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Love is something that has never been in the cards for Fukuzawa.
A lone wolf, he is destined to live a solitary life. He was a weapon. A pawn. Then, he was used and thrown away like garbage, not so much as a second thought passing through the minds of those who discarded him.
Just a few years ago, the notion that he would be sitting at a park, watching his five-year-old adopted son and ignoring the warm fluttering in his chest as he converses with another man, would have been insane.
Yet, here he is, looking on as Ranpo leads Yosano around the playground and babbles on about solving some mystery on a train. He sits prim and proper as he was trained to do, hands in his lap. It’s only by coincidence that it allows him to keep some modicum of distance between himself and Shunzen Tachihara, Yosano’s father.
“You know, Akiko has really come out of her shell since she met little Ranpo.” There’s a fondness in Tachihara’s voice that Fukuzawa understands.
He’s seen it with his son, too. Since adopting the orphan a few years ago, he’s really grown into his own; he’s developed a wild, strong personality and shows an unusually high intelligence to boot. Being able to see Ranpo go from an anxious, withdrawn toddler to one with confidence—one who knows that he’s safe, secure, and loved—is the most incredible thing Fukuzawa has experienced.
He never saw himself as someone who would have children. But Ranpo changed his mind quickly. The little boy taught him the deep, indescribable joy of being a father.
It’s the best decision he’s ever made.
“I’ve noticed,” Fukuzawa answers. Though he keeps his tone neutral, the corner of his mouth quirks the smallest bit upward into a semblance of a smile. “She’s been quite the influence on Ranpo as well. I’m afraid few can tolerate his rambunctious nature.”
Tachihara laughs. The sound is light and sends warmth blossoming out from Fukuzawa’s heart. Rarely has he heard something so free and unrestrained. He wants to hear it more.
Then, Tachihara sighs and leans back against the bench. One leg crosses over the other, and his knee brushes against Fukuzawa’s. “I’m happy we found each other.”
For a moment, Fukuzawa’s thoughts screech to a halt. He forgets to breathe. The sentiment reaches somewhere deep inside him that he has yet to address. Still, the impact is palpable. His functioning only continues once Tachihara elaborates.
“Akiko has always been intelligent for her age. With that, and what she experienced with the war before being adopted, I’ve been worried she would have a hard time finding her own place in this world. But it seems like her and Ranpo are somehow birds of a feather.”
Golden eyes weigh heavily against the side of Fukuzawa’s face as Tachihara turns to look at him. “I guess, in that way, we are too, aren’t we?”
It’s undeniable that Fukuzawa has felt a sense of camaraderie since the day he met Tachihara just outside the kindergarten classroom. Surrounded by women, or both caregivers seeing their children off together, they were the only two single fathers in the class. Fukuzawa can’t forget the image of Tachihara squatting down to Yosano’s level, gently brushing tears from her eyes, pulling her in for a hug and telling her everything will be okay. It reminded him of a young Ranpo—the reason he adopted the boy in the first place.
“It has been nice to have someone who understands the struggle of being a single father,” he admits.
Still, he’s not telling the whole truth. Yes, they have a similar experience in that sense, but there are additional emotions hiding beneath the surface, ready to sweep him away like a riptide. These are feelings that have been appearing above the waves more often. Though only for a moment, they make themselves known in times such as these, where he and Tachihara, along with their children, are seemingly the only people in the entire world; or the moments when those bright, golden eyes seem to see right into the depths of Fukuzawa’s soul—a place he himself isn’t fully familiar with.
“Well,” Tachihara starts, “there’s more than that, too. Adopting our children, both serving our roles in the war…” Shifting his weight, Tachihara turns to face Fukuzawa directly. No longer able to refrain from looking at the man, Fukuzawa turns and his heart beats rapidly against his chest, more than it ever did in battle. “I’m glad I met you.”
This time, when those feelings breach the water’s surface, Fukuzawa is paying attention. It allows him to get a good look. To see what exactly has been lying in wait beneath.
He’s not sure how to feel about what he finds.
Hearing the words from Tachihara, in conjunction with the pure, brilliant smile on the man’s face, leaves Fukuzawa wanting for more. What he feels is longing. Hope. Desire. Connection.
