Archive of Our Own

Izumi's in the back of the car, kicking his feet and singing along to Frozen, while Ichirō hunches over the steering wheel, peering out the windshield and trying to figure out if he's missed his turn.

Fuck, he thinks, but does not say, because there's a three-year-old with ears like a bat just a few feet behind him. His phone loudly proclaims that it's recalculating its path, and one-handed, Ichirō checks the new arrival time. He curses himself for the twentieth time for not going with Hachiken and Aki when they'd visited the preschool two weeks before. If he had, he wouldn't be lost and in danger of making his—Izumi late on his first day.

Still. At the time it had just seemed like the smartest decision, to stay behind. Get some much needed distance, get used to separation.

Goddamnit, why did they both have to be out of town today of all days?

They were going to cancel their plans, Ichirō's brain reminds him unsympathetically, except that you volunteered to take him instead.

Ichirō hits, fingers tightening and then releasing around the steering wheel.

He's not even your kid, the same bitter voice pipes up, vicious. So why did you?

"Icchan," Izumi pipes up from the backseat, and Ichirō jerks back into himself. "Play again?"

Ichirō stifles a smile. "Sure, buddy," he says, and replays the song. Izumi cheers, waving his hands in the air and belting at the top of his lungs. Watching him through in the rearview mirror, Ichirō feels the anxiety retreat to the background, his chest going warm.

Right. That's why.

They make it to the school with about eight minutes to spare, which is later than the ten minutes the teacher had suggested, but still early enough that Ichirō's not about to have a heart attack. The panicked visions he'd been having of Izumi being late and the other three-year-olds shunning him (seriously, what the fuck, since when did he turn into Hachiken?) thankfully fade.

"You ready?" Ichirō asks as he helps Izumi hop out of the backseat. "Here, don't forget your lunchbox."

Izumi grabs it from his hand and holds it possessively. He reaches up for Ichirō expectantly, not even looking, and Ichirō takes his hand obediently. "This way," Izumi says, tugging Ichirō toward the front door. He's practically vibrating with excitement.

Inside, there's an older lady who looks like the principal, waving hi to kids and chatting with parents. She catches Ichirō's eye and smiles at him warmly. She doesn't look confused to see him, but just in case, Ichirō changes direction to walk up to her, Izumi whining and trailing from his hand.

"Excuse me," Ichirō says politely, "Maniwa-san? I wanted to introduce myself, I'm—"

"Komaba-san!" Maniwa-san exclaims. "It's very nice to meet you. Hachiken-san told me you would be coming."

Ichirō rubs the back of his neck. "Oh, I see. Aki didn't tell me what to do once I brought Izumi—"

"Hi!" Izumi interjects, and Maniwa-san laughs.

"Hi, Izumi-kun," she greets, and then turns back to Ichirō, her eyes crinkled.

"Ah, sorry," Ichirō says, and she waves him off.

"It's no problem! It's good that he's excited." Her voice lowers a little as she adds, "Sometimes the kids get anxious and upset on their first days. First time away from their parents, you know?"

Ichirō doesn't think Izumi will have a problem with that. Maybe if one of his parents had dropped him off, it would have been harder, but it's just Ichirō. And even otherwise, Izumi's been—eager isn't a strong enough word—to go to preschool and meet new kids. Ichirō even caught Hachiken talking to Izumi about how exciting it was going to be for him to start learning and didn't school sound so fun? Ichirō had laughed, loud and unabashed, until Hachiken glared at him and said hotly, "Well it was for some of us, okay?"

"He is your son," Ichirō agreed.

He smiles at the memory. "I think he'll be fine."

Maniwa-san smiles. "Then you can just take him to his classroom now—it's the one all the way on the right. You'll talk to the teacher and then say goodbye to Izumi-kun, and then you just come back to pick him up at two!"

"Okay," Ichirō says, nodding. "Got it. Izumi," he says, and Izumi looks up at him. "Ready to meet your teacher?"

Izumi, distracted by the two dozen or so other children swarming around him with their parents, turns back to Ichirō and beams. "Yeah!"

And then he's dragging Ichirō away before Ichirō can do more than call a hasty, "It was nice to meet you, Maniwa-san!" over his shoulder. She waves again, and then she's out of sight.

