Chapter Text
“Remember our plan, Shin,” Mikey half whispers to his nephew, though it’s loud enough to have it echoed around the dining table. In return, his nephew, Ryuugaji Shin, giggles in his hands, amused to see the displeased look on his mother’s face.
Emma places a plate of breakfast in front of her husband, a hand on her hip. “Now, now, what’s the grand scheme you’re planning with my dearest boy?”
Then she taps a finger on Shin’s nose, small just like hers. His pitch-black eyes disappear behind his broad smile; a spitting image of his late uncle, Shinichiro, except for his height. Shin is quite tall for a six-year-old, most likely taken from his father’s side.
“Nothing,” Mikey blows his dark hair away from his eyes. He reaches for Ken-chin’s plate, but, alas, his attempt is stopped by Emma’s light slap on the back of his hand.
“Mikey’s trying to woo Shin’s teacher,” Draken says, eyes on the screen of his phone. Hah, the parts are arriving today, Inupi told him over a text. They have to do the inventory checking, then, to ensure everything is recorded correctly, or Koko will bitch at them at the end of the month. He types a reply back to Inupi.
“Wait, what, who —” Emma gasps.
“Traitor. I’m firing your flat ass,” Mikey deadpans, sipping on his coffee. Creamy and sweet, his kind of coffee. Beloved. The only thing matters in the early morning. After Shin, of course. After dorayaki, too. Shin, dorayaki and sweet, creamy coffee — there, all in order.
“You can’t do that. Izana loves me. He’ll hurt you,” Draken huffs a laugh.
“Izana hates everyone, that’s what he does for a living. Hatred makes him alive. Makes Izana... ‘Izana’,” Mikey munches on pancakes he stole from Ken-chin’s plate, “It got me thinking, is that why he looks so —”
Draken stops him. “No, Mikey. Don’t go there.”
“No?”
“No.”
“Alright, I’m letting this go because I’m a nice person,” Mikey points the fork at Draken. Pointedly. All he gets is an eye roll from his brother-in-law.
“It’s Michi-sensei! Jiji likes Michi-sensei,” Shin chimes in. Happily. Delighted, when Mikey thinks they’ve dropped the topic.
Emma snaps her head around. “Takemichi-sensei? That sweet Takemichi-sensei?”
Mikey clutches his heart dramatically. “My dear Shin, I smell betrayal! How dare you!” Instead of guilt, Mikey gets a loud laugh from his adorable nephew. A pure heart, indeed, so easy to please. That puts a smile on Mikey’s face.
“Tell you what,” Draken puts down his phone, smirking, “Whatever your plan is, I’m sure it’s gonna fail miserably.”
“Don’t jinx it, Ken-chin!”
…
The plan is very simple. Broken down into three parts. One, always hold Shin’s hand no matter how clammy his grip would be. Two, greet Takemichi-sensei with a warm smile. Three, explain to Takemichi-sensei the importance of Takemichi’s number in his contact list so he can keep himself updated on Shin since he’s a very, very responsible uncle.
A very serious, business-like tone might be needed in case Takemichi-sensei doesn’t sway by his smile. Yes, that. Mikey can do business-like tones. He was the commander of Toman for a reason, after all.
He can hear Ken-chin’s snort from afar. Geez, stupid brother-in-law.
There it is. Shin’s kindergarten school. Crowded as parents bid their kid goodbye. Some cling to their parents’ clothes, reluctant. Some bound over into the school lawn, excited to venture another great day with friends. Shin, just like his father, is ever a cool kid. Not a wallflower, thank goodness. He has his own circle, Matsuno’s kid is one of them, bright and good-looking, a carbon copy of Matsuno himself.
He recalls Baji and Kazutora waxing poetic about Matsuno like he’s the centre of their universe. In a way, maybe that’s true since only Matsuno is crazy enough to hire those two to work at his pet shop despite their juvie records.
