of. Secondly, that this hasn’t gotten in the way of maintaining a very unassuming demeanor. He doesn’t know a lot about feminine fashion trends, but he suspects she isn’t all too concerned with them either, with the way her simple, formless attire calls to mind a much older woman. Minimal makeup, too, wearing a plain-pretty face without an ounce of self-consciousness.
She seems a bit nervous, her ankle-length pleated skirt jostling slightly as she bounces her leg in place, and it occurs to him that she most likely would’ve heard about the events of a decade prior from her brothers. He may not know a thing about her, but she definitely knows a thing or two about him. Probably nothing good.
“I apologize for my rudeness, I meant to introduce myself before, but I suspect that’s not necessary,” Touichirou says, attempting to break the silence. Humbly. He’s going for humble.
“O-Oh, um,” Miss Kageyama stammers, eyes widening a minuscule fraction in dull surprise, like she wasn’t expecting him to actually talk to her. Which is strange, when they’re the only two people in the room. “No, I guess not.”
“It’s nice to meet you, by the way.”
“Ah,” she says, a hint of a smile creeping onto her face, even as everything about her demeanor continues to suggest abject confusion. “Yes, it’s nice to meet you too.”
He waits for her to complete the self-introduction, because he’d really like to know what this woman’s name is, but she stops there, and goes right back to staring off into space, apparently very curious about whatever is going on with the hydrangea bush on the other side of the window.
There’s the sound of a muted commotion in the kitchen, but it doesn’t sound serious. Shou would bite his head off for inserting himself into anything short of an emergency, and even then, maybe, so he stays put. Next to this lady who either can’t take a hint or lacks the poise to make her attempts to avoid contact with him appropriately subtle. Is she waiting for him to say something? He honestly can’t tell.
“Um–”
“I should go check on them,” Ritsu’s sister abruptly announces, standing up sharply and leaving the room before he can get a word in.
So much for that.
With little else to do, he takes the opportunity to inspect the room a bit, gleaning what he can about the way his son has been living. It’s remarkably tidy, for one thing, but he’s not sure if that was the result of pre-hosting nerves or Ritsu’s good influence. Potentially both. He seems like a stress-cleaner.
The books lining the shelf in the far corner are quite the eclectic collection, upon closer inspection. Thick tomes of drawing reference, a selection of sleek paperback bestsellers, some photographers’ coffee table books, stylish hardcover reprints of teen boy manga, two different bilingual dictionaries, and a few old classics that look like well-loved hand-me-downs all catch his eye.
Above that, there aren’t many photos on display, but he does pause in front of a more recent one, of Shou beaming at his mother’s wedding. Her second one, that is. At some point she cut her hair shorter than he’d ever seen it, it seems. It looks good on her. They both look… Light.
Well, that’s more than enough of that. There’s a perfectly lovely frame next to it containing a perfectly lovely picture of Ritsu celebrating his graduation with his sister and parents. How nice.
“Excuse me,” Ritsu’s sister says quietly, poking her head back in from the doorway. “I think they might be ready now?”
“Ah,” he replies, snapping back to attention. “Thank you for telling me.”
“Alright!” Shou announces the moment he follows her into the modest-sized dining room, plopping down a platter of grilled pork belly in between the bag salad and miso. “Help yourself!”
“Thank you for the food,” he says solemnly when he takes the free chair across from him, next to Ritsu’s sister.
“Thank you for the food,” both Kageyamas echo, manners as good as ever.
Shou’s cooking is objectively underwhelming, and profoundly delicious. He’s sure to voice the second thought, when there’s not much else being said.
His son is by far the most talkative of the bunch, but he’s also adept at coaxing them out of their shells. Soon enough they settle into meaningless chatter that’s almost… comfortable. Almost. He still feels a bit like he’s doing a tightrope walk.
A name or two gets tossed around, as they often do in casual conversation, but he doesn’t have the faintest idea who this Kurata or Hanazawa is. And what the hell kind of a name is Dimple, anyways? He must have misheard that one.
The only one he does recognize gives him a bit of pause.
“That’s right, Serizawa said he was going to stop by to drop off that game he borrowed from me if he ends up in the area tonight,” Shou blurts out suddenly. “I totally forgot.”
