Archive of Our Own

the doctor put her hand over my liver
she told me my resentment's getting smaller
no, i'm not afraid of hard work
i get everything i want
i have everything i want

Garden Song, Phoebe Bridgers

When Tadashi’s lining up on the start line next to Snow (My little Langa, he remembers Ainosuke crooning), he turns to face the teen. On the screen, Ainosuke is waxing lyrical about the white-haired boy, and it gives Tadashi just enough time to really look at him. He has a look of determination that Tadashi knows all-too-well, a specific set to his jaw and shoulder that he’s been looking at his entire life.

“I have nothing against you,” he says finally, as quiet as possible. It seems to break Snow out of some trance, because he looks over, wide-eyed. “Whatever the outcome of this race, my beef is only with Adam.”

Langa’s eyes search his face, and Tadashi holds his gaze. Those blue eyes look away at the screen where Ainosuke is finally wrapping up, and something clicks in his gaze. “I understand,” he says. And while Tadashi knows that he doesn’t fully get it, the gravitas of what Tadashi is doing, the cliff face he is teetering on, he knows that Langa understands there is something here more important than the outcome of this race.

But that doesn’t mean that he won’t give it his all.

As the horn counts down, Tadashi takes one last look at Ainosuke on the screen, smile fixed in place. It’s hollow, nothing behind that mask besides selfish interests and fear.

They kick off, matched for speed as they barrel down the raceway. Langa’s speed is nothing to sneer at, he knows, and neither is his penchant for out of the way jumps and shortcuts. Each time he goes down this course, he manages to find a new one. But what Tadashi has that few others in this tournament do, are the years he’s spent on this stretch. The hours he’s watched video, analyzing other skaters and their different paths. This is the safest of any course they could have taken, and Tadashi knows them all like the back of his hand.

Langa slows slightly around a curve and Tadashi leans in, centrifugal force keeping him on his board. On the straightaway, he keeps that slight lead. On the left, there’s enough of a ramp that one could do a jump off it, and he sees Langa gear up for it, picking up speed as his feet shift on the board,

Tadashi takes the jump. He doesn’t get quite as much air as Langa, whose experience as a snowboarder has always given him the edge when airborne. But he’s high enough so that it doesn’t make a difference when they both hit the ground, board stable under his feet just a few meters ahead of Langa.

The rest of the race is like that: Tadashi seeing the jumps he’s seen for years, and trying to decide which ones Langa will go for. It’s easier to edge him out when they both go for the same jump rather than them taking alternating ones. With Tadashi in front, Langa has to keep his distance unless they hit each other. And all the way down the course into the warehouse is this same push-and-pull, of Tadashi not giving an inch and Langa not being able to find a way around.

Of course, once they hit the warehouse, there’s no telling where Langa will veer off to. He treats the rusted metal walkways like a jungle gym, finding the best route like the bars aren’t liable to give way at any moment. Tadashi keeps going straight, waiting for Langa to make his move. He takes an abrupt jump off to a lower walkway, and Tadashi scans the route from above. He’s always been good at this, finding the best paths. Langa, he knows, is good at it too. Add in his gravity-defying jumps and tricks and Tadashi knows he really only has one good chance at beating him.

Tadashi’s route is the one he’s always taken on the rare times he’s done the full course. It’s a miracle it still stands after all the years of use, but that’s because no one ever uses it. It relies on luck as much as it does skill, and he hopes his hasn’t run out yet.

He goes to the left, where an overhand gives way to a long stretch of tight steel scaffolding. His wheels have to stay aligned right on the edges, where the metal remains unbroken. The center of the beams are open, thin lattices of steel intersecting. If his wheels drift even slightly, it’s the end for him. Tadashi keeps low to the board, focused on keeping it as straight as possible. He’s dimly aware of Langa below him, but still staying behind. He can see an opening for a jump in front of the teen, and that’s when the steel beam comes to an end.

He drops down. The impact sends pain shooting up his legs, but it causes Langa to veer off from the jump, and Tadashi takes it, soaring over more beams and walkways. Langa goes for another one further down, but Tadashi knows it’s already over. That jump is too soon for him to build up enough speed, and Langa doesn’t quite catch enough air to make even with him.

Tadashi rolls across the finish line to a stunned silence, before cheers start up. Snake! Snake! Snake! rumbles throughout the building. When he lifts his head up to where the monitor is showing the stage Ainosuke conducts his monologues from, it’s empty.

Langa steps in front of him, a gentle smile on his face. He doesn’t look mad about losing. Behind him are Cherry and Joe and Reki, with looks of disappointment but still an underlying current of pride. “You’re really good,” Langa says. “Out of anyone, at least I lost to you. Maybe we can have a rematch one day.”

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Tadashi automatically agrees. “One day,” he says, nodding. He can’t take it back now that he’s said it, now that Langa’s smile is a little bit bigger. He turns back to his group of friends.

Tadashi stands there, alone in the crowd of people. He knows they’re talking about him, can catch their whispers and the furtive looks they send his way. He looks back up at the screen, devoid of Ainosuke, and sighs. There’s no telling what that man is doing now, and unfortunately, Tadashi still must keep things in motion.

His bedroom in the Shindo Residence is impersonal as a hotel room. He’s lived in it for twenty years, and still the cream-colored walls have never seen a hint of personality. When he was younger, and was still in school, the other kids mocked him for not having one. And at the age of six, he had looked up at Ueda-san and his sneer, and decided that whatever personality he did have, it was always best to not show it.

And when his father died, and when Shindo Aiichiro died, and Ainosuke had no one but his aunts and their insidious smiles, Tadashi decided that it wasn’t worth finding anything else, because he didn’t have anything else. 

Each of them stepped into their roles, Ainosuke becoming a Diet Member and growing his contacts with ease, and Tadashi standing behind him in the shadows, doing the work that kept the Shindo women in their mansion and their name in good faith.

And for all the work he does in ensuring Ainosuke never dipped below anyone’s expectations, never lost any of his good standing, he was called dog . And maybe that’s all he is, a dog doing everything for its master because it’s all he knows, all he’s ever known, and there’s nothing he can do to change that.

There is a week between his race against Langa and the one against Ainosuke. His only saving grace during that week is the increased pressure from Inspector Kamata and the ensuing meetings Ainosuke has with his aunts and the other men in his party. Tadashi follows him like a shadow and his note-taking is superb as ever, but he can see the barely-contained fury inside those red eyes. 

He manages to make it three days before it builds up enough for Ainosuke to lash out. 

He’s in his bedroom, finishing up a final report to be sent to Yamamoto’s secretary about the most recent policy changes they’re working on. It’s late, but Tadashi has never known what a work-life balance is, because after all, he’s never had a life outside of all of this.

Ainosuke slams into his room, a tornado uncontained, anger emanating off him in palpable waves. He’s almost astonished it took this long for the well to break, knowing that Ainosuke’s emotions surge high as soon as the slight happens. He’s always been good at wearing someone else's face, though, a skill beaten into him by his aunts.

“What is it that you think you’re going to get out of this,” he spits, marching across the room. Tadashi was out of his chair by the time the door opened, and he lets his body get pushed back into the wall. “You really think you can win against me?”

“I know I can,” Tadashi says. His voice is measured, but he knows his pulse has sped up. He’s seen Ainosuke angry, but he’s seen him almost murderous in the past few weeks.

Ainosuke waits to see if he’ll add anything else, but the simple sentence only enrages him further. “You can’t, dog. You aren’t good enough, let alone able to disobey. I will win, and we know what you will have to do next.”

And for the first time in his life, Tadashi lifts his chin.

When Tadashi is eight years old, his father sits him down on the steps of their apartment. His mom is still working, cooking and washing for another family. His dad is home early for a change, the sunset still bleeding orange all over the sky. His hours are long, and Tadashi only sees him in the middle of the night when he walks into his room to just look. And he knows this isn’t normal, because he sees the kids playing in the playground with their moms watching over them with fond smiles, or their fathers walking them home from school in their business suits. Tadashi walks himself home, and reheats the meal his mom makes for him every morning.

“I found a new job,” he says. “It’s better than this one, but it has one big condition.” He turns to Tadashi, and his face looks too old for a man his age, exhaustion wrinkling his face and hair turning grey at the sides. “How would you feel about moving?”

“To another apartment?”

“No, to the house of the family I would work for. They would hire me, and maybe for mom if things go well, and we’d have a family suite. They have a son your age, you know.” His father smiles down at him, and the expression manages to take away some years. “It’s a large estate.”

“What about school?” Tadashi asks, although he really doesn’t care what the answer is. If he switches schools then he won’t have to worry about Ueda-san and his friends, or the mocking laughs they throw his way.

“They’d offer to do private tutoring for you. Better than whatever you’re learning right now.”

Tadashi pretends to think it over, but he knows what his answer is the same way that he knows this is just a formality. What he says won’t matter, because his father will take the job because of the promise of a better life. 

“Sounds nice.”

His father’s smiles and ruffles his hair. He has a brown mole under his eye just like Tadashi does. When he grows up, people will tell him he’s just like his father, looks and personality. Tadashi will come to know that it’s more than that. 

He’s just like his father, because they keep signing their lives away to people who don’t care about them.

Tadashi lifts his chin and says, “I’m not your dog. I will win, and you will give up skating.”

His words take a second to reach Ainosuke, but when they do, he’s tossed into the wall hard enough to make his head bounce. This anger isn’t yet murderous, but he can tell by the glint in those red eyes that Ainosuke wants to end him through whichever means is easiest.

And then he steps back, falling back into the persona of a man who’s rich enough to not care about anything besides his family. “Fine, then. If you win, I’ll give up skating. But if I win, you’ll take the fall for me. And I’ll make sure you can never come back from it.”

He’s out the room like a whirlwind. Tadashi’s head still throbs from where it hit the small. He sighs, letting his shoulder slump as he takes a second to breath. His pulse is still racing, like it always does when Ainosuke stands in front of him with that same anger.

After a minute, he sits back down at his computer. The report is still open, the cursor blinking in the middle of the word he was writing. He looks at it, and the clock strikes over to midnight. Wednesday. Four more days until their race, until everything changes.

He deletes his work, and goes to bed.

In the remaining days, he gets his affairs in order. It feels like he’s planning for his death, as he works with a bank to make a savings account and puts what amount he can into it. At an internet cafe, he looks up the cheapest apartments in Okinawa. Memories of his early years and that lonely apartment came more to mind as he clicks through image after image of shitty rooms. He separates his wardrobe, the suits hanging in his closet while his more casual shirts and jeans get tucked away into a suitcase that he keeps under his bed.

The last thing he does, on Friday night, is take out his mom’s old jewelry box. She never had much, just simple earrings and her wedding band that wasn’t expensive, because she and father never had the money and she never wore it half the time. In it are their wedding bands, slightly tarnished from the years. After his parents’ deaths, he would open the box just to stare at them. His father’s only pair of cufflinks are nestled in as well, and his mom’s pair of pearl earrings, an anniversary gift from his dad. He spent his first bonus from working with the Shindo’s on it. She wasn’t able to wear them for long, though.

He puts the jewelry box into his suitcase, and uploads his phone’s content to his computer. One of Ainosuke’s police force contacts has called with a heads-up that Inspector Kamata obtained a search warrant for the Shindo residence. Ainosuke told him with glee, because he still thinks he will win and Tadashi will take the fall for collusion. 

Tadashi won’t tell him that he won’t go to jail, even if he does lose their beef. Everything has been set in motion.

The course Ainosuke chooses is the deadliest. It’s the one Tadashi has had to watch bodies get scraped off of, made calls and pulled favors time after time to keep S going. He meets Ainosuke at the top, a cliff face lit only by the moon. He’s wearing a new outfit, something dark and somber. His board is new as well, the heart motif replaced by a pitch-black board that blends in with the ground.

Tadashi’s board is the same, boring deck he’s had for years now. There isn’t any personalization in the way that all the other skaters decorate theirs, no theme that he builds up. He’s spent his life blending in and being as unnoticeable as possible, it’s easy to look at his board and think it was just grabbed off a shelf.

Ainosuke looks up, and Tadashi realizes that his mask is different too. It’s replaced by a half-skull, his red eyes gleaming through the deep sockets. “I changed my look up today for you, Tadashi,” he says in that grand, theatrical voice. “A mourner’s garb for your funeral.”

“Is that so,” he says, placating. “What if it’s your own funeral you’re dressing up for?” It feels wrong to be making jabs at Ainosuke after a lifetime of serving him, but the feeling of unease washes off him easily.

He lets out a barking laugh, harsh in the silence around them. “I won’t lose, Tadashi. I’m in a world of my own.” His head tilts, red eyes locking onto his. “And you mean nothing to me.”

Tadashi doesn’t grace that with an answer, only comes to stand beside him as the countdown begins. The course stretches ahead of them, menacingly dark. With visibility so low, he’s going to need more of that luck and muscle memory to do this.

The course is a long stretch, narrow and twisting with rock formations being an obstacle as much as the crumbling ground. The first curve drops way to an endless drop and for not, Tadashi lets Ainosuke take the lead. He uses all of his little tricks, zipping around corners without really looking like he’s daring Tadashi to do the same. But he knows that there is only so much Ainosuke can do before they reach the real portion of the race.

On the first straightaway, Ainosuke goes for the love hug. It’s the first time Tadashi has experienced it, Ainosuke coming towards, arms wide and head thrown back. Everything is just a game to him, one that he always comes out on top of. Tadashi waits until the last moment to do the jump, managing to clear Ainosuke’s head as he lands on the other side. Behind him he can hear the wheels as the board turns, and Ainosuke comes speeding behind him.

Tadashi keeps to the inside of the course. He won’t put it past Ainosuke to try and force him off the edge, and while he has an idea of what to do just in case, he’d rather not put it to the test. They’re watched for speed around the next corners, Ainosuke cutting it sharp every time, getting even closer to Tadashi who has to fight the urge to veer further left.

He’s never had to listen to his instincts, never putting himself in a place that is dangerous enough where all of his senses are yelling at him. They are now, and it’s hard to be fighting something he forgot he had. He slows before the next curve, forgetting the need to stay level with Ainosuke, and the man quickly takes advantage of it.

He turns on a dime, kicking his board up and swinging with it. Tadashi drops down so he’s almost squatting on his board, and it just goes over his head. His low position makes it easy for him to pick up speed, just like Joe’s impressive trick during his race against Snow, but the course is dangerous enough at the speed he was going. He has to brace against the curb, sparks flying behind him as he struggles to keep his board on the course. 

As soon as he can, he straightens up. He risks a glance behind him, and sees Ainosuke fully leaned in. He can’t see those red eyes, but something about the body language tells Tadashi everything he needs to know. Ainosuke is in the Zone. He speeds past Tadashi, skating effortlessly around obstacles. Gritting his teeth, Tadashi follows.

He’s been in the Zone once, years ago. It was one of the few times he’s skated this course, alone on a Wednesday afternoon. He never noticed when he was in, only when he came stumbling out the other side and crashed into a pile of rocks. It’s been a while since Ainosuke was in it too; most of his races took little of focus, never enough to dignify the switch.

Tadashi follows him in, and the world falls away.

“How are you here?” is the first thing he hears. All he can see is Ainosuke in front of him, looking at him with surprise and more of that familiar anger.

“I guess I’m just good enough,” Tadashi says. It’s not like anyone knows how they’re able to get into the Zone. It’s just that one moment they’re there.