Izumi's teacher is a woman of about forty, who kind of reminds Ichirō of Hachiken's mom. Friendly and engaging, but like she's working to be so; very kind and caring; looking thoroughly in her element surrounded by tiny chlidren.

"Hi there, Izumi-kun," she says when she says them, hands braced on her knees, and only after does she straighten and smile at Ichirō. "Komaba-san? I'm Handa Ren."

Ichirō startles. Did Aki tell everyone about him? "Y-yes," he says, thrown. "Please tell me if Izumi causes you any trouble."

Izumi makes a loud noise of indignation and Ichirō raises his eyebrows at him as if to say Am I wrong? The one thing about Izumi that Ichirō can't track to either of his parents is his boisterousness. Ichirō will be the first to tell anyone how sweet he his, how smart and kind—but he's also a crafty little troublemaker.

Handa-san snorts lightly, and Ichirō turns back to look at her. "I doubt he'll be too hard to handle." She claps her hands and says, "Does Izumi-kun have his lunch?"

"Here!" Izumi says brightly, holding up the box. The wrapping is a little clumsy, and Ichirō winces. It's not a skill he'd ever expected to need to learn, and he hasn't quite figured it out yet. "Icchan maked it," he adds, eager, and Ichirō ducks his head, smiling despite himself.

But Handa-san says, "Very nice! I'll show you exactly where to put it until lunchtime, okay?" She looks back up at Ichirō. "Will you be picking him up after lunch?"

"Yes," Ichirō says. "His parents are both out of town, so it'll just be me today."

"Perfect! Then Izumi-kun," she takes Izumi's hand gently, "and I will see you then." Her tone is light and breezy, almost jarringly so, which Ichirō wonders at until Izumi freezes, looking back at Ichirō.

"You're going?"

Ichirō falters. "I am, but only for a few hours. Can you be good for your sensei until I'm back?"

"But—" Izumi says, his voice high and tight. Oh no, Ichirō thinks, horrified. This wasn't supposed to happen. "I want you to stay."

"I can't, buddy," Ichirō says, looking up at Handa-san helplessly. "But I'll see you later, okay?"

Izumi's face screws up, and Ichirō, panicked, crouches down to his level. "Hey, hey—" He grabs Izumi's balled-up hands in his own. "I'll be right here, exactly in this spot, in just a few hours. You'll barely even notice I'm gone, you'll be having so much fun." Izumi sniffs, unconvinced, and Ichirō tries, "You know how you're always nervous when you go visit your obaachan?" His mom is closer than the Mikages, working in just the next town over, so she would watch Izumi in the beginning, when they were just figuring things out. "But when we come get you after, you don't want to come back?"

"You make a funny face," Izumi says, smiling.

"Your dad makes a funny face," Ichirō denies easily, with a quick grin, even though in reality, it's both him and Hachiken. Aki always laughs when they do, free and delighted, so of course he's going to do it. "When I come back to get you, it'll be just like that. You're gonna have so much fun you won't even want to come home with me."

Izumi hesitates, and Ichirō mentally sends up a prayer. Finally, Izumi relents. "Okay," he allows. "Promise?"

"Promise." Ichirō taps him on the nose lightly and stands back up. "You'll be good for your sensei?" he repeats, hoping it goes better this time."

"Okay," Izumi says, finally cracking a smile. He takes Handa-san's hand, and she surreptitiously flashes Ichirō a thumbs-up as they leave.

Ichirō laughs, and it sticks in his throat. Shit.

He leaves the classroom quickly, tracing his steps back to the now sparsely populated entry. There's a few benches occupied by parents, sniffling and murmuring in low voices. Ichirō sits down in an empty spot and bends over his knees, elbows on his thighs, palms pressed to his burning eyes. Shit, shit, shit. This wasn't supposed to happen. Kids cry when their parents leave, not when their parents'-live-in-friend drops them off at school. And said live-in friends definitely don't cry when taking not-their-kids to school.

But. But—

It had been him and Izumi for so long, wandering around the farm together. After Aki went back to work at the stables, and with Hachiken either at the office or traveling for the business, it was Ichirō who stayed home, because that's where work was anyway. He waited and waited for them to move out, as quickly as they'd moved in with a Hey, Komaba, Aki and I were looking to move closer to there, do you have an extra room?, and then things would go back to normal. But instead, he got to watch Izumi grow from a tiny infant to this small human that can speak in full sentences and go to school and make Ichirō fucking cry.