“Oh, I could’ve done that for him, if I’d known,” Ritsu’s sister says mildly.
So she knows him too? That shouldn’t come as too much of a surprise, given how close these siblings seem to be, but it certainly feels… Odd. He must be a lot more social these days.
“Nah, it’s fine, it’s not like you two see each other basically every day anymore.”
“I suppose not.”
He tries to keep his face schooled into neutral disinterest, despite how curious he finds that comment. Were they… coworkers? Classmates? No, the former seems much more likely, given what he remembers about Serizawa’s second employer. Is that guy seriously leeching off an entire family? Shameless.
“Ah, were you two–”
“You did warn him about our guest, right?” He catches Ritsu mutter under his breath as he leans into his partner’s space. Quiet enough to keep his sister from hearing, though he suspects he doesn’t care if the guest in question is able to pick up his bitter tone.
“Hm? Yeah, it’s fine, of course I did,” Shou replies flippantly.
Touichirou snaps his jaw shut with a click and decides not to interject that things between him and Serizawa are… Well, not fine, that’s a bit of an unattainable goal considering everything, but they’ve at least talked over the past decade. There’s an understanding there. But he’s not supposed to be privy to this exchange, technically.
“Sorry, were you going to say something?” Ritsu’s sister asks him, cocking her head to the side.
“I was just surprised to hear you’re so close with Serizawa, that’s,” he begins cordially. Not cordially enough for her brother, apparently. Why is he eyeing him like that? He cuts himself short. “Nice.”
“Oh, yes, we’ve kept in touch,” she responds cheerily, as if that explains anything.
He decides it’s probably in his best interest to not dwell on the subject of Katsuya Serizawa for too long, and asks Shou how his current art project is coming along instead.
This soon gives way to an anecdote about some cat he saw at the park yesterday, to a surprisingly impassioned stance on the local greenery from Ritsu, to a tangent from his sister about how their dad is trying to take up gardening as a hobby. He isn’t having much luck with his kabocha, apparently, but she thinks he’s got a good attitude about it. Which is nice.
The Kageyama parents sound remarkably ordinary. But based on the way their children, and Shou, for that matter, talk about them, they also sound rather pleasant. He’s learning quite a bit about them just from his lukewarm participation in this conversation, filling out his picture of this family a little bit more.
It’s just, he can’t help but notice that no one’s mentioned Shigeo since he got here. Which, for what it’s worth, doesn’t strike him as all that strange considering that the first time they met they threw buildings at each other, and the second time they met he came pretty damn close to killing himself. He would understand completely if Shigeo has no interest in ever seeing him again, and would rather be kept out of this altogether. Frankly, he has no idea what they’d have to say to each other, either. But he does sincerely wish him well.
That debt never did get cleared, as far as he’s concerned. He doesn’t like owing people things.
So, the way he sees it, there are two likely scenarios here. The first is that Shigeo wants absolutely nothing to do with him, these three are respecting that, and speaking his name will upend the delicate balance they’ve cultivated here. The second is that it’s been nothing but pure coincidence, and they’re waiting for him to be the one to take on the responsibility of breaking that ice.
(A third possibility does, briefly, mortifyingly, occur to him, but he dismisses it as absurd. Surely someone would have thought to tell him if that were the case.)
He should say something, though, right? As a peace offering.
“If it’s alright, please do give my regards to,” he nearly trips over his words, deciding at the last second that mentioning Shigeo specifically is not a risk worth taking, “the rest of your family.”
Ritsu looks deeply unimpressed when he nods back at him.
“I’m sure you’ll meet his parents sooner rather than later, right, Ritsu?” Shou cuts in, heavy with some insinuation that is going right over his head
“...Right,” he replies, with a strange pinched look about him. “I suppose it is inevitable.”
“It is?” His sister asks bluntly.
“Um, well,” Ritsu starts. “About that.”
Shou leans in to whisper something in his ear, actually inaudible from their side of the table this time, though he does manage to catch something to the effect of we said tonight, didn’t we? Ritsu’s sister shoots him a glance that gives him the sense that, for once, she’s just as out of the loop as he is, before going right back to fiddling with her chopsticks, arranging and rearranging them against her empty plate.
“I guess now is as good a time as any,” he says, pulling away from his partner looking a touch more jittery than a moment before. Nervous, even.