“But you’re not ,” Ainosuke stresses, his voice wavering. “You aren’t good enough to be here with me. I’ve ascended past everyone else!”

The light around them is dizzying, and Tadashi keeps his eyes straight ahead. He doesn’t give Ainosuke the respect of eye contact as that last bit of fear washes off him. “You want so badly for someone to be at your level so you won’t be alone but the truth is, Ainosuke, is that you will always be alone. You can never know love and friendship like everyone down there does. I’m the person closest to you, I know everything about you, and that’s why you can believe me when I say, you will always be alone in your little world.”

He breaks free of the Zone, and slices across the path to take a jump. It cuts across a good bit of the course, and Ainosuke is several meters behind him when he lands. They’re in the final stretch, and he can hear the crowds waiting for them below.

Behind him, Ainosuke is yelling, cursing. “You’re nothing! You have nothing, you dog, and you will never have anything!” He’s speeding up too, but Tadashi knows down to his bones who will win.

He leans in, letting everything fall away one last time as the course opens up into the familiar, well-lit section. There’s nothing besides him and the sound of his board beneath his feet. He barely realizes when he crosses the finish line, coming to a stop. He has to shake his head to clear the last vestiges of the Zone and when he looks up, the screens above them are frozen on Tadashi’s boring grey board on the finish line. Ainosuke isn't even in the frame.

Tadashi looks at the man who has dictated the majority of his life, sitting crumpled at the finish line. He looks at Ainosuke, sees the face that has come to haunt his every waking moment, and feels any regret slide off him.

“For some, death just marks a change.” He drops down, lifting Ainosuke’s head so he can look him in the eye. “What change is coming your way, Ainosuke?”

Around them, the crowd is screaming and yelling. Chants of Snake ! are undercut by the whispers that the unstoppable ADAM has finally lost a race. A respectable circle remains around them, as Tadashi looks into those red eyes.

“Say goodbye to skating. And the rest of your life, too.”

He doesn’t know how Ainosuke gets back to the Shindo residence. Tadashi is barely aware of himself after he wins. He’s half-aware of Kaoru and Joe around him, talking to him. They’re giving him a ride, or offering him a place to stay. The adrenaline leaves his body feeling overheated, exhaustion slumping his frame and weighing him down.

“I have to follow through,” he says. Kaoru nods after a second, because he’s almost as calculating as Tadashi is. A man who created an AI specifically for his skateboard can easily realize ADAM and Ainosuke are the same, and Sakurayashiki Kaoru obviously reads the news.

“We’ll drive you back, but don’t hesitate to reach out if you need it.” The same has an earnest look on his face, having ditched his mask for the night. It gives him the sort of vulnerability that Tadashi feels drawn to, unafraid of pity. Tadashi nods, and lets himself be slightly manhandled by Reki and Langa into the car.

Not much is said during the drive. The kids sit, and occasionally a huff of laughter comes out of them, but they don’t say a word. Kojiro and Koaru send each other silent looks, but both of them carry the same air of relief. For two that called themselves Ainosuke’s closest friends at one point in time, there’s nothing but happiness with the outcome of the race.

When they stop outside of the Shindo residence’s gate, Kaoru turns to face him. “What is ADAM giving up?”

Tadashi’s gaze travels around the car’s inhabitants before settling on the imposing mansion through the window. “Skateboarding.”

He leaves the car in a stunned silence as he gets out and types in the gate code. It’s maybe the last time. Inspector Kamata is coming tomorrow, and she will find whatever piece of evidence she needs to complete her case. Ainosuke will be arrested, and he will blame Tadashi, who will release every bit of documentation he has about Ainosuke’s under-the-table dealings. It’s not much, but it will be enough.

And then he’ll be free.

The house is silent when he steps inside. It’s somber, like walking into a funeral wake, except no one is there and no one is dead yet. No one is in the halls, and he makes his way to his room without any stops. He takes his boots off and then his jacket, laying it carefully on the back of his chair. He curls up on the bed and is out quickly, exhaustion weighing down his limbs and keeping his mind blissfully clear.

When he wakes up, hours later, it’s to a maid knocking on his door. “Kikuchi-san! The police are here!”

“I’ll be out in just a moment,” he calls out to her. He looks in the mirror before he steps out of his room. There are dark circles under his eyes, and his hair is ruffled. If he had time for a shower, he would look much more presentable, but instead he dons one of his suits and goes to meet Inspector Kamata.

She’s standing in the middle of Ainosuke’s office. He’s nowhere to be seen, either stuck somewhere else in the house or just not here at all. There is a group of people going through the files on his desk, and another examining every item on the shelves.

“Kikuchi Tadashi,” she says, turning to face him. She has a file of paper in her hands that she idly flicks through. “I hear you’re the one to ask about anything concerning Shindo-san.”

“I am,” he agrees. “Ask away.”

She raises an eyebrow, lowering the papers. “What, you’re not wondering about why we’re here? Do you think you have nothing to be concerned with?”

“I have nothing to be concerned with,” he says. “But you’re not going to find much of what you need in here.”

“And where would I find it?”

“If you’ll follow me,” he says. He leads her through the halls. Staff members peek out at them behind half-closed doors, and he can only wonder what’s being whispered about him now. Half of the house gossip has always been about him, in one way or another. Even in childhood, they would talk about the servant’s son that is just too close to Ainosuke. In the past few years, it’s been about the specifics of their relationships. 

He takes her back to his bedroom, where he turns on his computer. The wallpaper is a generic one set by the computer. “You’ll find whatever you need on this machine,” he says.

“I can’t imagine you’d go so far as to help the investigation against your employer,” Kamata says. It’s a fair enough question but, like many other people, have always assumed why Tadashi stayed in his role.

“A few weeks ago, Ainosuke told me that if he were to be accused of perjury, I would take the fall for it.” He finds the file on his computer, an audio file named something inconspicuous enough. No one in this house would care to investigate his computer, but he always took measures. He plays it, and the sound of Ainosuke’s voice fills the room.

“I f it comes to that, you’ll take the blame. Everything was done by you, me secretary, on your own accord. I knew none of it.” There’s the pause before he spoke again , “Dissatisfied?”

“And only with a risk to your own name, you would help my investigation?” Kamata’s voice has a thin line of disgust, even with the way her eager eyes track anything visible on Tadashi’s computer.

“I’ve been with this family since I was seven, Inspector,” he says. He looks up at her, making sure she holds his gaze. “I have never had a way out.”

After a moment, she nods. Understanding in her voice, she asks, “Can I ask you to be a witness? My team would provide you with a security detail and a hotel room until the trial.”

The corner of his mouth twitches, like a smile is trying to form. He keeps his face straight, though, as he replies, “I’d be more than happy to comply, Inspector Kamata.”

“Well then,” she says, excitement over the last few pieces of her case coming together, “why don’t we get you somewhere else.”

The hotel room isn’t much, located in Nishihara. Kamata wanted to keep him out of the eye of Naha, but he’s close enough for all the meetings and discussions held. He’s yet to have to see Ainosuke, but he’s seen the footage of his arrest played on the TV and in his mind at night.

Kamata calls to keep him updated each day. The court case is a bit away, and the Shindo lawyers are working hard for an acquittal or a plea deal, neither of which Kamata will let them have. She’s proud every time she calls, although the exhaustion is clear in her voice. Tadashi will never say it, but he’s grown to enjoy the phone calls. It’s been a week since he’s settled into the apartment, and her calls are the only proof he has that the world keeps turning.

But seven days is a long time to be stationary, and even Tadashi needs to move every now and then. When he wakes up on the seventh day, there’s an energy buzzing through his skin that he hasn’t felt since he was a teenager. 

It’s easy enough to sneak past the lone security guard assigned to his case, and he steps out into the sunlight of a busy Monday morning. He isn’t paying attention to where he’s going, simply taking a moment to relish in what he’s doing.

He’s wearing a simple shirt and jeans, an outfit that he’s never worn outside of the house or S before. There’s no more need for his neatly pressed suits, the shoes that have always pinched his toes. He’s free to dress like anyone else, in comfortable clothes that don’t feel like suffocating. He hasn’t been able to take a walk around town like this, ever. His time has always been scheduled, to work and to deal with any collateral damage.

There are other people his age, walking around. Twenty-somethings without any worries laughing together as they walk down the sidewalks, stopping to admire the flowers and read the headline of a newspaper. So this is what he is supposed to do, what he could’ve done if his life went differently.

He’s too busy watching the way a girl with shockingly green hair bounces across the street to notice when someone steps beside him, grabbing his arm. He rips it away, taking a step back to see who touched him.

It’s Kojiro, holding his hands up in a placating gesture, an easy smile on his face. He’s in a chef’s attire, white apron over a black shirt. It’s odd to see him wearing a shirt, in a way. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, “I shouldn’t have snuck up on you.”

Tadashi takes a moment to settle, nodding as he reminds himself that this is fine. “Can I help you with something, Nanjo-san?”

“Aw, no need for honorifics here. You can just call me Kojiro. And what about your name?” The man is obviously overly-familiar, at a stark contrast to how Tadashi has always carried himself with an air of careful politeness.

But it’s not hard to tell him, “Tadashi.” And there’s that broad grin again, as Kojiro tugs him closer and starts half-forcing him down the sidewalk.

“It’s good to see you, man. Honestly, Kaoru was pretty worried when you never reached out but, well, we both saw what was on the news. Are you okay? Safe?”

And maybe this is why Kojiro has always found himself flocked by women and men alike, why his friendships have withstood the troubles of Ainosuke and skating. For all of his good looks, there’s an equal amount of good in his personality. He’s guarded, of course, but there is something incredibly genuine about him that Tadashi doesn’t doubt it’s real concern being directed towards him.

“I’ve mostly been in my hotel room,” Tadashi begins, halting. “There isn’t much to do, so…” He’s never been good at holding conversations. He’s quiet and serious, and as a child that made him an outcast, as a servant that made him indispensable, but as a conversationalist, it makes him useless.

“Pretty lucky to get a hotel close to the best Italian restaurant around,” Kojiro says. They take a left at the crosswalk, and Tadashi realizes what he means.

Sia le Luce fits into the neighborhood despite its stucco exterior that contrasts with the other buildings. To the side is an outdoor seating area where a few people sit, shielded from the sun by deep red umbrellas. As they approach, the hostess looks up with a smile.

“Nanjo-san, welcome back!” she says. “And who is your guest?”

“Just a friend, Haruka. Any trouble?” Kojiro stops for a second, waiting for her answer.

“Nope! Just the usual crowd.”

Inside there are more people settling in for an early lunch. Kojiro moves by everyone with ease and Tadashi can only follow him, noting that they disappear behind a door marked for employees. It’s a hallway that leads to the kitchen, but Kojiro ducks into a room to the side. It’s an office, the desk messy with loose papers and crumpled ones lining the floor.

“Sit down, sit down,” he says, closing the door behind them and moving to take the chair behind the desk. It creaks ominously under his weight. Tadashi has to move a few papers off a chair in order to sit, and he sets them carefully on another stack.

In the relative privacy of the office, some of the tension leaks out of Tadashi. Kojiro seems to be readying himself for something, so he keeps his eyes on one of the pieces of paper. It’s a half-written menu.

“What’s the probability that he’s going to jail? And I mean, actually going.” He finally looks up to meet Kojiro’s eyes, seeing the seriousness that only lurked behind his eyes earlier.

“The investigators have a good deal of evidence, and two witnesses including myself. His lawyers are working hard, but there’s not much they can do against it. And Kamata would never settle for a plea deal.” Tadashi breaks eye contact, looking over at the framed pictures on the walls. Kojiro in Italy, Kojiro holding a certificate of sorts. “The minimum will be five years.”

“Five years,” Kojiro muses, “that’s a long time.” Not long enough, is what is unsaid between the two of them. It would be longer, they know, if they exposed his crimes at S. There’s no end to how the trial would go, and with the marked contrast between Ainosuke Shindo and ADAM, who knows what type of defense could be made.

“This isn’t just a social call,” Kojiro says after a little bit. “I also have an offer for you. A job.”

“You’re offering me a job?” Tadashi repeats, incredulous. “I’m not exactly sure what you think my qualifications are.”

Kojiro waves a hand. “I know that you were a secretary and you’re really good at organization. And those two things are, in my opinion, what makes you best suited for being a manager here.”

“A restaurant manager?”

“Look, Sia le Luce is popular because the food is good, and that’s because I’m the guy making it. But I’m not good at the actual managerial part of it, and I don’t have time either. I spend too much time in the kitchen, and not any time back here and, well, you can see that it’s kind of a mess.”

Tadashi nods, because there’s no denying that. “Well, what does being a manager here entail?”

He grins, like that’s exactly what he wanted to hear. “Inventory management, dealing with our food vendors, making the schedules, helping me with menus, marketing, that whole thing. I figured a lot of it is kinda close to what you’ve been doing.”

It’s true enough. Tadashi’s level of micromanaging Ainosuke’s life has been intense. He spent most of his career talking to other people about Ainosuke and then deciding the schedule for the man. And it translates, maybe. 

“Were you planning on asking me specifically if I wanted the job, or were you going to actually find someone through the usual ways?”

Kojiro’s smile turns sheepish, and he rubs the back of his neck. “Well, honestly, I’m also not very good at the hiring aspect of things. Most of my workers are here because I put a ‘we’re hiring’ sign in the window when we were getting ready to open, and then through word of mouth after that. Most times the interviews I conduct are just asking them their experience and availability, and that’s it.”

“You have a very lackadaisical approach to owning a restaurant,” Tadashi remarks.

“Yeah, Kaoru is always one my ass about it,” he groans. “So, are you in?”

“How much would I get paid?” It gets a laugh and Tadashi realizes that his answer is already yes.

When Kamata calls later that day, Tadashi is looking at nearby apartments again. As soon as he picks up, he says, “I’ve gotten a job, and I’ll be moving out of the hotel room shortly.”

“A job? Where?” She sounds distracted, and he can hear muffled talking.

“A restaurant nearby. An acquaintance offered me it.”

“Well, that’s good, Kikuchi-san,” she says. “You have to tell me about it later. But importantly, we’ve got a court date coming up.”

“So soon?”

“His lawyers have given up on a plea deal,” she tells him, “and are really hoping for an acquittal. But they’re not going to get one.”

“Will I have to be there?” He knows he sounds slightly panicked, and maybe he is. There isn’t much that he has, but the small bit of peace he has knowing he doesn’t have to see Ainosuke is something he counts on.

“It’s not for two weeks, but yes. Don’t worry, I’ll help coach you through it, but you aren’t integral to our evidence. You’re just the little piece of luck that I need.”

Luck, huh. He thought he’s used up any luck he’s had, winning those two races and managing to get away from Ainosuke without injury. But here Kamata is, saying it like it’s something simple.

“Okay. Do you want to hear about my job, now?”

She laughs. “Wow, you’re pretty talkative for once. Let me tell you what, how about we meet up for coffee and we’ll talk then. Sounds good?”

Tadashi nods, even though he knows she can’t see him. “Yeah, sounds good.”

“Great, I’ll see you tomorrow, say ten?”

After they say their goodbyes, Tadashi turns back to the apartments on his computer screen. The pay Kojiro offered was nothing to sneer at, and he even offered a sign-on bonus. “Just to get you settle in quicker,” he said with a wink, and Tadashi took it. The difference between the apartments he could afford now and the ones he was looking at a week ago is hilarious.

