Archive of Our Own

‘Kazuma, may I have a word with you before you go?’

‘Of course, Sensei. What is it?’

‘You’ve been spending quite a lot of time here as of late. Please don't take this as criticism, it's just...is it your intention to take an entire gap term?’

‘No, Sensei. I’ve...actually dropped out.’

‘Dropped out...of university?’

‘That’s right, Sensei.’

‘I see. Forgive me if I’m overstepping, Kazuma, but what is it, exactly, you plan to do now instead?’

‘...Honestly, Sensei? I don’t know.’

‘Really, Sensei? I can work and live right here?’

‘That’s right, Kazuma. You’re an enormously gifted karateka, and I know you’ll be an asset to the dojo. There’s only one additional thing I require if you are to accept.’

‘Of course, Sensei, anything!’

‘You must take real, serious strides to get your temper under control. I can’t have an instructor working here who can’t handle trouble without getting angry or aggressive.’

‘...’

‘Don’t worry, Kazuma, I’m not expecting a change overnight, or for you to manage the process on your own. I’ll help you, but I need to know that you’re committed to making this change. If you’re not, none of it will work.’

‘I am, Sensei. I want to. I will!’

‘Good. In that case, welcome to the Sohma Dojo.’

‘Meditation, Sensei?’

‘Are you doubting my methods before you’ve even tried them?

‘No, Sensei, of course not! It’s just...I’m not sure how this is supposed to help me. You know I mean to do my best, truly, but it’s just...how will this work, in the heat of the actual moment?’

‘Meditation isn’t just sitting in one place and daydreaming, Kazuma. Open your mind to its possibilities, and you might find yourself surprised by what it can do for you. The ability to clear one’s mind and let go of one’s problems is a powerful tool, and, with practice, that tool can be carried with you, wherever you go.’

Kazuma sat cross-legged in the cool of the evening, his upturned palms resting gently on his knees. It was a pose he’d adopted thousands of times in the past twenty-odd years; a pose, and a routine, that were now etched into his very soul.

So it had been, since he had been nineteen; newly employed by dojo master Koji Sohma in the wake of his father’s sudden death and a period of aimless drifting. In the span of a day, he had gone from living his entire life under his father’s rigid control to having no one and nothing to call his own; a young man without parents, purpose, or passion...

Except for karate.

Sensei Koji’s offer had been a godsend. Suddenly, he had a home, a job, a purpose, and a family. In the dojo, he wasn’t automatically reduced to being the grandson of the Cat; he was Kazuma, a skilled karateka and valued member of the dojo community. 

And all it had cost him was his anger.

He had been so very angry, then. For years, he had been angry. Angry at his parents, for the intense, unyielding, unbearable pressure they put on him; at the Sohmas, for scrutinizing their family, particularly his father, so very harshly. At his grandparents, the Zodiac Cat and his carer, for creating a child like his father, doomed to live a life nearly buried by judgement, stigma, and insecurity. 

At the universe, for allowing any of it to happen the way it had...

But with time, and patience, and training, that anger had slipped away. Temper was replaced by serenity; anger by understanding. He learned to let go of old hatreds, to ignore words and behaviors that would have once sparked violence. 

To become the karateka, and the person, he had always been meant to be: free from anger, free from rage, free from temper. 

Free from everything that had ever held him back.

‘Kyo lost out on so much in his life, Master Kazuma, and it’s not fair. None of it is fair, none of it! And some of it he can’t ever get back. Some of it is impossible, I know, but not all of it! It’s possible, even now, that there could be some kind of accord between Kyo and Katashi. Why wouldn’t Katashi want to make the most of what he has now? Why wouldn’t he want to finally embrace his own son?’

‘Some people would rather cling to old, outdated hatreds than try to move forward. Katashi has spent Kyo’s lifetime believing him to be a monster and blaming him for everything that went wrong in his own life. Not everyone is capable of change, Tohru. There are some things even you can’t fix.’

‘But everyone deserves at least a chance, Master Kazuma! I have to at least try, no matter the results.’

There had been no winning. Kazuma couldn’t stop her; even if he physically restrained her, she would keep trying the next time. Or the one after that. Tohru was unstoppable once she had set her mind to what she thought was right, and she would keep trying, keep fighting against Kazuma, keep fighting against Kyo, until she finally had her chance and said her piece.