He notices Ritsu reaching for his hand under the table, and the jitters retreating shortly after.
“Is something going on?” His sister asks.
“Ritsu and I decided to go ahead and tie the knot already,” Shou announces proudly.
A beat of silence falls over the table. Someone’s glass clinks against a plate. He struggles to process what was said.
“Oh, um, wow, congratulations!” Ritsu’s sister says first, sounding a little forced. Just a little, though. Her smile seems genuine.
“Thank you, nee-san,” he replies just as genuinely.
“So that means…” She muses, looking wide-eyed over at Shou and trailing off. “Oh, wow.”
“Exciting, right, sis?” Shou laughs.
“It’s a little crazy,” she says, still smiling gently. “I’m very happy for you, Ritsu. Really.”
“...Pops?”
Shou is looking at him expectantly. The siblings too. He needs to say something.
The truth is, it’s honestly overwhelming, the thought that his boy has grown up and fallen in love and wants to settle down, maybe even start a family, as far as the world will permit it. That he wants to take on life’s most emotional challenges with this person he’s known since his absolute lowest point. That he’s this determined to succeed where his father failed, becoming the man he wants him to be more than anything in the entire world. It makes his chest tight, almost uncomfortably so, clogged with the memory of such a storied, tumultuous relationship.
For some fucking reason, the words that leave his mouth are,
“Are you certain you’re ready for that?”
Shou blinks at him. The siblings exchange glances. The room suddenly feels about ten degrees colder.
“Excuse me?”
“It was a simple question,” he says, speeding right past his last chance to backtrack.
“Right, yeah, I just don’t get why that was your first response,” Shou replies, not stopping for his, either.
“I didn’t mean to offend, Shou, I just have concerns.”
“Like what, exactly?” He questions. “Because I’d love to hear them.”
“It’s just, you’re still very young, and the climate around your sort of couple is…”
“Oh my god,” Ritsu says, pinching the bridge of his nose. Out of the corner of his eye he can see his sister not even trying to hide her attempts to melt into her chair. She looks a bit queasy.
“I’m just saying that without legal status you have to consider the possible ramifications–”
“And I don’t get why you’d just assume I didn’t!”
“That’s all you had to say. Don’t get so worked up.”
“I’m not worked up, you’re the one who had to go and be a buzzkill thirty seconds after I tried to tell you something nice.”
“We do intend to get it recognized abroad,” Ritsu interjects, ever the pragmatist, clearly understanding what he’s getting at better than his son did. This is why he likes him. “It’s not ideal, but it should give us a leg to stand on, should problems arise in the future.”
Someone at the table is using their aura to stack the now-abandoned and empty dishes, which as far as obvious attempts to end a social situation go, is an impressively tasteful one. Shou grabs them more forcefully than he needs to.
“Oh my god, that is so not the point right now,” Shou groans. “Who cares what some dusty family registry says! I don’t!”
“Shou, it’s irresponsible not to care when the material reality is–”
“Like I need marriage advice from you!” He spits back, rising from the table with his clacking pile of plates and stomping into the kitchen.
Ritsu fails to hide a mean snicker at that. His sister, to her credit, is suddenly very interested in the floor.
“You should probably–”
“I’m aware.”
He collects the remaining kitchenware scattered over the table into a tightly balled fist and trails after him, paying no mind to the severe-sounding whispered exchange the Kageyamas swap behind him.
It’s a thin partition separating the two spaces. He tries not to think about how they’ll probably hear anything either of them have to say about this.
Shou doesn’t look up from the sink when he steps into the room, making a rather aggressive show of washing the dishes, but there’s still an unmistakable moment of recognition. It’s hard to describe, the way two auras cut from the same cloth will harmonize in the other’s company. It’s like another limb, or a sixth sense. He didn’t notice it for the longest time.
“Yeah, I know, I’m too soft and too emotional and I’m gonna die out there, can we just get it over with.”
Touichirou frowns at his words, but feels stubbornness locking up his body, standing frozen across the tiled floor. Shou’s posture suggests the same. That’s another thing he gave him, after all.
“I just,” he starts, attempting to select his words carefully and coming up short. “Worry.”
Shou turns the faucet off and stills. He sighs deeply, dramatically, even, and casts a glance over his shoulder.