He puts in an inquiry for one a few blocks from the restaurant. The rental company sends him a reply only a few minutes later, and he schedules his viewing for tomorrow, after his meeting with Kamata. 

For the first time, he feels like he’s doing what normal people do.

The cafe Kamata drives them to isn’t very fair from where the apartment is. He remarks on this, and she laughs. “All getting ready to move out, huh?” She orders a black coffee while he gets a tea, and they settle into a booth far from the door.

“Do you want to go over my part or yours?” she asks, setting a large legal file onto the table. 

“I’d rather get this other with,” he says and she nods, opening it up.

“In two weeks, we’ll go to the district court. You won’t have to be in the room until you’re called, but you’ll be questioned by the judges instead of the defense. They can only direct their questions through the judge. And after that, they judges will decide on their ruling.”

“Can I be there for that?”

She gives a calculating look. “Of course. Many people won’t be allowed into the gallery, but you’re always able to slip in and stand at the back.”

He nods. “And what type of questions will I be asked.”

“Honestly, I don’t know. I can’t tell what angles lawyers are going for, but they probably will try to claim that you orchestrated this whole thing. With all of the evidence you’ve given us, though, it won’t fold up at all. But they’ll probably question your integrity, and the validity of these recordings.” She takes a sip of her coffee, looking over the rest of the cafe. “I have no doubt that you’ll do well, Kikuchi-san. You’ve shown you do remarkably well under pressure.”

Except he feels like his going to crumple at any second with everything going on. But he takes a sip of his tea and says, “About the job…”

They manage to take an entire hour talking. After he talks about his job and apartment, which she had some insight about renting that she was happy to share, they moved on to other things. She’s from Tokyo originally, only out here for this specific investigation. She has a girlfriend back in the city, and two cats that are her phone’s lock screen. Her demeanor changes from the serious inspector to a normal woman having a drink with a friend.

Tadashi knows that they aren’t friends, acquaintances at most, but he tells her things few people know. In fairness, only Ainosuke knows him, really. The servants that used to watch Tadashi for his parents are all gone, and the whispers that followed him were only rumors, nothing based in truth. So he tells her a little, like how his family worked for the Shindos and how his childhood was about learning how to be a servant.

At one point, she put her hands over his and said, “I want you to know that none of your life so far has been normal. I know that you know this on some level, but no one deserves what you have been through. And I’m so glad that I was able to help get you out, Kikuchi Tadashi.”

He bows his head, unable to look in her eyes and the earnest expression on her face. “Thank you,” he whispers, mainly to his lap. She squeezes his hands tightly before letting go.

“This has been nice, Kikuchi-san,” she says, backing her file into her bag, “but duty calls. Maybe we can do this again, later this week?”

“I’d like that,” he says, again, and she gives him a warm smile before sliding out of the booth and walking out.

Tadashi takes another sip of his tea and another second to pull himself together before checking the time. He looks at the time and decides to get going. It wouldn’t hurt to be early.

Two days later, he’s standing in an apartment that is his own. He signed the lease the day of the viewing, and with the first of the month around the corner, they let him move in quickly for a small fee. It’s sparsely furnished, a small table with two chairs in the living room. The kitchen has newer appliances as well, and isn’t too cramped. There’s the bedroom, a bathroom, a smaller room that could make do as an office, but he doesn’t expect he will need to use one. The office at Sia le Luce is unused by Kojiro, and he’ll probably spend more time there any anyone else.

The bedroom only has a lumpy futon, so he breaks into his savings to buy a bedframe and mattress. The delivery guys set it up for him, and he gives them a large tip. It’s nice, to able to have money he can use like this. Working for Ainosuke, it was more like he was allotted an allowance, which he mainly used on new suits and maintenance for his board. It wasn’t much, and he tried to save as much as it that he could.

He goes to the nearest store that sells home goods and fills a cart with everything he needs. Pillows and utensils, a floormats and towels. When he checks out, the total almost making him stagger, the clerk asks, “Just got an apartment?”

“Ah, yes,” Tadashi replies, unused to small talk. “Never knew how much went into it now.”

She laughs as she hands him his receipt. “Good luck moving in!”

Everything smells new once he puts it all up, so he opens the windows and the balcony, letting the summer air pour in.

And when he takes a shower, he lets himself sink to the tiled floor and bury his head in his arms as the sobs finally tear their way out of him.

It’s a lot, to be fulfilling his duties as Shindo Ainosuke’s secretary to, just a mere month later, being a major character in his criminal trial. It’s a lot, to suddenly turn from the life that he has known since he was eight. He’s thought fondly of his childhood apartment a lot lately, the bentos his mom would leave for him in the morning and the smell of cooking late at night. His dad laughing one the rare nights they’re all their together, under the warm lights.

This apartment is nothing like that, empty and a little bit cold. All off the cooking will have to be his own, any laughter will have to his own. He doesn’t remember the last time he laughed. Maybe it was back when Ainosuke still looked at him with boyish wonder in his eyes. But as he lifts his head up, the pray from the shower head slicking his hair back, he thinks that his parents would be proud of him.

A place he can call his own, a well-paying job, and even some people that he could rely on. Things they were bereft of, things they always wanted. It’s too late for them, but Tadashi can do all he can to serve their memory well.

His first day at Sia le Luce is the day after he moves in, and he shows up bright and early. Haruka is at the hostess table again, but she manages to recognize him too. “Kikuchi-san! Kojiro told us about you, it will be a pleasure to work with you.” She gives a little bow that he mimics.

“Pleasure to work with you too, Haruka.” She gives him a smile as he continues through the door and into the back office.

Kojiro is wearing street clothes, and thankfully a shirt. “Hey, Tadashi, good to see you. Are you ready for your first day of training?” At Tadashi’s stiff nod, he laughs. “It’s not going to be bad, I promise. Well, you’ll see how bad I am at it. C’mon.”

He’s shown around and introduced to the workers there. Before Kojiro stepped into the kitchen, he said, “The number one thing you need to do is remember everyone’s name.”

“Trust me, I won’t have a problem with that,” he replied, and got another laugh.

Kojiro really only starts cooking at night during the dinner rush. Before then, though, he has a variety of kitchen workers who fill in, and another set who comes in later. There are only a few waitresses who are more than happy to take a moment and talk to the two of them.

After that, they go back to the office where Kojiro pulls up something on the computer. “We get produce shipments every other day and meat shipments twice a week, on Fridays and Mondays. As today is Friday, you get to see me deal with Ryuu from Yusada Butchery.”

Ryuu is a middle-aged man with a gruff voice and a mighty frown that he fixes upon Kojiro once he steps out of his truck. Another worker is bringing in coolers of meat to the walk-in. “Who’s this?” he says, jerking his head towards Tadashi.

“I have great news for you, Ryuu,” Kojiro says as he claps Tadashi on the back. “This is Kikuchi Tadashi, my new restaurant manager. You’re not going to have to deal with me anymore!”

“Finally,” Ryuu grumbles. He sticks out a hand for Tadashi to shake. He has callouses, no doubt from handling heavy knives. “Yusado Ryuu. Thanks for taking that idiot off him hands.”

“Happy to be in business with you,” Tadashi replies. Ryuu’s handshake is tight, but he’s suffered worse from sweaty-palmed politicians. “Do you have a list of what you’re delivering?”

Ryuu looks at him before barking out a laugh. He pulls out a folded piece of paper and handles it over. “This is the first time someone here has asked me for it. Glad someone knows what to do.”

Tadashi isn’t going to tell him that this is his first time in a restaurant job, that he worked with politicians before this. He likes the way Ryuu regards him, with a little bit of respect. He never got that before.

Once everything is unloaded and Ryuu drives off, Tadashi demands to be shown how inventory works. Kojiro gets sheepish and admits that he hadn’t done it in a few weeks, to which Tadashi says that it needs to be done weekly.

“Once again, I’m not that good at the whole business aspect,” he says with a grin. 

“Do you have an accountant at least? Are you even making a profit?” The words make him flush and he drops his gaze. If it were Ainosuke, a cutting remark would be coming his way. Instead, Kojiro laughs. 

“I do and we are. And with you, we’re going to be doing even better.”

Kojiro shows him the inventory management system on the computer, and Tadashi prints out sheet after sheet that tells him how much of everything they should have. The dry goods stock is a mess, and he’ll have to look into getting more organization for it. By the time he’s finished counting individual packs of condiments and the extra table and entered it into the system, it’s almost four and the dinner rush is about to begin. 

Kojiro pokes his head into the office. “Huh, you cleaned this place up.” All the loose paper had been sorted through and separated into what’s worth keeping, and what’s trash. And after throwing away all the scrapped menu ideas, the office looks almost manageable. He’ll need another few days and a file organizer before it’s perfect, though.

“Just wanted to tell you that you’re free to go, but it would probably be more useful if you sat at the bar and just watched what’s going on.”

Tadashi looks at the clock. He’s only been here for six hours, barely half a workday for him. “Of course I’ll stay,” he says. “It’ll give me time to count the wine.”

He stays for another four hours, counting the wine stores and watching how the restaurant runs. He’s introduced to the remaining waitstaff and the new kitchen guys who come in. After a lull in customers, Kojiro comes to sit with him at the bar, a plate of hot pasta in his hands. 

“Dinner,” he says, setting it down in front of him. “So, what are you thinking?”

Tadashi takes a bite before he responds, and he’s hit with a rich flavor. It’s better than the best he’s had at the Shindo residence, and Kojiro has a pleased look on his face. “I think this is great,” he says first. “Overall, your inventory is a mess, your scheduling could be better, and your menus feel cheap.” He holds up one of the menus, laminated paper with scuffs and grease that can never be washed off. “But it’s nothing that can’t be fixed.”

There’s a small smile on his face, he knows, the feeling almost alien to him. Kojiro matches it, grinning wide. “Looks like you’re fitting in already.”

For the next week, Tadashi splits his time between his apartment and the restaurant. It’s a pain to finish up the inventory, and he comes in one day at close so he counts could be fresh and perfect. It’s early enough that he’s there for the produce delivery, and he meets the delivery guys who seem happy to be dealing someone slightly more competent than Kojiro. They’re slightly in a loss, especially after Tadashi orders new storage bins for the walk in, but he tells Kouta and Hide the new organization system, and they’re happy enough to comply.

He gets coffee with Kamata again at the same cafe, and then takes her to the restaurant for lunch. They don’t mention the trial despite it being days away. She compliments him on the fast progress he’s made once they say their goodbyes, and he’s left with Kojiro’s inquisitive looks.

“Girlfriend?” he asks. He slides the paper over the Tadashi, the week’s menu he’s been working on.

“No, the investigator for the trial,” Tadashi says, scanning over the paper. “She has a girlfriend in Tokyo anyways.”

“Ah,” Kojiro says, and nothing else. Then, “Hey, why’d you cut the ossu bocco? It’s a favorite.”

“We don’t have any veal and I didn’t send in an order for it. Maybe next week.”

Kojiro sighs as he takes the paper back, and scribbles something else down. Tadashi’s struggling to read what he’s written when the door opens behind them and a set of voices fill the air.

He twists around, and is surprised to see Kaoru flanked by the three kids. “Joe!” Reki calls out, “What do you have?”

They stop when they notice Tadashi, besides Kaoru who takes a seat next to him. “Kikuchi-san, how’s the restaurant doing?”

He ignores Kojiro’s call of “I’m right here!” as he replies, “I finally got the inventory together, and now I have to deal with his menus.” This lighthearted teasing is something he’s trying to get used to. The kitchen staff is filled with barbs, and it took him a minute to realize that they were just teasing him about his rumpled suit. After that, he stopped wearing the fancier jackets and slacks, and mainly stayed in button-ups with basic slacks. Tanaka had pointed at him with a greasy spatula and said Much better.

It’s harder with Kojiro, though. He has to overwrite how he knows to act with his superior because he knows Kojiro is nothing like Ainosuke, but there’s only so much one week can rewrite of years of conditioned responses.

Kojiro disappears for a minute, coming back with a margherita pizza that Reki and Miya fall over, a special plate of a Canadian dish that Langa shovels into his mouth as quickly as possible. “Glad to see my cooking stands up to such high standards,” he chuckles. “You want anything, Kaoru?”

“No, I’m good. I do have an event i need to get to, though, so if you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll take over babysitting duty.” It’s in the middle of the afternoon, and Kojiro studies the clock. “Think we can make a quick trip to the park?”

The teens respond in various levels of affirmation, as Langa’s mouth is still stuffed but he rapidly nods his head. “Aw, don’t choke,” Reki says, leaning over Miya who has a deep scowl on his face. Kojiro shouts to the back, “Heading out for a bit! Kentarou, you’re in charge!”

There’s a sarcastic “Yes, chef!” from the back as the four grab their boards and start to head out. Tadashi’s sliding the menu back over so he can read what Kojiro wrote when his name is called. The kids are already out the door and Kojiro stands in the doorway. “You coming or what?”

“I didn’t know I were invited,” he says, flustered. “I don’t have a board anyways.”

“You can use mine if you wanna skate. C’mon.” The door closes behind him, and it still takes a moment before Tadashi follows them out.

They’re not hard to spot, loud as they are. They paused to let him catch up, but Reki and Miya don’t stop their discussion about a game, and Langa only nods his agreements on occasion. The skatepark isn’t far from the restaurant or his apartment, and it’s empty at this time of day. Reki whoops as he kicks off on his board, doing a rail slide as Miya and Langa follow. Their laughter fills the air.

“Y’know, I’d think any of them would die at the chance for a rematch.” Kojiro remarks, leaning against a post. “Reki and Langa skate each other just about every day, always coming up with something new to try.”

“I haven’t skated since…” Tadashi trails off, but Kojiro gets it.  

“None of us have been up to Crazy Rock since that night. It’s been swarming with police, too. Looks like whatever Adam was doing to keep them away has finally stopped.” Kojiro laughs, something sad as it is victorious. “Honestly, it’s a relief. It’s been a death trap for as long as we’ve been skating there, and I was tired and seeing kids get hurt.”

The nameless kids Tadashi has had scraped off the ground flash through him, as well as the broken arms and legs, the injuries that take skating away from the worshippers of the sport. It is for the best, he agrees. He’s been on a different side of it than Kojiro and Kaoru, but it’s hard to ignore that amount of suffering.

“Good riddance,” he says in agreement. Kojiro slaps him on the back hard enough to make him stumble forward. 

“Isn’t that right,” he says, looking at the three kids laughing, looking like they’re having the time of their lives.

The trial is on a Tuesday afternoon. Kojiro gives him the day off, saying that the restaurant can live without him. And if he needs it, he can take Wednesday off too. He wears his best suit, one of the three he brought with him. It’s a dark black, he makes sure his shoes are polished and his tie is straight before he leaves. Kamata picks him up for the drive, and she smiles at him, and says he looks nice.

“You do, too,” he says. Her hair is tied back into a chignon, but the shorter pieces still frame her face. And as always, she’s wearing her usual lipstick, but a darker red this time.

He spends the drive trying not to wallow in anxiety, and when she deposits him in the room he’ll stay in until he’s called as a witness, he spends most of the time trying to count the tiles one the ceiling. He keeps losing count and having to start over, but he gets to eighty-eight when the clerk calls him in.

