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Narita Kyouji stalked into Itami Airport, a full three hours before his flight to Tokyo.
He’d been there just last week for the month-end closing. Normally that would’ve meant no Tokyo obligations for the rest of the month, but he wasn’t going there for business this time, and he wasn’t going to stay long. In fact, he’d already gotten his train ticket back for a few hours after he would land at Haneda. Just enough time for him to get something to eat.
The personal purpose of his visit to Tokyo hadn’t walked in yet. He probably wouldn’t for a while.
But Kyouji was going to wait here, just in case.
He went through security and picked a seat off to the side in front of the gate next to his own. He planned to wait for Satomi to get to their gate first, and show up after. He didn’t think Satomi would be watching the newcomers once he sat down, but he would probably notice Kyouji if Kyouji were there first.
After reading Satomi’s graduation essay, Kyouji had no doubts he wasn’t forgotten.
Three years ago, he’d decided to leave the kid alone forever, allowing himself only a tattoo as a reminder of the time someone so bright had cared so much about him.
And a tacky charm.
Well, and a list of songs picked just for him.
No matter what he’d held onto, though, he’d really decided he’d be out of Satomi’s life entirely. A fourteen year old who barely hesitated before barging into a yakuza gathering was not going to grow into an adult unscathed if he were to keep hanging around, at any rate.
Except the meaning of “leave alone” had changed over time. Just some check-ins from afar, to make sure Satomi was staying out of trouble. Considering the kid’s track record, he’d thought that was fair. He made no contact.
But as a high-schooler, Satomi hadn’t seemed to be doing anything out of the ordinary. He hadn’t even kept up with the choir. Kyouji knew this for sure, having snuck into choir festivals to see if Satomi would be on stage. He hadn’t seen or heard him once.
Quite often, Kyouji would wonder about Satomi’s voice—how it would sound now if he were to sing Kurenai again. What it would be like to hear “Kyouji-san” anew. Idle thoughts just like, Where would I be if the old man hadn’t waited for me back then? Nothing he’d expected to get an answer for.
Well, he was probably going to get an answer for that first question soon, if not the second. Unless Satomi wanted nothing to do with him to the point of not speaking to him, but then again, that didn’t seem likely.
In fact, it seemed like he wanted to see Kyouji again, just looking at what he wrote for his whole school to read.
That time, for a change, it was a coincidence he found out. If you can call anything that happened while he was lurking around a specific high school in a borrowed plain car on graduation day a coincidence, that is.
He’d been parked some distance away from the entrance, the window cracked open just slightly, letting him hear the chatter of students dispersing in groups.
“—ve you read that karaoke story?”
“That was so wild! Do you know Oka-kun? No way that was real, right?”
“I don’t know him well, but he looks like a serious guy. Kiyoko-chan had a crush on him aaaall through second year. Took her ages to confess and then Oka-kun—”
The two girls walking by had gone out of earshot in a flash, leaving him in the dark about how Satomi responded to that confession.
It had taken until he’d relaxed back into the seat to remember what had grabbed his attention in the first place.
Karaoke story, huh?
It hadn’t been that hard to get a hold of it, just as it hadn't been that hard after to find out Satomi had gotten accepted into a university in Tokyo, found a little apartment in Kamata, and had a flight at 12:30 today.
He had a plan now, more or less. Since Satomi was in Tokyo, he wouldn’t be able to see him all that frequently. They could get a meal now and then, Kyouji could get the opportunity to treat Satomi to things other than fried rice at a karaoke place.
Maybe he’d scope out a nice restaurant today while he was at it. Nothing too much, of course, but a place where they could share a decent meal with plenty of people around.
Even though it would be fun to go all out treating Satomi, getting a private room at a fancy place. He’d probably rack up quite a bill, if his appetite hadn’t changed, and it would be a pleasure to see him order anything he wanted in a deadpan, knowing Kyouji would pay for him.
And that was a dangerous thought already. Satomi shouldn’t allow him these pleasures if he knew what’s good for him.