Until she finally stood face to face with Kyo’s biological father and heard, with her own ears, how very, very mistaken she was in thinking he could ever be redeemed.

There was nothing else Kazuma could do. Only one option was left to him to minimize the damage: take Tohru there himself.

At least that way, he could protect her from harm.

‘That creature is to blame, it’s always been to blame! It did it, it did everything! It doesn’t deserve to be free, it doesn’t deserve to live! It’s your fault, Kazuma, everything is your fault! You even claim to love that Abomination, when everyone knows it to be incapable of love!’

‘That’s not true! Master Kazuma loves Kyo because Kyo is deserving of love! He’s not a monster, or an abomination, or a...thing. He’s a man, a good man, a kind man, a wonderful man! And that’s why I love him, and why I’m going to marry him!’

‘You... love…that thing? You stand here in front of me, trying to defend that monster, and all the time it’s because you’re planning to...marry it? Disgusting! To think that any person, any true woman, would be so willing to debase herself like that. To let that monster rut and paw at her…it’s too sickening for words! There’s no way any woman would allow that to happen, no real woman who knew what that thing was! You can’t be human, can’t be normal yourself. Only a monster would lie willingly with a monster like it!’

Kazuma couldn’t protect Tohru from the words, but he could protect her from the man. And he had, moving like lightning the moment Katashi had twitched.

It had taken everything Kazuma had in him to simply stand there: a human shield between Tohru and Katashi, with Katashi’s shirt in his fist and his normally placid eyes blazing with a fire they hadn’t in years, a fire that burned a warning behind his coldly controlled words:

‘You won’t touch her, Katashi.’

And Katashi hadn’t. Kazuma had protected her from physical injury, the one small thing he could actually do for the woman who’d saved his son. 

For the woman who had stood there in the face of Katashi’s anger and rage, defending Kyo and Kazuma from the sharpest, most painful of lies.

And even though he knew Tohru had brought it on herself, even though he had tried to warn her like Kyo had tried too, his heart still ached for her as she stood there, beaten down. 

And not in many, many years had Kazuma been so desperately eager to inflict real pain.

Leaving Katashi’s house hadn’t made anything better. Kazuma couldn’t take any joy in any part of what happened, not even in the relief that came from knowing at least it was over. Tohru was hurting, and there was nothing positive about that; Kazuma had never been the type to say, ‘I told you so.’

And even if he was, right then wasn’t the time. He and Tohru might be done with Katashi himself, but there was still a reckoning waiting for them both.

Kazuma knew that he deserved every bit of it coming his way.

‘Why the hell would you do that, Dad? You'd no right to take her there, none! You never should've done that, especially not without asking me first!’

Kyo’s anger had sounded so familiar to Kazuma, as though he were listening to a younger version of Kyo...or to a younger version of himself. Anger to shield him from fear, and pressure, and pain...anger Kyo, like Kazuma, had worked so hard to suppress.

Anger newly erupted and turned, justifiably, towards Kazuma. 

‘She had no business being there, none! And I’ve told her that, over and over! Why the hell'd you think it's a good idea, you know what he’s like!’

Kazuma did. He had heard and seen what Katashi was like for years. A father by blood but never in name, a man who had had the unimaginable privilege of having Kyo for his son.

And who had taken that privilege and spat on it. 

Katashi had had Kyo, and he had thrown him away. But not before doing everything he could to try and crush him...

Tried, and continued to try, every chance he had.

Over the phone from Hibe, Kyo had talked to Tohru. Tohru had, eventually, emerged from her futon to go out with Akito; she might not have felt up to it at first, but they had pre-arranged plans.

And as for Kazuma...

Kazuma...

‘All emotions are valid, Kazuma, but it is one thing to feel them, and another to be controlled by them.’

‘All those years, he could have been a father to an amazing young man. He could have been there to see him grow, to see him fight, so desperately, to live! He could have been there for him, could have supported him, could have helped him! He could have been there to see...to hear...and instead he threw it away! He threw him away! He’s always thrown him away, always! Just because Kyo wasn’t exactly what Katashi had hoped for, just because he was...because he was...’

For two decades, Kazuma had been a bastion of calm. He was devoid of temper, devoid of anger, devoid...

Of nothing, right then.

‘He could have had so much. Even now, even today, he could have turned things around. She wanted, so desperately, for things to work out, and what she had to listen to...what he tried to do...’