He takes his seat in the witness box, studiously ignoring the red eyes that lock on him. True to Kamata’s words, the questions are about the integrity of his information, besides an accusatory one that he knows is one of the defense’s.

“How are we to know that the defendant’s words are true. You could be using them against him while ultimately being the one to orchestrate the collusion.”

Tadashi is silent for a moment, choosing his words before he speaks. “I have been with the Shindo family since I was eight years old, and through that time I have lost my remaining family. I’ve been isolated from the rest of society by manner of my place next to Shindo Ainosuke. What do I have to lose if I were to go to jail? My job, who my employer made me lose, or a name that has no power being in disgrace? What do I have to gain if I remain a free man? A normal life.”

The judge nods, and he’s escorted back out of the room. He can feel those red eyes on his back, and has to fight the urge to look behind him.

Kamata comes into the room as the judges leave to confer with each other. “You did great, Kikuchi-san,” she says, grabbing onto his hand. He clutches it like a lifeline, having not noticed the shortness of his breath, the panic that’s working its way into his limbs. “All our evidence is sound,” she promises, and he forces himself to nod, to believe her.

After almost an hour, the clerk announces that the judges are ready for the sentencing. Tadashi slips into the gallery, hiding behind a group of people near the doors. The judges enter first, followed my Ainosuke and his counsel being led to their seats. A hush falls over the room.

“After deliberating over the evidence, he was decided to sentence Shindo Ainosuke with one count of perjury, earning him five years of jail time. We also sentence him with guilt of collusion, earning another five years. Chance of parole on after the first sentence, contingent on good behavior.”

There is something unfurling in Tadashi’s chest, the past week of anxiety finally dislodging itself. The gallery breaks into hushed whispers and Ainosuke is escorted out—and those reds eyes unerringly find Tadashi’s across the room. He’s paralyzed in his spot before Ainosuke is pushed through the door, but the thread of fear that went through him remains.

Kamata finds him afterwards. He sitting on a bench in the lobby, arms braced on his legs and head in his hands. He recognizes her eyes, smart black ones with white lacing on the toe. “Ten years,” she says. “That’s a lot for a man with such power.”

“Five years with parole,” he responds miserably.

“Doubt it,” she says. “You know him better than I do, what’s the possibility that he can make it five years with good behavior.”

It makes Tadashi laugh. “None,” he says, still laughing. It takes him a second to realize he sounds close to hysterics, and it peters out. “What am I supposed to do now.”

“Well,” Kamata starts, laying an arm on his back. “You go back to your apartment that definitely needs some more furniture and get drunk. And then you go to your job, and you take each day as it comes. He’s not hanging over you anymore. You’re free.”

“Free, huh?” He lifts his head, finally looking up at her. “I like the sound of that.”

She smiles at him, teeth bright against her lipstick. and pulls him up. On the drive back to his apartment they stop at a supermarket and she buys him a bottle of midrange wine and follows him up into his apartment. 

The living room is empty besides the table, so she drags the lumpy futon out and they make a toast to each other, Tadashi to her skills as an inspector, and Kamata to his new life. They go through half the bottle before turning in for the night. Tadashi takes the lumpy futon while she takes his bed.

In the morning, Kamata tells him her flight is that afternoon. He just nods, taking the information in. “Call me if you want,” she says. “You’re not that bad to talk to.” She presses a kiss to his cheek before she leaves, giving him a quick hug.

Maybe he can say he has a friend, he thinks, stepping into the shower. It’s early in the morning, and he knows Kojiro would let him have the day off but, well, he wants to feel normal for once. So to work it is.

Tadashi throws himself into his job. He creates new menus, fancy leather boards that they can wipe clean and easily switch out the menus. He reorganizes the stockroom, and the shrink on their inventory is nonexistent. The waitstaff warm up to him quickly, especially after he throws out his first customer for harassment without even bothering to listen to the man’s side of things. The kitchen staff follow, once he demonstrates that he knows all of their names but the ultimate test was that he convinced Akio, the dishwasher, that he knew what he was doing.

He doesn’t, not really, but he’s spent a good amount of his life bullshitting the things he didn’t know, and it seems to pay off here. 

“Kikuchi!” Junpei sticks his head into the office. It’s been a slow Tuesday night, which is the usual. “The kitchen’s going out, want to come with?”

“The kitchen?” he asks, squinting over the computer screen.

“Yeah, uh, me, Kouta, Hide, Akio, Kentarou and Kojiro. We usually go to a bar once a week and well, all the cleanup and prep for tomorrow is done.” 

Kojiro sticks his head in too. “C’mon, Tadashi, let’s go.”

“Sure,” he says, shrugging. He saves what he was working on and grabs his jacket from the back of his chair. They all meet in front of the restaurant, Kentarou chain smoking near the curb while waiting for everyone to trickle out.

They’re all in various stages of undress, Kojiro having abandoned his jacket for a simple shirt and the line cooks wearing a range of dress shirts to a tank top. Tadashi feels overdressed, looking like a business man next to their casual clothes. But they all strike up conversation easily as they walk the few blocks over to their usual bar.

There’s a running joke in the kitchen about Kentarou’s girlfriend, because he never manages to say one consistent thing about her. The line cooks are always falling over themselves to catch him in a lie, but Tadashi saw him hiding a smile in the walk-in after giving them another, nonsensical tidbit.

Tadashi’s met her, having run into them at the grocery store one day. She was nice, but had a collection of piercings in one ear and had a voice hoarse enough to compete with Kentarou’s own. And he looked at her like she was the world, and Tadashi knew that he was head over heels. It’s the same way he sees Kojiro looking at Kaoru when he thinks no one is looking, but Tadashi’s made a life out of seeing as much as possible. Kojiro’s painfully obvious, and Kaoru is pointedly oblivious. He’s yet to really figure out what’s going on there.

The bar isn’t crowded, and is home to more working-class men than those who wear suits. He feels out of place again, but when they squeeze into a booth and designate Kojiro to go get their orders, it doesn’t seem to matter.

“So, Kikuchi, what’s your deal?” Hide leans across the table, eager for any answer. “I mean, you’re a great guy, but you show out of the blue one day and Kojiro’s talking about you like an old friend.”

He’s not surprised it took them this long for their curiosity to get the better of them, but he decides to address the more important part first. “You guys can call me Tadashi,” he says. “I already call you all by your first names.” There’s some cheering, and Junpei mutters Tadashi like he’s trying to figure out how the word feels. “And I guess, really, that I was in a tough spot and Kojiro decided to lend me a hand. We knew of each other for a few years, but we weren’t ever really friends.”

Kojiro returns with all of their drinks balanced on a platter that he set sin the middle of the table. “And now, he says, eyes twinkling, “looks who’s practically running my restaurant by himself.”

“Maybe if you knew how to count,” Tadashi mutters, using a tone he’s adopted from Kaoru.

“I was born to cook, not count,” Kojiro says, taking a drink of his beer. The rest of the guys take turns jeering at each other as Tadashi nurses his beer and takes it all in with a small smile.

He’s started categorizing things in his life as Normal. Things that other twenty-eight-year-olds would do fall under that category, like drinking beers with coworkers or cooking new recipes in his little kitchen every now and then or sitting at a park and just taking it all in. Things that he’s only heard of and could never had done, things that are easily within his grasp now.

As the night wears on, Kentarou gets drunk enough that he starts talking about his girlfriend in a lovesick tone, making Hide and Kouta grin at having proof of her very real existence. One by one, they head out. Akio first, followed by Junpei. The two line cooks drag Kentarou out with them, promising he’ll be sober in the morning, leaving Tadashi with Kojiro.

“Ten years, huh,” he says, echoing Kamata on the day of the trial. “That’s an awfully long time.”

It’s been two weeks since the sentencing, and Tadashi still finds himself checking for a message from Ainosuke, expecting an order or an insult. Sometimes he wakes up with scenes from a nightmare flashing behind his eyes, of Tadashi losing the race or Ainosuke being acquitted.

Ten years is how old Tadashi was when his mom died. His father died at fifteen, and Shindo Aiichiro died three years later, leaving Ainosuke the patriarch of his family at eighteen. Ten years is an awfully long time for things to change, and Tadashi can barely look ahead a couple of months, let alone years.

“Good riddance,” he mutters, raising his beer in toast. To Ainosuke’s long stint in jail, to being free of the oppressing Shindo name. Kojiro copies him, clinking their bottles together.

They don’t spend much longer in the bar. It’s a cool night outside, the summer slowly giving way to fall. Tadashi decides to walk home while Kojiro calls a cab, telling him goodnight. The streets aren’t quiet, laughter spilling out of bars and restaurant, girls giggling together as they wait for a cab at the curb. It’s the normal nightlife of a city, and here he is, experiencing it for the first time. Better late than never, or whatever they say.

Ainosuke couldn’t have a life like this. Even free from his family’s name and career, the type of childhood he had would never make him able to accept this easy life, of meeting up with people just for a drink and a laugh rather than a favor down the line. It’s hard for Tadashi to accept that he can have this type of life, but he keeps trying, one day after another.

He’s working on the butchery request for the week when Kaoru enters his office. “Oh, hello,” he says, startled.

“Sorry for the intrusion, Tadashi,” Kaoru says, sitting down into one of the chairs. “Something’s been bothering me, and I think that you’re the only one that can give me an honest answer.”

“Yeah, of course.” He saves the request, and leans forward, giving Kaoru his full attention. 

“My therapist has been suggesting that my relationship with Adam has been almost entirely one-sided on my end, and it’s not like i can ask him. It’s just that, when me and Kojiro first met him in high school and those first few months, I did think he was a friend. We would always skate together, always together… and it wasn’t until that first both that I realized he had changed. And you’re the only person who could have any kind of insight into his emotions.

“So tell me: did he ever think we were friends?”

It’s a hard question. Tadashi is the person that knew Ainosuke the best, but ultimately, he never knew much. But he knows when he first met Kaoru and Kojiro, when they first started S. It was like he returned to how he was as a kid, when Tadashi taught him how to skate. That boyish joy was back again, his love of skating reignited.

And then this father died, and everything changed.

“I think that at some point, you guys were his idea of friend. But you know just as well that his idea of love is warped and twisted, thanks to his family. Skating was the only thing he seemed to love the right way, up until his father’s death. You two were probably the best skaters he knew at the time, keeping his excitement of the sport going. I know it’s not the answer you want, really, but that’s all I know from that time.”

Kaoru nods, a look of sadness on his face. “Thank you, Tadashi, that’s more insight than I would ever have into his feelings. And I’ve known it all along, throughout all these years, that whatever goodwill he had towards us were gone. It just wasn’t until he slammed a skateboard into my face that I realized it.” There’s a scar on his forehead, only visible because all his hair is pulled back.

“I think you wanted to see the best in him, but it had been long gone for a while,” Tadashi replies. 

“Maybe so,” Kaoru says. “Still, I feel like an idiot for still trying.” He hands over a business card. “This is my therapist. She already knows a lot about Adam and everything. I think it’d do you good.”

Tadashi looks down at the card. Hiyashi Asami. “Thanks,” he says, laying it down on his desk.

Kaoru leaves and he keeps looking at the card. It only has her name, office number, and email. It wouldn’t hurt, he thinks, and composes a new email.

He schedules an appointment with Hiyashi in two weeks. In the meantime, he starts getting to work earlier and going out with the staff later. It’s a weekly thing, and sometimes the older waitstaff joins them. They switch up which bar when that happens, going to somewhere a little nicer and pricier, but less men smoke indoors so it’s a fair enough trade off. He learns which of the girls are in school, which ones are supporting their families (and those always have something kind to say about Kojiro, whose bleeding heart leaks all over the place). 

He never shares much about himself, because it’s hard to look in the face of his new coworkers who come from rough areas and struggle each month and tell them that he worked for a legislator who sought to make their life even harder.

The restaurant gets more popular each week. The themed weekend menus are a huge hit, and people come in from all over Okinawa to see what the hype is about. Saturdays begin to have a reservation list, and they have to hire another two kitchen staff and another waiter to keep up with it all.

He’s had to look for another vendor, too, because the more popular dishes are the alcohol-based ones, and he can’t let Kojiro keep stealing the vintage reds for cooking. He works with a local distillery for that, which adds another thing of inventory to keep in check, especially since Kojiro insisted on keeping the beer on tap.

“What happened to authentic Italian dining?” Tadashi groused at him one day, on their fifth interaction of the menu that day.

“It’s all about customer experience,” Kojiro assures him. “No one wants to spend hot dollars on wine when they can have a beer with their carbs.”

So Tadashi gave in, and had to hire a contractor for the new bar, and at the same time had to find a bartender than managed to fit in with the facsimile of Italian dining Kojiro was going for lately.

He spends more and more time at the restaurant, only ever at his apartment to crash and take a shower. Once a week Kamata gives him a call and they can talk for hours while he multitasks. Occasionally Kojiro will ask if he wants to join him and the kids at the skatepark, but he’s too busy to take the hour off to just sit there.

But finally, his first off day in a while rolls around and he heads to Hiyashi’s office. It’s far enough that he has to call a cab to get there, and he pauses at the sidewalk, looking up at the building. Everything about it is discreet, with just her name on a plaque besides the door. The waiting room is empty besides a woman behind a counter, who looks up at him and smiles. “Kikuchi Tadashi?” she asks, standing up to greet him.

“That’s me. Are you Hiyashi?”

“I am,” she says, shaking his hand before passing over a stack of papers. “Just some quick paperwork and we’ll be able to get to it.”

Tadashi fills out the form neatly, handing it over in minutes. “Perfect!” She takes it, setting it down on the counter. “I can deal with all of that later, let’s head on back.”

“Do you not have a receptionist?” he asks as he follows her down a short hallway.

“My clients prefer discreetness, and I don’t have enough of them where I can’t keep track of everything. Everyone is scheduled with enough time in between for any emergencies.”

She settles into an armchair, and he sits across from her on a little green couch. “Do you prefer Kikuchi-san or would you rather be called something else?”

“You can call me Tadashi,” he says.

“Alright then, Tadashi, you can call me Asami. Now what brings you here? You said that you were referred by a friend of yours?”

He nods. “Yeah. We went through something similar regarding the same person, and he said that this might be beneficial to me. He told you about Adam, right?”

“For the sake of transparency, I’ll tell you what I know about Adam: he was a skater that raced at a perfectly legal site, and most recently slammed his skateboard into your friend’s face.”

“That’s him.” Tadashi sighs, and fixes his eyes on a keepsake over her shoulder. It’s a snow globe, though he can’t make out the item in the globe. “His real name is Ainosuke, and I’ve been a servant to his family since I was eight.”

“And you’re twenty-eight now?” At his nod, she writes something on her pad of paper. “Twenty years is a long time to be with someone like that. But he wasn’t always like that, was he?”

And slowly, question by question, Asami manages to tear out the bits of information he’s held close to his chest because he’s had nowhere he else could put them. He talks about how they were friendly as children, when he taught Ainosuke how to skate and it managed to give the boy respite from his family. He talks about the terrible aunts and the things they said, the way they treated Tadashi like nothing more than dirt on their shoes. And then he talks about Ainosuke’s change when they were eighteen, when his father died and he took on a mantel too big for his shoulders and Tadashi suffered because of it. The familiar insult of dog and the continued assertion that Tadashi had no say over his life.

