Chapter Text
When the master of the house demanded there be freshly baked chocolate chip brioche rolls at the table with a citrus-honey coated tropical fruit salad to the side by eight in the morning, Daichi was up two hours earlier, ready to head to their local fruit vendor for the ingredients if necessary. Mornings were restricted to a sharp ten minute routine to save time; Five minutes to undress, wash his face, and slick his hair back so his bangs did not obscure his vision, and five more to pick his suit and get dressed for whatever duty he had to take care of first.
If he knew he had to head outside, he put on simple black trousers, a gray sweater vest, and set his morning suit aside for when it was time to begin making preparations in the kitchen. It was not unusual for him to find himself flipping through the shopping list with nothing new to buy. The master of the estate rarely left notes most nights, but a good domestic was always one step ahead. It was easy to memorize so much pointless information and return to the kitchen with two full bags when he loved his job as much as he did. It might have been the person behind his job that he cared for more than his duties, but he was born to serve the Kuze family much like his father, and his father’s father, so he was a tad biased. He set the plastic bags on the counter, and began sorting the items.
Kalamata olives, chosen specifically because of their delightful ripeness and smoky texture, because his master could not stand green olives, or regular black olives for that matter. Thin, dark chocolate with roughly around 60% cocoa, because anything below it was too watered down, and anything above it was far too bitter to be classified as chocolate. With so many different variations of Kiwi, being aware of where they were grown, under what climate, and whether or not it would please his master to go for a different variety when his preferred hardy kiwis were out of stock, he used his intuition and selected what he thought to be most suitable as a substitute. Having to drive to the other side of Tokyo just for Abacaxi should have been a chore, but it allowed him to make a detour to one of his favorite comic book shops. He never said anything to his master about it, even if it would probably have been completely fine as long as he still performed his duties on time. It was not the sort of actions one would expect to see from a really good domestic, so he kept his lips sealed.
The next coming hour was spent restocking the pantry, making sure the dishes and cutlery was slid into the appropriate drawers, and that the dryer had completed its job overnight so that he could iron the clothes before hooking them on the coat hangers in Hibiki’s closet. Naturally, he checked the fabric for wear and tear before neatly tucking it away, so that the 18 karat gold cufflinks saw no chance to slip off the sleeves. He removed all the accessories before putting the clothes in the wash. He then focused on putting the gold and silver into their given black boxes. It was a rhythmical process that left him humming in a comfortable silence. Back when he was younger, he used to wonder who in their right mind needed a custom engraved tie clip worth 20 000 yen with a diamond border. Now, he was comfortable around the luxurious items, and was gradually conditioned to see it as normal. There was no longer any fear of breaking any china, slipping and knocking over crystal, but there was still a fear he was never going to get rid of no matter how long he performed his duties to pixel perfect accuracy, and it was the time crunch. Being one single servant, he had to take care of various duties, and it often wore him out.
Most heirs hired several servants around the house, but Hibiki only ever needed one. It felt safer around the house that way, too. Daichi did not trust anyone to handle the keys to the wine cellar, or the keys to the estate for that matter. Not even Hibiki had the keys to the estate. Aside from crawling out of bed every once in a while, Hibiki never even left his room, let alone, the estate. The only times he seemed even remotely alert was during mornings, which somehow always started at eight o'clock, sharp. No matter Hibiki’s sleeping schedule, he always got up in time for tea and fruits.
“Good morning, Master.” A figure clothed in soft, white silk shyly dragged its way into the kitchen while Daichi was focusing all his energy on polishing silver. The drastic contrast between the smooth softness of the fabric and the ruffled darkness of Hibiki’s hair painted an amusing sight. If the image had not been so common and saddening, it might have been seen as charming.
“Mmmmmorn’.”
“Really? Morn? You don’t even bother to finish words anymore. Is that where we’re at?”
“Do you really have the right to criticize me when you end sentences with AT?” Hibiki propped himself up on the bar stool and leaned over the polished counter to rest his head in his palms. Sleeping only three to four hours was bound to get his master sick eventually, but no matter how many times he told him that, he persisted in getting up on time. Daichi cocked his head slightly as he polished the silver, and his eyes momentarily traveled from Hibiki’s worn out posture, to the shiny metal reflecting in the kitchen lights, fully apathetic.
“Are you feeling better?” Hibiki grumbled and began rubbing his forehead soothingly, which was Daichi’s cue to whip up a cure.