He should have known. The first time he called his mom, panicked, asking how to change a diaper, he should have known. The first time he got up in the middle of the night on autopilot to pick Izumi up, first so that Hachiken and Aki could get some much-needed sleep, and after just because he couldn't stand to hear him cry, he should have known. When he became the designated story-teller ("But you don't even like reading!" "Yeah, but you don't do the voices, dumbass."), when Aki let him wake Izumi up from naps instead of her, when he found himself taking a barely-awake toddler to watch Ban'ei races, watching the draft horses roar by, pointing and whispering through the noise-cancelling headphones, "Look, there's your mom"—he should have known.

And maybe he would have seen it, if he'd wanted to. Maybe it was just that Ichirō hadn't wanted to be faced with the truth, that he's actually been the most selfish man on earth this entire time. That instead of graciously taking in his school friends and their five-month-old, kindly helping out with the chores, sacrificing his free time—he's been using them, their little family, injecting himself so that he can—what, play house? Pathetic.

He's not your kid, he tells himself furiously. He's not yours and neither are they and neither is this, so just. Get over it.

"Komaba-san?"

Ichirō looks up, hastily scrubbing his eyes dry, to see Maniwa-san there in the doorway of the principal's office. She smiles at him and beckons.

Stomach tight with trepidation, Ichirō follows her in and shuts the door.

"Sit down, please," she says, and Ichirō sits in the chair across the desk from her. "Are you okay?"

"Fine," Ichirō says roughly, clearing his throat. "Sorry, I was just—having a moment."

Maniwa-san huffs. "Please don't worry, it's fine! In fact, it's very common. Did Izumi-kun take it okay?"

Ichirō sighs. "Kind of? He was way more upset than I expected."

Maniwa-san hums. "It's fairly common for children to experience some separation anxiety when they start school."

"Yeah, but—" Ichirō shakes his head. "I'm not..." He presses his lips together, trying to say it without sounding as awful and bitter as he feels.

"Not...?"

Fuck it. "His parent," Ichirō says. "I'm not his dad."

Maniwa-san blinks, and then gives him a Look from over the tops of her glasses.

Ichirō flushes. "I'm not! You know that, you've met his parents—"

"We get all sorts of families," Maniwa-san cuts him off firmly, "and we try not to assume."

"Did Aki say something to you?" Ichirō demands. "Something that made you think...that?"

But she shakes her head, saying, "No. It was the way you act with Izumi-kun that made me think so. Why, has he ever treated you differently from his biological parents?"

Ichirō opens his mouth to say Of course, but then he remembers Izumi clutching his hand, tearing up the prospect of saying goodbye, and it falls shut again. "I..."

"I won't bring it up again if it'll make you uncomfortable," Maniwa-san says gently. "I only ask because at this school we try to understand our children's backgrounds, so we can educate them as best as possible. If Izumi-kun has three parents, that's something that's useful for us to know."

"I understand," Ichirō says. "I'll...think about what you've said." He clears his throat and stands.

Maniwa-san smiles. "I'll let you go back home, then."

Ichirō shifts awkwardly. "Thank you," he says finally. "I'll be back this afternoon."

She leads him out the door and then waves him off as he leaves, blinking in the sunshine that greets him when he reaches the front steps. He gets in the car and drives off, and makes it about ten minutes of the thirty-minute drive to the farm before his heart rate is going too fast for him to concentrate, belated panic and confusion blurring his vision. He pulls over on the side of the corn-lined road and grabs his phone from the passenger's seat.

(The lock screen is Izumi at eleven months, fast asleep on Hachiken's chest. Looking at it reminds Ichirō instantly of when it had been taken: him with his phone out surreptitiously because he knew if Hachiken woke up he'd never hear the end of it; Aki, leaning over his shoulder and shaking with silent laughter as Hachiken and Izumi's matching drool. Christ, how did he not know?)

Ichirō opens it up to see a text from Hachiken (this panel is so bad. who still thinks that soy causes cancer???) and nothing from Aki. She's probably at the races.

"Get it together," Ichirō mutters to himself, but his skin still crawls at the thought of going back home, his empty home, like this. It feels too much like they've left him already.