Over the years, Ranpo has taught Fukuzawa that he is a man capable of love—at least in the way a father loves his child. Already, that is more than Fukuzawa could have ever asked for. Yet, when he looks at Tachihara, he dares to think he is capable of more.
More than Fukuzawa never saw himself as a father, he never dared to dream of sharing his life with another. He never thought himself as one to fall in love.
Mouth dry, he attempts a response. “I—”
“Papa!” Yosano comes running over, her face flushed red from the exertion of how hard the two children have been playing. “I’m hungry!”
Attention pulled away, Tachihara turns toward his daughter and then checks his watch. “Shi—ahem—shoot. Time sure flies, right?”
Yosano puts her arms in the air and Tachihara both stands and scoops her up in one swift motion. She giggles, and he bounces her higher into his hold. “Well, see you in the morning?”
Fukuzawa nods. “Yes. I will see you then.”
Tachihara smiles, causing Fukuzawa’s stomach to flip several times. He grabs his things and, after saying their goodbyes, walks away with Yosano. Her tiny little hands continue to wave as they walk in the opposite direction Fukuzawa and his son will in just a few more moments.
Briefly, Fukuzawa wonders what it would be like if that wasn’t the case. If they were going to the same destination.
Ranpo walks up to Fukuzawa shortly after, his chest puffed out proudly and his hands on his waist. “Daddy. As I am the best detective in the whole wide world, and because I saved the world again, I think I should have candy for dinner.”
“Candy for dinner, hm?” Fukuzawa can’t hold back a smile. Ranpo always tries his hardest to be persuasive. More often than he cares to admit, it works. “Well, you did save the world.”
Surprise and gratification gleam in the child’s dark brown eyes. “Really?”
Fukuzawa chuckles. “As a treat. You still need a proper dinner, though.”
Though he pouts a little, Ranpo complies. After they gather their belongings, Fukuzawa pulls a lollipop from his pocket and hands it to his son who hums in delight as they walk home hand-in-hand. The cute little sounds distract Fukuzawa from the maelstrom of thoughts in his mind, knowing that these feelings are much more than just camaraderie and kinship.
Though he never thought himself capable of feeling love and desire, he also never thought himself capable of having a son. A family. Of having stability and the kind of life he’s built for himself and Ranpo.
Perhaps even more change is on the horizon.
“Papa!” Yosano stops abruptly, dropping her crayons on the floor, and runs toward the direction of the knocking. “Papa’s here!”
As the little girl excitedly goes to greet her father, Fukuzawa’s heart starts to hammer against his chest.
It didn’t used to happen this way—his chest tightening and stomach fluttering with nervous jitters each time Tachihara comes to pick up his daughter after a long shift—but things have changed since that little seed was planted in the back of Fukuzawa’s mind and has only continued to grow.
Yosano jumps up and down, trying to find a way to unlock the door, but Fukuzawa scoops her up first and situates her on his hip. With a deep, steadying breath, he finally grips the knob and turns it.
“Papa!”
“Hey, sweetheart.” Though there’s a beaming smile plastered on Tachihara’s face, Fukuzawa can tell it doesn’t quite reach his eyes in the same way. There’s a few more wrinkles in the corners of his eyes and there’s a blue tint beneath them. He wears his exhaustion, but he doesn't let it show for his daughter. “Were you good for Fukuzawa-san today?”
Tachihara grabs his daughter, the little girl leaning forward with both arms outstretched, and pulls her into a hug. Fukuzawa looks at the two fondly. It’s clear they have a strong connection, and the amount of love and attention Tachihara gives his daughter certainly shows. He takes his role as a father seriously. Which is why Fukuzawa knows that the long days and extra shifts at the metal workshop are hard for him to justify, even if it means it provides more of a financial cushion for the two.
If there’s any way Fukuzawa can lift that burden, he certainly will.
“She was a delight, as always.” He gives Tachihara a soft, knowing smile. “Ranpo and I both look forward to the days little Akiko joins us after school.”