Kazuma had been like a feral beast, his raised voice a snarl and his eyes ablaze with fury. The calm, collected dojo master was gone, and in his place...

‘I wanted to hurt him. I did. I stood there, his shirt in my hand, and imagined it was his neck. Because I wanted to hurt him…I did, and I still do!’

It was all so monstrously unfair. Katashi had had so much...he still could have had so much...so much of what was, and always would be, so precious to Kazuma.

He couldn’t take it any longer, and nothing could hold back his anger.

And then nothing could hold back his tears. 

He had stood there, sobbing out his anger and rage and keen feelings of injustice; feelings for Kyo and Tohru, yes, but also about the world, the Sohmas, and the universe, against the deep, intense cruelty they could all inflict. And his tears had steadily soaked the shoulder of the one person listening; the one person that Kazuma had never meant to lower his guard around, ever. 

Anger led to despair. Rage led to tears. And emotion had washed through and over him with the intensity of his youth. He couldn’t have held it in if he’d tried...

But he should have tried harder. 

Kazuma had had so much; received so much; built so much. He had so much to be grateful for in his life, regardless of how difficult and unfair the universe was.

He had his son. His home. His health. His friends. His profession.

To want anything more, even subconsciously, had always been selfish.

But in the end, he was only a man. And people, whatever their best wishes, ultimately were selfish.

Kazuma took a deep breath as he sat out in the night, trying his best to follow the familiar calming routine.

Closed eyes, relaxed hands. Deep, calming breaths; simple inward focus.

So it had been for over twenty years. What had begun as a means to control his temper had become something much more precious to him; a way to clear his head and center his thoughts, a way to begin each day composed and at peace.

A way to ensure he stayed that way, no matter what each day brought.

Some days it had been harder to relax than others, but always, in the end, clarity had prevailed.

But Kazuma couldn’t recall the last time his soul had been in such chaos. Not since he had been a teenager himself had he been so unable to regulate either his thoughts or emotions; not since he was a teenager had he felt so out of control.

He had been foolish, thinking he’d never feel like that again.

All his life, Kazuma had been a dutiful son. From his earliest days, he had tried to live up to the near-crushing weight of his parents’ expectations.

‘You must do better, Kazuma.’

‘You must try harder, Kazuma.’

‘Remember, Kazuma, that because of our unfortunate bloodline we will always be regarded as inferior. It is up to us to show them all how very wrong that assumption is.’

‘You are better than this, Kazuma.’

‘We are better than this, Kazuma.’

‘I am disappointed, Kazuma.’

‘I will not have my son shame me, Kazuma! Do you hear me? I won’t!’

He had done his best. 

It had never been good enough.

‘You must work harder, Kazuma!’

‘Are you trying to prove them right? Is that your wish, Kazuma, for them all to be right?’

His wish? Hardly.

And if it had, it wouldn’t have mattered.

‘I’m told your performance at the dojo this term has been sloppy, Kazuma. Are you trying to embarrass us on purpose? Isn’t it enough your grades are so low, you have to likewise forget how to do the one thing we thought you could handle?’

Kazuma couldn’t take it.

Anger had always been his nemesis, and simultaneously his constant companion. Anger that began to bubble out more and more over time, as elementary school passed to middle school, then middle school gave to high school.

Just anger at first, but later violence with it. 

Not against his parents; never against his parents. Nor against any other authority figure. 

But anywhere else, with any excuse, at any provocation? As far as he was concerned, the rest of the world was fair game.

‘Do you understand why you’re in my office, Sohma?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

‘We have a strict ‘no fighting’ policy for a reason, yet once again you’re here. If this keeps up, we’ll be forced to call your parents. Do you understand?’

‘Yes, Sir.’

Nowhere was truly off limits to Kazuma's anger, for years. 

‘Kazuma, a word.’

‘Yes, Sensei?’

‘What was that, just now?’

‘...a sparring match, Sensei?’

‘Wrong.’

‘Sensei?’

‘You’re talented, Kazuma, far too talented to resort to the behavior I just saw. Don’t let me see it again.’

‘Yes, Sensei.’

‘See’ being the operative word.

There was so very much he wouldn’t let any of them see...

Things he wouldn’t, and couldn’t, let them see.

‘You’re home, Kazuma, good. We need to talk, and I expect you to be honest with us.’

‘Of course, Father, always.’

