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The old man is easier to find than Hirokuni thought. His restaurant was in the station-front shopping arcade, so he had lots of good, concerned neighbors, and they remember Kai. Hirokuni emphasizes that he doesn't want to invade the old man's privacy—he's not asking for his address or anything like that—he just wants to let him know he can get in touch. He hands out his phone number and email on cards he printed up, figuring that's the best way to reach old people.
This kind of appeal to complete strangers is embarrassing, but in just a couple weeks he gets a terse email from Koji, the guy's son, asking why Hirokuni wants to bother his dad.
Kai doesn't talk much about the old man—Kenji-san to his fellow shopkeepers—or his son. Hirokuni's impression is that when Kai met Koji at the hospital, they took an instant dislike to each other. Kai's not a blood relative, after all, so to Koji he's just an employee who took advantage of his grieving dad. Whereas to Kai, Kenji's like a father and grandfather and mentor all rolled into one.
Kai loves him, even though he'd never say so in words. and Hirokuni loves Kai, so… He spends hours crafting his reply, and begs Kaneko to read it over and give him advice, promising to buy him lunch. When he finally hits send, the nervous energy threatens to drown him. He pulls on the running shoes Kai made him buy and takes off for a few laps around the park. He's never been sporty and his main form of exercise since university has been commuting, but having a younger and fitter fiance is great motivation. Plus, he hasn't had the chance to enjoy the fresh air, trees, and sunshine in years.
The jist of Hirokuni's message is a request-slash-plea for Koji to allow him and Kai to come visit Kenji, maybe meet up at a coffee shop close by Koji's home. What he gets a few days later is a proper invitation to Koji's house, with a map showing how to walk there from the station. It feels like both an opportunity and a test, but he tries to be breezy when he tells Kai they have plans for the twenty-third and writes it on the calendar hanging on the fridge. He likes being able to see his life filling up with things he looks forward to.
"Kenji-san's son invited us over to see him," he says.
Kai's reading on the sofa. When he looks up and around, his expression is unreadable. "Why?"
Hirokuni rolls over the back of the sofa and settles with his head on Kai's thighs, closing his eyes. "To say hi. We should bring something nice, like melon or strawberries. Not sweets, he's probably not allowed to have them." Kai doesn't know, even now, what illness Kenji was hospitalized with, but sugar's the first thing on most doctors' hit lists, isn't it?
"When?" Kai asks. He settles his book on Hirokuni's head and lazily turns a page.
Hirokuni tells him, and that's the end of the conversation.
They're invited over at two, but Kai doesn't argue when Hirokuni says they should get there early and check the area out. It's a bedtown built over hilly land, and the twisting roads are lined with two-story beige houses and the occasional five-story brown condo block, neatly trimmed azalea bushes along the sidewalks. Hirokuni theorizes out loud that the area must be full of old people who bought their homes thirty to forty years ago, judging by how tall the trees are and how few children are running around, despite it being Sunday.
"They're at swimming classes," Kai says, casually destroying his theory. "Or the mall." He sounds both certain and bored.
"We could go to the mall." They'd walked past it exiting the station, but they could circle back. "I'll buy you an ice cream at Thirty-One. What's your favorite flavor?"
"Ginger eggplant," Kai says, just to be a dick. Hirokuni puts his arm around his waist and lets his fingers rest right over the ticklish spot on Kai's side. He's not going to carry out the threat, not here in public, but he likes making it. He likes that Kai doesn't push him away, even though the day's warm, and that they bump against each other as they walk.
They don't hurry; Hirokuni's still not sure if Kai's eager to see Kenji or dreading it. He's only just started learning how to read Kai's silences, but he knows Koji said something so terrible to Kai when Kenji was being released from the hospital that Kai resolved to never have a home and to cut himself away from the people he loves, like he was a curse.
Hirokuni thinks—wants to believe—that Koji didn't realize the power his words had. He has a plan in place if Koji hurts Kai again, but he's hopeful. He got an invitation, after all.