“I know you talk about the abuse that Ainosuke went through,” Asami says as his words peter off. They hadn’t even breeched the surface of all he knows about Ainosuke. “But you know you were abused too, right? By that family, and by Ainosuke himself.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” he says. “I wasn’t treated well, sure, but I was a servant. Who’s to care?”

“I care,” Asami says vehemently. “I’m certain your friend would care, and all the other people who know now. We all care about how you were treated, and how you can start to heal from it.”

“This is all I know,” he says finally, looking down at his lap. “I’ve finally gotten free, and I have an apartment and a job, but what else am I beside someone you point in a direction and tell what to do?”

“You’re more than that,” Asami says, gentleness to her voice. When he looks up, her brown eyes aren’t filled with pity, but something closer to respect. “I usually try to find out how my coworkers feel about therapy homework, but I think you would benefit from this exercise. I want you to, daily, write down something you have an opinion on. I don’t care what it is, how trivial it is or if it’s serious. And then at our next session, we’ll look through them and figure out what next. Sounds good?”

He nods. “Yeah, I can do that.”

“Perfect!” She smiles brightly at him. “The hour is up, but let’s go out front and schedule your next appointment. When do you want it to be?”

“What do you think?”

“I think either weekly or every two weeks,” she says, “but I want you to make the choice.”

He can’t really take a day off each week for this, and he knows that he will have to because he feels a bone deep exhaustion after talking for almost a full hour. “Two weeks,” he decides.

“Alright, let me put that in the computer. Same time?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re all good to go, Tadashi! Don’t forget I want fourteen things you have a strong opinion about in two weeks.”

“See you then,” he says, giving her a smile and a wave.

He waits at the curb for ten minutes for his taxi, but it’s nice to stand in the sun. It’s still warm out, and he brought a light coat because in his experience, offices are always cold. By the time the taxi reaches his apartment, he feels ready to crash. It’s still a bright afternoon as he reaches his bed, but he shoves a pillow over his head and falls asleep.

When he wakes up a few hours later, to the sound of Okinawa’s nightlife starting up, he cooks himself stir fry while flipping through the channels on his TV. He’s added more furniture to his collection somehow, a couch that Junpei was going to throw out and a TV that he rarely ever uses. He also has a desk, courtesy of Kentarou who moved in with his girlfriend and let everyone at Luce have dibs on the furniture.

He’s getting better at cooking, he thinks, settling down to watch a drama that he hasn’t seen any of the preceding episodes for. Kojiro is spoiling him with all the Italian food, so it’s nice to take a second and eat something else to keep the palate fresh. He packages the rest as leftovers, and finally finishes off the bottle of wine Kamata got him.

Even after his emotionally draining appointment, his day has ended great. As he gets ready for bed, he makes a note on his phone.

I think Okinawa looks best at night when everyone’s voices fill the air.

One of the new hires he pushed Kojiro to make was another chef, Koharu Kurosawa. After a week of their kitchen times lagging, and after ten different applicants (“Yes, people are responding to a job posting, because that’s how most people find their jobs,” Tadashi told him drily.) he finally found her. She’s been in the restaurant industry her entire life, working her way up from waitress all the way to the kitchen. She impressed Tadashi during their interview, because it was obvious that she took no shit, but she was still cordial.

At the end of it, as he was showing her out, Tadashi told her, “Be ready for a call soon.”

“That desperate, huh?” 

“No, it’s just that you’re the only person who’s made some sense.” It makes her laugh. “See you soon, Kurosawa-san.”

“I guess you’ll have to get used to calling me Koharu,” she says. “I’ll be waiting for your call, Tadashi.”

After he gives Kojiro the rundown on the interview, Tadashi calls her back just hours later. She shows up the nest day ready for work, and by the end of it, the line cooks look at her with starry eyes and Kentarou and her are sharing cigarettes on the backdoor step.

“Are we going out tonight?” Junpei asks, tossing the last of their trash bags into the dumpster. “We gotta celebrate our new hire.”

“Can’t,” Koharu says simply. “I got my daughter home.” She drops the cigarette butt to the ground and stubs it out with her boot. Wordlessly, Kentarou hands her another.

“A daughter? Are you married?” Kouta jumps in, leaning out the door.

It isn’t news to Tadashi; she had told him during their interview that she had a daughter, and was going to need at least two nights off a week for her. “Single mother problems,” she said with a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. He thought of his mother and her cracked hands and tired eyes.

“If you need any more time off, even if it’s last minute, just let me know,” he said seriously. “You don’t have to break your back for this.” It made that smile turn a little more real, at least.

Koharu gives the rest of the kitchen crew the same rundown while she finishes off that cigarette. Tadashi is finishing up the end of day paperwork, checking the registers and the safe. Junpei sticks his head in and asks if he’s going out, but he shakes his head. It’s been a long day, and he’s a little eager to get back to his apartment and sleep.

Koharu stops by right before she leaves, and he’s waiting for the reports to print. “You got a good crew,” she tells him.

“I just manage them,” he replies. “Kojiro’s the one that got them all.”

She hums, a small smile on her face. “I think you underestimate your position, Tadashi. Night.”

“Night,” he echoes. The backdoor slams closed, cutting off the crew’s voices as they all head out for the night. Sighing, he stacks the newly-printed pages on his desk, and locks up for the night.

Going home early wouldn’t hurt for once.

Thursdays have an uptick in business, the end of the weekend in sight and, for some, the start of their weekend. Tadashi’s made a habit of walking home from Luce. He doesn’t have a car or bike, and a cab ride seems a bit excessive for a five-block drive. And it gives him a sense of fitting in, as he passes bars that are getting more and more familiar to him and apartments whose inhabitants he’s starting to recognize.

There’s always a cat waiting in an alley next to a bowl of food. A family always keeps their living room curtains open, and he can see a gameshow playing on the TV. Someone practicing guitar and, on the rare occasion, the sound of skateboard wheels grinding down sidewalk. He sometime sees a flash of red hair followed by light blue, weaving around cars and joyfully yelling in the night air. It invokes memories, good and bad, but he’s glad to see those two teens and their happiness.

In his apartment, he turns the TV on just so something fills the quiet. And before he does anything else for the night, he opens up the notebook he got for only one reason.

Kojiro’s experiments have become almost too gross to even attempt.

He’s still not very good at this whole opinion thing, have written only five so far, but that’s something he’ll let Asami be the judge of. There isn’t enough going on that makes him take a stance.

Kojiro corners him around lunch one day. He’s not a very hard man to pin down, spending most of his time in the office or doing inventory counts, and then hovering near the bar during the dinner rush. He’s sitting in his office this time, playing solitaire while waiting for a reply from their produce vendors.

“Tadashi, we’re going out?”

In his struggle to minimize the window, he instead forfeits the game. “What?”

“It’s a beautiful day outside, and you’re sitting inside of this building wasting away the daylight hours. Let’s go.” His voice is forceful enough that Tadashi starts to get up.

“Where are we going?” he asks, slipping his phone in his pocket. Kamata’s been sending him a rundown on the latest argument between her and her girlfriend and it’s entirely based around one of their cats.

“To the skate park, where else?” Kojiro says, leading the way out of the restaurant.

It is a beautiful day, and hot enough that Tadashi’s dressed down in a plain shirt and dark jeans. Kouta’s been getting on his case about his “way too formal clothes” despite his outfit needing to be a little more professional given that he is the manager. Koharu had jumped on him too, and soon enough the whole kitchen and waitstaff have been making comments about it. So he’s been going a little bit more casual lately, especially now that Kojiro’s giving up on Luce being fine Italian dining.

The usual group is waiting at the skatepark. Kaoru’s foregone his usual yukata for ripped jeans and a flowing shirt, looking like he stepped off the page of an idol magazine. The weather seems to be getting to the kids. Miya’s been trying out a different fashion style, this time wearing a skirt instead of their usual shorts.

Kojiro had pulled him aside one day, and said, “Look, I know you don’t really know them, but they’re here often enough so I figured I’d tell you. Miya’s decided they’re nonbinary.”

Tadashi blinked, and asked, “Did they say they wanted you to tell me? Because if not, that’s pretty shitty of you.” But Miya had, and Kojiro seems relieved the way Tadashi easily went with it instead of making a scene.

Reki and Langa are working on a new trick, jumping off their boards and landing on the others. They aren’t very successful at it, landing on the concrete more than they even touch the board. But they’re laughing, and Miya keeps calling out unhelpful suggestions. 

Tadashi takes a seat next to Kaoru on a shaded bench, grateful for the slight reprieve. It’s quiet between them, until Kaoru asks, “Did you contact her?”

“I did. I’ve only had one appointment with her, but I have another next week.” Miya drops in the bowl, doing aimless laps before flying up one side for a trick. Tadashi’s familiar with it; it had taken him a few weeks for master it, and he was older than the kid.

“I’m glad you like her,” he says, “she’s been a great help to me.”

“She gave me homework,” Tadashi says, smiling slightly. “Felt like I was in school again.”

Kaoru laughs. “If it works…”

One session isn’t going to reveal that, but Tadashi has high hopes.

“Cherry!” Reki calls. “Come skate!” Behind him, Langa is doing pop shove-its, and Miya cuts across his route, making him bail.

“Duty calls, I suppose,” he says, picking up his board. The LEDs glow brightly, and Tadashi can just barely hear the AI through the small earbuds Kaoru is wearing. 

Tadashi watches the five of them. It’s a quieter kind of skating, the kind he used to do in that empty swimming pool. He was always alone, even when Ainosuke skated with him. Tadashi was always alone in that swimming pool.

He shakes his head when they try to wave him over, and heads back to the restaurant. There’s something that tightens in his chest whenever he thinks about it, and he can’t imagine borrowing one of their boards anyways. Even if it could, it wouldn’t feel the same.

He gets the restaurant ready for the rush and Kojiro tumbles in a half-hour later, with sweaty hair and a broad grin. The rest are following him like ducklings and take a seat in one of the booths. Tadashi doesn’t have any time to pay them any attention, because the dinner crowd begins streaming in, and there’s too much to do.

Kaoru pays for the kids’ dinners, even with the discount Kojiro always tries to give them. “Friends and family discount,” he kept saying. Kaoru asked Haruka for the bill, and she was happy to oblige.

He stays until the kitchen crew leaves, locking up behind everyone as Hide tries to cajole him into going out. It’s been a few days, but Tadashi’s been feeling less and less up to it as the days go by. “Next time,” he always promises, and Hide groans because he knows that it’ll keep being pushed back and back.

I wish the idea of skating wasn’t so painful.

The day before his second appointment with Asami is a disaster. Ryuu wasn’t able to do the delivery that day, and their menu had to turn almost vegetarian. It also featured two of Kojiro’s newest creations, neither of which Tadashi liked but they didn’t have much meat in them, and that was the sole reason he allowed them in.

But the real disaster of the day came during the night. Their newest waitress, Tomiko, didn’t have many tables and was mainly shadowing another. Tadashi sat at the bar so he could keep an eye out, but also because he’s hungry and doesn’t want to eat in his office. And on a Monday night, it isn’t too busy.

Except for the visiting businessmen who take up two tables pushed together, and keep the drinks flowing. 

Tadashi’s wary of large groups, because they always argue against the gratuity charge. He’s wary of men who don’t know their limits, but they manage to stay quiet enough that although other guests send them looks from time to time, it isn’t enough for Tadashi to actually approach them about it.

He’s talking with Kade, the bartender, about something, when there’s a drinking’s squeak and a crash, and the room goes silent. He turns around to see Tomiko hovering by one of the men at the table, hands cradle against her chest as the man’s face gets progressively redder and redder. There’s a dark stain on his shirt, and Tadashi can see the wine spreading over the hardwood floor.

He’s out of his suit as the name’s voice gets louder. “–dumb little girl, I don’t understand why’d they hire someone like you.” Tomiko is cowering under his words, frozen in spot, and Tadashi carefully steps between them.

“Sir, I’d like you to keep your voice down. There’s no need for insults, it was an accident.” Tadashi catches Haruka’s eye from across the room and she hurries over, carefully guiding Tomiko away. “What can I do to amend this?”

The man sets his squinty gaze on Tadashi. “Her fired, for one.” 

“Not happening,” Tadashi replies, quick. “What else?”

“She spilled wine on me. This cost a hundred thousand yen!” 

“As that is, the restaurant would be more than happy to cover the cost of dry cleaning. We’d also be willing to give you your meal for free. But she won’t be fired, no.” The suits barely worth that, already pilled with some threads showing. The cheapest one off the rack that he might’ve gotten specially tailored.

“This is hardly a way to treat your customers,” the man says, standing up. The stain goes from his stomach to his lap, and his shoes squelch in the wine collecting on the floor.

“That was hardly a way to treat someone providing you a service, sir,” Tadashi replies. “Do you want a recommendation for dry cleaning?”

The man scoffs, and storms out. The men still at the table are silent, seeming to have sobered up during the course of that conversation. One by one, they lay down notes on the table, and it’d be a miracle if it’s enough to cover everyone’s meals, but Tadashi doesn’t have it in him to say something. At least there’s money on the table.

Kojiro comes up behind him after they all leave. “Well, that’s enough excitement for the night.”

“What a mess,” Tadashi mutters, and takes the rags from his hands, leaning down to mop up the mess. Kojiro kneels down too. It’ll have to be mopped up by the end of the night, but at least the floor isn’t stained.

“I think you should go talk to Tomiko,” he says. “She’s in the office with Haruka still.”

Tadashi sighs. “I’m not firing her,” he says quietly.

“I’m not expecting you to,” Kojiro replies. “Go on, she’s probably worked herself into hysterics now.”

He drops the wine-stained rag into the empty sink in what constitutes as the laundry room, briefly washing his hands. There’s still a hint of red on his fingertips, but he’ll worry about it later. True to Kojiro’s word, Tomiko and Haruka are in the office. Tomiko’s face is red and puffy, but she’s not actively crying, which is for the best.

“Do you want Haruka to stay?” he asks softly, still standing in the doorway.

Tomiko sniffs before pulling away, and shaking her head. “No it’s fine. Thank you, Haruka.”

Tadashi steps to the side to let Haruka pass, and closes to the door behind her. He sits in the chair at the desk and says, “I’m not firing you.”

“You aren’t?” she asks, surprised. “Why? I mean, it’s totally my fault, and it ruined his outfit and you definitely had to comp their meals, so it’s not like I expected you to keep me on—”

“Tomiko, it was just an accident. And the rest of the men put some money towards their food, so it’s not a total write-off. Besides, I’m not a fan of writing people off because of one simply thing. You’ve been good with the other guests so far, and your experience in this industry means that this isn’t the norm for you.”

“It’s the first time I’ve spilled an entire bottle,” she agrees miserably. She looks small and sad, sniffling in her chair. He hands over the box of tissue, and she takes it miserably.

“You can have the rest of the night off if you want, but I expect you here on-time tomorrow.” He makes aimless moves with his cursor, clicking so something fills the room besides her hiccupping breaths.

“I don’t have to go home,” she starts, but she sounds like she really doesn’t want to.

“I wouldn’t have offered if I thought you didn’t need it,” he says. “Go let Haruka know your cut, and grab something from the kitchen, too.”

Finally, she smiles. It’s small, but still hopeful. “You know, you’re not like any other restaurant manager I’ve dealt with. You’re way nicer than any of those guys.”