‘It has come to my attention that a boy fitting your description was seen meeting a female student from Kanojo High School yesterday afternoon and behaving in a...most questionable manner. Where were you after school yesterday?’

‘At the dojo, Father, the same as always.’

‘So you are telling us this boy, who wore the same school uniform as you and largely matched your description, was not you.’

‘No, it wasn’t.’

‘Because you know how we feel about relationships while you’re in school, and about you sneaking around behind our backs..’

‘I know, Father, and I’m not sneaking around. I swear to you both that I’m not in a relationship.’

‘Are you spending time with any young women outside of a relationship?’

‘No.’

‘Good, and I’m glad to hear it. Should you ever be even the slightest bit tempted to stray, remind yourself of your duty to your mother and I. You know we count on you to always act with the utmost propriety and to conduct yourself in a manner beyond any reproach. Our family is, and always will be, held to a higher standard than most, and we can't have you forget that.’

‘I know, Father, and I will.’

He had never been tempted, and he never would be. Not by the unknown, faceless girl his father’s spy had seen; not by any other girl, ever, in his life. 

‘I hope you’re taking your studies seriously, Kazuma. While getting into university was an important start, it’s likewise important you apply yourself and keep working hard. I’m counting on you to represent this family, now more than ever.’

Kazuma knew. It would be hard not to when his father was tracking so much, including seemingly every single person Kazuma talked to. 

‘Who was that young woman you were speaking to after economics class today, Kazuma?’

‘A classmate. We were discussing our term project, Father, nothing more.’

‘What was her name?’

His father hadn’t needed him to answer; Kazuma had known he already knew. 

He had always known; asking was just a formality.

‘Hotaru Ishii. As I said, she’s just a classmate.’

‘Make sure she stays that way.’

He would. He had. 

And it had been far, far easier than even his father’s suspicious mind had ever started to guess.

So much had changed in the many years since Kazuma was nineteen. He had learned how to safely process his emotions, and how to keep them from consuming him. He had learned to let go of the need to be perfect, the one that had been hammered into him since infancy. He had accepted his own fondness for spontaneity, while acknowledging and appreciating the merits of routine, reliability, and constancy.

And he had become a better man. 

The lessons he’d learned as a young man had seen him through his darkest days, when he had stood by and watched as Kyo, as Kazuma’s own son, had spiraled ever deeper into chaos and despair. Inwardly Kazuma had raged and feared and worried, but outwardly, he had been a bastion of calm and control: all the things Kyo most needed from him, besides unflinching love.

He had always been there, however he could, for Kyo.

He would always do anything, if it might help Kyo.

And on the day when the darkness consuming both of them had lifted, Kazuma was there to share Kyo’s unimaginable joy: the joy in seeing Kyo’s wrist, bare and unbound by beads...

And the joy in Kyo’s eyes as he looked at Tohru, their smiles both pouring out love.

For so long, Kazuma had looked on Kyo as his own child and greatest treasure. Kyo’s joys were his joys; his sorrows, Kazuma’s. For years, everything else in Kazuma’s life had paled in comparison; even the dojo, Kazuma’s home and second-greatest trust, would have been sacrificed in an instant if Kazuma had thought it would help.

For years, he had watched Kyo grow and mature. For years, he had counted down grimly towards graduation. He had hatched his plans and made his preparations...

And ultimately he had needed none of them. 

Kyo didn’t need protection now, because he was free: free to live his own life, according to his own desires.

And for the first time in thirteen years, Kazuma was likewise free to put his own wants first.

Though really, he had wondered, had he needed to? He was perfectly content, exactly the way things were.

Kazuma couldn't ask for anything more.

‘I'm so very sorry, I know there's no excuse, but please, please try to forgive me!’

Kazuma’s hands clenched in spite of his attempts to let them fall open, and the breath he drew in was sharp and ragged. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t relax; couldn’t let go of the turmoil that had followed when he’d fled his house.

Over twenty years of being in control of himself, of carefully cultivating the perfect image and life...how easily he’d just thrown it all away.

Was it even possible, to come back from what he’d done?

Deep, slow breath. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Concentrate on the breath, and let everything else fade away...

The harder Kazuma tried to concentrate on his breathing, the more determinedly the images floated in his mind. Images of himself that very evening, that very hour, losing control of his emotions for the first time in decades; of himself, breaking down in anger and tears.

Of himself, blindly accepting the offered comfort of an embrace. 