They time their wandering so they find themselves ringing the bell in front of the house at two exactly. The house looks the same as the others on the street, distinguished by a handful of personal touches. The small front garden between the gate and the entrance porch has neat flowerbeds with whimsical pottery animals hiding between the plants. The wooden nameplate beside the door is intricately carved with birds in flight.
Kai hangs back when Koji opens the door and Hirokuni introduces himself. Koji pings instantly as a veteran salaryman, like he's comfortable in a suit, at a conference table, and wielding managerial power. He wears a navy polo shirt and tan trousers as his off-hours uniform, and Hirokuni bets he has an expensive hobby, like golf or collecting wristwatches. He invites them in, indicating the beige guest slippers already laid out.
The entrance is in the center of the house, facing the stairs. To the left is what Hirokuni assumes is the living-dining-kitchen, and a woman with her pixie-cut hair dyed chestnut steps out for a moment to give them a smile, saying she'll bring tea in in a moment. There are sliding fusuma doors on the right, and Koji knocks, pauses, and then slides one open.
"Dad," he says. "Fukaya-kun's here."
There's a very old-man grumble in reply, and Koji's mouth tightens for a moment before he ushers Kai and Hiro inside, leaving their slippers after taking only three steps. Hirokuni keeps an eye on Kai even as he introduces himself to Kenji. Kai's gaze takes in the two six-mat tatami rooms, spotlessly clean; the small writing desk facing the window and the bookshelf next to it; the solid wood table in the front room ringed by matching zabuton, where Kenji is sitting, the day's newspaper spread out before him.
"You're too tall," Kenji says, not looking up.
And just like that, Kai folds himself down to sit on a zabuton across the table, like a child desperate to please. Like it's a familiar ritual, one piece of a domestic routine that vanished in an instant.
Hirokuni sees Koji startle, hesitating a moment before moving to sit at his father's side and tidying up the paper, while Hirokuni joins Kai. Koji's been politely pretending not to notice the bag Hirokuni's carrying around, but he hands it over now, formally presenting their gift of fancy grapes from the specialty fruit store and—in a smaller bag that he takes out and presents separately—some tomatoes and cucumbers from home.
"Kai grew these," he says. "He has a garden on the balcony. We're thinking about trying goya next year—growing a green curtain—but he says it's not easy eating that many goya and they're hard to give away."
"I remember," Kenji says, with a nod.
Hirokuni expects him to follow with an anecdote—the idea of Kai indulging his green thumb and Kenji adding mountains of goya to his restaurant's menu is adorable—but he doesn't. A slight tension settles, Koji frustrated and Kenji pulling into himself, as if recalling that he's not supposed to mention those six years when Kai lived with him.
Hirokuni's a lot bolder now that he's willfully unemployed, plus he asked his mother for advice on how to make a good impression. She's still not sure what to make of her son suddenly being engaged to Kai and looking for a new job, but she gave him useful tips. He smiles at Koji as if he's unaware of any awkwardness and compliments him on his lovely house, especially the front garden and the watercolor painting of a forest stream hanging in the entrance hall.
"My mother painted as a hobby," Koji says. "We have several of her works. Saeko's a graphic designer. My mother loved talking about art with her."
Kenji stays silent, holding his grief inside. Maybe he told Kai about the woman he loved and how much he misses her, and how much it hurt when his son distanced himself, but Hirokuni doubts it.
Hirokuni says he's sorry for the family's loss, and asks if Koji inherited artistic genes.
He shakes his head. "Using CAD is my limit." He eyes Hirokuni for a second and then asks, "So what do you do?"
Hirokuni's saved for a moment by the soft scuff of Saeko's slippers as she carries over a laden tray from the kitchen. As the one closest to the door, he pops to his feet and takes it from her, and then helps her set out cups of cool barley tea and tiny individual plates with Japanese sweets. She ducks out with the grapes and returns a minute later with them washed and cut into servings, and settles on the last zabuton.
A murmur of itadakimasu goes around the table; both Kai and Hirokuni put their hands together in thanks. Koji helps himself to grapes, and Hirokuni takes a swift sip of tea before answering the question.