Thankfully, his phone buzzes then with a reminder to pick up some pork from the butcher, so it looks like he won't have to go back just yet. Thank god.

After picking up the pork and some groceries, he swings by the florist.

"Komaba-san!" old man Matsumoto calls from behind the counter. "Picking up a victory bouquet for Aki-san?"

Ichirō blinks. "What?"

"You haven't heard yet?" Matsumoto-san grins toothily. "Oh, that's right, today was Izumi-chan's first day! Well, we've been listening on the radio, and it looks like one of her horses pulled through to place first!"

Ichirō gapes, and then punches his fist in the air. "Yes! I knew it!" He laughs, pulling out his wallet. "Well I was just going to see if you had anything to brighten up the house, but yeah, let's do something special for the occasion."

While Matsumoto-san is in the back, choosing among his selection and muttering to himself, Ichirō calls Aki.

"Icchan?"

Ichirō freezes at the sound of her voice, breathless and happy. "Aki," he says, and then finds himself at a loss for words.

There's a rustling on the other end, then footsteps, and then: "Icchan, is everything okay?"

"Everything's fine," Ichirō says, shaking himself. "Congrats."

"Thank you!" Aki says giddily. "I'm so happy!"

"Are you guys celebrating?"

Aki hums. "They all were talking about going for drinks, but I really just want to come home."

Ichirō wants that too, wants to hug her and tell her how proud he is, how he'd always known she could do it. His fingertips itch. "Yeah," he says. "Izumi will be glad to have you home earlier."

"Oh!" Aki exclaims. "His first day!"

Ichirō huffs. "Yep, he's at school right now."

"How was he when you dropped him off?"

"He..." Ichirō swallows. "He didn't cry, but only just. I don't really know why, he seemed fine talking about it with you two yesterday."

Aki laughs. "Yeah, but we haven't been staying at home with him for at least a year!"

Ichirō freezes. "That's...true." He closes his eyes, exhales through his nose, and says, "But also, it's not like I'm his dad, right?"

There's a pause, long enough that Ichirō says, hesitant, "Aki?"

"Sorry, sorry," Aki replies, her voice strange. "I just got—distracted by something. I think Izumi-chan will be fine after a few days, don't you?"

"...yeah," Ichirō says tiredly. "I'm going to look up some tips on helping with separation anxiety."

"That's a good idea," Aki says thoughtfully. "I'm sure Yuugo-kun would like to help with that."

Ichirō snorts. "Yeah, giving him more homework is better than bringing him flowers."

"You could still get him flowers," Aki says. "He'd like that."

She does that sometimes, says weird things that sound like they should be jokes, but she's always serious.

"I'll stick with the one bouquet for you," Ichirō says with forced humor.

"Icchan!" she cries out and he knows that on the other end she's blushing, hand over her eyes. "You aren't!"

"Yep," Ichirō says smugly. "Matsumoto-san says congrats too, by the way. We're bragging to everyone else in the store."

Matsumoto-san, back behind the counter and assembling the bouquet, winks. Ichirō shoots him a thumbs-up.

"Icchan," Aki whines, but he can hear that she's pleased.

"Go celebrate with everyone," Ichirō says, hiding a smile. "I'll see you tonight."

He comes in the front door, bouquet in hand, and carefully doesn't analyze how quiet it is. Instead, he puts the flowers in a vase and arranges them neatly, placing them in the middle of the kitchen table. He was right; they do brighten the place up a little.

Spirits slightly uplifted, Ichirō goes to do a load of laundry. He'd decided to clean up the car while Izumi was in school, and found approximately 10% of a toy store's stock, two jackets, and a blanket, tucked into various nooks of the interior.

He throws them in the washer and pulls out the clothes from the dryer, folding them into the basket while he hums along to the radio.

The clothes are mostly Izumi's, so Ichirō takes them into his room. And it's there, holding Izumi's tiny red t-shirts and looking at his empty bed, that it hits him.

If he's this messed up over one day at school, what is he going to do when they finally do move out? Sure, eventually his mom will move in with him, and maybe the twins during the summers before they get jobs. Maybe he can convert this room, put in a couple of bunk beds for them. Re-paint the walls probably; he shouldn't have put that shade of yellow in here anyway, it's pretty much only acceptable for infants to look at. But Hachiken and Aki had liked it so much—

The door creaks and Ichirō starts, heart kicking into his throat.

