Chapter Text
Gen doesn’t know what he’s doing here.
All he remembers is telling Hasegawa he’ll be away for a week, with the Captain already informed of his leave.
He doesn’t know why he’d agreed to it either, despite having no details other than some dates.
But Captain Isao was shockingly encouraging about it, after hearing why he was taking leave in the first place.
And then Ashiro showed up, a giant backpack on her.
“Let’s go.” She had said, the moment she saw him waiting by the train station.
“Where?”
She lifts two tickets up for him to see, and he snatches one out of her hands.
“To my hometown.”
He stares at her, adjusting the strap of his duffel bag, and then stares at the ticket.
“What.”
“The train leaves in fifteen minutes, let’s go.” Ashiro says, ignoring his question and passing through the gates.
What, he repeats dumbly, to himself.
But all he can do is follow her, because she’s not even waiting up for him past the gantry.
“Ashiro-!” He calls out, gritting his teeth. “Why are you walking so damn fast?”
She finally stops, and Gen sees it isn't because of him. She’s right in front of the convenience store.
“I’m hungry.”
Gen feels a vein popping. He has to physically hold back from screaming in the train station.
Before he can demand an explanation, she’s browsing through the different sandwiches and Gen decides he needs to eat too.
It’s way too early for this.
Of course, she grabs a fruit sandwich with strawberries in it and he can’t help but wonder if that even tastes good.
Being a normal person, Gen grabs a tonkatsu sandwich and opts to grab a muffin on the side.
With the chilly weather as autumn breezes by, he decides a hot drink would be nice - grabbing a bottle of green tea.
The moment he turns around, all the items in his hand get swiped away and he makes a noise of surprise.
Not that he’d admit it, because Gen doesn’t get surprised. He’s supposed to always be on guard.
“Is that all?” Ashiro asks, and Gen finds all his food in her basket.
“You-”
She stares at his selection, and she better not be judging his choices because Ashiro is the one with weird taste here.
And without waiting for him to confirm, she’s already heading to the counter and all Gen can do is stick his hands into his pockets and trail behind her.
“I’ll pay you back.”
“It’s okay.”
Gen won’t deny himself of free food, so he shrugs and carries the plastic bag for them instead.
When they step out of the store, he checks his ticket for their door number, and starts walking without waiting to see if she’s behind him.
It’s not that he didn’t think they were going somewhere - because a week of leave couldn’t mean anything but a trip.
But her hometown-
That was the part he was surprised about.
Although it made sense, as much sense as it could make - for two different division officers who barely know each other to be hanging out for a week outside of Tokyo.
He supposes he was the catalyst, perhaps, bringing her to his spot.
Not that he was expecting anything in return, and certainly not as grand as a train ticket to visit her home.
“Why me?” He questions, a minute before the train arrives.
She looks over at him, face blank, and Gen truly has to wonder what the hell is going on.
It was bewildering to some, when he’d offhandedly mentioned Ashiro’s many expressions.
Sure, she’s usually expressionless, and unreadable - the way she is now, but Gen has seen her cry (not on purpose), and he’s even seen her furious.
(There’s another expression - one of starry eyes and pure wonder that Gen’s had the privilege of witnessing. He keeps the memory of it locked up, at the back of his mind.)
But the most common one Gen has seen her with is fear.
And that’s the one he supposes most people don’t notice.
Won’t notice.
Refuse to believe.
Maybe that’s why she keeps forcing herself to look like she doesn’t care majority of the time, because Ashiro can actually be pretty easy to read.
When she doesn’t answer, choosing to pour herself a handful of jelly beans instead, he doesn’t probe any further.
She offers him some, and he sticks his hand out to receive a couple.
“Oh,” she says, and Gen looks at his hand. He doesn’t know what she’s reacting to, until she points it out, “You got the one that’s shaped like a heart.”
He doesn’t know what to make of it - the way Ashiro sounds delighted by a random heart jelly bean he got by chance, without the slightest hint of a smile on her face.
What an enigma.
“Do you want it?” He tilts his hand in her direction, eyebrow raised.
“No, it’s okay. They’re pretty common.”
“What? That’s lame - I don’t feel special at all.”
“Do you want to be?” She asks, and Gen has an inkling they’re no longer talking about jelly beans.
Does he?
Wouldn’t it be nice - if he was born talented? That way he wouldn't have to work so hard just for anybody to spare him a second glance.
But Gen-
He looks at Ashiro, and sees the weight of the world on her shoulders - simply because she has an unexpected synergy with firearms nobody else has.
Narumi Gen is fine as he is. He doesn’t have to be special - he doesn’t need to be naturally talented, all he has to do is persist.
He’s always been a menace anyway.
“Not really.” He answers, throwing all five jelly beans into his mouth.
It’s sweet.
And then he sees her mouth open, saying words - and she’s not looking at him but surely they're meant for him to hear.
Except he can’t - because the train arrives, loud and Gen ends up dragging his eyes away from her to look at their ride.
Ashiro has to know he didn’t catch a single thing she said. But if she does, she doesn’t show it, choosing not to repeat herself and Gen can’t be bothered to ask.
Perhaps it’s better like this, for both of them.
They step into the train, and Gen easily finds their seats, putting their snacks on the chair before placing both their bags up for them.
“Thanks.”
He hums, and realizes she's gotten them opposing seats, so he’s forced to look at her. Or well, outside, since it’s next to the window.
Some form of confusion must show on his face, much to his chagrin, because she explains, “I didn’t want to fight for the window seat.”
Huffing, Gen sits down, turning to look out as they depart from the station.
“I wasn’t going to fight you for it.”
He’s used to needing to give up things for the sake of others anyway. Usually, it’s for the kids, but Gen never really minded even if he complained - because they were kids.