Of himself, turning his face away from that tear-soaked shoulder to press it without thinking against the bare skin of a neck…

And of the moment when the instinctive illusion of ‘rightness’ had shattered as the man Kazuma was hugging had gone rigid.

As the scene replayed once more in agonizing slow motion, Kazuma finally gave up on meditation and dropped his head to his hands. He didn’t know what to do next, but clearly, here and now meditation wasn’t going to help him. He hadn’t exactly thought it could, if he was being honest; it wasn’t as though he could wish what had happened out of existence, any more than he could wish any other past moment away.

All of them, good and bad, had happened, in the end.

And all of them, good and bad, he had had to face.

“Kazuma?”

As soft and hesitant as the voice was, to Kazuma it was like receiving a punch in the gut. His entire body stiffened and for a moment he stayed as he was, sitting cross-legged in the gazebo with his head in his hands.

And he couldn’t help but wonder how terribly he’d just ruined his life...

But there was no point in trying to hide from it any longer.

Kazuma took a deep breath, then dropped his hands and rose to his feet, doing his best to look composed in spite of the fact he looked a mess. No one could cry as he’d been crying without it making an impact, even if no one had witnessed the tears. 

And he couldn’t even pretend that, as Kunimitsu had definitely witnessed the tears.

“I’m sorry,” said Kazuma quietly, turning to face the man who had been his assistant for nine years and been his dearest friend for not all that much less. The man whose company had never failed to brighten Kazuma’s spirits, who had been there for him during the darkest days of fear and worry for Kyo. Who hadn't understood what had made those times so dark, but had never let that stop him from doing anything he could to remind Kazuma that he wasn't alone.

Who was bright, and talented; reliable in the extreme. A great cook, a strong karateka, in possession of an incredible sense of humor...and a smile that warmed Kazuma's very soul.

Kunimitsu’s friendship had always been enough. His friendship should have always been enough. Both of them living on the dojo grounds as they did, even if Kunimitsu lived out in the boarding wing with the resident students, meant they were regularly together even outside of class; they also trained together, and worked together...Kunimitsu had been Kazuma’s second in the dojo for years, and Kazuma’s trust in him was nigh-unshakable.

Before tonight, Kazuma had imagined the reverse was true, too.

But it didn’t matter that Kunimitsu had encouraged Kazuma to vent. It didn’t matter that Kunimitsu had initiated the hug. Friends hugged, after all; even if they never had prior to that night, it wasn’t out of the ordinary for a friend to hug another going through a rough time.

It had been innocent.

It should have stayed innocent.

It was entirely Kazuma’s fault that it hadn’t.

And now, naturally, he had to pay the price.

“I’m sorry,” Kazuma repeated, dropping down into a fully prostrate bow. “I was emotional and acted without thinking, but there was still no excuse. My behavior was unjustifiable, and while I beg you, if possible, to try to forgive me, I understand-”

“-Kazuma,” Kunimitsu cut in, and Kazuma cringed at the awkward tone in Kunimitsu’s voice. 

It sounded so unnatural and unlike him...but Kazuma supposed he deserved it.

“Could you please just...stand up?” Kunimitsu asked, the awkward tone still pronounced. “I just...I can’t talk to you like this, I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

Kunimitsu’s words cut as deeply as a knife, and for a moment, Kazuma struggled to breathe.

So...this was it.

Well enough. Kazuma would do Kunimitsu the courtesy of facing him as Kunimitsu told him he was leaving.

Kazuma rose once more back up to his feet, and the two men stood looking at each other for a long, silent moment. Kunimitsu’s expression was anxious, and Kazuma’s stomach twisted; whatever Kunimitsu was feeling, it was entirely Kazuma’s fault.

He had owed his friend better. There could never be any excuse. 

For what felt like an eternity, the two of them stood there in silence, facing each other but neither of them actually looking at each other's face. With each passing second, Kazuma’s misery grew, and he was just about to speak up when Kunimitsu beat him to it.

Kazuma was not prepared at all for what he said.

“I’m not upset.”

The words were softly spoken but once again, they hit like a punch. Kazuma’s gaze had been on the ground, but at Kunimitsu’s words his eyes widened, snapping to Kunimitsu’s face in bewildered confusion.

And on that face, Kazuma still saw anxiety...and resolution.