“Do you want me to make you some-”
“Was I up late last night?” Hibiki didn’t remember. Hibiki never seemed to remember. It had been some time since Hibiki used his own wits to dredge up fragments of a person that still cared about their wellbeing. It was just too much stress for him, so Daichi was instructed to take over. Not to take over the household, or the bills, but to manage his memories for him.
“You called in two women to your room at twelve thirty, and didn’t come out of your room until three AM. I called a cab, and gave them some pocket money so they could get home safely after that.”
“God, no, not again…” It happened so frequently nowadays that it was practically norm.
“Well,” Daichi opened his mouth, but closed it shortly after mulling over his reply. “-it’s fine. You’ve done and said worse things under the influence of alcohol.”
“What did I say to you this time…” A small smile tugged at the corner of Daichi’s cheek. A smile that, although bittersweet, showed itself because he knew Hibiki better than to assume he spoke honestly when intoxicated.
“I think it was something like ‘get the fuck out of my estate’. Not your worst day.”
“I’m sorry…” There was remorse in Hibiki’s voice, a shaky waver as if he was on the verge of tears. As much as it tore into Daichi to hear him so distraught, it was not the first time he heard the same sob story.
“Yeah, I’d believe that a little easier if you stopped drinking...” Hibiki let one of his arms fall to the counter, while the other continued to rub his frontal lobe, running his fingers over his scalp impatiently, almost like claws. When Daichi caught a glimpse of him, a rare instance where their eyes met only for a moment, he looked away not to be caught staring.
“...How much did you sleep, Daichi? You were up until three AM.”
“Four.”
“Four?”
“You didn’t fall asleep until four fortyfive.”
“You’ve only slept one hour?”
“I’m not really tired.” Taking care of Hibiki and making sure he managed to fall asleep was always going to be his priority.
“...I’m sorry.” He said that already. So many times. Daichi cleared his throat, and reached out for the kettle to ask the delayed question he always asked every morning.
“Tea?”
“I wish tea could fix everything…” He lowered the kettle softly, and licked his lips to help the words come out a little smoother. Hibiki got out of his seat without a second glance at the breakfast preparations that were made. That was fine, too. It was practically a different norm.
“Is there… anything I can do?”
“Bring my parents back to life and I’ll give you a huge bonus.” Even if Daichi had something he wanted to say to help Hibiki feel less miserable, he was certain it would not sound good coming out of his mouth. In the end, all he could do was watch him leave the kitchen, thus concluding his morning routine.
A black tail-coat, a white shirt with a wing collar, and a sleek gray necktie rested over his chair, ready for his routine now that shopping was taken care of the day prior. He put on his shoes, and slipped into his white gloves to complete his morning suit. With the spare minutes he had left after dressing up, he leaned closer to the mirror to adjust his tie correctly. He was still unsure of how to manage everything in the estate on his own, but everything had moved along smoothly so far. The key was simply not to break the routine, even at the cost of a little sleep deprivation.
The estate was not cluttered, but the amount of items he had to dust counted in the hundreds. An entire day could be dedicated to polishing silver, dusting, sweeping, and washing clothes, as well as making sure everything was neat around the house in case someone decided to come over for a visit. The chances of someone visiting were smaller now than ever before, and a lively home that once used to be cheerful looked awfully bleak.
When he moved the pillows to clean the couch, he caught the faint glimpse of the Kuze family portrait. There was a part that had been exposed underneath the large silk curtain that needed to be readjusted. He rested his knee on the couch and tried to move the silk back into place, only to pause before he touched it. He scanned the decorative frame, the curves and color of shiny redwood, running his fingers over the leaves in the pattern. When he accidentally pushed the silk far enough to see the colors of the painting, he turned his head to look behind his shoulder. It was a safety precaution, in case the only other person that didn’t want to see what was beneath the silk happened to catch him slipping out of one glove to pull it off the framed painting.
The sound of fabric sliding against wood seemed only so much louder when there were no footsteps, no ticking of clocks, and no one calling his name to ask if he could bring them another drink. It felt like someone else’s reality at this point. Like he had grown up watching someone else tend to the Kuze’s family’s needs while he was an observer from the outside. In so many ways than one, he felt inferior to his father. It was never his choice to continue working for this family, but his father had promised him that the Kuze familyline were people of their word, and that they would help secure a future of leisure for him. Looking up at this painting now gave him that impression. His father was not wrong. The Kuze family had treated them fairly, and never once demanded they carry more than they could handle. They were fair and kind. It was why Daichi wanted to stay by Hibiki’s side as his support.
