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“You know, Akira-san…I wish I had met you sooner.”
Mamoru’s voice was soft as he said it, and he leaned back in his seat, tilting it so that the front legs left the ground. He and Akira were outside, sitting under a dinky little umbrella at a café they had never been before. It was a soft summer evening, warm enough to wear less restrictive clothing, but not blisteringly so, especially with the sun starting to set, casting soft orange hues over the clouds. It was calm and comforting, allowing them to truly relax for once, to separate themselves from all the sounds around them. The chatter of other people, the tinny ringing of far-off music, the sounds of birds and water rushing over stone.
Akira was surprised by that utterance, and it took him out from the atmosphere of their evening, turning his focus onto his companion, sharply, in a suddenly slight concern—it wasn’t quite like Mamoru to talk about wishing for something concerning the past and not the future.
“What do you mean?” He asked, tilting his head, “So we could’ve been friends outside of work?” Where was his dissatisfaction with their current lives? Was rank in the way, or the fact that they so often did have to focus on their work?
“No—it’s not work—I mean…” Mamoru trailed off, pausing in a way that wasn’t like his usual thoughtful silences. This one was…hesitance. Uncertainty. Akira’s eyes narrowed. “I suppose I just mean earlier, when I was younger. I could’ve used someone like you.”
“Why? Why me specifically?” He tried to make his prodding less intense than he felt it was—Mamoru hadn’t really talked much about his past, ever, really. Not in any specific way, at least.
Mamoru shifted again, rocking his chair back and forth a bit. The wire feet of it made slight grinding sounds over the stone, “You…are the first to ever truly listen to me, Akira. No one…ever has seen me as someone worth knowing.”
“You…haven’t spoken of why before, but I…I did pick up on that.” A bit. It had been clear from how he had spoken of himself that he hadn’t really been thought of as special before. It almost seemed like he had never been close to anyone before, but surely that wasn’t possible. Akira had thought it likely that Mamoru had lost his past connections, friendship and otherwise—a sad but simple truth for many.
“It’s…weird to talk about,” Mamoru winced, bringing his chair back down to be level, “I’ve never really had to, since no one has ever been particularly close to me.” What? “It’s—It’s not like I was friendless or anything, but no one was close. Even my…even at the foster home, no one cared much—as long as I had decent grades and no bad habits. No one ever was interested in adopting me—if anything people would go for the babies, so I grew up there. Like most children did. Adoption was…well, barely a dream, I suppose. It…wasn’t very caring there. Nothing like your family.”
Akira tried to hide his surprise, not wanting to offend, but he felt his eyes widen and his jaw go slightly slack. No that his hiding mattered though—Mamoru seemed unable to look up from the linoleum of the tabletop, so he wouldn’t have seen regardless. Still, Akira composed himself, carefully—this was not a meaningless moment between them any longer.
“You’re an orphan?” he asked, feeling that it was right to start with something so obvious to ask. It still felt so strange to him, surprising—he had known that Mamoru wasn’t close to his family, or perhaps that they had passed away or something—but to be an orphan…
“Yeah,” Mamoru shrugged, “It surprises you because of my name, right? Sounds too unique to belong to an orphan.” He frowned, eyes distant, “ ‘Kuzunoha’. It’s the only thing I have from whoever my family was. My first name as well—written on a letter that was left with me. I don’t know where it came from though, I’ve had no luck in finding anyone with the name, no family, not even extended, so I…I’m glad to have met you, Akira. I’ve been very alone in my life—and that is, well,” and he laughed quietly, his shoulders shaking slightly, but his eyes still refused to raise as he mumbled, “That’s why I wish I met you sooner.”
“Oh—” Akira started, feeling at a loss to response to something like that, something so pitiable and sad—lonesome. He didn’t want to disrespect Mamoru, but—
Mamoru cut off any further reaction, grimacing, “I-I have been judged for it before—it isn’t favorable to be known as an orphan—I’ve never told anyone like this before, it’s never been worth risking an adverse reaction so I—”
Akira stopped him this time by gently pressing a hand over Mamoru’s which lay clenched in a fist on the table, “You don’t need to fret—I am not…I wouldn’t think of you as lesser due to that.”
“Oh,” Mamoru’s breath left him in a relieved sigh, and he finally met Akira’s sympathetic eyes, finding comfort there. But, he waited for Akira to continue.
“I…can’t say that I relate to your situation, but I do understand it, and my heart goes out to you for persisting through such hardship.” And hopefully it wasn’t demeaning for him to say that much—Akira could understand how sometimes such a reaction wasn’t the desired one when it came to admissions like this. And, even though he knew Mamoru so well, he wasn’t sure how Mamoru would want him to react in this situation. So, he was left to honesty.
Mamoru’s fingers uncurled, lying flat on the table, and Akira pressed his in between the gaps. “Hardship?” he asked, confused, “It was just my life.”
“It is more than many face—you should have pride for how far you’ve come, despite what was against you, and it’s incredible how much you care for humanity despite being so harmed—you are beautiful in that strength.” Akira smiled, trying to ease him, and he squeezed his hand, “And you deserve so much more.”
Mamoru blinked, eyes going slightly wide, bright, “I’ve been pitied before…” he looked down to their hands, turning his so that it was palm up, curling his fingers around Akira’s, “But no one has ever called me strong. …Thank you, Akira-san.”
“I will always be there for you. And I will always be awed by you,” Akira felt his heart grow warm as he said that, and he was almost embarrassed, but it wasn’t embarrassing to love someone so dearly, and to treat them gently. It was only giving them what they should have—and Mamoru really did deserve that care. “I would’ve loved to have known you sooner—but I am happy enough to know you now.”
Akira watched, ecstatic, as Mamoru’s expression turned joyous.
“Akira…” he said his name softly, treasuring it, “I don’t know what I did to attain a treasure like you, but I…I love you. Thank you. I should’ve trusted you with this before—I just felt so…so uncertain about sharing.”
“I thank you for sharing it, then. I always want to learn more about you—I hope to endlessly do so, as a part of loving you.”