“And where is the little troublemaker,” Tachihara asks, setting Yosano down on the ground before ushering her back into the home to grab her belongings.
“Napping,” Fukuzawa answers. “She managed to wear him out playing ‘medical examiner’. Apparently playing a corpse takes quite a bit of effort.”
A light, airy laugh accompanies Tachihara’s smile. It lightens Fukuzawa’s chest and pride swells within until he’s full.
“I’m sure it does.” The smile doesn’t leave Tachihara’s face when he’s done. Bright, vibrant eyes meet Fukuzawa’s gaze, and then Tachihara reaches forward. Fukuzawa raises his brow in question, but otherwise stills, unable to move. Even his lungs cease to function. Fukuzawa holds his breath as Tachihara’s fingers brush against the shell of his ear and lightly run through his hair.
In his mind’s eye, Fukuzawa imagines what it would be like for their lips to touch in much the same way: gentle, tender, and charged with an energy that leaves him wanting for more.
This close, he can see a light flush on Tachihara’s cheeks. Beneath the rose-colored hue is a smattering of freckles, almost too faint to see, but Fukuzawa’s attentive gaze drinks in as much detail as he can. When Tachihara smiles again, he’s graced with a flash of a dimple just to the side of soft, pink lips.
All too soon, Tachihara pulls away.
Fukuzawa hides the disappointment curling in his gut with his typical stoic facade.
Between Tachihara’s fingers is a large, pink barrette with a polka-dot bow attached to the metal. “And what did those two rope you into playing?”
A faint smile tugs on Fukuzawa’s lips. “Yosano thought it would be more hygienic if her assistant’s hair remained out of his face.”
Tachihara inspects the hair piece, toying with it with his fingers. “Maybe I’ll have to join next time. It seems like fun.”
Briefly, Fukuzawa imagines what it would look like for the four of them to be together. To indulge Yosano in one of her tea parties, all of them dressed in mismatched clothing while speaking with stuffed animals. To follow some of Ranpo’s hard-to-read instructions as they try to solve one of his mysteries—likely something involving hiding Fukuzawa’s car keys again until there is a promise of dessert.
He imagines what it would look like for them to be a family.
Shaking the thoughts away, Fukuzawa clears his throat and turns to check on Yosano. He’s been over this already on those long nights where he stays in bed, staring at the ceiling as sleep continues to elude him. For a man like Fukuzawa, having a son like Ranpo and the peaceful life they’ve built together is more than he could possibly ever ask for. He shouldn’t dare tempt fate by asking for more. He can’t ruin the one relationship that has allowed his son to grow and flourish, and the one person who understands Fukuzawa on a level where others have failed. He can’t afford to get greedy.
Regardless of how much he wants to.
Akiko comes bounding over with her backpack slung over one shoulder and wraps her little arms around her father’s waist. He places his hand on her back and pulls her close.
“Ready to head home, sweetheart?”
Akiko nods.
There’s an ache in Fukuzawa’s chest as the two walk away. His eyes remain on Tachiara’s back, unable to look away. It isn’t until their car is down the street that Fukuzawa turns and heads back into his house with a heavy, dejected sigh.
He thought had these feelings in check.
It seems he was wrong.
Fukuzawa slowly picks at the small bites of fish with his chopsticks.
It’s been a long day and Fukuzawa is tired. He agreed to watch Akiko while Tachihara picked up an extra shift, covering last minute for a coworker who didn’t show, which led to the four of them spending time together throughout the afternoon once he returned. Which means the ache in his chest their absence always seems to conjure is currently present. He tries to ignore it, no matter how strong the pull or how suffocating the longing becomes, but today is one of the increasing few where it becomes more difficult to do so.
It’s as if the more time he spends with Tachihara and his daughter, the more they carve out a little piece of his soul. They never take more than they’re able to fill. He hardly realizes it as it’s happening. But when they’re gone, there is a hole left in the perfect shape of a family—a whole family—and he’s forced to realize that despite his best efforts, these feelings have developed into more than simple infatuation.
“Daddy?”
Ranpo’s voice pulls him from his thoughts. He tries his best to clear the tightness from his throat. “What is it, son?”