"Komaba," Hachiken says hesitantly, stepping into the room. "What...are you doing?"

Ichirō inhales as smoothly as he can. "Hey," he croaks. "You're home early."

Hachiken's brow furrows. "Are you okay? You looked—"

Ichirō knows how he looked, head in his hands and breathing with forced evenness. He shrugs. "Fine. Just tired, you know."

"Tired," Hachiken echoes. "Izumi probably gave you a hard time this morning, hm?"

"Yeah," Ichirō snorts. He stands up and stretches, his back cracking. "Took me three tries to get him to keep his shirt on."

Hachiken laughs, eyes crinkling behind his glasses, and Ichirō goes warm all over.

He clears his throat. "You had lunch yet?"

"I was going to make something right now," Hachiken says, and then lights up. "I actually got this new recipe from someone at the conference, and I wanted to try it out—"

He ducks back out, probably making a beeline for the kitchen. Ichirō follows, shaking his head fondly. Some things don't change, and Hachiken's compulsive need to experiment with the consequence of having enough to feed twelve people is one of them. At least he's diversified a little; even Ichirō can only eat so much pizza.

But he can't get it out of his head: visions of Izumi's room, without his toys and clothes, the living room without Hachiken's dozens of books strewn over the floor, the walls without Aki's trophies and diploma. It's like poking a bruise. It hurts, makes him sick, but he can't stop doing it.

Hachiken hums while chopping cabbage, a pop song Komaba doesn't know but vaguely recognizes from the grocery store earlier. The sun streams through the open windows, the spring breeze circulating the smell of garlic and onions frying. Ichirō makes a mental note to take Izumi to the Tanakas' farm to see the cherry blossoms.

As if he read Ichirō's mind, Hachiken turns and says, "Pickup for Izumi is at two, right?"

Ichirō nods. "Yep. Want to come with?" He'd offer to let Hachiken go instead, but he promised Izumi and, well. A promise is a promise.

"Sure," Hachiken says. "Ah," he whines, turning back to his pan, "another long drive though."

"Yeah," Ichirō says. He swallows. "Hey, actually..."

Hachiken lifts his head. "Hm?"

"I was wondering," Ichirō says slowly, eyes fixed on the countertop, "when you and Aki are planning on moving out?"

"What?" Hachiken laughs, and when Ichirō looks up, his eyes cut away. "Where did that come from all of a sudden?"

Ichirō shrugs. "It's just that Izumi's school is pretty close to your office, and pretty far from here. I figured you'd probably want to move a little closer, right?"

Hachiken's brow creases. "I don't—"

"No rush," Ichirō adds. "I can help you look if you want."

"I..." Hachiken chews his lip, considering. He dumps the cabbage into the pan and stirs. "I'll talk to Aki, I guess."

Ichirō hesitates. "Sure. Just let me know."

Hachiken nods, subdued, and Ichirō searches for a way to lift the mood.

"Hey," he says, "I forgot to tell you, but when you come with me to get Izumi..."

One-twenty finds Ichirō hurrying in from outside, where he was checking on the soybeans. Hachiken is still in the kitchen, packing grapes and rice crackers into Ziploc bags in case Izumi is hungry when they pick him up. He has his phone squashed between his ear and shoulder and when he catches sight of Ichirō, he drops the bags and pulls the phone away with a muttered "Hold on."

"There you are," Hachiken huffs exasperatedly. "We're going to be late."

"Sorry," Ichirō apologizes. "Give me a second to change, it just started raining." His shirt is soaked through, and he plucks at the fabric disgustedly.

Hachiken eyes him. "Yeah, I see that," he says dryly.

Ichirō jerks his head toward the phone. "Aki?"

"Yep," Hachiken says, then turns away, phone back up against his ear.

Ichirō frowns. "Okay," he says slowly. "I'm just gonna...go?"

Hachiken waves him off absent-mindedly, and Ichirō goes, trying not to feel too dejected.

"I know," he hears Hachiken continuing loudly, as he ducks into his room. "I know, right?" A pause, and then, "It is a mess, I don't—can you—"

Ichirō slips his shirt off and tosses it on the ground, grabbing a clean sweater from the top drawer.

