Chapter Text
Hizashi stood, head bowed and hair down. It was always a mix of emotions when he was here. He was sad, and nostalgic, and grateful all at once.
“Shouta got married last week,” he said softly, kneeling to light some incense. “It was a beautiful wedding. Very simple, very small. But he had never looked happier.”
He plucked some dried wax from the stone, tracing the name engraved in it.
“Hiya! Can I get a large black, double shot?” he asked the barista at the counter. He loved this coffee shop. It was very small, and very cozy. It played the best chill songs, and they served the strongest coffee. Plus, it was located below the radio station he worked at. Like, literally in the same building! It was great, especially for his graveyard shift.
“I’ll get right on that,” the barista replied. “Would you like anything to eat?”
“Oh, no, thank you, listener! I—”
Hizashi paused, finally looking up from his phone to look at the barista. He had messy hair of the deepest blue. His eyes were gray, like an oncoming storm. He was beautiful.
“Uhm. Hi,” the blond managed to spit out.
“Hi,” Beautiful Boy smiled. And oh, did that make Hizashi’s heart pound out of his chest.
“My name is Yamada.”
“Present Mic, right? I listen to your show when I’m not on shift. And you’re a Pro-Hero, so…”
“Yeah. Yamada Hizashi. You are…” he led, glancing at his nametag: Fujita.
“I’m Fujita. Yukio. Fujita Yukio.”
Fujita Yukio. What a beautiful name for a beautiful man.
“The woman’s name is Emi,” he continued. “She’s so sweet, and very funny. You’d have liked her. They have a kid together, I told you that. Kaito. He gave the cutest, sweetest speech. Everyone cried!”
Hizashi brought out a bento to eat, and placed another in front of the grave. “I brought your favorite, hun.”
He took out a thermos of hot coffee, taking a sip before releasing a heavy sigh.
“So what do you like to do in your free time, Fujita-san?” Hizashi turned on the charm. He had started coming to the coffee shop much more often. He’d finally memorized Fujita’s schedule, and he’d drop by early, an hour before he had to be at the station. Then he’d go back down during break. He was being very obvious, but he didn’t care.
“I coach a kid’s baseball team every Saturday,” he replied, setting Hizashi’s coffee down at the table. “I used to play, but didn’t have enough interest to go pro.”
“An athlete! That’s awesome!”
“I guess. Nothing on a Pro-Hero, though!” Fujita laughed. Hizashi felt himself melt; that laugh was perfect. A beautiful laugh for a beautiful man.
“My best friend finally found his happy ever after; can you believe it? Remember when I used to complain to you about how lonely he is? Look at him now.”
He took a bite out of a tsukune skewer, forcing his eyes to stay dry. He kept Yukio’s recipe, and he knew he made it the exact same way. But it just didn’t taste the same.
“It never tastes the same when I make it,” he said softly. “I make it all the time, though.”
Hizashi lay on his bed, curled up in a ball of happiness, talking to Yukio on the phone.
They had just finished their first date, and for the first time ever, Hizashi didn’t stay over. He didn’t even get to second base! He didn’t want to. Yukio made him want to do things right.
It was a simple date. Just a movie, where they snuck light touches to each other’s hands. Then a nice dinner, where they kept looking at each other. They walked home hand in hand, and Hizashi felt himself fall deeper. He had never felt this romantic before.
“I had fun tonight,” Yukio said into the phone.
“Me too,” Hizashi answered. “So much fun. You want to do this again, right?”
“I do, yeah. You can’t see me, but I’m blushing.”
“Yeah? I make you blush?”
“Uh huh. I wish you kissed me tonight.”
“When I see you again, that’s the first thing I’ll do.”
“Promise?”
“Promise.”
He poked his chopsticks around his bento, and took a sip of the coffee. Every year, it got easier, and harder at the same time.
“Kan’s kids are getting so big!” he chuckled wetly. “Number Four is already running around. She loves my hair; yellow is one of the few ‘big’ words she can say. Well, she says it ‘wewow,’ but yeah.”
“Move in with me,” Hizashi said excitedly, as they sat eating dinner at his apartment. “We’ve been dating for half a year, and you’re here most of the time, anyway. Move in with me!”
“Uhm.” Yukio’s eyes were wide.
“Also, dad wants to have lunch with us on the weekend. You’re free, right?”
