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Ryotaro’s nephew is scarily self-sufficient, sometimes.
When Yu had first arrived in Inaba and settled into their house, Ryotaro wasn’t sure what he had been expecting, but it certainly hadn’t been this. Because Yu is unlike any teenage boy—or teenager in general, really—that Ryotaro has ever met and Ryotaro has met every teenager in Inaba.
People at the precinct begin to take notice. Adachi gets this—this knowing look in his eye when he sees Ryotaro hungrily devour a bento box filled with home-cooked delicacies: onigiri shaped like mice, perfect slices of salmon, vegetables cut to resemble flowers and birds. Yukino, the receptionist, gushes endlessly about how ‘polite of a boy’ Yu is and how ‘you’re so lucky, Dojima-san!’. Even the grumpy old caretaker Shijima-san makes an effort to ask about Yu every time Ryotaro comes in for work.
Yu cleans and dusts and vacuums and when Ryotaro returns late at night, the house is nearly spotless. Yu walks Nanako to school and tucks her in at night. Yu cooks and cooks and cooks and the Dojimas rarely have to get takeout.
Yu is also better at handling Nanako than Ryotaro has ever been. He knows how to soothe her when she’s sad and how to talk to her to get her to understand and she never, ever cries about him. Ryotaro feels proud, of course, because his nephew is a kind boy who will, no doubt, grow up to be a kind man but also…it stings.
Ryotaro is supposed to be the adult in these scenarios. He’s supposed to be the capable one. He cannot rely on Yu’s good graces forever.
It’s just…so easy, with Yu around. It’s like a missing piece of the puzzle has finally been found. And that’s why Ryotaro resolves to be careful. To be better. He knows what shitty parents or caretakers are like, and he’ll be damned before he lets himself fall into that same path.
He can take care of himself does not mean he should have to take care of himself.
Ryotaro tries his best to impress this upon Yu. He wonders if his nephew can tell he’s floundering. He does not usually have after-dinner conversations about feelings with teenagers who make said dinner. He usually scares them off before they get too rowdy, called in by their neighbours with complaints of noise.
Yu always looks terribly pleased whenever Ryotaro talks to him about things: reminds him not to overwork himself. Tells him he doesn’t have to wake up early to cook breakfast and lunch every morning because take-out is an option. Gently nudges him into going to bed earlier when he looks exhausted. Even when he’s being reprimanded—which is rare, because Yu is such a good kid—he never loses that smile of his.
It’s like he’s grateful to Ryotaro for looking out for him.
To think that this brilliant kid is happy to have even the slightest bit of attention from an adult. From a guardian. From a caretaker. It makes Ryotaro want to—to wrap Yu up in blankets just like he wants to wrap Nanako in blankets and shield them from the world.
Which is certainly something.
Apparently, he thinks about Yu the same way he thinks about Nanako: like a parent does.
Huh. That’s—it’s interesting.
What a revelation.
Nothing changes much, after that. Not really. Ryotaro keeps an eye out for Yu, like he always does. He chides the boy when he gets too overzealous, like he always does. He cajoles Yu into accepting that kindness is a two-way street, like he always does.
So, really. Ryotaro’s pretty much been acting as Yu’s parent the whole time he’s been in Inaba.
He tells Adachi this, in the midst of a little crisis. Adachi looks at him, askance. Says: “Dojima-san, why does anything need to change? He’s always been your kid, hasn’t he?”
And. It really is that easy.
Once Ryotaro accepts that, yes, he does have—have parental inclinations towards his nephew, he realises that the whole town has somehow, over the course of a few months, assimilated into their belief system that Yu is Ryotaro’s son, even though that’s not at all possible.
Ryotaro doesn’t know how he was unaware of this fact. Old Lady Shiroku asks Ryotaro how his ‘kids’, plural, are every day when he passes by her shop on the way home from work. The owners of Marukyu Tofu always try to sell him more tofu for a cheaper price because he has ‘two growing kids’, plural, to feed at home. The old man who works at the shrine always presses small hard candy into Ryotaro’s hands with a wink, says it’s for his ‘kids’, plural. It’s always ‘kids’, plural. Never singular, not anymore. Not since Yu came to stay with them.