And he knows if he were in their shoes - he knows when he was younger, it was so nice - for someone to pay attention to him. It would have been so nice, to be given everything and anything he ever wanted.
So Gen would let the kids play on whatever console he had on him, but obviously not forever since he’s not that much of a pushover.
Ashiro stares at him again, the way she always does for some reason, and rests her chin on her hand before breaking eye contact.
“I know.” She whispers into her palm, and if Gen had started listening to music at that moment he would’ve missed it. He would’ve missed the small smile on her face too.
They don’t talk after that, which is fine by him. He has his earphones in, playing the latest Bokemon game and mouth busy with his food.
He does nearly lose his appetite watching Ashiro consume her fruit sandwich, and he already knows she’s going to be hungry again in an hour.
When she furrows her eyebrows at him, because he has to physically stop playing to gape at how disgusting her sandwich is, he simply shrugs and tosses a napkin at her.
The cream’s getting all over her face - how messy. And he’s supposed to believe she’s better than him?
Beyond that interaction, they barely speak, but Gen does take another break from his console to admire the scenery. It’s a sight he’s not used to, all the greenery and nature.
He was more used to water, ever since he started living in the Ariake Maritime Base. Even before that, everything seemed dull - he can’t remember the world ever looking this bright.
It’s cheesy but if not for Shinomiya Isao, Gen would probably be in another orphanage, too old to even be there. Probably detested by the adults, wondering why they had to shelter a burden who should have been able to feed himself.
And it’s not like Gen doesn’t - since he used to cook pretty good meals for all the kids loved back in all the orphanages he’d been to. Eventually he stopped though, because the caretakers were scared.
Scared of Gen poisoning them, which was stupid as fuck, given he was eating the same shit but whatever.
Before he can start counting the number of orphanages that clearly hated him in his head, the train comes to a halt and his bag is placed next to him.
Ashiro doesn’t say a word, and even if she did, he wouldn’t have been able to hear anyway. Gen takes his trash with him, slinging his duffel bag over his shoulder and walks out of the carriage.
He realizes he’s never really been outside of Tokyo, constantly surrounded by buildings. Here, he immediately spots mountains beyond the cityscape, and he marvels at it all.
Although he doubts they’ll have enough time to hike, and he most certainly will not - even if they did, it’s nice to admire the views.
“That’s our bus.” Ashiro announces, and Gen sees her flagging it down.
He removes his earphones at this point, a second realization hitting him.
He’s going to Ashiro’s house.
He’s going to see her parents.
That shouldn’t bother him as much as it does, and he doesn’t know why. He lost his parents early on in life, so he doesn’t remember knowing what family is supposed to feel like.
All he can recall, ever since he could, was the feeling of being unwanted.
Clicking his tongue at the memory of being passed from one place to another for being a ‘problem child’, he pretends not to notice Ashiro turning around.
When they get on the bus, Gen has to live through the embarrassment of digging around for cash to pay for his fare as a line forms behind him until Ashiro covers him - only when he starts visibly panicking.
She definitely knew he wasn’t ready.
He smiles at the bus driver, before scowling at Ashiro when they sit down together. There’s too many people for them not to this time.
“I told you about the fare.”
“I wasn’t listening.”
“Then it’s your own fault.” She shrugs at him, and Gen tries his best not to think about the lack of space between them.
The bus ride is quick, but it feels like forever as Gen becomes overly conscious about her arm touching his, which is stupid too.
He doesn’t care, he’s held her hand.
Although that was-
Although Gen wasn’t really thinking, when he did that. It’s just-
At that one place that had accepted him, the only place that welcomed him with open arms, touch was important.
His caretaker told him that if he was ever feeling afraid, holding hands was supposed to help. And it did - it always did for him, until Gen started being the person the younger kids would come to as he grew older.
So it only felt right for him to do the same, what he’d always known - for Ashiro. Because she looked like him, when he was younger and had just been introduced in the orphanage.
She had looked scared, and Gen knows what it’s like to have everybody else around you pretend you aren’t. To have everyone pretend you’re stronger than you look.
And it had helped clearly, as she had squeezed his hand, and-
That’s really all Gen needed.
When she stands up, Gen thinks she’s grown a bit, maybe. It hasn’t been that long since they last saw each other since the incident with Bakko.
They haven’t even run into each other at headquarters, even though he knows she’s around sometimes.
But when they saw each other at the train station earlier - Gen immediately knew something was different.
Well, he thinks while stretching, when they’re off the bus and no longer confined in a tight space - good for her.
He cracks his neck, groaning.
“This is why I prefer using my bike.” He complains, to no one in particular apparently, because she’s already walking ahead of him.
Clicking his tongue again, he has no choice but to lag behind her - looking around her neighborhood.
It’s nice. And friendly, he realizes - when they walk past a few stores and the people clearly recognize her.
“Mina-chan!” An old lady selling fruits calls to her, and Ashiro smiles.
The same smile she showed him, when they were at the beach.
The same smile he hasn’t been able to forget, no matter how many times he tries.
“Hanazawa-san,” she greets, and to Gen’s further surprise, looks bashful as she accepts the bag of oranges.
When the old lady - Hanazawa, turns to him, Gen gets peer pressured to smile back - not that he doesn’t want to.
It’s just been a while.
“Ah, Mina-chan,” Hanazawa the old lady, looks back and forth between them and he’s reminded of Hasegawa for a second. “Who might this be?”
“Just-” she starts, eyeing him.
“My name is Narumi,” he extends his hand towards her, although he’s not sure if old people shake hands. “I’m a JAKDF officer.”
Hanazawa gently grabs his hand, giving him a firm handshake despite her age and structure.
“Like Mina-chan, then!”