“I’m not upset,” Kunimitsu repeated, a little bit louder and a lot more firmly, his own eyes shifting to meet Kazuma’s. “I was...surprised,” he admitted, swallowing, “and I’m sorry...about how that came across. But that was all, Kazuma,” he said before saying for a third time, “I wasn’t upset.”

It was Kazuma’s turn to swallow. “I’m afraid...I don’t understand,” he said, his voice slightly stilted. But at the same time, a wild, almost desperate hope was starting to form in his mind...

It would be enough to merely be forgiven. It was already more than he could ever deserve, just to be allowed to continue on as they’d been. 

But at the same time…was it so wrong, to hope?

Kunimitsu stood silently for another long moment, glancing away from Kazuma out into the darkness. Kazuma watched as he gathered himself, tensing in turn when Kunimitsu’s eyes flicked back to his.

It felt as though they were standing on a precipice...

The question was just who, or what, would fall.

It felt like an eternity before Kunimitsu spoke, though it was likely only seconds. But even with that eternity to prepare himself, Kazuma still wasn’t ready for what he heard.

"Kazuma,” said Kunimitsu, taking a deep breath, “you once said...that you didn't think the woman for you existed."

For an instant, Kazuma felt like his heart had stopped beating.

He had indeed said those words, nearly a year prior; after the last of a short string of almost catastrophically bad dates he had undertaken after Tohru and Kyo's move. It hadn’t been the fault of any of the women; no doubt it was difficult to salvage a date with a man who kept nervously talking solely about his son. 

And if he was being honest, he hadn’t wanted them to; when he had laughingly told Kunimitsu about 'the woman for him not existing,' he had genuinely meant it, though he hadn't said why.

The words had been Kazuma’s. The emphasis, Kunimitsu’s.

But the meaning was one and the same. 

And as they stood there staring at each other, Kazuma slowly nodded his head in response.

“You’re right,” he said at last, his voice almost unnaturally calm. “I did say that...and I meant it.”

“Do you still mean it?” Kunimitsu asked, and Kazuma exhaled, then slowly nodded once more. Then Kunimitsu looked once more out at the night.

“Do you remember that ‘family emergency’ I had last winter?” Kunimitsu asked, taking ahold of his elbows and cradling his arms. “When my parents needed me unexpectedly, after New Year’s?”

“I do,” Kazuma said quietly. “You said it turned out to be something...less serious than you’d feared.”

Kunimitsu’s mouth quirked into a sardonic smile, and he looked back over at Kazuma. “Majorly. My parents…wanted to introduce me to someone.”

The October breeze was cool, but Kazuma doubted he could blame his trembling on the cold.

“Someone?”

“Someone,” Kunimitsu repeated. “The unmarried daughter of some old family friends, specifically,” he said, and Kazuma had to take another deep breath. 

“I assume...that nothing came of it.”

“No,” Kunimitsu agreed. “Though the whole thing was…pretty awkward.”

Kazuma had to crack a smile at that. “Did she know what was happening?”

“Oh yeah. She knew, her parents knew, everyone knew but me. Though I guess I can’t say I blame them for keeping me in the dark,” Kunimitsu said, his eyes once more darting away. “I haven’t exactly been receptive to that subject in the past, and I guess...Mom and Dad thought the best option was to just spring something on me.”

“I hope the aftermath wasn’t too painful.”

“No relationships were permanently damaged,” Kunimitsu confirmed with a little smile. “Fortunately, Keiko and I were ‘allowed’ to sit and talk together without our parents present, and I apologized for wasting her time.”

Kazuma’s own hands were hidden in his sleeves, but inside, they were gripping his forearms hard enough he was sure they would bruise. 

“I’m sorry things were uncomfortable for you.”

“Things were always going to be uncomfortable, Kazuma,” Kunimitsu said softly. “My parents have never been cagey about what they wanted for me. They always wanted me to have what they have,” he said wryly. “A respectable, safe, stable job; marriage, and a kid.”

Kazuma’s mouth and throat were so dry it was almost painful; he felt he should say something, but he couldn’t.

But he didn’t have to, either.

“I never wanted that, Kazuma,” said Kunimitsu. “I had the ‘safe, stable job,’ once, and it was killing me.”

“I remember,” Kazuma managed to say, thinking back to nine years prior, when twenty-two-year-old Kunimitsu had asked to speak privately, then bowed to him and told him with regret he had to leave the dojo. His work schedule and commute were too crushing; he couldn’t manage his job and karate, which meant that one had to go. 