He ran his fingers over the little dents and bumps in the oil painting. It must have cost a fortune, but what good was it when no one got to see it? In the picture was Hibiki’s father, the man of the estate, his wife, the woman of the estate, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips when he reached the heir. Right next to Hibiki was a boy with his arm draped over his shoulder, and behind him was a man with both hands behind his back. He couldn’t help grinning. It wasn’t often that the help was included in such expensive work. Usually, families only ever included blood relatives, but he still remembered the day Hibiki’s father had asked them why they were not joining. They were supposed to take a photo for the artist to go by, but right before shooting, Hibiki’s father asked his father to join them. During it all, he could vividly remember Hibiki running over to his side to pull him towards the cameras. He remembered asking if it was okay for servants to join something this luxurious. Either it was naivete, or simple childishness that played a role in what Hibiki said, but he distinctly remembered Hibiki calling him his friend, rather than his servant.
The memory was still fresh, even if it happened so long ago. He had been with the Kuze family for as long as he could remember, and a bump in the road was not going to destroy that comfort. They might have suffered a tragedy, but they could work through it together. He was here for Hibiki no matter what.
“...What are you doing?” He slipped off the couch at the sound of Hibiki’s voice, and rushed to pull himself up, silk still in hand. Hibiki was standing in the open doorway, leaning against the frame. It was noon, but he still wore his morning robe and PJ’s underneath as if it was eight o'clock. Despite there being a significant distance between them, Daichi covered up his face with the silk, and tried not to sound too guilty. This was not his property, even if he had the key to the house. He could not touch whatever he wanted. Especially not if Hibiki exclusively told him to cover it up and forget it even existed.
“I-I-I was j-just, um, I needed to dust and-”
“Come to my room when you’re done here. Pick up the fruits you prepared yesterday, and the pralines you bought the day before.” That was all he had to say before he turned around and walked away.
“U-Um, wait-” Too late. Being called into Hibiki’s room was not something that happened often anymore. It was something Daichi told himself not to expect, and to stop getting used to. They were not kids anymore. He was not being called up to play. He was called up because he was either not doing his job properly, or because he needed to run an errand. The likelihood of it being an errand shrunk the moment Hibiki left the room. So, Daichi did what was expected of him. After putting the silk back over the painting, hiding it as if it did not deserve to be out in the open, he walked into the kitchen and put the fruit salad onto the tray, along with a small box of luxurious dark pralines with nougat and various other fillings. The thought did cross his mind, but he was not one to judge Hibiki’s thought process.
Why did Hibiki not pick this up by himself if he was already downstairs?
The hallways seemed to go on forever. Even if the owners passed away recently and granted Daichi the keys to every room, there were a lot of places he never visited because the estate was simply that huge. There were still areas that Hibiki had not seen, and even if they now had the liberty to explore everything at their leisure, the tone had completely changed and made it uncalled for. These childish exploration missions they set out on to find out what was behind door number one or door number two came to an end. Now, it was just another unopened door with painful memorabilia behind it. Nothing more, and nothing less.
“I’m coming in.” Daichi tapped his knuckles against the door with the back of his palm, only enough for it to make a little noise. He swallowed his fear, and grabbed the handle to twist it and open the door, revealing a room he barely got to see unless he had to escort people out of it. Hibiki was sitting in his bed with the covers pulled up to his waist, waiting for him. Despite the mess that occured the day prior, and the fact Hibiki did not let him into his room the day after, everything looked cleaner than it usually did. He held his head high, and walked to the bedside to gently set the tray down in Hibiki’s lap.
“Is there anything else you want from me, Master?” Hibiki’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, if only for a moment. Daichi quickly examined the tray, and wondered if he accidentally brought some undesired items along with him. Everything was according to how Hibiki wished it, so the uncomfortable air around them had to be from something else entirely.
“If that’s everything, I’ll go back downstairs and clean.” It only took as much as a small turn for Hibiki to grab his wrist and keep him grounded.
“Why are you leaving?”