“I try,” is his wry response. “Now go home, alright? I’ll see you Wednesday.”

“You won’t be here tomorrow?” she asks.

“No, I have an appointment. Have a good night, now.”

She gives him a bigger smile. “I will! Goodnight, Tadashi.”

A few minutes after she leaves, Kojiro steps in. He has a plate of pasta in one hand, not the one Tadashi was eating earlier but a fresh plate. “Everyone’s talking about how cool you are out there.”

“No they are not,” Tadashi replies, taking the plate off his hands. “They know I wouldn’t fire someone for that.”

Kojiro laughs. “Out of all the restaurants I’ve worked for, all the places I’ve been, you’re one of the few managers who takes the side of the staff every single time. I’ve never seen men be thrown out for harassment, but you’ve made it so Sia le Luce has a bit of a name for itself, even past my spectacular cooking.”

“And what type of name is that?” Tadashi asks, taking a bite of his dinner. The classics never fail, he thinks.

“That we’re a very welcoming place, the best in Okinawa. And that we’re an Italian-fusion place that can’t pick a theme.”

“I think you’re the one to blame for that,” Tadashi says. 

“My creative vision has no bounds,” Kojiro says, laughing. “I think the one who said that I was struggling for ideas is still the best so far.”

“You get to deal with whatever negative review comes after this mess,” Tadashi says. “How much did they leave?”

“Barely enough but it’s not like we’re struggling over hear. Don’t stay late tonight, alright? I’ll close up with the guys.”

Tadashi sighs, but they both know it’s just for show, “Fine, I’ll leave in an hour or so.”

That night, the final opinion he writes down is: I don’t like wearing suits. As he stands in front of his wardrobe. Which ranges from those suits to the more casual clothes, he wonders how much he can get away with. He’s been wearing slacks most of the days, dressing in jeans on a rare occasion just so the kitchen staff won’t keep making jabs at him about it. 

He closes his closet, making plans to hit a clothing store if he feels up to it after his appointment with Asami.

“Tadashi, good to see you,” Asami says as soon as he enters the office. “Have you been having a good week so fair?”

“So far,” he agrees. He’s got the notebook in one hand, and he’s holding a flannel in the other. The office isn’t too cool, so he doesn’t have much of a reason to wear it. He’s in jeans and a shirt, a marked difference from the last time Asami saw him. “How was your weekend?” he asks. He’s been working on the small talk thing.

“Peaceful,” she says, giving him a smile. “Let’s head on back.”

They take their same seats. He wasn’t able to realize how comfortable the couch is, but it’s soft, and he sinks low into it.

“Is that your homework?” she asks, motioning towards his notebook. At his nod, he asks, “Do you mind if I look through it?”

“I thought you were going to anyways,” he says, handing it over.

“I might’ve made it seem like that, but this entire thing is about your comfort. I’d rather ask than to do something that could make you uncomfortable.”

“Makes sense,” he says, although it doesn’t, really, and it goes quiet as she reads through his opinions. He squints at the snow globe, deciding that’s it’s a little castle encased in glass.

She hums, and puts the notebook down. “These are all very insightful,” she says, and laughs when he raises an eyebrow. “Your opinions aren’t going to tell me anything about you psyche, but they do tell me a little bit about your personality. And wait I’m getting from these is that you’ve seemed to create a persona for yourself that you aren’t entirely comfortable in.”

“That sounds more like my psyche than my personality,” he comments. He remembers being told he doesn’t have one, but he doesn’t share that with her just yet.

“Well, you rather observe than be active in conversations, you’re honest to the point of being brunt, you’re organized, but you still aren’t exactly sure about where you are in life yet. And most people aren’t until they’re in their thirties and forties. This says a lot about you, Tadashi.”

Finally, she hands the notebook over, and he tucks it on the cushion next to him. “I think this exercise has been good for you so far, what do you thing about continuing it?”

It takes him a second to figure out what to say besides a yes, because he’s beginning to realize she wants more from him than quiet agreement. “I think it’s been nice, to get my words out briefly. I’m still not really sure as to what constitutes an opinion, though.”

“Well, I think you’ve been doing a good job so far. I’d call all of those opinions. You don’t have to just write those, it can be like a journal, just a way to get your thoughts down and out of your head. I get the feeling that you’re a bit too quiet, and you’ve got some stuff building up inside.”

He does, he does. But he’s never known how to make the words pass his lips, because he’s never been allowed to before. And he’s too scared of making a slip-up at Luce that’ll make everyone look at him differently. He’s afraid that this little life that he’s been carefully building up for himself can fall over from the slightest gust of wind.

“There’s something in particular I want to address, though,” she says. “In one of them you said that you ‘wished skating didn’t hurt.’ Do you want to talk about that?”

His throat feels dry, suddenly, as he gives a slow nod. “For a while, skating was the only thing that I liked to do. It was a sense of reprieve from my life with that family, the little bit of fun I managed to have. And I was able to share that with Ainosuke, and it was like we were friends. I never had a friend before until recently, and I know that he wasn’t one, really, but that’s how it felt to me.”

“So it’s something that reminds you of Ainosuke? And having to reconcile those memories of him with the memories of the hurt he’s caused you makes it painful?” she asks. She does that a lot, giving him leading questions to draw the words out of Tadashi. He’s grateful for it, but it’s hard to hear her lay out what he feels as if they are hard facts.

“Yes and no. Part of those races are that there’s something at stake, and the last time I skated was against him and I said that if I won, I would take skating away from him. And it’s the feeling, I guess, that I ruined his life. Skating was his only respite from his family and his job, and I just… took it away from him.”

“I don’t think you ruined his life, Tadashi. He made the choices that led him to where he is now. And what you were trying to do by taking away skating, from his ability to participate in those races, was his ability to hurt people. You know more than I how many people he’s hurt. Would you rather him keep going?”

“Of course not!” he says, voice loud in the quiet room. It makes him flinch, curling in on himself, waiting for the rebuke. When it doesn’t come, he continues, voice quieter. “I hate that he took something I love and twisted it, pouring all of his ‘love’ into it when he only left pain and hurt in his wake. I hate that he made it something I was scared of.”

“What are you so scared of?”

“That I’ll hurt someone too,” he admits bitterly.

“Tadashi,” she says, almost commanding. He looks up, meeting her warm gaze. “I think that you’ve tied a lot of your guilt into this. I don’t think that you want to hurt someone on the same level that he has, nor do I think that you are willfully capable for it. You said that skating was his respite but… it was yours too, wasn’t it? He took it away from you first, even if you would still do it.”

He doesn’t respond, just looks away. It’s hard to hear those words, laid out plainly, and believe them. It’s harder to carry this weight, though, this residual guilt that is nothing more than a noose around his neck.

“I’m not going to tell you to go out there and step on a board,” Asami says, “but I feel like we should work on this some more. I’m here to draw these wounds out of you and to help you heal them, and this seems like the biggest one so far. Maybe think about it, or go out with your friends some more. I know that they’re still avid skaters despite it all, so maybe they have some insight into things.”

Tadashi nods. “I’ll try, they already drag me to a skate park at least once a week anyways.”

“That’s pretty good progress,” she says, smiling at him. “Alright, enough of this, anything else? How’s the restaurant going?”

He takes the out, talking about the events of the previous night and the couple of stressful days he’s had. She doesn’t say anything, just noting a few things down on her pad of paper. He gives a rundown on all his coworkers, because he feels flayed open enough, and doesn’t need her prying anything else out of him.

Eventually, he runs out of things to say. She takes a look at the clock and says, “Well, I’d say this has been a pretty productive hour, wouldn’t you?”

“I guess,” he mumbles.

“It is. We’ve touched on a lot, and it’s always good to get it out, right?” He gives her a nod. “Let’s head out front to schedule your next session. Another two weeks?”

“That’s good,” he says, following her to the front desk area. 

She clicks around on the computer, and he inserts his card for payment. When she hands him his receipt, she says, “Don’t forget your homework, Tadashi.”

“Yeah, yeah, sensei,” he says with a laugh. “Have a good day.” She calls out a you too! as he walks out the door.

He directs the taxi to a clothing store near his apartment, feeling his energy droop the longer he stays in public, but he hasn’t had a good time to go shopping in a while. He might hit up the grocery store after this, too.

He gets a variety of clothes, dark wash jeans and corduroy pants, sweaters that remind him of clothes he had a long time ago, and a new pair of shoes, shiny leather boots. They look fashionable enough, he thinks, that he’s not a very good judge of that. He could probably ask for Kamata’s opinion, but he’d rather pay and leave than wait around for a response.

Once he gets back to the apartment, he hangs them all up in his closet, neatly cutting the store tags off as he goes. It looks nice, adding some more variety in there. And they’re a little more professional than jeans, but at least he won’t look like a businessman when they go out to the bar. He sends Kamata a picture of them hanging in the closet and gets her reply an hour later, a serious of exclamation points and praises.

It’s nice, he thinks. Another thing to add to the Normal column.

“I’m thinking of coming down for a visit soon,” Kiriko says. Tadashi has her on the phone as he does quiet work in the office. “Shiori’s always wanted to visit Okinawa, and this way we don’t even have to get a hotel room.”

“My apartment only has one bedroom,” Tadashi reminds her, sighing slightly. But he likes the idea of Kiriko coming down. He hasn’t seen her for a few months, since the trial. He doesn’t think about it too often, besides quiet nights in his apartment when he’s seized with the feeling that there’s something else he should be doing, that he isn’t working hard enough.

It’s easy to forget those obligations he once had. It’s harder to believe that he deserves this.

“We’ll just make you sleep on the couch,” she says, laughing into the phone. “You better have gotten some more furniture, maybe a picture or two?”

“Maybe,” he says, knowing full well that she’ll understand it as a no.

“Guess it’ll have to be your belated housewarming gift. Oh, Shiori wants to say hello.”

There’s a brief scuffling noise and then Shiori’s on the line, slightly out of breath. “Tadashi! I’m so excited to come down, I’ve even made a whole itinerary and everything. You’ll have to take me around, alright?”

When Kiriko first told him about Shiori, they seemed like complete opposites. She’s a journalist, working mainly on entertainment news around Tokyo. Bright and bubbly, a contrast to Kiriko’s dark clothes and serious appearance. But after hearing her gush about her girlfriend for the third time, and then learning that they met while Kiriko was investigating another politician, and Shiori was the one who was able to run the piece, it made sense. 

“I don’t know much of the sights myself,” he admits. Besides chauffeuring Ainosuke around between meetings and appointments, he’s never gone to one of the tourist spots Okinawa is known for. He’s been out of the country more times than he can count, but his own home is impenetrable to him.

“Fine, I guess I’ll do all the hard work!” she complains, but he can hear the teasing note underneath it. It makes him smile.

There’s a knock on the door, and Koharu sticks her head in, looking troubled. “Hey, I have to go. Tell me when you pick dates, alright?” After a brief goodbye, he hangs up, motioning Koharu in.

“Girlfriend?” she asks. She looks exhausted, the circles under her eyes looking darker than usual, and her tiredness leeches into her voice.

“No, just a friend,” he says. “Are you okay?”

“My daughter is sick,” she says haltingly, “and I can’t find anyone to look after her. I hate to ask this, but could I have the night off?”

“Of course,” Tadashi says easily, not even thinking about it. “Kojiro and Kentarou can handle the kitchen without you, don’t you worry.”

“Is it going to count against me?” she asks, already standing up to head out.

“Of course not. I meant what i said when I hired you: you don’t have to break your back for this.” He holds her gaze and finally, she gives him a nod. “I hope she feels better soon,” he says as she leaves.

“She’s a though little kid,” is her reply, and Koharu closes the door behind her.

He would do this for any employee, he knows, but there’s something behind Koharu’s eyes that reminds him of his mom. There’s something about seeing the obvious worry in her eyes, and the way she talks about her daughter with a voice full of love, it’s something that Tadashi misses.

He knows that a lot of people have lost their family, that he isn’t alone in this. But at twenty-eight, he misses his mom more deeply than those days following her death.

Koharu’s daughter remains sick for the rest of the week. It culminates on Saturday, when they’ve got people on a thirty-minute waitlist, and Tadashi’s having to pick up some tables himself. He isn’t very good at being a waiter, despite the experience he has at keeping a hundred things in his head at once. It’s enough that the tables get their food on time, but usually one of the actual waiters are the ones to stop by and ask if they need a refill.

An hour past when she was due to show, Koharu bursts in through the back, hair sloppily tied back and a colicky toddler on her hip. “Sorry I’m late,” she says. “My childcare cancelled and I couldn’t find anyone, and I know we need me here tonight and…”

Her daughter keeps screaming and Koharu seems at a loss of what to do, shoulders slumped. Quietly, Tadashi scoops her up, situating her on his own hip. The kid doesn’t quiet totally, but the change in position is enough to break the cries briefly.

“I can watch her,” Tadashi offers. 

She’s off to the kitchen, and Tadashi puts the two of them in his office. There’s nowhere for him to really put her, with there only being three chairs and the desk, none of which he wants to put her on. He ends up sitting as his desk, with her laying mostly on his chest. He’s seen mothers carrying their kids this way, and they seemed content enough. Now, she’s quietly hiccupping into his chest, cries mostly quieted but not fully gone.

He entertains himself with solitaire, watching the clock tick down slowly until finally, it hits ten, and Koharu rushes in. “Was she alright?” she asks, taking her as soon as Tadashi lifts her off his chest.

“She was fine,” he says. “Didn’t make much noise after the first hour.”

“That’s good,” she mutters. All her attention is on her daughter, and Tadashi allows himself a quiet smile.

“You’re good to go,” he tells her. “We got it from here.”

“Thanks again, Tadashi.” Koharu tells him. “I’ll see you later, alright?”

She hurries out, and Tadashi gets out of his chair, legs numb from the hours of sitting there. The few stragglers are finishing up their dinner, and Kojiro is sitting at the bar, talking to Kade with a broad grin. It takes a second for him to recognize Kaoru sitting next to him, mainly because he wasn’t expecting to see that head of pink hair and for once, it’s tied up on top of his head.

“Tadashi!” Kojiro calls him over, and he goes, taking the seat on the other side of Kaoru. “How was babysitting duty?”

“Boring,” he replies. “I trust that the restaurant didn’t fall apart, then?”

“A couple of near misses,” he says, “a few angry customers but nothing unusual. You should’ve seen Koharu, though, she was freaking out back.”

Kaoru cuts in, sending a serene smile at Kojiro. “It’s a lot for a parent to have to entrust their kid to another.” After a closer look, the smile doesn’t look as serene, little more biting.

Kojiro groans. “Are you still going on about this? It’s not my fault Miya keeps trying to convince people we’re their dads.”

“I think that you could do something else besides just going along with it,” Kaoru says primly. He looks over at Tadashi, the faux-annoyance falling from his face. “How have you been?”

“Ready to go to sleep,” Tadashi says honestly. “Kiriko and her girlfriend are making plans to come down, though, so that’ll be a nice change of pace.”

Kojiro attempts to start leering, but he gets a swift elbow in the side. It’s not like Tadashi thought it was genuine, but sometimes the playboy persona of his has become more instinctual than he thought.

“Sounds nice,” Kaoru says, and starts into a story from his week, and angry client who couldn’t even spell their name right, leading to a rather unfortunate display. It’s enough to make Tadashi laugh, and it stops the two men in their sentences.