He nods, glancing at her from the corner of his eye, “I’m aiming to become Captain.”
“Oh my!” She instantly says, smiling softly at him, and Gen-
Gen is reminded of a different person this time. The person who taught him about hand holding, finding comfort in another person, and-
How it could have felt like, being a part of a family.
“All the best, young soldiers! Eat lots of fruits, won’t you?”
Throat suddenly feeling dry, he simply nods, before letting go of her warm and rough hand.
“Thank you, Hanazawa-san.” Ashiro bows her head, and then they’re off.
They don’t get stopped by anyone else for a conversation after that, thankfully. Gen isn’t sure he can handle another kind old lady.
He forcibly takes the bag of oranges from Ashiro when she struggles to find her keys whilst carrying it, and she huffs.
“Efficiency, Ashiro.”
“I had it covered.”
“Sure-” he rolls his eyes, but stops when the front door slides open from inside.
Immediately, Gen straightens his back, the same way he does whenever he’s around Commander Isao.
The woman in front of him couldn't be any different from his captain - she’s short, for one thing.
Shorter than Ashiro, so Gen assumes her father must’ve been the one to pass his height to her.
She has an equally friendly face as the old lady from the market, and in the rare occasions he’s seen Ashiro smile, Gen can tell they’re related.
“Mina!”
“Mum,” Ashiro says, keys clutched in her hand, and Gen feels his eyes widen involuntarily when he sees the sea angel keychain attached to it.
Ashiro is the one who reaches out first, wrapping her arms around the shorter lady, and Gen awkwardly looks away - feeling like an intruder.
Their front porch is great.
Think of something better, man.
Shut up.
And then - for a split second, Gen wonders if he’s even supposed to be here. Ashiro didn’t tell him they’d be visiting her hometown, but was it something he should have known?
Was he supposed to have booked somewhere to stay?
Did her mother even know who he was? Did it matter?
Did he want her to know about his existence?
Shut the fuck up, he hisses in his mind, the onslaught of thoughts giving him a headache.
“You must be Naru-chan!”
That does an excellent job of snapping him out of it, as he blinks.
Naru-chan?
He openly glares at Ashiro, hoping his question of: what the fuck, gets properly communicated through his expression.
She simply shrugs, although there’s an infuriatingly smug grin on her face.
When he sees Ashiro isn’t making a move to correct her mother, he runs a hand through his hair, slicking it back before sighing internally.
“It’s Narumi Gen, pleased to make your acquaintance, Ashiro-san.” Like with Hanazawa from the market, he extends his hand out for a handshake.
“Oh wow,” Ashiro’s mother chuckles, laughing behind her hand as she accepts it with her other. “What a gentleman you are!”
Ashiro doesn’t even bother hiding the loud snort that escapes her and Gen doesn’t stop smiling until her mother has her back turned, welcoming them in.
“Would you rather I greet her the way I greeted Isao-san for the first time?” He drawls, running his hand back in his hair, unsettled.
She rolls her eyes at him, and pats him on the back instead, “You did well.”
He hates how the warmth of her hand lingers even after she removes it.
“Pardon the intrusion.”
When he takes off his boots, he has the mind to align them so they’re neat in the entryway - but Gen doesn’t know if he can keep that up honestly.
Hey, at least he tried.
Ashiro passes him slippers, and he slides those onto his feet and the floorboards of her house creaks beneath them.
Gen doesn’t remember how long it’s been, since he was last in a home like this.
One that’s so clearly filled with love and affection, because-
Because there are pictures of Ashiro as a kid hung up all over the walls, family photos, Ashiro with a cat, Ashiro with an older looking boy, Ashiro with her dad, Ashiro with her mum, and-
And it is just so much.
He doesn’t even know what his parents look like. He doesn’t know if he used to smile the way Ashiro does in those pictures where she's with family.
His eyes land on a particular framed image, sitting on the television console.
It’s of a young Ashiro with a toy guy slung over her shoulder, standing arms crossed next to the older boy that’s appeared in more than one picture.
There’s a makeshift JAKDF banner behind them, and oh. Gen thinks he might understand Ashiro a bit better, as he drags his eyes away from that image to the present-time Ashiro.
He hums in thought, before gratefully taking a sip of the tea her mother had put out for them.
“Mina, if you’re tired do you want to show Naru-chan to show your room? I bought groceries for dinner, so you guys can relax!”
He promptly chokes on the tea.
Her room?
“Sure.” She brings the cup of tea with her, and a jug full of more tea, so Gen carries his cup with him as they climb up the stairs.
There are even more pictures lining the walls, but he chooses to focus on Ashiro’s back instead.
Gen is no stranger to sleeping with someone else, having had to cramp in a room with at least five kids at one point. There was also his dorm room back on base, before they exiled him.
“Sorry, we don’t have anywhere else you could stay.”
He clears his throat, grip tightening on the tea cup. “It’s whatever. I don’t mind.”
When they enter Ashiro’s childhood bedroom, he can’t help but stare. It’s rude, he’s aware - but Gen isn’t a stranger to being rude, and Ashiro knows this.
So he does it openly, gaping at how- how many cat decorations there are.
“You like cats.” The words tumble out of his mouth before he can help it, and he wants to sock himself for saying something so obvious.
“Well.” Ashiro puts her backpack down, eyeing her own room with what looks like shame. “I forgot just how much I did, as a kid.”
Gen removes his own bag, placing it next to hers and he walks around her room. Aside from all the cat things, it’s pretty normal.
The only thing that stands out the most is the Shinomiya Hikari poster on her wall.
“Huh.”
“I’m not even going to bother explaining that to you.”
Scoffing, he puts his cup down on the small table in the middle of the room and sits himself down on the floor. “I wasn’t going to ask.”