“You worry.”
He gets the sense that might have been the wrong thing to say, but it really was his best attempt at gentle honesty.
“Yes,” he says anyway, because digging his heels in always goes over so well. “Of course I do, when you behave like this.”
“Why can’t you just, for once, be happy for me?” Shou exclaims, before clasping exasperated palms against his flushed and frustrated face, like he’s always had a habit of doing after showing his hand. “Don’t answer that. I don’t want to hear it.”
“I’m not–“ Touichirou starts, trying to grit his teeth down on his own mounting frustration. “I am happy you found Ritsu, I think he’s a perfectly respectable, responsible–“
“Guy! He’s a guy!” His son interrupts. “I get that might be weird for you, old man, but–”
“I already told you once that the gender of who you choose to date is not a concern of mine,” he interrupts right back.
“Oh, sure, I can date him but god forbid I try to marry him.”
“I’m not saying that, I just want you to think realistically about the future,” Touichirou states sternly. “There’s a lot that you’re not considering.”
“It’s not exactly rocket science,” he spits back, “Ritsu’s been there for me longer than anyone, definitely longer than some people, so I’m going to marry him. It’s that simple.”
“Is it? Because it sounds to me like you’re describing something sentimental and childish.”
He’s being too harsh again. He’s being mean. But a twenty-three-year-old should understand something this simple before making such a massive life choice. There’s a lot more to marriage than simply being in love. If that were all it took, things would probably be a lot different.
“Fuck off,” Shou huffs. At some point in his budding adulthood he realized he could get away with speaking to him that way without consequence. He imagines that it’s probably quite cathartic.
He turns the water back on, filling the silence with it and the furious scrubbing of porcelain. Against his better judgement, Touichirou doesn’t, in fact, fuck off as requested, but takes a place at the counter beside him, dropping his collection of chopsticks and smaller sauce plates on it with a dull sound.
“Marriage is a legal arrangement, Shou.” he explains over the noise. “Without the paperwork it’s just a trust fall for romantic idiots.”
“So, what, you want me to wait around until everyone suddenly decides to get with the program? That’s not happening.”
“Obviously only the small-minded and trite would take issue with something as petty as preference, but success in society is predicated on playing their game. Really, you should know better.”
Shou huffs and folds his arms, regarding him and his assessment skeptically, before returning to his task. He doesn’t comment on what business his father even has thinking about that.
(He surely has his suspicions by now, but they’ve never acknowledged them. Not beyond the rare veiled jab about closet cases in the family.)
“You seemed perfectly happy living in your own reality.”
“And I was under the impression that you disagreed with that.”
“Ugh! Stop moving the bar like that!” Shou exclaims, dropping the last of the dishes into the sink with a clatter to point a wet and accusatory finger at him. “You always do that!”
“I do not–”
“Yes you do! All the time!” He replies. “You want me to meet your standards, and do things your way, except for, you know, the specific parts that ruined your stupid life, but that’s not how it works!”
He really should’ve known this was about more than just the wedding announcement.
“I care about your place in the world, Shou,” he insists. “And I want you taken care of, so–”
“Oh that is rich!” Shou yells. “What the hell does it matter to you?!”
“Because I’m your father!”
Shou flinches, but his defiant expression remains the same, like it always has, and a hot flash of shame hits him all the more for it. He shouldn’t have raised his voice like that. An apology bubbles up only to pridefully stick in his throat.
It occurs to him that if the Kageyamas in the other room couldn’t hear every word of their argument before, they definitely can now.
“I’m your father,” he tries again, more calmly. “So it’s my job to look out for you.”
Shou stares at him incredulously, mouth agape, face washed out under the striking overhead lights. He doesn’t look anything like the little boy who tried to take the entire world onto his shoulders right now. What he sees are his own tired eyes boring into him.
“You picked a hell of a time to start doing that,” he snorts derisively. “Asshole.”
“Yes,” he concedes, tired. “I know.”
“Well,” Shou says. “Your opinion is duly noted, so,” he waves a hand flippantly, “you can leave now. Thank you for your input.”
He takes a step back. It’s a rare feeling for him, being so sure that he has no choice but to concede the last word. He doesn’t care for it.
The cabinets slam as Shou puts the dishes away with more hostility than strictly necessary. He should probably go.