“Are you going to marry Akiko’s papa?”
Fukuzawa nearly chokes on his bite of dinner. He sets his chopsticks down, only briefly sputtering before managing to swallow. “I—What—Why do you ask?”
With a huge grin, sans his newly missing front tooth, Ranpo answers in his ever-confident tone. “Because you love him!”
The words are like a punch to Fukuzawa’s gut. He… he does. That much is true. Regardless of how much he tries to deny it, that is the essence of these blossoming feelings. However, Fukuzawa did not mean to be so obvious with his affections. He’s kept himself in check. Refrained from every selfish desire that has crossed his mind. How on Earth did his son figure it out?
“I already told you,” Ranpo continues, unbothered by the cacophony wreaking havoc on his father’s mind, “I’m the best detective in the world! You can’t hide something like that from the great Edogawa Ranpo.” The fact his son picked up on his anxieties and answered anyway is evidence enough that reminds Fukuzawa his son is acutely attentive—more so than the other children his age. “Plus, you both make it super obvious.”
Curious, Fukuzawa inquires further. “Obvious? How so?”
Ranpo’s eyes light up and he chatters away. “You always smile really big when Akiko’s papa is around. And when they leave you look sad like a puppy. And when other people sit by you on the bus or the train, you don’t like it and scoot away, but you never move away when he sits really close to you. Oh, and you talk about him a lot too, even when you don’t mean to. And! And you started to drink the same kind of tea that he says he likes. And sometimes you get these little hearts in your eyes—”
“Okay, okay.” Fukuzawa relents and holds up his hand as a gesture for his son to stop. He doesn’t need to hear anymore. “I… do indeed have feelings for Tachihara. But it’s complicated, Ranpo.” The heavy, sinking feeling in his chest returns. “It’s not that simple for adults.”
“But…” Ranpo’s little brows pinch together in confusion. “You love him, right?”
“I… honestly, I’m not sure. I think I do. Or, at least I want to.” Fukuzawa sighs and clasps his hands together on top of the table. “Either way, he is… special… to me.”
Bright, brown eyes look at him with excitement. “He makes you happy?”
“Yes, he does.”
“Then you should tell him!” Ranpo goes back to eating his food as if he hasn’t casually requested that his father confess his feelings to his best friend’s father. “And we can all be together and be a family.”
Something tugs at the back of Fukuzawa’s mind. Something that helps him understand why it is that Ranpo is so confident in his assessment. So forward in his request. “Wait, did you say we were both obvious?”
“I don’t know,” Ranpo shrugs, “Did I?”
Not waiting for himself to be dismissed, Ranpo takes his plate and hops down from his chair. As he makes his way to the kitchen and deposits his plate, Fukuzawa continues to sit in quiet contemplation, replaying his son’s words.
There’s a possibility that Tachihara harbors the same romantic feelings? That they could all four be family and Fukuzawa’s dream is not as far fetched as he is wont to believe? The happiness he feels in Tachihara’s presence, the joy around Akiko, could be an everyday occurrence? A part of his life just as much as Ranpo has become?
Fukuzawa rises from the table. He maintains his calm demeanor as always, covering the excited resolve buzzing in his mind.
It doesn’t matter if Fukuzawa deserves this kind of happiness. The fact of the matter is that he’s fallen in love with a man who may have also fallen in love with him; one who adores his son and has a beautiful little girl of his own with whom they can create the perfect, loving family. Ranpo deserves that happiness. Akiko does. Tachihara does.
As Fukuzawa clears the table, he promises himself that he will confess his feelings to Tachihara.
Fukuzawa is not one to get nervous.
And yet, as he sits on the floor of his living room with Tachihara, he’s too distracted to focus on their half-hearted game of cards. The light rain provides a consistent drum against the window, but the frantic pounding of his heart in his ears drowns out the sound, just as the buzzing under his skin covers the heat of Tachihara’s leg pressing against his own.
The children are on the other side of the room, distracted by the current game they’re playing. According to the story, he and Tachihara are in “jail” for the time being while Akiko and Ranpo are taking turns being the medical examiner and the dead body as they try to solve a mystery. It’s given the two adults some time alone, which means Fukuzawa’s anxiety spikes thinking about what he’s been planning to do.