She sets the jug and her own cup on the table, before doing the same.
For a while, they simply sit in silence. Well, he sits in silence, as Ashiro starts walking around her room at some point - looking at everything like she’s at an art gallery.
He guesses she hasn’t been back since enlistment.
Curiously, and behind the safety of his bangs, he observes the way she reaches out for certain objects with a wistful look on her face.
With nothing else to do he sips his tea and has to wonder yet again, what the hell he’s doing.
An entire week.
He could be spending that time in the comfort of his futon, playing games.
(And training, but he’s not going to let anybody know that. Gen won’t let Hasegawa make a fool out of him again.
He still hasn’t managed to beat Shinomoya Isao, after all.)
“Narumi.” She calls out to him, and he blinks, setting the jug down. He was going for his third refill.
“What.”
“Help me lay out the futon.”
When she opens her closet, with Gen lingering behind her, an array of things tumble out - and he blinks again.
“What the-”
Ashiro jumps back in shock, and probably to prevent the countless cat plushies from hitting her. There are toy guns as well, and something else rolls out.
“Wow.” He whistles, squatting down to look at the cats up close. “And I get called a hoarder?”
She kicks him in the shin, and he falls back onto her floor.
“Oi.”
Clicking her tongue, she bends down to pick up the ten cat plushies and pathetically looks around to see where they can go.
He snorts, because the sight of Ashiro, serious little Ashiro - holding a group of cat plushies is quite one to behold.
Without thinking, he takes his phone out from his pocket and snaps a picture, thankful it’s on silent.
She has another new expression on her face this time, and Gen assumes the familiarity of her own room has made it so she forgot to pull the mask over herself.
It’s certainly comical, how stressed she seems.
“Just dump them on your bed?”
“Be quiet, I’m thinking.”
Gee.
“And here I was - trying to be nice.” He walks over to flick her forehead, and she glares at him.
Well, he turns around to the other things laying around, he can do a pretty damn good job at shutting up too.
So he slowly unrolls the item that resembles a poster, not really surprised to see it’s the flag from the picture downstairs.
‘Kafka Corps’, it says, with scribbles of ‘Vice-Captain Mina’ and ‘Captain Kafka’ underneath the fairly well-done JAKDF logo.
For a split second, he’s envious.
But he chooses not to dwell on that, instead he opens it fully and shows it to Ashiro.
“Vice-Captain, Ashiro?”
She stares at the flag, and something shifts-
The air.
The atmosphere changes, and Gen can tell she’s tensed up. The grip on the plushies tightens, until one of them falls out.
That’s what snaps her out of her stupor, as she spares the flag a glare that Gen likely wasn’t supposed to notice before reaching for the fallen black cat.
“I’ll be Captain, soon enough.”
Good, he thinks but doesn’t say out loud as he rolls the flag up.
It’d been boring, trying to catch up to Captain Isao on his own.
But after finding out about who Ashiro was, having heard her name floating around when he first joined - Gen saw potential.
So he looked out for her when he got the chance during the training camp. It was so obvious that she was holding back, for whatever reason beyond him.
He didn’t care about that, all he cared about was how she was suppressing her true strength, constantly hesitating.
And then she’d nearly died, and Gen saw red.
That platoon leader was sent to a different division, outside of Tokyo. But it had pissed him off so much, when he finally realized what could’ve been holding Ashiro back.
A fight was the last thing on his mind, that night on the rooftop. All Gen wanted to do was point out how little she trusted her comrades.
If she had kept going to missions with a self-destructive mindset-
If she kept holding back, for the sake of other people-
Gen knew he’d lose the one person he deemed worthy of keeping up with him.
So they exchanged insults, and Gen was surprised - when he was falling, to feel her hand reach under his head.
When she ended up on him-
When she grabbed his face with her hands, and apologized-
When he took her to the aquarium months after that, and he saw her light up brighter than all the stars he’d memorized on a whim as a kid-
When their eyes locked for a brief second, by the ocean in the early evening-
He shakes his head and finds somewhere to place the flag.
Don’t think about it.
“The futon.” He says, taking it out of the closet. “Where should-”
Except, he hits his shin against the table, and fuck that hurts-
Time seems to slow down as he flops miserably onto the table, landing right on top of the futon that softens his landing.
And then he remembers. He remembers not closing the lid of the jug, and he feels the tea seep right into the bedding.
“Shit.” Cursing, Gen freezes, only being able to watch in horror as the tea spills all over the tatami mat. It drips from the edge of the table, loud and clear - seemingly mocking him and he grits his teeth.
He’s reminded of his days back in the orphanage, one of them - the first one. He’s reminded of being reprimanded for making a mess, despite only wanting to help.
The caretakers would ask him to apologize, and he couldn’t. Because it wasn’t his fault.
Like how this wasn’t his fault.
Okay, maybe it was - but, Gen doesn’t-
He doesn’t.
“Narumi,” Ashiro says something from beside him, and he doesn’t want to look at her.
It’s not his fault.
Don’t ask me to apologize.
He needs to get up, help her clean up, they have to wash the covers.
Gen clenches the sheets, burying his face into the futon. Until he feels himself being pulled off, and he’s forced to look.
To look at Ashiro - who’s right in his face, kneeling before him between his legs.
“Are you okay?”
It irritates him so badly, how his breath catches in his throat because all his life - he’s only heard his name yelled out. He’s seen adults view any and every mess in the orphanages he’s been in before sighing, “Narumi, again?”
He would stand behind a broken glass, one arm in front of a younger child, and Gen would still hear someone tell him to apologize.
Apologize for making a mess he didn’t make.
But Ashiro.
She looks at him, one hand reaching out and Gen flinches away.
“Did you actually hit your head?” She asks, her hand stilling in the space between them.