Hachiken makes a frustrated noise. "Yeah, I—yeah." Softly, he adds, "Me too," and that's when Ichirō jerks back into himself and stops eavesdropping. It doesn't sound like the kind of conversation that's meant for outsider ears.

He waits until Hachiken says, "Love you," and hangs up before stepping back into the hallway. "I'm ready," he calls.

"I'm already in the car," Hachiken retorts, and Ichirō snorts and rolls his eyes as he hears the door slam shut.

When the school comes into view, Hachiken heaves a dramatic sigh of relief.

Ichirō raises his eyebrows. "What?"

"It's just like how it was when I visited," Hachiken says. "Nothing's broken or burning."

Ichirō pauses, and then laughs, smacking Hachiken lightly on the head. "Did you really think—"

Hachiken ducks, snickering too. "You know I worry!"

"Shut up," Ichirō shakes his head, hiding his smile. "Let's go get your kid."

He turns off the engine and is halfway out of the car when he realizes that Hachiken's glaring at the windshield with an upset twist to his mouth.

Ichirō frowns. "What's wrong?"

"Our kid," Hachiken says, voice tight, and Ichirō goes very still. "Not my kid, ours." He lifts his head and fixes Ichirō with that same intent stare and says, "You do know that, right?"

Ichirō could say no, or yes and both would be a little bit true. He had an entire breakdown just a few hours ago over wanting Izumi to be his kid for real—but he had no idea Hachiken felt the same, and that—he doesn't know how to feel about that. He doesn't know what it means.

So instead of answering, Ichirō says, "Not now." His voice is tense and trembling, and he evens his breaths deliberately.

Hachiken blinks and then hisses reproachfully, "Komaba—"

"Not now," Komaba repeats. "Look," he nods toward the front of the school, where small figures are starting to pour out, "we're already late." He shuts his door and after a moment, hears Hachiken get out of the car.

He's worried that the tension between them will ruin the moment, but thankfully, he's wrong: when Izumi sees his dad, his eyes go wide and he yells for him and comes running the rest of the way. Hachiken scoops him up with a broad smile, and Ichirō realizes that he's smiling too.

Izumi catches sight of him next and says his name too, equally excited. Hachiken's expression becomes very pointed, and grows even more so when Izumi reaches demandingly toward Ichirō.

Ichirō huffs and takes him from Hachiken's grasp. "Hey buddy," he says lightly. "Did you have fun today?"

"Yeah!"

"Make any new friends?"

Izumi nods vehemently, and then he's off, chattering away about two kids he played with all day and how cool and nice Handa-san was, while Ichirō walks back to the car and tries not to think too hard about Hachiken's eyes on his back.

When they get home, Aki's shoes are by the door, and Ichirō exhales.

Hachiken makes a surprised noise and then picks Izumi up. "Look, your kaa-san's home! Let's go see her, okay?"

Ichirō follows behind to the living room and there she is: standing on tiptoe to reach the trophy shelf so she can make room for the newest.

"Oh," Ichirō says, belatedly. "Let me—"

Aki turns to him, smiling broadly, and he takes the trophy from her hand, easily placing it in the empty space.

He hears, behind him, Izumi shriek and run to his mom, and Hachiken follow at a barely more sedate pace. Ichirō smiles, straightens the trophy, and turns to go.

"Where do you think you're going?"

Hachiken is glaring when Ichirō looks, pulling away from Aki's arm around his waist. "You're kidding me, right?"

Ichirō crosses his arms. "What?"

Hachiken narrows his eyes. "Aki," he says tightly, "take the baby."

Aki, who's been watching with wide eyes, blinks and says, "Oookay!" She takes Izumi. "TV time, okay, baby?"

"Not a baby," Izumi protests, easily distracted, which Ichirō, with the part of him not preoccupied by the dangerous cloud over Hachiken's face, appreciates greatly.

When they're gone, an oppressive silence hangs over the room. Ichirō opens his mouth to say—something, anything, but Hachiken holds up a quelling hand.

"I just don't know," he says wearily, "I don't know what else to do."

He sounds so sad, so resigned, that Ichirō reaches out automatically. "What's wrong?"

"You," Hachiken snaps, batting his hand away. Ichirō snatches it back, wounded. "I don't understand you! How can you be this oblivious?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ichirō says helplessly, and Hachiken throws his hands up in the air.