"I just quit the programming job I started after university. But don't worry," he says to Kenji, "I'm not living off Kai. It's just, you can save a lot even from a bad salary when working hundred-hour weeks with no holidays. And I've got jobs leads, but…" He glances at Kai, who doesn't look like he's planning on helping out with the conversation any time soon. "I'm picky. We decided not to take jobs with hours that don't overlap. I never felt lonely before Kai, but now if he's not in the house, it is."
Koji nods, in a way that reminds Hirokuni a bit too much of a manager: brusque, conveying subtle judgment. He looks as if he wants to ask more, but Kenji raises his head and looks right at Kai.
"What are you doing now?"
Hirokuni picks up one of his sweets and eats it to keep himself from accidentally interrupting.
"Lunch boxes," Kai says. Kenji doesn't nod, just keeps looking at him straight and steady until the corner of Kai's mouth curls up. "Mari from the greengrocer's introduced me. It's a group that delivers school lunches to kids with allergies. You should see the kitchens, everything's set up to prevent contamination. Sometimes there are special orders, like for Sports Day picnics, or birthday cakes without flour or eggs. I experiment on Hiro," he adds. "He'll eat anything."
"Everything you make is good," Hirokuni protests, which earns him a full-fledged smirk from Kai.
Across the table, Kenji is also smiling. Fondness makes him look younger and more alive. "Even without salt, sugar, and oil?"
Kai's expression closes, his eyes distant for a moment, and then he nods. "Try me, old man."
He's being too familiar for Koji's liking, Hirokuni can tell, but Saeko laughs, her face bright and cheerful. "You'll be my savior if you can make something nice with the hospital's restrictions. We're all getting tired of my bland attempts around here."
"I respect you," Kenji tells her, so mildly it barely registers as a reprimand. "For opening your home to me, and your kindness."
"Dad," Saeko says, and gets up, She kneels down next to Kenji and puts her arms around him, head on his shoulder. "It's your home, and we love you."
For that moment, as Kenji wordlessly pats her hand, Koji looks like a completely different person. The corporate jadedness slips away and he's suddenly just a man pushing fifty who adores his wife, misses his mother, and wants to get along with his dad. Hirokuni looks down at his tea and his half-eaten sweets and feels intensely as if he's intruding. Under the table, Kai takes his hand.
A moment later, Saeko sweeps them all up and into the living-dining room, except for Kai, who she escorts into the kitchen. She hands him a pamphlet and throws the refrigerator open. Hirokuni transfers the snacks and drinks to the dinner table, content to be ignored while Koji and Kenji watch Kai over the kitchen counter, as he moves things around and makes notes.
Hirokuni's phone dings, and he opens LINE to find Kai's sent him a shopping list. He gestures at the door, trying not to seem too eager to escape for a few minutes, and says he'll head out now.
"Koji can take you," Saeko says. She sounds perfectly earnest, although Hirokuni suspects her of benevolent manipulation, trying to let Kai and Kenji have some time together.
Koji isn't thrilled, but something passes between him and Saeko as they look at each other and he sighs. He grabs a set of keys from a bowl on the shelf under the massive wall-mounted TV and heads for the entrance.
Hirokuni follows.
Koji's car is electric and spotless in a way that makes Hirokuni nervous that he'll somehow scuff up the seat or the tan carpeting. He fumbles the seatbelt and finds himself apologizing.
"It's fine," Koji says, shortly. "Is Precce okay?"
If he was shopping with Kai, they'd duck into the fishmonger's, the butcher's, the greengrocer's; Kai even knows a place that sells nothing but different kinds of katsuobushi, each lending subtly different flavors to soup stock. But Koji and Saeko are probably supermarket people, so he says yes, that's great.
As the car glides silently through the rows of matching houses, Hirokuni summons his courage and says, "Thank you so much for today. Kai keeps his feelings inside, but he's really glad to see your dad again."
Koji huffs a short laugh. "He's so like my old man. Neither of them say a damn thing. Saeko says I shouldn't take it personally, but it feels like they're scared of me."
He has the power to stop his dad from ever seeing Kai again, Hirokuni thinks. Of course that's terrifying. But he can't say that. Instead: "Your father seems like a real Showa period drama patriarch. Steady and strong as a rock, but the closest he gets to I love you is not bad? Maybe even you did well?"