“Don’t be stupid.” He clears his throat, standing up and walking towards the futon on the table.
It’s soaked, and unusable.
“Do you have anything we can use to clean this up with?”
“Right, yes.” She leaves, and Gen finally lets out the breath he hadn’t noticed he was holding.
Surveying the area, he grimaces. The tea’s going to stain the tatami if they don’t hurry, he thinks, stacking the now empty tea cups together. The jug is empty too, but he caps it anyway, scowling.
He moves the futon out of the way, making a mental note to ask her for a bucket so they can carry it down without dripping tea everywhere.
When she returns with rags, he starts wiping the tatami mat and is relieved to see the tea doesn’t leave a mark behind.
Ashiro makes quick work cleaning the table, and he suggests bringing the futon downstairs in a bucket. It’s a miracle that she has a tub that can fit it, as he carries it down.
“Mum,” she calls out, and Gen feels something in the pit of his stomach when Ashiro’s mother glances up at them. “We…”
“Oh my, what happened?” She turns off the stove and walks towards Gen.
“It-” he starts, before closing his mouth.
It was my fault and I’m sorry.
It should’ve been easy. It should be easy.
But something holds him back anyway, as he peeks at Ashiro’s mother from behind his hair while she takes in the damage.
“Naru-chan,” she quietly says, and Gen feels his grip on the tub tighten.
He’s sorry, but he can’t.
“Did you get hurt?”
That’s-
He stares at her, registering the face she’s making.
Her eyebrows are furrowed, expression laced with worry, and oh-
Swallowing, he doesn’t-
How long has he been, since he was looked at like that?
Like he wasn’t scum.
Like he was a precious being who deserved being concerned over?
He was Narumi Gen, problem child everywhere, and all he had going for him was his hard work and strength.
But both of them, both Ashiro and her mother-
“Ah. The glass didn’t break, the tea just spilled all over the mattress because I wasn’t careful.” He numbly hears Ashiro explain, covering for him.
“Mina,” she looks away from Gen now, turning to face her daughter. “You’ve always been a bit clumsy - which is why your mum knew to buy one that can be washed using the washing machine!”
She laughs - chuckles at herself, and Gen doesn’t know what to do.
All he can feel is a tremendous envy bubble inside him, as he watches them exchange words Gen’s long stopped listening to.
Must be nice.
“Narumi.”
He feels a hand on his shoulder, and he turns to face Ashiro - blinking. Her mother has returned to the stove, and she mentions something about bringing him to the laundry room.
So he follows, and for the first time since they’ve met - Gen feels like he’s below her.
She possesses a kindness that was so obviously passed down from one generation to the next.
After they stuff the futon into the washing machine, she plays around with the settings, and Gen leans against the wall.
He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t shaken, which is ridiculous - because not even the biggest Kaiju could make him feel this way.
“We’ll have to share the bed for a few days, until the futon dries.” Ashiro turns to him, and Gen nods, not really paying attention.
He needs something else to do, something to take his mind off this.
“Mina, could you come help me?”
“Coming.”
For a second, he figures this is his chance. He can head back up to her room, look for his game console and play that until dinner.
But he feels himself following after Ashiro anyway, despite it, and it’s a good thing he did.
Because Ashiro is tasked to chop vegetables.
“Surely you can do this by now, Third Division Officer Ashiro?” Her mother nudges her, and the sheer confusion on Ashiro’s face as she stares at the knife brings him back to reality.
Being a training camp, they were tasked to make dinner some nights, and working together with the Third Division was truly eye-opening.
Naturally, his division made better meals with Gen there. How was it possible for the strongest recruit (after him, of course) to not know how to use a kitchen knife?
Ashiro nods, confusion replaced by a determination that doesn’t convince Gen at all - after what he had to witness.
“No way, Ash- Mina-chan,” he smirks at her reaction to the nickname, taking the knife out of her hand. “I’ll do it.”
She gapes at him, and he raises an eyebrow in retaliation. Having seen her disaster of chopping skills (if you could even use the word skills), Gen knows full well Ashiro has seen him in the kitchen as well.
And he knows she’s looked at the First Division’s dinners in envy before, because they made eye contact, once or twice.
He’d always bring his plate or bowl up to show off, grin turning wider every time she huffed and turned away to pick at her sad meal in comparison.
“Oh, Naru-chan, you don’t have to!” Her mother looks over at them, and Gen gives his best professional smile.
Or at least, what he thinks must seem professional, he doesn’t know.
“Don’t worry Ashiro-san, I think we both know Mina-chan can’t use a knife to save her life.” The casual nickname and her first name slips out so easily for Gen, he doesn’t stop to think why.
Funnily enough, Ashiro’s mother puts her hands to her hips and sighs at Ashiro, “Still? It’s been ages since that happened though?”
That?
Perking up as he chops the carrots on the cutting board, he probes her mother to do tell.
“Mum.” Ashiro says, frowning. She’s retreated to sit by the bar, watching them instead and Gen would rather she do nothing than potentially stab him with a knife.
“Don’t be shy Mina! It’s nothing to be ashamed about.” The older Ashiro chides her daughter as she washes the rice.
“It definitely is.”
Back turned away from her, he can’t see her reaction - but the whine in her voice is enough for him to almost slip up and make a mistake that only Ashiro would’ve been able to make.
Since he’s better than her, obviously, he manages to prevent any injuries to his person - and passes the chopped carrots, potatoes, and broccoli to her mother.
“Oh my, Naru-chan!” She turns to him after putting the rice to cook and he holds his breath in anticipation as she glances at the vegetables.
He doesn’t know what he’s anticipating.
“These are so well chopped! Thank you so much.”
It’s annoying how the simple praise causes him to smile, and puff his chest out in pride, “Of course, I’m good at everything.”