“Yeah, hun, I’m free. But…isn’t it too soon? To move in together?”
“You think so? I think it’s fine. I love you, you love me,” Hizashi shrugged.
“I guess…”
“Although, maybe I should meet your parents first?”
Yukio’s eyes snapped forward, alarm and panic blazing in them.
“Hun, you okay? Did I…say something…wrong?”
Was Yukio not serious about this? This was Hizashi’s most serious relationship—his only serious relationship ever. If Yukio wasn’t on the same page…Hizashi didn’t know what to do if he wasn’t.
“”Zash…I don’t think…you can meet my parents.”
“Why?”
“I’m…sorry. I—I’m not…out to them. And I don’t think I’ll ever be.”
Hizashi put his chopsticks down, shocked.
“They’re very traditional,” Yukio continued. “And very old-fashioned.”
“They wouldn’t approve,” Hizashi said softly, head bowed.
“I’m sorry.”
“Kayama and her partner are thinking of going to New York to get married. But if they live here, it wouldn’t be valid. But I don’t think they care. I wish we didn’t care.”
“In a perfect world, I wouldn’t have to hide you,” Yukio whispered as they lay entwined in bed. “In a perfect world, I’d take you home on New Year’s, I’d bring you to reunions, I’d—”
Hizashi cut him off with a kiss. “It’s okay. It’s not a perfect world, hun. It’s just how it is right now. Maybe one day…”
“In another life?”
“Hopefully, it won't take that long.”
Hizashi chewed a tamago, looking up at the sky. It was gray, the sign of rain to come. He didn’t care. Let it soak him. Let it drown him. Let it wash away the pain that wouldn’t go away.
“Happy Anniversary, hun!” Hizashi cheered as he smothered Yukio’s face with kisses. The sun was just coming up, and they were celebrating their 2nd year together. Time flew fast when you’re in love, he thinks.
“Happy Anniversary,” Yukio answered softly, voice hoarse with morning. “You are the best thing to happen to me, ‘Zash. I’m so glad you walked into the coffee shop that one night.”
“And I am so glad you were working a shift there that night. You were the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen. Still are.”
They’d decided to fly to Bali to celebrate this anniversary. They’d been there since the day before, and were already sporting golden tans. Well, Yukio was golden, Hizashi was more on the red side.
“We have dinner reservations for tonight,” Yukio said. “What do you want to do before then?”
“Well,” Hizashi said playfully. “Right now, I just want you.”
Rolling over to hover above him, Hizashi pressed his lips to Yukio’s, slipping his tongue into his mouth. Yukio’s groans were music to his ears, and his hands roaming his body were sinful.
“You insatiable man,” Yukio growled into the kiss. “I love you so much.”
“I love you, too.”
“What color suit would you have worn at our wedding, hun?” he asked the grave. “I think I would’ve worn white. You’d look incredible in a dark gray suit. It’d match your eyes!”
Hizashi fiddled with the gold band on his left hand. It glinted in the daylight, reflecting the dark clouds above him.
“I know it’s not the same, and I know it won’t fix everything. In a perfect world, it would,” Yukio said, tears in his eyes. “But I love you, Hizashi. And I don’t want to run away anymore. They know now. And they hate it. And I tried to do what they want, but it made me so unhappy. I just want you.”
Yukio had appeared at Hizashi’s doorstep at one in the morning, rings in hand. They had spent five months broken up, and it was the worst five months of Hizashi’s life.
Yukio’s parents discovered that he had been living with a man for more than two years. Living with a man in a romantic and sexual way. And they were angry. They had immediately set up a match for him, a woman in their province from a good family. Yukio bowed his head, and went home. To say Hizashi was heartbroken would be a grave understatement.
“What about that girl? What about your family?”
“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Yukio sobbed. “I couldn’t. It wouldn’t be fair to the girl either. And it definitely wouldn’t be fair to us. You’re who I want.”
“But—”
“Don’t you want me back, Hizashi? I love you. I’m sorry for what I did, but I love you. Please.”
“I do. I love you, Yuki. Come here.”
Yukio threw his arms around Hizashi, kissing him full on the mouth, tears running down both their faces.
“I wish we had more time,” he whispered. “I wish we could have convinced your dad. I wish for so many things, Yuki.”