“Is something wrong?” he asks, his smile quickly disappearing.

“No, it’s just… I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh,” Kaoru says.

Kojiro nods. “It’s been easier to get a smile at you, but sometimes it’s hard to know when you’re really enjoying yourself. It’s good, really.”

“I’m usually always enjoying myself,” Tadashi replies. “I just… I’m not very used to laughing.” Or smiling, for that matter, but he doesn’t think they’ll want to hear that part of it. After all these weeks, it’s been easier for him to slip out of his straight-faced mask, especially when he’s surrounded by people like Hide and Junpei, who are determined to make him laugh. They haven’t succeeded, but they still haven’t lost hope.

“I know,” Kaoru says, “it’s a good look on you, though.” And he changes the conversation, insulting Kojiro about something until the attention is off of Tadashi. 

It’s something he’s liked about Kaoru. He understands a little more than others what Tadashi has gone through, and how that’s chewed him up and spit him out. The man in front of him is nothing like the delinquent high schooler Tadashi once saw him as, but that kindness at his core has always stayed the same. It’s nice to know that things will get better.

Later in the next week, Tadashi agrees to go out with the kitchen guys. It earns a solid minute of whooping from Hide and Kouta, as they wait for Akio to finish up and for Tadashi to finish his end-of-day counts.

“It’s been a whole month,” Junpei proclaims as they finally make their way out. “You missed out on so much!”

“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Tadashi replies dryly, “when you spend five minutes every day giving me a rundown on every aspect of your life.” It’s not like Tadashi minds; he’s never had someone decide to spill everything about themselves like that. granted, he’s only been around other politicians and workers, and the latter were always too exhausted to do anything fun, let alone find a break long enough to talk.

“It’s the principle of the matter,” Hide says, very seriously. “You’re destroying our relationship, you never give us any of your time.” It makes the other line cooks snicker while he just rolls their eyes.

But as usual, Tadashi is always content to listen to the conversation rather than join in. He has two beers, but he drinks slower than the other guys, who always find their way into red-cheeked drunkenness, but never too far gone.

“Akio, you’ve been way too quiet tonight,” Kouta says, breaking through the argument Hide and Kentarou are having. “What’s with you?”

“My landlord’s being an asshole,” Akio mutters. He only ever drinks water on these nights, and he’s been silent for all of the conversations. He was quiet at the restaurant, Tadashi realizes. Usually, he would insult the cooks half the night, but today it’s been nothing but silence from the pit.

“Landlords,” Hide says like a curse, agreeing with Akio. “What’s it this time?”

“He’s making me rehome my snake,” he says, anger and sadness coming together. “I’ve had her for two years but only know is he making it an issue.”

“That’s sucks,” Hide says. “Have you found anybody yet?”

“I’ve made a couple of postings, but no one’s responded just yet. I’d rather move before giving her up, but it’s not like that’s any easier.” The guys nod, getting it in a way that Tadashi doesn’t, and he’s reminded how different he is from all of them.

He’s thought about having a pet, in the way that someone thinks about a future that is never going to happen. Usually he thought about a cat, or maybe getting into fish. He’d feel bad for a cat, because he never spends much time at his apartment and a fish could be doable, but there’s just too much work that goes into it. 

He waits around until the rest of the guys head out, until it’s just him and Akio. “I could take,” he offers, and Akio’s head snaps up.

“You’d take Yuki?” he asks, hope already coloring his face. “Have you had a snake before?”

“No, but I’m willing to learn,” Tadashi offers, meaning it.

Akio studies his face, before saying, “There’s a lot to having a snake. I don’t know…”

“I’m sure you’d be a good mentor,” Tadashi says, giving him a slight smile. “Besides, if I have her, then you can come visit her, right? This way it’s not like you’re giving her to a stranger.”

The hope fully spreads over Akio’s face. “You’re right! I’m still going to quiz you until I think that you’re worthy of having her, though.”

“Fine by me,” Tadashi says. 

It’s different from the motherly love Koharu has towards her daughter, but he can tell in the way he talks and acts that Akio loves his snake. It’s funny, Tadashi thinks, to be offering to care for a snake. He who called himself one, even though he was mainly following the theme Ainosuke laid out. And from what little he knows, it shouldn’t be that demanding.

As it turns out, Akio is very demanding. He invites Tadashi over one day, to a small apartment in a rougher area, but his place seems well-organized at the least. Yuki is set up in the living room, a large glass enclosure with a series of lights hanging over it.

He reaches in and pulls her out. She’s a gleaming black, wrapping easily around Akio’s hand. “Have you ever held a snake before?” he asks, holding her out.

“No,” Tadashi says, reaching out for her. 

Akio holds out his hand so the bottom of her tail is rest on Tadashi’s fingers. “Snakes will wrap their tail around someone from stability.” Sure enough, the tail wraps around Tadashi’s finger and she gracefully slithers from Akio’s hand onto his. She wraps around him, the coolness of her body slowly warmed up by the heat from his hands. It doesn’t feel rough, he’s surprised to learn. She moves around a little, before starting to head for his sleeve. 

“She likes you,” Akio says with a little laugh. It makes Tadashi smile, as Yuki finds her way to wrapping around his neck like a loose necklace. She’s easily two feet long, but it’s easy to think she was smaller when she was curled around their hands.

Akio talks him through everything that goes into caring for a snake. Yuki’s enclosure is custom, a wide, low glass habitat that’s almost as big as a table. It’s filled with bark and hides, carefully mimicking the appearance of a forest. It looks nice. He’s talked through the lighting requirements and what humidity it needs. There’s an automatic mister, and he’s told the importance of using reptile-safe water, only.

Finally, they get on the topic of food. “She’s still frozen fed,” Akio says, heading over to his fridge. He pulls a plastic bag out, the little lettering saying it’s a rat. “You have to thaw it, which I do by putting it in warm water usually for two hours, and then I move her to her feeding container. It’s pretty gross, and you don’t have to stick around and watch it. I usually leave her in there for two hours, and then I use the feeding container to move her back over to her enclosure.”

“How often does she need to be fed?” Tadashi asks. The rat is placed back in the freezer.

“I feed her every three weeks, and it’s gone well so far.” Akio reaches over, pulling Yuki off of him. She goes easily, and wraps around his arm like a thick bracelet. “But would you be able to feed her live? Because there is always the possibility of her refusing frozen, and she will have to be fed live food.”

Tadashi looks into his eyes, the serious look in them. He thinks about it, really, the idea of trading one life for another. It’s on a much smaller scale, and the nature food cycle, one rat for one snake’s continued existence, but he can’t help but think of himself and Ainosuke. He entered as Snake only to follow the theme Ainosuke had set, knowing that the man would see it as the threat that it is.

It’s similar, in a way. He traded in Ainosuke’s life for his own, throwing away those decades of being a loyal servant. One life for another.

“I could do it,” he says, holding Akio’s gaze.

It’s silent between them for a moment, before Akio finds whatever he was looking for in Tadashi’s face. 

“Alright then,” he says with a grin.

It takes a few days for them to actually be able to move Yuki into Tadashi’s apartment. He rearranges his living room so that there’s a large enough space for her enclosure, and the process of moving it from one place to another means that it needs to be totally dismantled. Akio insists that he switches out all the bedding, so Tadashi spends a lot of it realizing how much fake dirt and bark goes into a snake enclosure. It’s a lot.

At the end, Akio sweeps any escaped dirt up, and spends ten minutes just holding Yuki. Tadashi stays out of the way, making himself busy in the kitchen until he finally hears the snap of the enclosure lid settling.

“Thanks for this,” Akio says, coming to stand next to him. “She’s the first animal I’ve ever really had and the idea of losing her just hasn’t felt good.”

“I’m glad I could do this for you,” Tadashi says. He puts the dishes he was rinsing on the drying rack, wiping his hands off with a towel. “I’ve never had a pet before, but I have always liked snakes.”

“Really?” Akio says, incredulous. “Don’t get me wrong, man, but you don’t exactly seem like it. Most business-types I know view just about any animal like a bug.”

“The business side of things never agreed with me,” Tadashi said. “I just could never find a way out.”

“What, so you’re like the heir to some company? Couldn’t take the pressure.” Akio’s words are mean, but the tone isn’t so Tadashi doesn’t take it as an insult. He’s not surprised what Akio has assumed, if his other coworkers all think the same. He knows Kojiro’s never talked about his previous job, but he also knows the first impression he gave for those first couple of weeks.

“No, nothing like that. My father worked for a very rich and powerful family, and I worked for them too. I never had a way out until recently,” he admits. It’s not something he wants aired still, because he knows the type of upbringing that comes with that would be different from the harder walks of life a lot of these men had have.

Akio tells him, “I’m glad you made it out,” with a sincere tone and a clap to his back.

Tadashi’s glad too.

Later, when it’s just him in his no-longer-empty apartment, Tadashi picks Yuki up and she’s happy to crawl over his shoulders, wrapping around him like a shawl. She’s heavy enough to be a constant reminder, and he just sits there for a few minutes before placing her back inside.

A pet, huh. A lot of people have those. Kiriko has two cats that she loves and sends him picture of on a near-daily basis. Kaoru has a meticulously-kept shrimp tank in his office, packed with plants and bright red shrimp. Little by little, he’s realizing how much he’s like everyone else.

His third therapy session sneaks up on him. It isn’t until Kojiro sends him home with a pointed “see you on Wednesday” on Monday that he remembers. It surprises him, how he’s able to forget an appointment even briefly. He writes in his notebook every night and he sees the pop-up on his calendar in the morning, but he’s never forgotten appointments when he worked for Ainosuke.

It’s funny, the differences when he’s taken out of his life of a secretary. It’s good, though.

He does his nightly journal session. After the weeks, they’ve gotten steadily longer to the point where today’s feels a page. He skims over the last few pages, and doesn’t see anything that’s too personal to let Asami read at least, so he’ll let her see it tomorrow.

It’s become part of his nightly routine to take Yuki out and let her run up and down his arms, her tongue occasionally flicking out. Akio told him that’s how snakes smell, and he wonders what he smells like to her. Probably nothing appetizing, too much like Italian food for a snake’s taste. He puts her up after a couple of minutes and she crawls under her hideaway, head peeking out to keep an eye on her little word. The UV light flicks off, and he heads to bed.

In the morning, after a breakfast made from the remaining eggs in his fridge, he takes a taxi to Asami’s office, his notebook tucked away in a knapsack he found last week. He likes it enough for carrying things, having finally realized the practicality of a woman’s purse.

He doesn’t realize he’s anxious until Asami is flipping through his notebook and he’s watching her eyes go over his words. There are minute changes in her expression, and Tadashi can’t tell what any of them mean. When she finishes, she closes the book but keeps it in her hands.

“It seems like you’ve had an eventful set of weeks, Tadashi,” she says. Her words don’t betray anything, but he can tell that her smile is genuine. “A pet snake and friends coming in from Tokyo to stay with you, it seems like you’re going to be pretty busy.”

“I always am,” he replies, “but I owe a lot to Kiriko and well, I didn’t want Akio to have to give up his snake. She’s nice.”

“I think Yuki will be a very nice addition to your life. Herpetology wasn’t one of the hobbies I’d have suggested, but I think it suits you.” She looks down at his notebook, fingers tapping lightly on the cover. “There’s just one thing that you keep writing about and I think it’s probably the most important thing we should discuss. You keep talking about this concept of normalcy. Why?”

“It’s just like my life hasn’t been normal for most of it, even before my parents worked for the Shi–for that family, and now that I’m free it’s like I’m constantly behind everyone else.”

“Your childhood wasn’t a good one, and it wasn’t normal,” Asami agrees, “but there aren’t specific milestones you have to read by a certain time to be normal. Is this a goal in your life, to reach a certain state of normal?”

He hedges before his answer, realizing now that apparently his current way of thinking is one that Asami wants to totally destruct. “I don’t really have a goal,” he says. “I know that people have jobs and partners and kids, but I can’t see far enough past today to that point. It’s all I can do to keep going for… normal.”

“I’m not attacking you, Tadashi,” she says. “I’m just wanted to be sure of how you’re feeling. Personally, I don’t think there is a monolith of normal that every person strives for, or even attains. And you’re right, for a lot of people there are certain things they want, a particular job or a family, but it’s also totally normal to not want that.”

“I get that,” he starts, and then stops. He knows that for other people, they’ve had a lot more control about the direction in life they’ve headed. But Tadashi landed where he was, and has never found a way elsewhere.

“I think that you’ve separated yourself from the people you know in your head. You compare yourself to the businessmen you worked with when you worked for Ainosuke, and you compare yourself to your coworkers now, and you feel like you’re lacking. But you’re not, alright? There’s nothing that you lack.”

“I just don’t know what I’m supposed to be doing,” he says, finally. “I have a job that I like and coworkers that I like, but there’s too much up in the air. At least when I was his secretary, I knew where I would be in five years. And I don’t know that here.”

“Do you think Kojiro will fire you anytime soon?” she asks.

Tadashi shakes his head.

“Do you think you would have accepted taking care of a snake if you didn’t trust that you have a stable place to live or income for years to come?”

He shakes his head again.

“There’s only so much that I can tell you, Tadashi, before you have to start believing it for yourself. But from what I see, I think that you’re in a place that’s good for you. You have friends and coworkers who feel as if they can depend on you, you have a job that you only write or talk about with a sense of pride, and you talk about Okinawa only with love. I see a man who has put roots into where he is, even if you don’t think so.”

He’s silent, absorbing her words. He tries to picture himself the way that she sees him, but nothing comes up. He likes where he is, that’s true, and so far he doesn’t have any reason or want to change his life, but there’s a thread of uncertainty in everything he does. “I just feel like I am one slip away from things returning to how they were,” he admits.

“I think that is a valid fear to have,” Asami says gently. “I’ll keep saying it until you believe it, but you were abused, Tadashi. That will fundamentally change a lot of your reactions and behaviors, but that’s okay. And you’re only a few months out of that situation, you’re allowed to still feel like there’s a sword handing over your neck. But I want you to start thinking about it in different ways. I want you to move away from your perception that if you make one mistake, you will lose what you have worked so hard to gain, because you won’t. You have been so forgiving of everyone around you, and it’s time you realize that they will react to you with that same goodwill, okay?”

He nods, and says, “Okay.” He doesn’t believe it, not yet, but he’s willing to work towards that. 

She finishes up the session by walking him through different scenarios, and it’s a struggle for him to find words by the end of it. It’s like he’s used up his daily quota, never talking as much as he has in past hour. As always, he’s exhausted, but it’s the good kind, he’s starting to learn.

He takes a nap as soon as he gets back to his apartment, calling asleep in his soft bed and waking up hours later to the sunset coming in through his windows. He feels better now, less like his heart flayed open. He has a few messages, one from Kiriko telling him the dates she and Shiori will be able to come down, and one from Kojiro. It’s just a simple picture of the skatepark, and he can see a glimpse of pink hair off to the side, and it’s accompanied by a ?.

Taking it as the invitation that it is, gets ready to head out again. He sees his board sitting in his closet, but only closes the door behind him.

Kojiro and Kaoru are there with the usual crowd, and this time everyone’s sitting in the shade of a tree, taking a break before going again. Miya’s with their ever-present game console, and Reki and Langa are leaning over them yelling advice.

