Chapter Text
Ainosuke must be hallucinating.
Perhaps somebody somewhere slipped him a roofie, or Tadashi accidentally gave him one-too-many Xanax. Maybe someone at the morning assembly shot him with a tranquilliser dart and he, inexplicably, didn’t notice.
In all likelihood, he’s so bone-tired from travelling and a distinct lack of sleep over the last thirty-six hours that he’s simply misheard. Yes, it must be that.
“Sorry, could you—” Ainosuke clears his throat, straightens in his seat, and tries again. “Could you repeat that?”
“We’ve found a suitable husband for you,” Aunt One repeats, straining to keep herself patient at having to repeat herself (and, in all probability, straining at the sentiment, too.)
“That’s…what I thought you said…” Ainosuke says numbly, uncharacteristically stunned.
He stares intently down at his lap, directly into the teacup held in a death grip between both his palms, hoping that the dark liquid will turn out to be unexpectedly epiphanous. He isn’t that fortunate. Instead all he finds in the reflection is his usually ever-present Shindō mask as it slowly starts slipping down his face.
Ainosuke is absolutely having some kind of out-of-body experience. Or maybe it’s an aneurysm. Yes, in hindsight, that is the most plausible explanation.
‘Husband,’ she said.
Definitely not ‘wife.’
“Husband,” Ainosuke repeats slowly, as if the word itself is foreign and he’s hearing it for the first time. And he might as well be, for all that he never imagined using the word for himself, and definitely under no circumstances for anyone else.
And yet…that was a possibility this whole time?!
“Yes,” Aunt Two confirms. “A husband.” Her voice is terse, as though she is entirely put out by having to say the darned thing out loud. That, at least, makes this utterly bizarre situation seem a tad more natural.
“We’ve arranged a meeting for you,” Aunt One explains; Aunt Three sips her tea silently next to her.
“O-okay,” Ainosuke finds himself agreeing, altogether very uncertain of himself after having, apparently, waltzed right into the Twilight Zone.
He’s half-expecting Rod Serling’s unearthly narration to echo in his ears at any moment.
“Good,” his Aunt—and definitely not Rod Serling—says. “Then it’s settled.”
It’s…settled? Ainosuke blinks, stupefied, while the conversation rattles around in his otherwise empty brain.
“Do I get to know anything about him before our first meeting?” Ainosuke asks, trepidatious as he waits for the inevitable killing blow.
Aunt Two wordlessly slides a folder over the table to him. It’s pretty bulky and Ainosuke fiddles with the corner of it for a moment, suddenly weary that he’ll open it only to be met with a cloud of anthrax.
His Aunts watch on, impatient but quiet, their own discomfort hanging densely in a fog that covers the width of the room.
Ainosuke hopes it will be a swift death, at least.
He turns the page and…
Well, he isn’t met with immediate death, anyway.
And it is definitely a photograph of a man on the other side. A very handsome man, at that. But also a very, very familiar man; too familiar for Ainosuke’s tastes.
Ainosuke looks up at his Aunts, who all appear more relaxed—even a little proud of themselves, actually—all things considered. Then, to make sure he really, absolutely, genuinely has not imagined all of this, he looks back down at the photograph.
Just to double-check.
And then wishes he hadn’t when his eyes land on the photographed man’s a second time. Yep. That is still definitely—one hundred percent, without a shadow of a doubt—Sakurayashiki Kaoru staring right back at him.
Maybe Ainosuke was right about it being an aneurysm.