He should probably go, or just swallow his pride already.
“Shou.”
“What.”
“Please look at me.”
Shou pauses with one hand on the countertop and another in the shelves, and peels himself from the position at a snail's pace, reluctance as openly apparent as it could possibly be. When he looks at him, he looks downright petulant.
“I’m…” He can’t hesitate here. “I’m sorry,” he forces out, the simple phrase sliding over his tongue like molasses.
Shou furrows his brow skeptically and frowns.
“For?”
“It’s your life. You should do what you think will satisfy you.”
His expression doesn’t change much, or at least, it wouldn’t to the casual observer. But Touichirou knows what to look for, and sees a little bit of the tension drain from his scowl. He leans back against the counter, eyes cast down at the floor, and exhales.
Touichirou steps closer to him, and hesitates. Affection comes about as easily to them as it would to a skittish, injured prey animal, and with a higher chance of getting bitten.
Shou’s much taller now, but he still has a decent few centimeters on him. The one thing he got from his mother. He brushes away an ungelled orange curl sticking to his sweat-slicked forehead, and presses a feather-light kiss in its wake, like he would when he was a little boy. Shou doesn’t say anything, but he feels him lean into him, and hesitate before pulling away.
“Okay, geez, I get it, you bastard,” he grumbles anyways, rubbing at his forehead. “You can still be in the wedding party if you really want to so bad.”
“I strongly suspect that will depend on your fiancé’s approval.”
Shou finally cracks a smile at that. Good.
“I wouldn’t hold your breath for it.”
“Fair enough.”
He huffs a dry little laugh. It gets slightly easier to breathe.
Apologizing has gotten somewhat easier, bit by bit, over the years, but he doubts he’ll ever master the part that comes afterwards, where you all have to sit in your own vulnerability. He suspects Shou isn’t partial to it either, with how quick he always is to recoil and deflect such sincerity after the fact. Perhaps he shouldn’t have made it so foreign to him in the first place.
“You’ve told your mother about this development, I hope,” he segues, hoping to get them out of this territory quickly.
“Nope, she’s second on the list.”
“Oh,” he replies dumbly.
“I had a feeling yours would go more,” he gestures vaguely and half-heartedly. “Like that.”
“...I see.”
“Hey,” Shou plants a hearty pat on his upper arm. “Coulda been worse, right?”
“You shouldn’t have to account for worse.”
“Huh,” he says, grin wavering, hand stilling in the air beside his father. He looks somewhere between bewildered and sad. “Guess not.”
Ah, he went and got too close to that weak spot again. He’s getting sloppy.
“We should, uh,” Shou says, sounding a little disoriented as he moves away again, back towards the exit. “Probably see how Ritsu and his sis are doing after we left them alone.”
“Somehow, I doubt they’re being as melodramatic.”
“Oh, you should’ve seen Ritsu’s sis when she first heard we got together,” he laughs, swinging his hands up behind his head. “But yeah, probably not. She’s real zen these days.”
“I imagine he’s probably had a less complicated time with her,” Touichirou hums, partially to himself.
“Are you kidding me? Those two are–”
Shou pauses abruptly as a very strange smile creeps in to split his face. He’s not sure why and suspects he won’t like the answer.
“Wait, Pops, do you seriously still not realize who that–”
“Shou! There’s someone at the door!”
Right. Serizawa. The thought of seeing him now seems a little much, honestly.
“Oh, man, I forgot about that again,” Shou whines, probably thinking something very similar. He looks up at him exasperatedly, so he gives him a stern nod towards the front of his home. He wasn’t raised to ignore his houseguests, no matter how inconvenient their timing.
They can hear the shuffle and ensuing low conversation of Ritsu answering the door before making their way into the entryway. He may be dragging his feet a bit. Wouldn’t want to give the poor guy a fright. He was always so jumpy.
Except, it turns out, it wasn’t Serizawa at the door. It was the man he works for. The fraud. The blond one. The one whose name always escapes him no matter how many times he hears it, or how crystal clear his smarmy face has stayed in his memory because of how nauseatingly furious he’d made him that one time. Apparently Serizawa has him running errands in his stead now. He can respect that.
He continues to hang back while the two Kageyamas crowd the front door to greet him. Probably for the best that this one stays un-relived.