His heart felt so heavy. It always did, but especially around this time. There were still times when he woke up and reached for Yukio. But, of course, the other side of the bed would be empty and cold. It had been for years.
“I still have some of your shirts. They don’t smell like you anymore.”
“I promise to love you and cherish you, for the rest of my life and beyond that,” Yukio vowed through tears as he slipped the ring onto Hizashi’s finger.
“I promise to love you and cherish you, in this lifetime, and in all our lifetimes to follow,” Hizashi replied, voice wobbly with emotion, slipping the other band on the other man's finger.
They sat in their living room, exchanging the rings Yukio brought over. It wasn’t official by any means. Far from it. But it was important, still. It meant something—it meant everything to them. In their hearts, in the hearts of those that mattered, from that night forward, they were bound infinitely. Let the gods be our witnesses, they thought. Let them see into our souls, and know we belong together.
“It’s just not fair, Yuki,” Hizashi said, allowing a few tears to fall. “We should have had more time. We should have grown old together. We were supposed to.”
He laughed sadly. “You would’ve gone gray first, I think, just because your hair is darker. But it would’ve suited you. You’d have gray hair and gray eyes. So beautiful. But I would’ve gotten wrinkles first. Laugh lines, I think. I don’t know if I’d have laugh lines anymore, hun. I don’t laugh as much as I did with you.”
“Drinks all around!” Kan yelled, ordering a round of beer. “We must celebrate!”
They were at a bar, a little get-together on a night they were all free. Kan had immediately spotted the matching gold bands on their fingers, and had grown progressively more excited as they told the story.
“We’re not actually married, Kan!” Hizashi laughed with Yukio.
“None of that!” Kan said excitedly. “It’s as good as, I think. You committed to each other. That’s all you need.”
“To us at this table,” Iida said, smiling. “You are married. You are legitimate.”
“To the happy couple!” Kan cheered, raising his glass, the rest of their friends following suit.
“Thanks, guys,” Yukio grinned.
“Hey,” Shouta said. “You don’t need to thank us. We’re not saying it to be nice. We mean it.”
“We know, Sho,” Hizashi smiled at his best friend. “Thank you, still.”
“Part of me is jealous of Sho,” he confessed. “And I know I shouldn’t be. I am so happy for him, hun. I truly am. But…I couldn’t stop thinking about how unfair it is that he got his second chance. I will never have that. You’re gone.”
He looked up again. The rain still hadn’t fallen, but the clouds remained gray. How could the gods do that? He wondered. How could they bring his soulmate into his life, and take him away just as swiftly? Why put him in his life at all, if only to take him away?
“Okay,” Hizashi said as they sat on their bed, reading. “In a perfect world, how many children would you want?”
“Hmm…maybe two? Two seems like a good number,” Yukio answered instantly.
“Boys or girls?”
“Either, really. Which would you prefer, hun?”
“Either! I don’t think I could choose. If we were allowed to adopt, I don’t think it would be fair to just…choose? Birth parents can’t exactly choose.”
“This is one of the reasons why I love you,” Yukio said, kissing Hizashi’s cheek. “We could give them unisex names. So it will work for whichever we get?”
“Great idea. I like…Akira. That works for both girl and boy.”
“Pretty. Rei is also a nice name.”
“Ayyy, look at that! We’ve named our kids!”
“Akira and Rei. I like it. Yamada or Fujita?”
“Yamada-Fujita. Or Fujita-Yamada. Or…Fujimada! Yamajita?”
Yukio laughed loudly, putting his book down and wrapping his arms around Hizashi. “You’re silly. Our kids would adore you.”
“I want to be called ‘Papa.’”
“Okay, then. I’ll take, ‘Dad.’”
“You’d be such a perfect dad, Yuki.”
“Were we naïve to dream, hun? Were we stupid to think of scenarios in a life we could have gotten to live? Were we wrong to think up a perfect world?” Hizashi didn’t try to stop his tears anymore.
“Were we punished for it? Is that what happened? Did we dare too much, did we believe in our fantasies too deeply? That the gods saw it fit to bring us back to earth like this?”
“Good evening, husband of mine,” Hizashi announced as he entered the apartment.
“Hi, hun,” Yukio smiled at him. “How were your classes?”
“Ah, you know! Rowdy bunch of little listeners, but I love ‘em.”
“Well, with you as their teacher, I’m sure they had fun, anyway!”