Ashiro calls out from where she’s seated, scoffing, “I could’ve done that too.”
“Mina…” Gen watches as Ashiro’s mother carries the bowl of his hard work to her, before looking right at her daughter, “Really? You can?”
She stares at the vegetables, and Gen grins from behind, making sure Ashiro can see.
To his complete and utter delight, her eyebrows scrunch up at the bowl, before she chokes out, “M-Maybe.”
Ashiro’s mother dismisses them from the kitchen, and Gen has no choice but to follow Ashiro as she walks back to the living room.
They sit on her sofa, and Gen doesn’t let his eyes linger along the walls, on the furniture that houses memories that he wasn’t there for.
“I’m impressed.” She suddenly says, as Gen does a remarkable job of staring at the glass doors instead.
“You’ve seen me do the same at Ariake, during our training camp.”
“No, not about that,” Ashiro glances back at her mother, and he follows her line of sight. “I’m impressed you offered to help.”
“Hah,” he clicks his tongue. What does Ashiro take him for? “I’m not some freeloader, Mina-chan.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Well I can’t go calling your mother by her first name, can I?”
She huffs, hugging the pillow on her lap tighter, and Gen reaches for his own pillow.
“Drop the -chan, then.”
He considers it for a second, he really does - but decides Ashiro’s reactions are funnier so he shrugs, “No.”
“You’re annoying.” She says, throwing the pillow at him. Naturally he sees it coming and catches it, pleased to have two pillows on him now.
“You’re the one who brought me here.”
She goes silent after that, and Gen returns to looking out the glass doors that lead to her yard.
The sun has long set by now, daylight getting shorter and shorter. He doesn’t know what he prefers, but he does like being able to see the stars sooner.
Speaking of which, he gets up and tries to open the glass door. When it doesn’t open on the first try, he clears his throat.
“It’s locked.”
“I can tell.”
Ashiro comes over, unlocking it for him (he was going to do it anyway), showing him the pair of outdoor slippers he can borrow.
They’re big, bigger than his usual shoe size - and Gen briefly wonders how tall Ashiro’s father has to be.
Stepping out together, Gen immediately looks up at the sky and feels his breath hitch. The stars are so much brighter here, than in Tokyo.
He immediately identifies a few constellations hanging around, happy to see them. When he spots Orion’s Belt, he looks at Ashiro from the corner of his eye.
Before he can stop himself, Gen feels a question pop into his mind.
Do you remember?
Instead of asking, because he shouldn’t, he has no reason to - he focuses on the stars and pulls his phone out to take a picture.
Making it his wallpaper, he hears the shutter go off on his side an impressive amount of times, so he looks to see what Ashiro is doing.
He watches in amusement and amazement as she snaps a picture, looks at the product in confusion. She does this for an additional five times, before Gen decides to lean over to view her photo.
“Wow,” he finds himself saying before he can help it. “You’re bad.”
She elbows him, but there’s no real force in it, so he doesn’t budge.
“I’m-” she hisses, deleting all the pictures where the stars barely managed to appear.
Sighing, he stands behind her, and lifts her phone up so it’s pointing at the sky.
“You need to increase the exposure, using this function.” He explains, and for a split second - it feels like she’s leaning on him. But the pressure against him is gone in an instant.
Thinking nothing of it, he keeps her phone held up, his hand over hers. Gen looks down at her, and it doesn’t take much effort with their small height difference.
When the stars start to appear with the new exposure, he watches as her eyes widen - and he thinks, yeah.
“It’s pretty…” He hears her whisper out, and Gen-
He thinks once more - yeah, and he can’t find the strength to look anywhere else but at her face filled with pure wonder.
(His hand itches for his own phone, and he thinks he might have a problem.)
The moment he’s certain she’s taken enough photos to satisfy her curiosity, he lets go of the hand holding onto her phone, and he tucks it straight into his pocket.
It’s cold.
“Thanks.” She says, meeting his gaze for a second before scrolling through all the pictures she took.
“It’s whatever.” He scratches the back of his neck, watching as she sets one of the pictures as her lock screen. “Imagine showing your Third Division friends those shitty pictures.”
Ashiro huffs, lightly kicking him in the shin, “Mizuki would’ve loved it anyway.”
“Sure, sure.” He waves his hand at her, heading back inside as a breeze pays them a visit.
They step in to find Ashiro’s mother grinning at them, seated on the sofa and Gen realizes she must’ve seen everything from inside.
“What is it?” Ashiro asks, and Gen doesn’t really want to hear her answer.
The grin hasn’t left her mother’s face and he doesn’t know what to make of it, “Oh, nothing.”
She pats Gen on the shoulder, and he wills his blood pressure to stay normal.
He’s no stranger to casual touches, despite not seeming like it in the First Division - he was always patting the kids in the orphanage, holding their hands, keeping them close.
That was his job, as the oldest in almost all the orphanages he was sent to.
He’s not used to this - being on the receiving end. It feels weird, being the object of people’s affections and tenderness.
Being someone to worry over.
Being someone whose existence means something more.
“Mina, help set the table, please.”
And then the two Ashiro’s are heading ahead of him and Gen feels so incredibly out of place as he watches them move plates from the cupboards to the table.
A big pot of curry gets placed in the center of the table, and Gen’s stomach grumbles. He hadn’t even realized the last thing they ate were the sandwiches from the train ride.
He notices a tonkatsu cutlet on the rice, and he doesn’t have the heart to tell Ashiro’s mother he just had a sandwich with it earlier.
Hers - homemade, would probably taste so much better anyway.
Once he pours an acceptable amount of curry over his rice, he sits down - waiting for the other two to do the same.