"Providing for his family meant everything to him," Koji says, with a hint of bitterness. "More than spending time with us, I used to feel. And then I met Saeko, and it was my turn to fail at work-life balance. I understand better, now, some of the choices he made. It's why I'm self-employed."
"That's very cool," Hirokuni says, impressed enough that his polite speech slips.
"Damn hard," Koji corrects, but he has a slight smile, like he's proud that he's making it work.
"I don't know if it makes a difference," Hirokuni says, "but Kai isn't trying to… He doesn't think of himself as an adopted son or anything. He knows no one wants him as their child. But being your father's apprentice is, like, foundational to who he is. Your father gave him a living and a life, if that makes sense."
"That's supposed to make me feel better," Koji asks, voice flat to let Hirokuni know his words don't have that effect. He shakes his head. "I'm not sure my dad sees it like you do. But we'll figure it out. There's time." He gives Hirokuni a sidelong glance.
"Thank you." Hirokuni's not sure he can say it enough. "You and Saeko."
"We're here," Koji says, turning into the queue for a parking garage. "Don't cry. I suck at dealing with tears."
"The sun's in my eyes." Hirokuni scrubs them with the back of his hand, and Koji doesn't mention that they're in the building's shadow.
Despite the crowd, Hirokuni manages to grab everything on Kai's list in fifteen minutes, and after checking with Kai that he doesn't need to buy anything else—sorry, dried shiitake, too, Kai sends—they're homeward bound. Hirokuni keeps the conversation bland, asking about music and sports and commenting on the weather. Koji lets him get away with it.
Back at the house, Kai and Saeko are menu planning her kitchen, now in aprons. Kai's is a floral explosion, with strings too short to wrap around to the front; he has a tiny butterfly bow tied at his lower back instead. Hirokuni is still not used to how he can be blindsided by sudden need for Kai, but it blooms like an itch under his skin. He wants to take a picture and save this moment forever. The living room bright with late afternoon light; Kenji at the table, glasses on, watching Koji unpack the groceries; Kai towering over Saeko and smiling at something she says.
There's only one more apron, and it belongs to Koji, so he joins Kai and Saeko in the kitchen, apparently fine with following directions so long as they're accompanied by Saeko's soft touches to his arm. Hirokuni sits across from Kenji and is suddenly consumed by awkwardness, wondering what he thinks about Kai dating him, whether he knew Kai was gay. He can't stop himself from remembering that he woke up tangled together with Kai: no matter how big the bed is, somehow they settle into each other in sleep.
"You were Kai's childhood friend?" The question's flat and incurious, Kenji's eyes on the tabletop. Still, it feels like a chance.
"He went to school near my house." Hirokuni pulls out his phone and opens to the pictures his mother sent of him in his school uniform and Kai with his school bag, grinning into the camera on a warm spring day over a decade ago. "I talked a lot, and he gave good advice."
Kenji takes the phone when he offers it. He peers down at the screen, then nods. "Yes. That's him."
"I'm six years older," Hirokuni says, to get that out of the way. "But between you and me, he's more of an adult than I am."
Kenji takes one last look at Kai as a kid, and sets the phone down. "Michiko was two years older," he says. "But she was embarrassed, so we lied to everyone, saying it was the other way around."
Hirokuni doesn't know how to reply to that; his mother's advice is utterly inadequate. "Did it ever stop mattering?" he asks.
"No." Hirokuni nods. "But even then, as you get older, you realize every single person has something they worry about others knowing."
"I think," Hirokuni says, keeping his voice down because Kenji's imparting the wisdom of his experience and he's not sure he understands, and will probably sound dumb, "there are people who it doesn't matter, if they know everything about you."
"Maybe." Kenji looks down at the phone's dark screen. "Are there more?"