“You’re sweet,” Hizashi said, kissing the other man on the cheek. “I teach English, though, and that’s always a toughie!”
“Nothing a great teacher can’t handle!”
“You flatter me, hun,” Hizashi grinned, looking over his shoulder. “Ooohh salmon. Yum, yum, yum!”
“Set the table, please, hun?”
“Will do!”
“What do you think of buying a house?” Hizashi asked as he put out plates and chopsticks.
“You think this place is too small? It’s a pretty big apartment!”
“Yeah, but some outdoor space would be nice, right?”
“For what?” Yukio laughed.
“I dunno.”
“Our kids, maybe?” Yukio’s eyes twinkled.
“In a perfect world, we’d have them running around and rolling on the grass already.”
“Maybe one day, we’ll have them.”
Four years was too short, he thought to himself. It felt like such a long time when they were living it, but now that they couldn’t live more years together, it seemed so, so short.
He’d spent days, weeks, thinking of all the different ways it could have gone. He was a hero, for godsakes! And he couldn’t save the one person who meant the world to him. But what could he have done, really? He’d gone back and forth on this for so long, but what could he have done? The villain wasn’t something he could fight; it wasn’t a villain he could punch and kick and scream at.
Why couldn’t it have been a villain he could fight? Why couldn’t it have been something he could have prevented?
“Hun, I think you should go to the hospital,” Hizashi said softly. Yukio had been down with the flu for the past week. It didn’t seem to be getting better.
“I’m fine, hun,” Yukio replied, sniffling. “It’s just a bad cold. It’ll pass.”
“Yuki…please…”
There was a virus going around, one that mimicked the flu in some ways, but was much more dangerous. It attacked the respiratory system, and the way Yukio was wheezing, Hizashi was scared he had contracted it.
“Alright,” Yukio conceded, gulping in air before sniffling. “We can go tomorrow.”
“No,” Hizashi shook his head. “We go now. Please.”
“I couldn’t even be there the whole time,” Hizashi cried. “Unfair. Everything is unfair.”
Yukio would hate to see him so bitter, he thought to himself. But how could he not be? He was taken far too soon, far too quickly. How was he not supposed to be angry about that?
“I’ll be fine, hun,” Yukio smiled. “We’ll just wait for the test results to come back. It’s probably pneumonia, so we just have to let it pass. Maybe some antibiotics.”
“I should call your parents,” Hizashi said.
“No,” Yukio shook his head. “No need.”
“Hun, please. They need to know you’re in the hospital.”
“We don’t need to worry them."
“Hun...”
“They wouldn’t care anyway.”
“Yukio.”
Yukio sighed. “Fine. But you’re overreacting. But, sure.”
Hizashi called the Fujitas, and needless to say, they weren’t happy to hear from him. Hizashi took it, he took the yelling from Yukio’s father. He took the slurs, and the blame.
“You’re the virus,” the old man hissed. “This is your fault. I have no son anymore.”
Everything he said contradicted. Hizashi, as hurt as he was, knew calling them was the right thing to do.
“Update us,” Yukio’s mother said, voice cold as ice before hanging up.
Hizashi wiped his eyes as he noticed the sky clear. The gray clouds were gone, as if they were never there. The sun shone bright, too bright. The weather just refused to cooperate with his emotions.
“Excuse me, sir,” the nurse said, eyes filled with apology. “I'm so sorry. But you’re not allowed inside. Only family is allowed.”
“But—”
“Sir, please. I am truly sorry.”
Hizashi stepped back from the door, and all he could hear were the beeping of the monitors. In his head, they grew progressively louder. He couldn’t hear anything else. It went on seemingly forever.
And suddenly, nothing. No. Not nothing. A steady high-pitched sound. A flat line.
The nurse approached him again. “Sir—”
“No.”
“Present Mic, sir, we’re so sorry—”
“No.”
“His body just couldn’t—”
“No!”
His life changed from complete to empty in the span of a few days. His heart from full to hollow in an instant. From perfect sense, to no sense at all in a blink of an eye.
Move on, move forward, people kept telling him. You don’t have to forget, they told him. You just have to keep living.
And he’s been trying, hasn’t he? He’s been going to work, and doing his work well. He’s gone on his radio show with the same pep and enthusiasm that his love had always enjoyed. He’s rescued and protected thousands of people in the last few years, like penitence for the one life he couldn’t save. He’s loved and raised his students like the children they would never have.