“Thank you for the food.” They say in unison, and Gen doesn’t hold back.
It’s been a while since he’s had a home cooked meal. The dinners made by the officers themselves don’t exactly count, because this time he’s sitting in a house - surrounded by trinkets and proof of a loving space.
It’s different, because Gen can feel the warmth of a family as he sits here, across from Ashiro’s mother who softly smiles at him.
It’s different, because Gen would be constantly taking care of the kids, wrangling them and making sure they were eating without making a mess.
It’s so different, from his time at the orphanage (the orphanages), and from his time at Ariake.
And then-
He realizes something tastes salty, and he blinks.
Tears roll down his cheeks as he does, and he brings a startled hand to his eyes.
Oh.
Shit.
Wordlessly, a box of tissues gets passed to him, and Gen doesn’t have to look to know it came from Ashiro.
He puts down his spoon, and keeps his head low. He doesn’t want Ashiro’s pity. He doesn’t want her mother to ask what’s wrong either.
So he glares at the plate of curry, heart feeling incredibly empty but at the same time-
He’s never felt like this before.
This is dangerous, he thinks, quietly wiping away the tears. At least it doesn’t get any worse and the moment passes. Ashiro and her mother never stopped eating the entire minute he took to collect himself.
Gen wonders what Ashiro’s told her mother. He wonders what Ashiro, herself, knows about him.
When he grabs a spoonful of curry rice, it’s a bit easier to swallow now, and he clutches onto the used tissue in his other hand.
Everything about Ashiro just makes so much sense, as Gen reminds himself that this is the kind of place she grew up in.
How nice.
A part of him is beyond jealous, but another part of him…
Another part of him is perhaps, grateful.
Until he isn’t anymore, because Ashiro’s mother speaks up for the first time since they started eating, and points at Ashiro.
“Does Kafka-kun know, by the way?”
He watches Ashiro tense up, and it’s so obvious that he’s genuinely surprised her mother didn’t catch it.
“Mum, it’s not like that.” She stuffs her mouth with a spoonful of rice, and Gen blinks at her. She kind of looks like a hamster.
And then her mother is turning to him, with that grin still on her face, “Really? Naru-chan is such a lovely boy!”
Immediately, he feels his cheeks heat up and he hates it. He feels Ashiro’s eyes on him, and his ears get a bit hotter.
“Narumi’s alright.”
“Excuse me? I’m so much better than alright, Mina-chan.”
Her mother giggles at them, and Gen continues eating - because if he thinks about anything else any longer, his head (and heart) will start to hurt.
When they’re done, Gen offers to do the dishes, and Ashiro’s mother allows it - as long as Ashiro helps out.
He passes the plate with soap on it to Ashiro for her to rinse and dry, “You were more of a freeloader than me, anyway.”
“I set the table up.”
“That’s a response a ten year old kid would give.”
“Shut up.”
So he does, and they continue their dishwashing routine. Gen takes the dirty plates and lathers them with soap, before passing them to Ashiro who does the rinsing and places them on the dish rack.
It’s comfortable - the silence between them, the space between them as they stand shoulder to shoulder in her kitchen.
Gen can’t help but think about how long it’s been since he’s felt this readily relaxed in a new environment.
Even though he’s been passed around from one place to another constantly, he’d always take at least two weeks before adjusting.
With the defense force it had taken longer, unsettled by being in a place that wanted him - granted he could prove his worth.
And here he was, in a place that accepted him, and didn’t need him to do anything to keep it that way.
That should’ve made it harder, made him feel even more restricted, made him want to run out first thing - but.
But the entire house is warm, inviting, and its occupants even more so.
It’s easy for Gen to breathe here, even if there are some moments where his breath catches so hard it feels like there’s a hand around his throat.
It could never compare to the cold, cold orphanages he’s been in.
A week, he starts to think. Only a week.
When he hears the tap turning off, he feels a hand on his shoulder and he turns.
“Good work, you two.” Ashiro’s mother smiles at them, and Gen nods. “Naru-chan, do you want to get in the bath first? It’s ready for you.”
“Sure.”
“Mina always takes such a long time in there, you’d think she’s fainted!” Her mother adds on and Ashiro groans.
He chuckles, believing it, and follows Ashiro’s mother around to grab a spare towel. He heads to Ashiro’s room, digging around his duffel bag for his clothes.
When he walks out of the room, he absolutely doesn’t get startled by Ashiro waiting for him.
“Ha.” She lets out a dry and short laugh, seeing Gen flinch.
“Shut it.”
“I’ll show you which bottles to use.”
After she does, Gen is left to his own devices and the hot water feels so good.
He clears his head of everything, choosing to soak until his fingers turn into raisins.
The moment he steps back into the living room, he hears squeals, and he grimaces.
Ashiro and Ashiro’s mother are on the sofa, with the former holding her phone. He recognizes one of the high pitched voices - Ashiro’s friend in the division, Mizuki.
“Oi, Mina-chan,” he says purposely using the nickname and making sure he shows up in frame. “Your turn.”
Instantly, Ashiro turns around, wide-eyed and even more screaming ensues from the phone.
“Oh my god, Isn’t that-” Mizuki whisper-yells, nudging Arashi from their final evaluation team.
“Narumi?!” She hisses, and Ashiro puts her face in her hands.
Win.
Mizuki whines, and it’s shrill, “Why didn’t you invite us, Mina-cchi?!”
“Ah,” Ashiro clears her throat, and Gen grins at her being at a loss for words. “I'm sorry.”
He cackles, and Ashiro’s mother- he forgot she was there, chuckles along.
“Mizuki-chan, Arashi-chan, I’d love to meet you two as well, one day!” The two girls squeal again, and Gen stuffs his fingers into his ears. Noisy. “Maybe Bakko can come along too.”