‘Do you truly wish to leave, Kunimitsu?’

‘No, Sensei, I don’t. If I could, I’d stay forever, but my damn job...I can’t, not until and unless I find something else.’

Kazuma’s response had been almost immediate: ‘What would you say if I found you something else?’  

At the time, Kazuma had only wanted to help. To offer a hand, the same way he had once been offered the same. To offer a chance for another young man to live the life he wanted, rather than the life he felt he had to out of duty.

He’d had no idea then how very dear Kunimitsu would become. How having him around all the time would come to mean so much.

How, in time, he would view Kunimitsu as one of the most precious people he knew...

“I didn’t want that 'safe, stable' job,” Kunimitsu said, his quiet voice snapping Kazuma out of his reverie. “And I didn’t want the rest, either. I never have, not the way they always hoped.”

Kazuma took another deep breath, his lungs almost shuddering and his fingers digging even deeper into his arms. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing; couldn’t allow himself to draw the natural conclusion himself. 

No matter how much that was what he wanted, he had to hear Kunimitsu say it himself.

“What is it you do want, Kunimitsu?” Kazuma asked, his voice almost painfully composed, and he watched as Kunimitsu inhaled, the other man drawing himself up to say the words that, no matter what they were, would change their dynamic forever.

“I want to be here,” Kunimitsu said, looking out of the gazebo to the dojo courtyard beyond. “I want to be here, at the dojo. I want to work here, and keep living here, with you. I want to stay here, with you...forever,” he said, and as he did, he turned and finally met Kazuma’s gaze. And in Kunimitsu’s eyes, Kazuma saw things that overwhelmed him.

“I know I can’t compare to you, Kazuma,” said Kunimitsu, this time without looking away. “I know you’re so much more than I can ever hope to be-”

“-Don’t,” Kazuma said, sounding much less composed. “Don’t place me on that pedestal, please, Kunimitsu. I’ve never deserved to be there, and I don’t want to be there now. Whatever you think I am-”

“-What I think you are,” Kunimitsu cut in, nerves mixing with an eager determination that made Kazuma’s heart thump, “is the most amazing person I’ve ever met, Kazuma. In every way, you’re everything I could ever aspire to be, and everything I could ever…love.”

Kazuma felt as though the world around them had faded away; in that moment, nothing existed beyond the two of them, standing there in the night. Kazuma, his face still streaked with dried tears, and Kunimitsu...

Kunimitsu...

“I love you, Kazuma,” Kunimitsu said. “And I know it’s selfish of me, to put this on you like this-”

Kazuma couldn’t believe what he was hearing; for so long he had tried not to think, hope, or dream, and now...

Now...

Still, even overcome, Kazuma had to laugh, his eyes once again filling with tears. “-Selfish of you?”

“Well, you’ve been through a lot today,” said Kunimitsu, shifting awkwardly. “And I’d never want you to think I was trying to take advantage of your emotional state.”

“My emotional state,” Kazuma repeated dumbly, wiping the tears from his eyes. “Kunimitsu-”

“-But after what happened, I didn’t want you to think...I didn’t want you to worry....” Kunimitsu said, shifting once more. “I’ve been hoping that maybe, at some point, the right moment to say something, I don't know, normally, would come up, but I just...I didn’t want you to worry,” he repeated. “I’d never want you to think...I was upset with you.”

How very painful those initial minutes of panic had been, and all for nothing….but in the very best way.

“Thank you, for that,” Kazuma said, his voice catching slightly. “Because I was worried, worried you would think...”

Kazuma trailed off, uncertain what next to say. 

What had he been afraid Kunimitsu would think?

“The truth,” he said at last, smiling ruefully. “I was afraid that you would think the truth,” he admitted, and Kunimitsu, his own eyes slightly teary, laughed as well. Then he cocked his head at Kazuma, his expression still slightly nervous but his eyes alight with hope.

“What is the truth, Kazuma?” he asked, and Kazuma’s smile grew warmer.

It was hard not to feel confident, looking into those eyes.

“The truth is that I know the woman for me doesn’t exist, but I also know that the man for me…does. And I-”

A lifetime spent in anger, and silence. A lifetime spent living in fear. A lifetime spent bowing his head before the opinions and dictates of his parents, the Sohmas, and the world, even once he thought he’d broken free of others’ control.