He’s lived his life with as much fervor as he could muster. Yukio would appear in his dreams, in his thoughts, as if to tell him how proud he was that he kept living. If only for those dreams, he kept going.
Iida got there first. Even in a wheelchair, he was fastest. Shouta and Kan arrived not much later. They found Hizashi kneeling on the floor of the hospital, face blank and eyes empty. The nurses told them he hadn’t moved since the news.
Acute respiratory failure. He tested positive for the virus. The results came back too late. Or something. Who cares? Yukio was gone, and Hizashi’s world was dark.
“’Zash?” he heard Shouta’s voice. It sounded very distant, and garbled. He didn’t remember swimming. Why did everything sound like he was underwater? Where was he?
“Hey, Yamada, come on,” he felt Kan’s hand on his arm, lifting him to his feet. “They’re going to cremate him now. Say goodbye.”
How long had he been kneeling there?
He stood in front of a window. He wasn’t allowed inside. Just as well, he thought. How much more broken would he be if he had to touch his love’s cold body?
Yukio looked peaceful, like he did in the mornings when Hizashi woke before him. This is how I want my last image of you, hun, he thought. Like sleeping. Like you’re waiting for me to wake you up with a kiss. Like I could still wake you up with a kiss.
Fujita Yukio, the stone said. Until the very end, his father had refused to accept. He was refused burial at the family grave. How painful that must have been for his soul. But Hizashi’s father stepped up. Put him in ours, kiddo, he told Hizashi. He’s family.
“I still live in our apartment, hun,” he whispered. “I found a nice house for sale once. It had a great backyard. Not very big, but perfect for running around and rolling in the grass.”
Hizashi’s father stayed with him for a year, smoothing his son’s hair and forcing him to eat. Pulling him into the shower to make him take a bath.
He was only like that at home. Outside, in public, he was Present Mic, the Voice Hero. Present Mic, the enthusiastic English teacher. Present Mic, the lively radio talk show host. Only his fellow teachers knew that it was all an act. And if he took off his glasses, displaying his lifeless eyes, everyone else would know.
“Hizashi,” his father said. “It will be okay.”
“How long before you stopped missing mom?”
“I never stopped missing her, Hizashi. I still miss her.”
“Does it ever stop hurting?”
“No, son. It never does. It dulls a little bit. Enough to keep going. But it doesn’t disappear.”
“You were together decades, though! Yukio and I—”
“It doesn’t matter how long you were together. Only that you loved.”
Hizashi let himself sob.
“You could have been together two weeks, and the pain would still be unbearable if he was The One. And he was, son. You can grieve. You can.”
“I miss him.”
“I know.”
Hizashi felt a presence near him. Looking up, he found Shouta sitting beside him, Kan on his other side. Iida rolled over and parked himself within the semi-circle.
Kan wordlessly began pouring sake into cups, and Shouta lit more incense.
“Shouldn’t you be on your honeymoon?” Hizashi asked the underground hero, not bothering to hide his surprise.
“Hmm? We leave tomorrow afternoon.”
“You’ve been married a week, though.”
“Yup. Been great.”
“But—Emi—”
“Understands. She bought flowers,” Shouta smiled at his friend, lifting the bouquet in his hand. “Kaito picked them out.”
“They’re beautiful. Yukio would love them,” Hizashi said, his throat constricting. “Please thank them.”
“Fujita would pluck one out, and put it behind his ear,” Iida said, smiling.
Hizashi chuckled. “He would. He definitely would. Guys—”
“We were concerned when you didn’t call us,” Kan said. “We always tag along on…today.”
“Your daughter had her recital today, though. And I thought Sho would be off on his honeymoon. And I didn’t want to bother Iida when the rest—”
“Excuses,” Iida scoffed playfully. “We wouldn’t miss this.”
Hizashi’s eyes filled with tears again. “Thanks, guys.”
Kan distributed the cups of sake, before raising his own cup. “To Fujita Yukio! A beautiful soul. For the life he lived, and the love he gave!”
“To Fujita Yukio!” the other three echoed.
“Happy birthday, hun,” Hizashi smiled, tracing the words on the stone.
There is a world out there where we get our happy ending. A perfect world somewhere.