Up until a few months ago, Hirokuni just had snapshots of timetables, his building's garbage disposal schedule, and the inside of his fridge, in case he had time to shop. Now, opening the app is an unfiltered window on his life, but he's not going to shy away from sharing. He has daily pictures of the tomato and cucumber plants, documenting their growth, and a record of every meal Kai's cooked since he officially moved in. He has pictures of Kai glaring at him, and Kai laughing at him, and the palm of Kai's hand as he grabs for the phone to make Hirokuni stop taking pictures.
"Sometimes I annoy him," he confesses. "But he annoys me back. We're probably even."
Kenji keeps flicking through pictures without comment.
"We went hiking," Hirokuni says, when the image of Kai is suddenly surrounded by trees and rocks. "Kai found a lizard with a blue tail. He insists it tried to bite him, but it was cute."
"A date," Kenji says. He finds the picture of the lizard, tiny and harmless, and studies it.
"Yeah."
"What are you two talking about?" Kai is watching them over the kitchen counter, looking discomfited.
Hirokuni smiles to (hopefully) reassure him, but Kenji says, "This kid has hundreds of pictures and half are of you, the other half are tomatoes."
"What else would he take pictures of?" Saeko asks, as if it's perfectly logical to her. "Wait til you try the salad. The tomatoes are so fresh they still smell like the sun." She leans against Koji with a smile that he returns.
They end up eating lightly at five, more of a snack than dinner, just salad and chawan mushi, with half-full bowls of salmon and shiso rice. Kai has packed the fridge with three different types of soup stock and numerous neatly-labeled side dishes, and Saeko friends him on LINE so she can bother him with questions.
"It's no bother," he says. "I'm sorry the miso soup didn't work out. I'll keep trying at home."
"What did you do?" Kenji asks, and shakes his head as Kai details his lentil-related failure. "I said it was too hard."
"I'll get it right," Kai says, mulish.
"We'll see."
There's no heat to their ongoing argument and Kenji seems to enjoy pushing Kai's buttons, so Hirokuni settles back, content to be on the sidelines. He tunes back in when Koji brings up that the shop needs to be cleared out, and Kenji shuts down with a curt do what you like.
"Hiro and I'll carry everything down," Kai says, ignoring him. "I told you those stairs were no good at your age. Hiro can do the cleaning while you sort stuff out. He needs the exercise."
Hirokuni suspects he must look as railroaded as Kenji does. Kai has that effect on people. But he would have said yes if Kai asked, anyway, so he settles for pinching Kai under the table instead of protesting. Kai catches his hand and squeezes, which Hirokuni chooses to interpret as thanks for letting himself be volunteered.
The plan for moving out is tentatively made, and while they're swapping calendar and contact information Hirokuni sends Kenji a picture of Kai on their hike, looking annoyed because Hirokuni kept taking pictures instead of climbing (and also because he was attacked by a lizard), with text reading ↑ bossy Kai. Then he adds a heart, so Kenji will know he's just teasing. Kenji looks at the message, and just shakes his head.
Saeko refuses to let anyone wash a dish, so when they're done eating Kai and Hirokuni make their excuses, say their goodbyes, and make their way back outside. The sun is already starting to sink; Hirokuni jokes that they need to hurry, because after dark the neighborhood will be even more impossible to navigate.
Kai takes his hand, slotting their fingers together. "So you don't get lost," he says, as if Hirokuni has a habit of wandering off. But after he's wrong twice about where they need to turn—left, then right, not the other way around—he says, "You asked Koji if I could visit."
"Yup." Hirokuni pulls their linked hands up and rubs Kai's fingers against his cheek briefly. "Are you angry? I didn't tell you at first because I thought he'd be a jerk, like you said."
"It was good," Kai says. "The old man doesn't look as weak as he did in the hospital."
"I'm glad."
"Wait up." Kai tugs Hirokuni to a stop. When he turns, Kai pulls him in with a hand to the back of his head and kisses him, right there in the middle of a nameless suburban street. The beige houses fade away as Hirokuni clings to Kai and lets himself be kissed breathless. When Kai pulls back, his eyes are dark with unspoken emotion, but he just says, "Come on," and starts walking again.
Hirokuni nearly has to jog to catch up, but when he does, Kai lets him swing their hands between them, so restless with love that he can't hold it all inside.