“Oh! Mob!” What’s-his-name exclaims, glancing past Ritsu to his sister with a wide grin. “I wasn’t expecting to see you here!”
Wait.
“Hi, Shishou,” she replies warmly, the wound-up posture she’d maintained for the better part of the evening melting away in an instant. “We just finished having dinner.”
No. Surely not.
“No kidding,” he says, then, in a poorly concealed whisper, adds, “Hey, you having an okay time? It’s probably awkward seeing someone you, you know, after so long–”
There’s no way.
“You’re kidding me,” Touichirou mutters flatly, to no one in particular, as recognition finally clicks into place. It’s so obvious in retrospect, the only thing is–
His admission is quickly met with the sound of barely stifled laughter by his side.
–why his son would neglect to mention something so important. No, now that he’s thinking about it, that one is also pretty obvious.
Mob pays them no mind as she chats away with her old teacher and an increasingly flustered little brother. He’s only half paying attention, himself, but it seems like she’d let the engaged cat out of the bag immediately, much to Ritsu’s chagrin. The con artist is flailing his way through clearly unwanted congratulations while he’s all but pushed out the door.
He glances over, and uses every ounce of his decades-honed self control to say, in the most carefully neutral tone he is capable of mustering,
“Shou.”
But instead of responding, Shou just doubles over on the spot laughing, clutching his stomach and snorting into his hand. Such a drastic change in his demeanor from just a moment ago is almost… heartwarming. Even if it’s because a rather childish prank at his expense paid off unexpectedly. He’s spent enough time reflecting for him to accept that, yeah, he probably deserves this. The least he can do is try to take it with dignity.
He’s not making that part easy, though.
Ritsu’s sister– Mob, rather– turns back towards the two of them, looking slightly concerned, either at Shou’s barely-contained hysterics or whatever harrowed face he’s surely making because of them.
He really looks at her now, with this new, interesting context adorning her.
Sure, she doesn’t exactly look like a walking weapon of mass destruction, but that part’s not much of a new development. What is, is unknowingly having dinner with someone who barely stopped short of turning you into a smear on the pavement. Twice. At fourteen. Someone who then grew into, well, okay, maybe not exactly what he’d have assumed, his blindspots are being tested here, but the sort of adult she’d tried to push him to be. Self-assured, but kind. At peace with herself.
This woman altered every single thing about his life over the course of an afternoon and then just… sat there quietly. While he treated her like a complete stranger.
“Jesus Christ,” he groans.
“Um, Suzuki-san?” She asks softly.
“You’re…” He starts, struggling with how to word his disbelief politely to this god in human clothing. He clears his throat. “I didn’t realize.”
“You didn’t…?”
“Who you were.”
Understanding dawns on her face before it whips sidelong to, well, not glare at her brother, but look mildly displeased at him. Ritsu looks equally unaffected when he shrugs back at her. Shou is similarly unhelpful.
“Oh…” She says flatly, turning back to him. “Um. Yeah, I suppose I do look a bit different, since last time.”
The understatement of the past decade in question lands with an absurd thud between them. And then he remembers everything he’s said to her this evening, simultaneously.
“Why did none of you say anything?!” He finally exclaims.
“I thought it was funny,” Shou confirms, utterly unrepentantly, from his side.
“I thought you were just being polite,” Mob says, slightly more repentantly, nervously fiddling with one of the daisy clip-on earrings dangling by her cheek.
“I didn’t think it was any of your business,” Ritsu deadpans. “Though it took me a minute to realize Shou probably forgot to mention it in the first place.”
“He forgot,” he says, inadvertently talking over Mob’s nearly inaudible Wait, you could tell? “Really.”
“I could’ve sworn I’d mentioned it before!” Shou insists, throwing up his hands as Ritsu slides in at his side. “I didn’t realize either until you asked me about it! Honest!”
“I suppose we should’ve clarified sooner,” Ritsu says, in a tone that does not suggest that he ever would’ve done that, one arm slung around his son’s waist. “Since you respect her so much, and all.”
“Oh, wow, me? Really?” Mob softly chimes in, a bashful finger scratching at her cheek.
“I– Well,” Touichirou starts indignantly, not wanting to deny something that is true just because he’s not sure how Ritsu even knows that. No matter how smug he’s being about it. “In a sense.”