“Good to see you, Tadashi,” Kaoru says. He’s in a yukata today, probably having come straight from work. Tadashi sits next to him, in a space that seems to have been saved just him. “Good day off?”

“It was enlightening,” he replies, and he knows Kaoru catches the double meaning.

But for now, he’s content to sit in the warm air and realize that he’s been given a place in this odd little group despite everything he’s done.

Kiriko comes back to Okinawa in a very different way than the last time she was here. She’s free of the pencil skirts and sensible shoes, instead dragging her girlfriend into his apartment while wearing something much more casual, more suited to a tourist. Shiori, on the other hand, is in a bright sundress, and she pulls Tadashi into a hug as soon as she steps over the threshold.

“Tadashi, it’s so good to finally meet you!” She towers over him in her heels, but she smells of florals and nothing like a plane. “I’m glad Kiriko could finally get time off work for a vacation, it’s been a while.”

“Hey, don’t pretend you’re not as much as a workaholic as I am,” Kiriko says, laughing. She pulls Tadashi into her own hug, and doesn’t say anything when he clings just a bit more. “Now, show me what’s good to eat around here.”

It’s no surprise that they head to Luce, and on a Thursday evening, it’s not too crowded. Midori is the hostess tonight, and she smiles brightly as them as they’re led to the best seat in the place. It’s a bit embarrassing, though, when Kojiro himself comes out to take their orders.

“It’s good to see the two that Tadashi’s always talking to,” he says. “What can I get you guys started with?”

It’s even worse that, halfway through their meal, Kojiro comes out with his own plate and sits next to Tadashi. Shiori is happy to have someone else to talk to, and she mentions that she’s thinking of doing a little write-up about Luce when she gets back. It makes Kojiro blush, which makes Tadashi laugh.

All in all, it’s a nice dinner, and Kojiro becomes fast friends with Shiori. When Tadashi goes to pay, Kojiro waves it away, telling them it’s on the house.

Back at the apartment, they spend hours talking. It’s still new to Tadashi, to still have so much to day even though they message each other all the time, and usually call each other at least once a week. It’s nice to get to know Shiori better, who he really only knows from Kiriko’s perspective. She’s as described, but even better.

As the night slows down, Tadashi shows them to the bedroom, with freshly washed sheets. His own place for the next couple of days is the futon in the spare room, which he’s managed to fill with other things that’s made it useful.

He can’t take off so many days from work, and the two do their own exploring of Okinawa when he’s at the restaurant. On the second night he comes back to Shiori cooking, making his apartment smell sweet. Kiriko’s sitting on the couch, TV switched to a random movie.

“Good day?” she asks as he tucks his shoes onto the rack.

“It was nice,” he replies, heading over to her and sitting. “Kojiro burnt himself and was a big baby about it, though.”

She hums and he leans his head back, settle in a way that he’s never felt. When he opens his eyes, Shiori’s setting plates of food in front of him on the coffee table. Kiriko already has a bite in her mouth.

“Tastes as good as always,” she says. She’s sitting on the floor, and Tadashi moves down as well.

The first bite is delicious, rich and sweet. It’s a nice change after all the Italian and his own subpar cooking. “This is delicious,” he tells her. “Thank you very much.”

Shiori blushes at the attention. “It’s not anything big,” she says. “I just thought you might like coming home to dinner.”

“You’re right, I did like it,” he tells her in between bites, smiling. It’s a different kind of dinner from the one at Luce, because there’s no need to be quiet for the sake of others, and he watches Shiori get increasingly excited about the ongoings on her phone. Kiriko leans over to tell him that one of her favorite idols is putting out new promos.

The next day, they go to more spots with Tadashi in tow. Shiori drags them shopping in Naha, and they spent a little bit at the beach, splashing in the water. And then it’s off to a museum, where Shiori studies everything carefully. Tadashi can’t remember the last time he had this much fun with two people. He didn’t think he would ever be at this point.

That night is a little quieter. Tadashi treats them to his own cooking, which isn’t as good as Shiori’s, but it’s passable. It’s made better by the alcohol Kiriko reveals, and as the night wears on, he finds himself drifting closer and closer into her side.

“I’m so happy for you,” she tells him quietly. He’s gotten drunk enough that he’s spread out on the floor, head in her lap. Her fingers are going through his hair, and both her and Shiori peer down at him. Kiriko had asked, a while ago, if she could explain how they met to her, and he agreed. Now, he feels a little too exposed under the gazes. “When I had met you all those months ago, when I met you that first time at the start of my investigation, you were an entirely different person. But now you’re just… more you.”

Kiriko is one of the few people who knows both parts of him. They had first met while he was still acting as Ainosuke’s secretary, when he had no plan to make the testimony that would send the man to jail. When he had resigned himself to his life as a dog, forever waiting at Ainosuke’s side. She’s seen him at his worst, and now at his best, and she’s the only person that has.

“Sometimes I miss him,” he confesses to the quiet room, and it’s met with a sad smile on Shiori’s face.

“A lot of times,” she starts, “we’re just too used to how people treated us that it becomes a safe space. And there are some good times, always, with those bad ones, and we’re allowed to have these complicated feelings. And now that we’re out, it’s much easier to process them.” Her hand falls to her arm where an angry red scar sits. Tadashi only barely knows the story, but he also sees a lot of him in Shiori, and probably her in turn.

“Yeah,” he agrees simply, closing his eyes. Kiriko’s still playing with his hair. “I think that you guys are my closest friends,” he admits.

“I think you are mine, too,” Kiriko says. “Apparently, a lot of men don’t want to be friends with someone like me.”

“Well, they’re idiots,” he says, laughing. “I think you’re great.”

“I know you do,” she tells him. “Now, let’s get to bed.”

It takes a little bit of maneuvering, but they manage to get him in the futon. In the morning, they spend breakfast laughing before their flight back to Tokyo. He hugs each of them harder than he had when they arrived, but Kiriko just pulls back and says, “I’ll text you when we land, okay?”

“Alright.” He watches them head out in their taxi, because he still hasn’t gotten around to getting a car. They both wave through the back windshield, and he waves back until they disappear over the hill.

His apartment is empty besides Yuki who sleeps in her hide, and he already misses them deeply. He knows that he’ll be able to visit them one day, and that they can come back, but for now, the absence is aching. 

Kojiro invites him out skating one day, and Tadashi doesn’t even put up a facade about having other work to do. He just follows behind, the two of them chatting about work, but then Kojiro veers into talking about a new skating tournament being put on—not by S, he’s quick to clarify—by locals, and how the kids are all practicing for that. Adults over twenty-five can’t enter, he admits wryly, but it’ll be good for them. Tadashi agrees; he doesn’t think the type of skating at S is the kind that kids should get used to, because it’s fast-paced and dangerous, and even if they did have fun, injuries were as abundant as wins.

When they get there, Miya is trying to teach Reki and Langa how to do a heelflip while Kaoru is patiently doing the trick again and again. Tadashi remembers it taking him a month to full master that one, too many late nights and too many elbow scrapes. Langa is practicing the foot movements Miya is demonstrating while Reki is practicing the jump.

He remembers what he said to Reki, all that time ago. There are few instructors he said, and that’s still true, but it was never like that for Reki. He’s had videos and experience, and after a while, the friends he’s made at S with their years of experience are obviously happy to teach new tricks and help them learn. It undoubtedly goes better than how Tadashi learned, through quick videos he committed to memory followed by nights in an empty pool.

Tadashi watches as Langa makes an attempt, but he falls down, his board continuing on to stop against a rail. “Good try, Langa!” Reki calls, grabbing the board.

“You’re not extending your leg enough,” Tadashi says when they’re close enough. All the heads turn to look at him. “Your leg has to be almost fully extended, and since you’re so tall, you’re going to need to jump higher as well.”

Langa nods, committing the advice to memory, and goes for a second try. This is time he forgets to jump forward with the board, and Miya criticizes that pretty thoroughly. 

“Are you good at tricks with all those stunts you pulled off?” Kojiro asks, laughing. “I didn’t think having a little twerp teach those two would end well.”

“I’m not one for teaching,” Tadashi says. “It was hard enough for me to learn all of them the first time around without any help.”

“I think they’d appreciate your tips,” Kojiro says, nodding towards where Langa’s gotten the idea down, but the time between his kick and the flip is just off. That’s not something Tadashi can really help him with, though, only practice.

He looks over at Reki, though, who’s smiling, and not attempting the trick. he seems content to cheer Langa on, though, the way he was during S. He said a lot of mean things to him, and Reki had responded with a proclamation of how fun skating is. Tadashi’s feelings towards skating had changed a lot over the years, and after a while, he stopped associating fun with it entirely. 

Maybe, though, he could figure out how again.

“Kojiro,” he says, “I hope you knew this already but I’ve come to see you as a very close friend, now.” The words sound stilted, even to him, but he’s been working on verbal affirmations. He talks best with his actions, but words always get straight to the point.

“Man, what kinda way to phrase that,” Kojiro says with a laugh. “You’re a good friend too.” The slap to the back is barely enough to move his body, and Tadashi is thankful for his restraint. “Hey, Kaoru, get over here!” he calls, and Tadashi feels himself flush.

“What?” Koaru says, stuck between annoyed and friendly. 

“Tadashi here has something to say,” he announces smugly, accompanied by a harder slap.

“Nothing bad,” Tadashi rushes to say, glaring at Kojiro for his lead-up. “I’ve been told that, apparently, words are more useful in cementing things to yourself,” and Kaoru nods, because they both know where that line of advice came from, “and I wanted to say that you have been a good friend to me.”

Kaoru smiles at him, the real one that spreads across his entire face. “You’ve been a good friend to me, too,” he says. “It’s nice to see how far we’ve come, huh?”

It is nice, he thinks, looking at this little group. He wouldn’t say he’s friendly with the kids, although Langa seems to have respect for him, but he knows that he can’t just stop at a tip and a few words at the beginning of a deadly race.

There’s more he has to do, especially for Reki.

Later that night, he heads out. It’d be quicker to get to DopeSketch if he used his board, but he’s kept it in his closet since the day he moved in. The walk isn’t hard, just long, but still the light in the back office is still on when he gets there.

He knocks on the door, hoping that Reki won’t be quick to assume it’s an intruder. When he does open the door, he’s already got a smile, halfway through saying Langa’s name. “Oh, Tadashi,” he says, disappointment clear in his voice.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

“I guess.” Reki moves aside and Tadashi steps in. The room smells strongly of wood and wheel oil, and it’s surprisingly familiar. “What can I help you with.”

“I want to apologize,” Tadashi says. “I’m sorry for hitting you with my car, and the hurtful things I said afterwards. It’s not a waste of your time or energy, and I can tell how much you put into the sports.”

“Hey, man, I get it,” Reki starts, but Tadashi keeps going.

“I do wish that you didn’t skate against Adam, and it was genuine worry, because I didn’t know how far he’d go in that race. It was a good one, and your trick with the wheels was very smart.”

Reki’s rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed. “You don’t have to go through all of this for me, I’ve kinda moved past it.”

“Even if you think that, it’s best not to let old wounds lie,” Tadashi says. “I haven’t moved past it, and you deserve my apology.”

“Have you skated since that night?” Reki asks abruptly. “You never skate with us out there. Did you get injured?”

“Ah, no, nothing like that. I’ve known Adam a long time, you know. I was the one that taught him how to skate. And after a while, my feelings about it got mixed up with how he used it in a shameful way and since that night, I haven’t even touched my board.” Tadashi looks over at the boards hanging on the wall, the desks done, waiting for wheels. “I thought about what you said and figured you were the best person to go to for reigniting someone’s love of skating, huh?”

He laughs. “I guess I’m known for that, huh? Honestly, all I know is that skating has always felt best when there’s people with you. I got better when I met Langa because we both pushed each other. And even though you seem to blow everyone out of the water, we’d be happy to let you skate with us.”

Reki grabs a piece of wood from the wall, the two ends curving up to mimic the form of a board. “I’ll accept your apology on one condition: you let me make you a new board.”

“That doesn’t sound like a very hard condition,” Tadashi says. “How much is it for a custom piece?”

“Oh, you don’t have to pay me,” Reki is quick to say, but Tadashi stops them there.

“I’m paying. These things take a lot of time, and it seems like this is the direction you want to go in. So, how much for a custom?”

Tadashi ends up searching the price, because Reki insists on lowballing himself, and he’ not having any of it. After agreeing on the price, Tadashi starts to head out for his long ride home.

“What kind of design do you want?” Reki asks as the door is closing. He’s already sitting, scribbling something on a piece a paper.

“Well, I guess a snake,” Tadashi says. “Fitting, right?”

It makes Reki laugh. “Yeah. Night, Tadashi!”

On the walk home, he feels lighter. The air is crisp and cooling, the mark of fall returning, but for once, Tadashi has had a really good summer.

It’s two weeks before Reki finishes his board. He has another appointment with Asami, who commends him on his verbal affirmation homework, and there’s nothing in his recent journaling that she picks at. He feels better than ever when Kojiro invites him out to the skate park.

Reki’s holding the board in his hand, grip tape side facing him. The grip tape is clear, the design underneath a mess of greens blurring together. “Are you ready?” he asks, and at Tadashi’s nod, he flips it over.

The natural wood grain was left alone, and a black snake is curling around the wheels, the head rest at one side. A few green lines are drawn around the curves, but it’s very simple. The trucks are a matte while and the wheels are different shades of green, definitely ones that can be found on the other side.

“It’s beautiful,” he says, turning it around in his hand. Closer, he can tell that the snake has one green eye open, tongue flicked out. “This is really solid work.”

“Well, try it out!” Reki demands, almost jumping. “I didn’t know how tight you want the wheels to be, so I can do some quick adjustments!”

Tadashi holds the board in his hand, feeling the familiar weight and heft of it. It’s been a long time since he did this, he thinks. He takes a few steps before throwing the board down and jumping up on it. Like muscle memory. His feet make their way to the right spots and he does a quick manual, before turning abruptly and heading back towards Reki.

“I think it’s great,” he says, breathless despite the undemanding movements. 

Reki grins, and everyone starts skating again. Tadashi drops in the bowl, doing lazy loops to pick up speed for the jumps. After that, he’s on the rails, and everyone watches him while they do their own thing too. After a while, he does the heelflip Langa was trying to perfect and comes to a slow stop.

Langa comes up to him, stars in his eyes. “Show me how, Miya wasn’t a very good teacher.”

There’s an indignant Hey ! from Miya, who proceeds to execute a perfect heelflip in front of them. Then they stick their tongue out at Langa. “You’re just a little slime,” they proclaim, before kicking off as Langa gives chase.

Kaoru and Kojiro make their way over, smiles on their own faces. “How does it feel?” Kojiro asks. With the way they’re looking at him, it’s like Tadashi’s spent the last few months nursing a sprained leg rather than his complete inability to step on a board.

He looks out at the park, of the kids playing tag on their skateboard, leaves falling as long summer days give way to fall. Tadashi looks down at his board, the snake smiling up at him.

“I think I understand what Reki means when he says it feels like happiness.”

And then he’s off again, cutting through the kids’ game as he picks up more and more speed. There’s freedom to a skateboard, he always felt, even when he was locked behind the gates around the Shindo residence. When he skated, all that matter was him and the world. His world’s gotten bigger now, with people who trust him and who he trusts in return, but most importantly, people who make sure that he won’t have to skate alone again.