Mikey’s eyes dart around until they are drawn to a mop of dark hair, glowing blue when shone upon. Huh. Takemichi-sensei. His outfit is rather humble, only a red t-shirt underneath that apron and a pair of jeans. An easy smile adorns his face, warm and radiant, accentuated by his blue eyes, rich and mysterious like the ocean.
Oh, his Takemichi-sensei looks beautiful as always.
“Jiji,” Shin yanks Mikey out of his trance, “The plan?”
“Yeah. Let’s go,” Mikey holds Shin’s hand tighter. Not sure if it’s to make sure Shin doesn’t run away or because he himself needs moral support. “Let’s go,” he says again.
Shin grins, “Let’s go.”
After wrestling their way through the crowd, Takemichi-sensei notices Shin first. Ah, of course. The sense of familiarity. No biggie, Mikey tells himself as Takemichi-sensei greets his nephew a good morning. Musn’t allow the disappointment bleeding to his face. Then he pulls a polite smile once he’s gotten Takemichi’s attention all to himself.
“Ah, you are… Shin-kun’s uncle, yes? Sano Manjirou?” Takemichi tries.
Mikey blinks. This bubbly feeling in his chest, wow, it’s pleasant. Pleased to know his crush knows his name. “You know my name,” he says dumbly.
“After what happened the other day, so yeah, I’ve gotta learn your name, so I asked Shin-kun,” Takemichi admits, “Unless you find it… stalkerish? I’m sorry. I’ll keep my distance if you aren’t comfortable.”
“No, no. No need for that. It’s just a name. We’re adults. I’m an adult. I can handle a bit of curiosity,” Mikey says. As coolly as he hopes. Not desperate. “But please, just Mikey. You’re, uh, Takemitchy, right? Shin talks a lot about you. He says you’re a great teacher.”
The slight curve on the corner of Shin’s lips is pretty much a tell-tale that the brat knows what he’s doing. Knows that a little white lie is required to win over Takemichi’s heart. Damn brat, Mikey notes with a strained smile.
“Thank you, Shin-kun. You’re a great kid too,” Takemichi smiles.
“Yeah, I told Jiji that the bento you make is delicious. I also told Jiji that I like milkshakes a lot!” Shin adds.
Milkshakes, huh? The kid sure knows how to get his message across. Mikey better prepare to get his wallet milked dry at McDonalds’. Oh wait, bento? Takemichi-sensei makes bento too? Delicious bento? He files that little information away for future reference. Mikey drools at the thought of Takemichi preparing bento for him every morning, clad in a frill apron, with a smile that begs to be kissed breathlessly —
The ringing bell brings Mikey back to the present. Takemichi-sensei has an apologetic look on his face. “Duty calls. Come on, Shin-kun. Let’s go to your class.”
Uhm, uh, wait, the contact number. Mikey hasn’t gotten it. The reason as to why he dumped early tasks on Ken-chin and went through the trouble to get ready in the early morning so he could look presentable in front of Takemichi. Panicked, Mikey opens his mouth. Closes it. Opens again.
Only to have Takemichi beat him to it instead, “Can I have your contact number?”
Mikey stares.
There’s a hue of pink on Takemichi’s cheeks, but his eyes could play tricks on him. Takemichi elaborates, “So I can contact you to fetch Shin-kun in the evening later. It’s the standard procedure. For safety reasons. Unless, uh, his father fetches him?”
Oh, of course. Safety reasons. Makes sense. It’d be a nightmare if a stranger fetched his nephew. Mikey agrees, “Yeah, sure. Why not? Your phone? I’ll type them down for you.”
When Takemichi hands over his phone, happiness blooms in Mikey’s chest, and oh wow, this warm sensation is silly, he’s not a young teenager who confessed his undying love to his crush. No, they’re adults, and he shouldn’t be feeling so lightheaded like this, his fingers shouldn’t be feeling so warm, and his cheeks shouldn’t be hurting so much from this stupid smile.
It’s just a contact number, dammit!
“Thank you, Mikey-kun,” Takemichi-sensei says.
Stupid butterflies.