“Oh.” He had not expected Hibiki to actually ask a question. He so rarely talked that it came as a surprise. “Oh, um… I figured I’d go clean downstairs.” There was disappointment in Hibiki’s eyes as he softly let his hand slide off Daichi’s wrist. Still, his fingers pinched the fabric of his white shirt, clinging to it in case Daichi decided to head off.
“The treats you brought,” Daichi’s eyes shifted to the fruits and sweets. Kiwi, pineapple, blueberries, raspberries, all cleaned and peeled in a small bowl with orange juice, accompanied by deluxe pralines of his choice. “-I want you to feed me.”
“...Ha?” It took him a moment. His face scrunched up, and he pulled his arm from Hibiki’s grip to take a step back. Growing up in this household, he was used to getting his fair share of odd requests. If Hibiki wanted him to go buy chocolates in the middle of the night, Daichi made sure to go and get the correct brand in his PJ’s if he had to, no questions asked. If Hibiki wanted him to escort strangers out of his room and clean up the mess they left, he’d do so as well, no questions asked, but this- this demanded at least one question. That was, if he could bring himself to say anything.
“...No. Sorry. I can’t do that.” It crossed a line.
“Would 50 000 yen change your mind?” It was as if Hibiki expected him to say no. As if he came prepared with a question that would entice him. The proposition in question did nothing but leave him with a bitter taste in his mouth. This was not how it was supposed to end.
“I’m not that kind of… servant.” Making himself out to be the servant of the household was strange. His father usually took the position, and while he taught Daichi everything he knew about the house, he never quite taught him to get used to being referred to as a servant. It was just too fast of a shift.
“I’m not asking you to sleep with me. I’m asking you to feed me.” That Hibiki had to clarify it made his skin crawl. He never assumed.
“Again, I’m not… that kind of servant.”
“Is 100 000 enough?”
“Master, I’m not-”
“I can go higher, Daichi. Name your price.”
“Don’t be ridic-”
“200 000.”
“Alright, now you’re definitely being ridiculous!”
“I care less for the money and more for you.” Those words were never uttered before. He was aware that Hibiki cared about him. They grew up together in this household. They played, studied, laughed, but they had not done those things even once since the accident. There was nothing to laugh at anymore. No fun to kill the silence. It forced them to take on two roles they were not prepared to take on just yet, and that came with a lot of mistakes. Daichi believed he needed to do everything he could to please his master, but he questioned his judgement when Hibiki believed that money could solve everything.
“You’re really not going to drop this?”
“Name your price.” There was one thing Daichi wanted more than anything else, but it was not something Hibiki could give him in money. He considered turning him down, but when he thought about it, his chest began to ache, and he turned his head to cough and clear his throat.
“A day off.” The room was practically dead silent.
“...A day off?” He had a justification ready, in case he actually needed one.
“I take care of your entire estate on my own. Don’t get the wrong idea, I love working here. If there’s an emergency, I’ll still be here for you, but I’d really like a day to rest for a bit…”
“Hmmm…” Hibiki smiled warmly, and let his fingers slowly slide the covers off his frame to pat the spot next to his thighs. “-you could start right now.”
Daichi looked over at Hibiki before lowering his gaze to stare at the floor. The Hibiki that he’d come to love would never be this pushy or persistent when it came to money, or a request. He’d never try to buy his way to things. The idea to bribe him or tempt him with money should never have crossed his mind. Then again, when one inherits so much, so suddenly, it was only natural for them to adapt the mindset of a millionaire.
Since he already agreed, he sat on the very edge until Hibiki wrapped his hands around his upper-arm to pull him closer. It reminded Daichi of the way Hibiki used to be before the accident. Always comfortable in his presence, never distant. Recently, he started acting a lot more needy. Not that Daichi could experience much of it. All Hibiki seemed focused on was locking himself inside his room.
“You could have asked for literally anything, you know.” Daichi took the tray in hand, and began with the fruit cup, scooping some kiwi and pineapple onto the spoon before looking Hibiki in the eye.
“I live here. What would I need 200 000 yen for?”
“Don’t you have things you want to buy?”
“I have everything I need here.” He brought the spoon up, and watched him part his lips to take the kiwi and pineapple bits into his mouth. It didn’t feel strange, oddly enough, but he hated the fact that he finally gave in to Hibiki’s demands. However, if he worked for another day with only two hours of sleep, he felt like he was going to faint. Hibiki didn’t know because he rarely left his room, but Daichi almost set the entire estate on fire at a point. He was running around in the kitchen making different dishes when he felt dizzy and had to sit down. Sitting down at the table to rest his arms and body only helped him fall asleep in the middle of cooking. Had the fire alarm not went off and stirred him awake, he could have burned both of them to death.