"I know!" he shouts. "That's the problem!"

Ichirō frowns, opens his mouth again to tell Hachiken off for being a cryptic asshole—

And Hachiken kisses him.

No, Ichirō thinks. No, there's no way that just happened. He's probably asleep; or maybe he hit his head and he's going to wake up half-trampled by the cows any second now. He tries to pull back, and Hachiken grabs him by the forearms and holds on, tight enough that it aches, so Ichirō can't move, and can't deny that he's awake and this is happening.

Hachiken holds him there for another long moment, stretched up on his toes to match Ichirō's height. Ichirō thinks, his brain dazed and dizzy, that he could probably lift him, get them a little bit closer.

The thought jerks him out of the spell he's in, and he pulls back. Hachiken lets him. "What—"

"Do you see?" Hachiken demands. "Do you understand now?"

The only thing Ichirō is certain of is that he doesn't understand anything, anymore.

"There are preschools closer to my office," Hachiken says suddenly. "Do you know why we picked the one we did?"

Ichirō shakes his head mutely.

"Because it was closest to you ." Hachiken steps back into Ichirō's space, plants a finger in the center of his chest to underscore his point. "We're not planning on moving, you jerk, and it's not like it wouldn't be more convenient to. We want to stay, me and Aki and Izumi, and here you are, trying to get rid of us?"

"I'm not!" Ichirō finally finds the words to say. He crosses his arms defensively. "But you're going to at some point, so I just have to get used to—"

"I literally just said—"

"You're shouting," Aki says. Her voice is even and determined, but Ichirō can see the anxiousness on her face. "I set Izumi up with the iPad, so he should be occupied for a little bit."

"...sorry," Ichirō says. He rolls his shoulders back, willing the tension to leave him. "I should go do the milking," he adds, and turns to leave.

"Icchan," Aki says reproachfully.

Ichirō glares. "Look," he says, "I don't know what you two want, but you can't just—"

Aki huffs. "But that's what we're trying to tell you! We love you."

Ichirō blinks. "You—"

"Love you," Hachiken says. He's calmed down a little, more fond than angry now, and Ichirō doesn't know what—he can't—

He sits down on the chair nearest him, because he's afraid his knees won't hold him. "You love me," he repeats numbly.

"Yeah."

"You...don't want to move out?"

"Icchan," Aki replies exasperatedly, "I have no idea how you got the impression that we did."

Ichirō takes a deep breath, feeling it rattling nervously around in his chest. "Everyone treated me like Izumi's dad today," he confesses, because if nothing else drives them away, this ought to. "I liked it."

"That's because you are," Hachiken says warmly. "Dumbass."

It's too much. Ichirō puts his head in his hands and breathes, feels himself shiver through the adrenaline crash. It's too much, his entire worldview shifting—but he's relieved. He's so, so relieved.

"Aki," he says hoarsely, picking his head up. "Kiss me?"

She smiles down at him, and climbs into his lap, looping her hands around his neck. "Thank you for the flowers," she says, "they're beautiful," and kisses him, her mouth soft and warm over his. He feels the echoes of Hachiken's hands everywhere she's touching him, and he sighs.

Everything slots into place.

He wakes up at four the next morning, to catch up on all the things he neglected the day before. The companionable silence of the barn helps him think as he milks the cows, sorting and reframing his feelings.

At five-thirty, Aki rush out of the shower, her hair still wet. "Late!" she says breathlessly, and Ichirō wordlessly hands her breakfast and lunch, already made and wrapped. She stills, and then smiles. "Icchan," she says gratefully, kissing him on the mouth. "I love you."

Ichirō adamantly is not blushing as he watches her hurry out the door.

Six-thirty, and he shakes Hachiken awake. "You have to take Izumi to school," he says softly.

Hachiken groans, burying his face in the pillow. "I hate school," he says, which is such a blatant lie that Ichirō has to laugh. "Don't make fun of me," Hachiken grumbles, and doesn't stop frowning until Ichirō gives into his pointed tugs on Ichirō's sleeve and leans in to be kissed.

"Gotta wake up Izumi," Ichirō says regretfully.

Hachiken groans again, and rolls out of bed.

Ichirō grins, his heart feeling very full, and goes to wake up his kid.