Ryotaro and his kids, his son and his daughter.
Ryotaro wonders if Yu knows this.
It’s hard to tell with that boy. He seems to know everything and nothing at the same time.
Ryotaro settles into his usual seat at dinner and watches Yu interact with Nanako with a little more fervour. If Yu is confused about the sudden scrutiny, he doesn’t say anything. Yu treats Nanako with a gentleness that comes from experience. He’s adept at handling children—at handling people, really. It’s no wonder those friends of his flock to him like sheep to a shepard.
It was just Hanamura at first, his disarming grins and unshakeable loyalty, as he slung an arm around Yu’s shoulders. Partner, they called each other, which was surprising because they met only recently. Ryotaro had, in all honesty, never seen Yu smile at anyone so brightly. Hanamura always smiled back.
Then it was Satonaka and Amagi, a matched pair. They both had an easy camaraderie that came from years of friendship, but Yu seemed to fit into their dynamic with ease. He matched Satonaka’s head-strong stubbornness with his calm, unshakeable will and pushed Amagi out of her shell.
Then Tatsumi, which struck Ryotaro as strange at first. Tatsumi often showed up to their house to ask Yu for opinions on his little craft projects, and he always made sure to bring fabric scraps for a delighted Nanako. He’s not so bad, Ryotaro knows now. His gruff delinquent exterior is tempered by Yu’s sincere kindness.
Kujikawa Rise followed. Ryotaro had never pegged Yu to be a fan of idols, and he was right, because Yu treated Rise with a casualness that only came from complete wholehearted honesty. She clung to him like a schoolgirl in love—heck, maybe she was—and he indulged her.
Then there was that ‘Detective Prince’, Shirogane. Too smart for her own good, really, but she had no idea how to talk to people. Yu helped. Yu couldn’t imagine not helping, Ryotaro knew. She might have been closed off like a clam but Yu had pliers and a crowbar and God knows what else. So he helped.
Even that weird gaijin kid, Teddie. Kuma, they called him. He made an awful lot of bear puns, and he called Yu ‘sensei’ for some reason? But he was a part of that group as much as anyone. He had a good heart and kind eyes, and Nanako adored him.
Maybe Yu just attracted weirdos like the plague.
Still, Ryotaro doesn’t mind too much. Oh, he pretends to kick up a fuss—says that his house isn’t a zoo, it’s not a diner, it’s not a hangout for a bunch of teenagers—but they’re just token protests. He’s pretty sure everyone can tell he’ll give in as soon as he hears those thundering footsteps outside.
The house is all the more livelier for it.
The first time Ryotaro calls Yu ‘son’ is before he has to leave. They’re at the station, and Nanako has already hugged Yu goodbye tearfully, praying that her ‘onii-chan won’t forget her’. Yu promises he’d never, and says he’ll call every night. Nanako believes him. So does Ryotaro.
His friends stand a short distance away, giving the Dojima plus one Narukami family privacy. They’ve already said their goodbyes, made pacts to stay in contact. Ryotaro has no doubt they’ll stay as close as ever. Besides, Yu already agreed to return to Inaba every holiday he can spare—which will probably be a lot, considering his parents are out of the country more often than not.
Ryotaro places an awkward hand on Yu’s shoulder. Yu goes still. “Yu,” Ryotaro begins, before correcting himself. “Son.” Yu, if possible, stills even further. “You’re family. You know you’re always welcome here. Just….maybe call beforehand? You have my number.”
To Ryotaro’s horror, Yu starts tearing up. He beams at Ryotaro through watery eyes. “Thank you, Dojima-san.”
Ryotaro shrugs, rubs the back of his neck bashfully. Damn this kid, making him go soft. He pulls Yu and Nanako into a hug, whispers into Yu’s hair. “Anytime, kid. Anytime.”