When the pressure in the air seemed to fade, and they moved on to the pralines, Daichi felt the need to ask Hibiki what was long overdue. He did not want to know the answer, but he needed it. He needed to know if this was why Hibiki continued to wave money in his face to get his way when he wasn’t locked up in his own room.
“...Do you blame him?” Hibiki didn’t reply, so Daichi asked him again, much clearer.
“Do you blame my father?”
“...You mean because he was the one driving the car?” It was evident on Hibiki’s face that he wanted him to drop the topic. Although, the question seemed to irk him enough to lose his appetite. It was the first time in a long while where Hibiki had consistently held eye contact with him without turning his head and leaving the room. The words came like a knife at full speed. Even if he was prepared for it, he never anticipated such a blunt answer.
“Yes. I blame your father a lot.” It got dark during winter faster. The roads were slippery. The snow made it hard to see. The only reason they did not join their parents at the winter festival was because they wanted to stay home and play a new game that just released. Had they not insisted on staying, everyone would have been wiped out.
“Stop trying to defend your dad. It doesn’t mean I hate you.” He didn’t have to say it. Why did he feel the need to say it?
“He did everything for your family. He died working for you. Can you… really say you hate him?” Hibiki did not look like he wanted to answer the question. There was bitterness laced in his words. Bitterness, sorrow, and blame that he wanted to pin on someone to feel better. Daichi could understand the sentiment. It was as easy to say that Hibiki’s parents forced his father to drive them to that event as it was to say his father killed them by being a reckless driver.
“I should have been in the car with them.” Hearing Hibiki say it so casually sent shivers down his spine.
“Don’t say that.”
“Wouldn’t that have been better for you, too? You could finally leave this place.” As kids, Daichi spoke of leaving the Kuze household. It was a childish dream. The world outside offered many opportunities, and Daichi used to exercise his imagination in what roles he could play if he were to find a job outside the estate. He used to put on performances as a kid, entertaining different jobs all for the sake of laughs. It was nothing more than friendly banter. He never would have left without returning. Not when he committed his life to Hibiki. He let the tray slide to the side, and rested his palm over Hibiki’s, squeezing his hand softly.
“I’m happy here.”
“You’re not.” The answer came quick. Blunt, sharp, and precise; It cut the atmosphere like a dagger, and added tension to the argument. Daichi relaxed his grip on Hibiki, and his words softened.
“What… do you mean?”
“I don’t believe you. I don’t believe you because I know what you look like when you’re happy.” It was almost accusatory. His posture, his glare- as if to say he should not dare lie to his face. “This isn’t it.”
“Master, I-” There was that look in his eyes again right before he withdrew his hand and pulled back. Daichi was not lying. Not entirely. Life at the estate was complicated, but he did not hate it. The estate itself was not the appeal of working for the Kuze family line. The appeal was with Hibiki. Had they not grown up together, he would not have enjoyed living with him as much as he did. He would not have enjoyed working for him. Whatever he said seemed to have struck a nerve, because Hibiki was no longer willing to look him in the eye.
“Forget it. I don’t want you touching me. I don’t want… whatever this is.” It was lonely. There was barely any sound between rooms. No noise from the TV, no static from the radio, no calls, no shouting- no life at all.
“I-I don’t understand. What did I do?”
“Nothing. Take the day off whenever. I’ll be in here if you need me for anything.”
“M-Master, I-”
“Just do as I say.” Hibiki pulled the covers up to his chest, and closed his eyes. No matter how much Daichi tried to reach out, there was no reason to converse anymore when Hibiki shut down all conversation. “Leave.” He could see his hands trembling; fingers curling around the sheets like claws.
“I’m… sorry I brought it up.” It was so much easier to hide than to keep talking when talking required so much energy; energy that neither of them had to spare. He was left without the option to press on, and instead, took the tray in hand to get off the bed and bring it downstairs. Being a servant was his full time job now. Dedicating himself to Hibiki was his priority, and he could not do that if he chose not to listen to what he was telling him to do.
For the sake of some normalcy to return to the household, he had to do everything as he was told, follow his duties to a T, and hopefully, that could bring Hibiki some calm in the long run.