But he hadn’t known, was the thing. Probably didn’t know, still. That’s what Kyouji was banking on, waiting here for him.
More than two hours to go.
He fixed his gaze on the escalator, and let the time pass by, mind blank.
Satomi arrived about an hour before his flight, just a backpack on his shoulders and a phone in hand. He’d probably moved most of his stuff last week when he went to Tokyo—no need for a carry-on.
He made a beeline to a seat near the gate and sat down without looking around, putting his backpack on the seat next to him and rummaging around to unearth a homemade onigiri.
Kyouji really wasn’t aware he’d hoped Satomi would notice he was there, but the tinge of disappointment was hard to ignore, even for him.
This was the closest he’d been to Satomi since the time he had cried under Kyouji’s arm, feeling much smaller than he looked now, as Kyouji sat unmoving, watching him and expecting something to happen. For someone to look at him and start screaming. For security to show up and try to drag him away, maybe.
Satomi, still completely unaware, was looking at his phone with a somewhat bored expression. Kyouji wondered how Satomi looked like reading his texts back then. Deadpan? Exasperated? Embarrassed? He had told him Kyouji’s texts were annoying once, but he hadn’t explained why, just called him an old man.
Did Satomi still have his number?
Normally he wouldn’t keep the same personal number for too long but he hadn’t changed it for the past four years. Just in case.
Satomi put his phone away and Kyouji took that as his cue to force his legs to move, taking a detour to approach him from behind and imagining Satomi’s reaction to seeing him for the first time in years. It would be cute if he got mad, he always looked—
All thoughts flew out of his head when he saw Satomi clutching his card.
Which had really seen better days, he knew for a fact.
As if moving on autopilot, he plopped down onto the seat next to Satomi, getting right into his space.
He heard himself say, “That’s a really shabby business card, you know,” and watched himself hand him a new business card, flicking a grain of rice off his cheek, so close to his lips.
“Rice,” he explained, to himself and to Satomi, who seemed to have gotten out of his shocked stupor as he watched it fly away.
“I honestly thought you were dead…” was Satomi’s reply, first thing he’d said to him in years, looking all out of sorts and timid unlike himself.
Kyouji closed his eyes at the impassioned response, explaining himself as if he still wasn’t an old geezer barging back to hang around Satomi while he was supposed to enjoy his youth.
He’d just truly missed him.
And this conversation was spiraling out of his control faster than he could think, with Satomi barely looking at him.
The next second he was exposing the tattoo on his forearm, triumph burning deep in his belly at feeling Satomi’s gaze on him again.
“Remember how you said if I pretended to hate something I actually liked, maybe the boss would tattoo that on me…?” he said, now the one looking straight ahead as he deployed the well-rehearsed explanation, mouth moving faster than his sluggish brain.
“Y—you like my name?” asked Satomi, pulling back.
The sudden distance was almost enough to bring him fully back to his senses, his practiced mouth once again kicking in to throw excuses into the silent gap between them.
When that failed to make Satomi look his way again, he backtracked to his original opening, asking Satomi if he was on the flight to Haneda, asking about college, as if he didn’t know any of that.
And good thing he already knew, really, since Satomi was refusing to answer, face turned away like a sulking child even though he was an adult now. Had been for two whole days.
Kyouji leaned in, tapping him on the shoulder.
“Look at me!” You were wondering what I was doing and here I am, Satomi-kun.
“I can’t look at Kyouji-san right now,” said Satomi finally, Kyouji’s name sounding even sweeter now than he could’ve ever dreamed of.
“Oh, really?” He drew back out of Satomi’s space, just trying to keep him talking.
It was the threat of another tattoo with Satomi’s face that earned him a nostalgic retort, in the end.
“If that happens, I’m done with you forever.”
“Okay,” he replied easily, relieved at its familiarity and promise.
He leaned in again now that he was in safe waters, “Let’s go karaoke!” coming out of his mouth almost on reflex.
“This again…?” said Satomi, still looking away, but still just the same as he was at fourteen.
He really did not know what was good for him.