‘We are counting on you to always act with the utmost propriety and to conduct yourself in a manner beyond any reproach.’

He always had, and he always would, too. Nothing about who, or what, he was, would ever be something anyone could criticize.

‘The ability to clear one’s mind and let go of one’s problems is a powerful tool, and, with practice, that tool can be carried with you wherever you go.’

Letting go of his problems...was that what he was doing, now? The act of meditating had failed him tonight, but right here, right now, in this specific moment, he felt lighter than he had at almost any other time. 

‘Master Kazuma loves Kyo because Kyo is deserving of love! He’s not a monster, or an abomination, or a...thing. He’s a man, a good man, a kind man, a wonderful man! And that’s why I love him, and why I’m going to marry him!’

Tohru loved Kyo for so very many reasons, reasons she would happily shout to the world. Reasons she’d flung in face of a hateful, resentful man, as she’d stood in front of him, defiant and strong in her love. 

Kazuma was no Tohru, and he knew he never could be. Her strength, and her courage, were untouchable. Even now, in this moment, feeling as he did, he knew that to trumpet what he felt as she had was impossible.

Perhaps it always would be.

But even knowing that, he could only be happy. He didn’t need a trumpet, as long as he had his voice. 

“I love you, Kunimitsu,” Kazuma told him, the words hushed but charged with emotion far removed from rage. “For so long, you’ve been so dear to me in so many ways. I just...can’t imagine my life without you,” he said, and Kunimitsu let out a choked little laugh.

“Me, either. I just...you make me so happy, Kazuma. You’re so calm, but so fierce at the same time; you bring so much passion to everything you love-”

“I do?” Kazuma asked, surprised, and Kunimitsu grinned.

“Have you ever listened to yourself talk about Kyo? Or about the dojo, your students, or karate?”

At that, Kazuma had to laugh. “Funnily enough, I feel fairly confident those exact subjects, or at least some of them, played a not-insignificant role in the failure of my prior dates.”

“Their loss,” Kunimitsu said, wiping his eyes. Then he smiled at Kazuma, a smile that made Kazuma’s heart flutter. “You love me.”

“I love you,” Kazuma repeated. “And you...love me.”

“I love you,” Kunimitsu confirmed. “So...”

“So.”

They both lapsed into silence, staring at each other with similar awkward but overwhelming joyful smiles. Then they both laughed, admittedly choked-up but still happy laughs.

“I’m afraid I have no idea what I’m doing,” Kazuma admitted. “I can’t say I’ve ever had firsthand experience with any of this.”

“Me either,” Kunimitsu agreed before smiling once more. “I guess that means for once, neither of us has an advantage.”

“No,” Kazuma agreed in turn, “I suppose we don’t.”

Once again they looked at each other in silence, then Kazuma took a deep breath. 

“That being the case...may I hold you?” he asked, feeling like he was wildly overstepping, but Kunimitsu’s warm, slightly nervous smile worked wonders to minimize that fear, along with his eager, 

“Of course!”

Closing the distance was awkward; there was no way it ever couldn’t be. But then Kunimitsu’s arms were around him, and Kazuma’s arms were around Kunimitsu, and in their embrace, Kazuma wondered how he ever could have doubted.

‘All emotions are valid, Kazuma, but it is one thing to feel them, and another to be controlled by them.’

Anger.

Hatred. 

Despair.

Fear.

So many, many emotions, all of which, at one point, long ago, had once consumed his being. Even today, he had let himself lose control.

But that was all over now, he knew. Tomorrow, when he went out to the dojo for his morning meditation, it would be with renewed energy, purpose, and focus. Tomorrow, he would remind himself why he had fought so hard for so long to move past the negative feelings that had dogged his youth, and why he had sworn never to let them consume him again.

Tonight, there was no need for reminders. He knew, standing there in the darkened gazebo, just how lucky he truly was. 

He was Kazuma Sohma, master of the Sohma Dojo, and the dojo was his special trust. He would always keep it safe and strong.

He was Kazuma Sohma, Kyo Sohma’s father. He would always love, and always protect, his son, whose joys and sorrows would always likewise be his. 

He was Kazuma Sohma, the grandson of the Cat. He had never, and would never, need to ‘prove’ his worth. 

And he was Kazuma Sohma, who loved, and was loved by, Kunimitsu Tomoda. He couldn’t say what their future would hold, but one thing was certain: together, they were invincible.