Oh, Bakko.
“Is he there?” He asks, leaning over Ashiro’s shoulder, moving closer to the screen.
More squeals - and Gen realizes it’s because his head is pressed against Ashiro’s as he tries to look for Bakko.
Whatever, he thinks, but his eyes end up looking at the tiny window showing both of their faces next to each other.
“Bakko.” He snaps, after the girls have finally stopped screaming.
“Come on, Narumi-” Arashi rolls her eyes and he rolls his eyes back at her. “Here he is.”
She makes a noise as she moves the camera to the tiger, and Gen smiles.
“Bakko,” Ashiro calls, and it’s clear that she’s overjoyed to see him. It hasn't even been an entire day.
The tiger looks around for a second, questioning where his owner’s voice is coming from, before bumping his nose onto the phone camera.
Ashiro immediately takes a screenshot, and Gen stares as she takes five more.
“You might as well record the call.”
“Be quiet.”
“Are we speaking to Mina’s tiger?” Ashiro’s mother appears at his side, and Gen leans back, away from Ashiro.
He gestures over for her to take his place and she thanks him.
Before he can walk away, her mother stops him.
“You should dry your hair properly, Naru-chan.”
And then more shrill voices explode his ear drums as Ashiro’s annoying friends squawk out, “Naru-chan?!”
“Ashiro-san-” he tries to stop her, but she’s already running the towel in his hair, and-
All he can do is let her.
“There. You’ll get a headache if you don’t.” She runs her fingers through his hair one last time before turning away to look at Ashiro’s phone screen.
Gen feels numb.
He informs Ashiro he’s heading upstairs, and she nods in his direction to acknowledge it.
He spends the next hour laying on the floor, questioning his life choices, before shutting his brain off.
Don’t think about it.
“Narumi.”
Groaning, he swats the hand shaking him away.
“Ten more minutes, Hasegawa.”
“Sleep in the actual bed.”
That’s not Hasegawa’s voice.
He blinks, sitting up before rubbing his eyes and adjusting to the now light filled room.
Ashiro’s face greets him, and he yelps - shifting away from her.
“Personal space.” He hisses out at her, backed up against the table.
She raises an eyebrow, and he hates when she looks at him like he’s stupid.
“Not like you know anything about that.”
Her hair is wet, he suddenly notices, and there’s a towel around her shoulders.
Something - something possesses him, and before he can think twice - he’s reaching out for the towel.
He places it on her head, rubbing it all over her hair, “You should dry off properly.”
She peeks at him from under the towel, eyes wide, and Gen-
For a split second, it looks like-
No. No. No. Absolutely not.
Letting go, he moves even further away, the edge of the table digging into his back.
“I was going to use the hairdryer.” She says, removing the towel from her head.
His face instantly burns, and he feels like throwing up.
“Right.” He dumbly responds. “Of course.”
He’s a fucking idiot.
She clears her throat, and Gen fiddles with the tatami mat.
“If you’re tired, sleep on the bed and not the floor.”
Wait.
What.
“The-?”
But before he can clarify, she’s turning on the hair dryer and Gen can’t say a thing because she won't be able to hear him.
The bed?
He can just- He can just sleep downstairs.
On the sofa.
But.
But he spares the bed a glance, and it does look pretty inviting.
So he climbs onto it, and immediately relaxes. It feels comfortable.
He hasn't slept in a proper bed since he got kicked out of the dorm rooms, but that’s fine - since he got his own private one, although it only came with a futon.
Gen doesn’t spend a lot of his time sleeping anyway.
“Hand me your towel.”
Passing it to her, he makes a mental note to ask what they’ll be doing for the entire week when she’s returned.
The moment she’s back in the room, she turns off the lights and he makes a noise of surprise.
“We’re going to wake up early tomorrow.”
“Wait-” he says, but the words die off in his throat as he feels the bed dip and Gen shifts impossibly closer to the wall.
Too many questions enter his mind, and he tries to categorize them by importance.
But instead of questioning what she’s doing on the bed as well, or asking about where they’ll be going, he looks up and-
“You have glow in the dark stars.”
“Oh.”
He feels her turn to face the ceiling and this bed is not made for two people who’ve just outgrown being teenagers.
“Ka-” she clears her throat, but Gen already knows what she was about to say, “A childhood friend said it’d help.”
“With?”
She stays silent, and Gen pokes her arm.
“You know.”
No, he doesn’t, actually.
“Not at all.” He responds by poking her again.
Sighing, Gen is certain - extra loud on purpose, she pinches his arm.
“Hey-!”
“The dark.”
“What?”
“He said it could help… with my fear of the dark.”
Gen glances at the stars of varying sizes and colours on the ceiling - and spots a giant moon he doesn’t know how he missed.
“It’s bright.” He muses out loud.
She nods in agreement.
“They’re not placed to form actual constellations though.” He notes, and he finds himself rambling about the placements and whatnot before he can shut up.
Surprisingly, she doesn’t stop him - and Gen goes on and on.
When it gets quiet, after he finishes a rant on the milky way, he’s surprised to see she’s still awake.
“You were listening?”
She leans up on her elbows to stare at him, and having adjusted to the dark, he sees her raise an eyebrow.
“Obviously?”
Oh.
The kids in the orphanage-
They’d tell him to talk about his latest obsession, so he could put them to sleep.
It had been insulting at first, but well- they were kids, and anything to get a bunch of children to get some shuteye, right?
And Ashiro may not be a twelve year old, but he hadn’t expected her to sit through his word dump.
Suddenly self-conscious, he turns away from her and tells her to set an alarm for tomorrow. He’s absolutely not waking up unless she does.
She wishes him a good night, and he does the same, grateful that Ashiro never seems to push him for answers.