“That’s big, he doesn’t say that for just anyone.”
“Shou, please.”
“Well, nee-san is quite extraordinary.”
He knows when he’s lost a fight. Historically speaking, Mob tends to be involved in those occurrences. He’s just not entirely sure what fight was lost here. That his son and son-in-law-to-be get a kick out of getting him to admit there are people he has admiration for? Sure, it feels like pulling teeth, but is that really such a bad thing?
Huh. Son-in-law. There’s an interesting concept. He hadn’t really sat with that one yet.
“Um, this has been exciting, and all, but I have to go home to get ready for work now,” Mob interjects.
“Shit, it has gotten late, I need to leave too,” he agrees after glancing down at his watch. He’s supposed to check in with a certain government supervisor over the phone at nine to follow up on a job, but he doesn’t see a need to mention that part out loud.
“Yeah, this has gone on a bit longer than it was supposed to, hasn’t it,” Shou comments. While the siblings are already saying their efficient-yet-affectionate goodbyes to each other, he and his father stand stock still several feet apart.
“Take care, Suzuki-san,” Ritsu says, when he steps in between them.
“Please continue to take care of him,” he says in response, bowing his head.
He doesn’t really catch his response though, because Shou is clapping an arm around him in a brief and only slightly awkward attempt at a side hug. Which is honestly better than anything his fiancé could’ve said back to him.
“‘Night, Pops,” Shou mutters without making eye contact.
“Good night, Shou.”
“Congratulations again, you two,” Mob says mildly as she slips her shoes back on.
They’re waved out in a flurry of niceties, replaced all at once by the quiet street of their sleepy neighborhood as the door clicks behind them, leaving them alone together in the crisp night air.
The involuntary sighs they each let out end up synchronizing, without either really meaning to.
“I really wasn’t trying to make a fool of you, Suzuki-san,” Mob mumbles sheepishly, before he gains the wherewithal to move.
“Please, let’s just forget about that,” he sighs. He’s been on the verge of a headache all evening, and somehow doubts that the older Kageyama sibling’s particular cocktail of relentless saintliness and candor will do much for it.
“And I’m also sorry about, um, back then, how badly I had to–”
“You don’t need to apologize for that, either.”
“Oh, alright,” she replies easily.
If he didn’t know better, he’d say she honestly sounded more remorseful about how this meeting went than their last one. What a fascinating person. He kind of wants to get to know her better.
He shoves his hands into his pockets and steps out onto the sidewalk, but something stops him. She blinks down at him blankly when he turns back to look at her one more time.
“...You seriously didn’t think it was strange that I introduced myself to you?”
“I, um,” she replies, a faint embarrassed flush rising in her cheeks as she catches up to him. “I just thought you were… I don’t know, speaking symbolically?”
“Huh.”
“I guess that would be pretty strange, but,” she continues. He half expects her to say but you’re pretty strange yourself, so. “I don’t know, I thought it was kind of nice?”
Touichirou regards her, the plain earnestness on her plain features, and feels something nonsensical catch in his chest. Something that makes him open his mouth to speak, but pause before a certain hurdle.
He’s not about to join in calling his future son-in-law’s sister by some childish nickname, but staying on a last name basis with family feels equally absurd.
(He ignores the way the word family unsettles him, doubly so when applied to her, of all people.)
“I never did get your name, you know,” he says, trying for casual, but Mob does little to hide how her features scrunch up into a confused expression, so he sighs, and elaborates. “Your given name. Shigeo would be inappropriate, yes?”
“Oh! That's right,” she says. “It’s Shizue.”
“Shizue,” he echoes. It’s a pretty name, he thinks. Even though what he says is, “It’s a little on the nose.”
She doesn’t seem offended by the tactless reaction, replying with a shrug and an equally blunt, “It was my mom’s idea.”
He’d never considered it before, what it’d be like to rename a child with the benefit of hindsight. He’d named his son a leader, a commander, a general, not out of some mere passive hopefulness, but as a declaration of intent. Shou was given a role and little say in the matter from the moment he was born.
These kids really are stronger than him, it seems.
“Well,” Touichirou says, offering her a firm handshake ten years in the making. “It’s nice to meet you, Shizue.”