His throat is dry. He lets his sleeves hang over his hands to cover the way they’re shaking.
“Tachihara?”
The man places down a card, then looks up with bright, inquisitive eyes. “Hm?”
It’s unfair how Tachihara, a man hardened by war just as Fukuzawa, and one who is often covered in dirt, grime, and oil from his job, still manages to look so beautiful. Though Fukuzawa takes pride in his eloquence, he finds his tongue thick and stumbles over his words. “I, uh, have… something I want to ask of you.”
Tachihara’s smile is easy. There’s not a single trace of the same anxiety that is wreaking havoc on Fukuzawa’s heart and mind. “Of course. I’m all ears.”
Fukuzawa’s lips press into a thin line. He takes them between his teeth as he sucks in a slow, steadying breath. It does little to calm his nerves but it does solidify his resolve. He can do this. He wants this.
It’s for Ranpo. For Akiko. It’s for all of them, and he’s starting to believe that he can do this for even himself, too.
The more he’s thought it over, the more he’s also realized that Tachihara is the kind of man who, even if he denies his advances, would not hold any ill will toward him. He would not be unkind in his dismissal; it’s one of the things Fukuzawa has come to love about the man. He’s endlessly patient and understanding. A warm soul. Tachihara will still remain in his life in some capacity, and that gives him relief.
“I was wondering,” he starts, his voice low so as to keep it between the two of them, “if you would like to… accompany me on a date?”
Time seems to stop. Everything seems to stop as Fukuzawa awaits an answer. Tachihara’s expression gives nothing away.
“We already scheduled a playdate for Wednesday, right? I can see if I can take some time off work, but—”
Fukuzawa’s face falls. He can’t hide the disappointment. This, of all things, is not how he imagined this going. He sets down his cards and leans onto his hand, urgent in his need to get closer to Tachihara and clear up the misconception. “No, I—”
He stops when he looks up and is met with a wry, goofy smirk crossing Tachihara’s face. A dimple presses into his cheek from where he tries to hold it back.
“I’m sorry, that was mean of me.” Warm, calloused fingers slide on top of his. “I know what you meant.”
Heat rushes to Fukuzawa’s face. He can even feel it in the tips of his ears. Eagerness bleeds through in his tone. “So… to be clear, Tachiara…”
“Fukuzawa Yukichi,” he interrupts. His tone is smooth, sweet, and rich like the candies Ranpo adores. “I would love to go on a date with you.”
Fukuzawa’s breath hitches when Tachihara surges forward. He freezes, too stunned to do anything when soft lips press against his cheek. The moment ends too quickly, but Tachihara’s words ghost against Fukuzawa’s flushed skin. “And, call me Shunzen.”
The remnant of the kiss burns like a brand. He reaches up with his free hand to touch his cheek. Shunzen laughs at him—light and teasing. Before Fukuzawa can ask for more, and before his wits return enough to consider reciprocating the gesture, their children snicker and giggle from across the room.
Akiko gasps. “I saw that Papa!”
“What? He had an ouchie. So I kissed it to make it better,” he fibs effortlessly.
Incensed, Akiko puts her hands on her hips. “We’re not playing doctors anymore. You’re in jail, remember?”
“Oh gosh.” Shunzen shrugs his shoulders, then looks at Fukuzawa. There’s something bright and hypnotizing about his stare. “How could I forget?”
The father and daughter duo continue teasing one another, and Shunzen eventually gets up to scoop Akiko into his arms and blow raspberries on her tummy. As she giggles and squeals, Ranpo sneaks Fukuzawa a look.
He knows his son well enough to understand. Fukuzawa nods, and Ranpo gives him a smile in return.
Though it is merely the beginning, Fukuzawa is hopeful for what the future may bring. Before Ranpo, he was alone and empty. His son brought joy and light into his world. And now, that light has grown. His heart is nearly full to bursting.
When he gets up to join the three most important people in his life, he pauses, noticing the card Shunzen set down just before he went to chase his daughter, and smiles.