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After that infamously cold winter—the one where Eiji boarded a plane to Japan and then disembarked before it could take off from the runway—it took a few more years of living in New York City before he and Ash both felt fully ready to relocate closer to Eiji's hometown.
Ash was never quite sure if Eiji had any of the same concerns he did, but regardless, Eiji never pushed him. If anything, he seemed just as hesitant as Ash. Most days Ash wasn't sure where his own hesitance came from—starting over in a town, country, in a continent where no one even knew his name? His face? Where no one knew his body? It sounded almost too good to be true.
Eventually, he realized that the root of the problem was staring right back at him. It was too good to be true. Or, at least, some part of his mind refused to think otherwise. And hey, in Ash's mind's defense, the last time either he or Eiji tried to leave the country, he found himself bleeding out in a library before it could happen. Not exactly fantastic results, historically speaking.
But they did it. Eventually. Ash asked if Eiji would want to move to Izumo or Tokyo or anywhere else in Japan together. And Eiji said yes.
It felt a lot like a marriage proposal, though ironically they wouldn't actually be able to legally wed in Japan. That part didn't bother Ash too much. It wasn't a necessity. Eiji being willing to show Ash the town he grew up in, introduce Ash to the people who raised him? That meant far more than any sort of court document ever could. He'd more recently learned that it wasn't unheard of for gay couples in Japan to legally adopt one another as family, in the stead of a marriage. Ash wasn't inherently opposed to the idea, but he'd only recently been able to finalize his New York adult adoption into the Glenreed family, so he didn't make it a priority to ask Eiji about the logistics of becoming an Okumura.
In a lot of ways, the move abroad wasn't as bad as Ash was expecting. The language barrier was the most difficult part, of course, but Ash has always been a quick study. The two phonemic scripts made sense intuitively to Ash, at least after a bit of practice. It's all pattern recognition, just like most things tend to be at their core. They've been living in Japan for nearly two years now, and it's been quite a while since Ash felt like he couldn't understand a word of what was being spoken around him.
That's been vital, of course. If Ash thought he didn't feel comfortable in a New York crowd when he met Eiji, he wouldn't have been able to begin to imagine that initial terror of just trying to cross a street in Tokyo, with anywhere from dozens to hundreds of voices swirling around the cityscape, and no way to tell what any of the words mean.
So that was a pretty good motivator to learn, and already Ash has started to feel at home here. He stands out, of course, but he's always stood out to some degree. Sure, he's not used to being the only blond bitch in the neighborhood, but the attention he draws as a foreigner doesn't feel all that foreign to Ash himself.
Just, uh, don't ask about how many kanji he knows. He can recognize far more characters than he can write without a dictionary, but he's not exactly proud of either number. Eiji likes to tease him for his subpar literacy skills, suggesting that perhaps he needs to go read Soramamekun or another children's series to improve his vocabulary. And yes, Ash is aware that he brought this solely upon himself with that Sesame Street comment all those years ago, but he simply thinks that logographic scripts should be graded by a different scale.
Linguistic debate aside, the point stands that overall culture shock was minimal, despite Ash's anxiety on the matter. It took him only a few days in Japan—if even that, really—to realize that people will always be people, no matter where you go. And for better or for worse, Ash has already seen a lot of the worst that humanity has to offer. Japan has plenty of its own issues, of course, just like anywhere else. People will always be people. But in a way, there's not very much that Ash has left to fear. He has someone he can't bear to lose now, more so than ever before, but other than that? The worst has already happened, over and over, and he still found himself alive and breathing on the other side. Barely, sure, but life ain't a game of horseshoes or hand grenades.
So it's been ... good, these last couple years. Shockingly good. Astonishingly good. "Too good to be true" good, and yet he still hasn't come across the fine print stipulation that takes it all away. Some things are still difficult for Ash, and some things probably always will be. But he managed to get past most of the initial shock of safety during those last years in New York, and he had a lot of help through it.
He still sees that same therapist, actually, though they only meet monthly now. Telehealth appointments, of course, ever since the move. It took a bit of back and forth to make it work, since Holly had to obtain the proper licensure to treat overseas patients before she was allowed to officially have Ash on the books. She said she'd been wanting to look into international licensing for years prior anyway, but Ash couldn't help but notice that Chugoku was added to her curriculum vitae regions before Kanto.
He's been trying to hold less guilt these days, though.
And anyway, moving to Japan might just be the third best decision Ash has ever made. First and second were, of course, his loyalty to Eiji and Shorter, respectively. There was such little culture shock, but some things still did surprise Ash. In particular, he didn't realize how much a new environment would help him. It wasn't so completely different that Ash couldn't ever feel comfortable, but it was different enough that Tokyo didn't feel like NYC, and Izumo didn't feel like the Cape. In those sporadic moments of panic, less frequent but still present, Ash has found that it's much easier to ground himself in a place where nothing horrible has ever happened to him.
No matter how stuck in his own head he is, when he looks around to see street signs and shop names written in Japanese, it forces a reset. Sometimes the kanji look like the Mandarin characters of the shopfronts in New York's Chinatown, but even that takes Ash a step closer to safety than where he started.
And besides, the advantages don't stop there. Eiji truly loves his homeland, and that might be the biggest reason why Ash wanted to relocate. The way Eiji's eyes light up when he gets to show Ash some specific location from his childhood, a shrine or park that he used to frequent, or a restaurant with a dish that can't be found quite like this anywhere else.
And—okay, wow, the food. Ash has never been too picky with his food, despite what Eiji might tell you. But if he'd known half of what Japanese cuisine can be when the rice isn't smothered in natto? Hell, screw the whole political drug scandal back in the States. Ash would have been here ages ago.
In a way, though, he's glad that he waited. He's not sure he would have enjoyed it as much even just a year sooner.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, Ash pinches at the flab that now protrudes well over his waistline.
He definitely wouldn't have been able to enjoy the food if he'd moved a year earlier.
He's shirtless right now, and it's impossible to ignore that with his jeans hanging low on his hips, he's not exactly the incubus he used to be. It feels like his whole body has gotten wider, down to its very structure. It's mostly perception, of course, but when his skin isn't clinging to his ribcage? It sure looks like his shoulders have broadened too.
He raises his arms, straightening his spine and stretching toward the ceiling. Even then, his midsection is wider than his hips. He had nearly an hourglass figure in his youth, didn't he? It's hard to even envision now. Youth, he scoffs to himself. He's only in his mid-20s now. So why does it feel like he's so far gone from the waiflike boy he used to be?
It's not necessarily a bad feeling. He never wanted to be that boy, even when it was all he was. A part of him had always wondered if he would feel better about himself if he had a body he knew no stranger on the street would catcall.
Not that Ash is objectively unattractive now, if attractiveness could ever be objective in the first place. Even Ash can tell that he looks stronger than he used to. But when he leans over the bathroom sink to get a closer look at his own face—the pores never used to be this visible, did they?—he can't help but notice the way his stomach folds over into rolls as well. Ash sighs, standing taller and turning to look at himself from the side. It's not a bad thing, objectively speaking. But it sure feels like it sometimes.
Who knew twink death would be so difficult to endure even for the former twink?
Slouching dramatically just to watch the folds of fat on his midsection warp to accommodate him, Ash grabs at some of the pudgy parts of himself. He pinches the fat on his stomach between his index finger and thumb, less gently than before, and yanks on it a bit. It's not very elastic—there's layers of fat and muscle beneath the skin that fill it out too much for that. He can start to pull it away from himself, but it won't ever get very far from him. No matter how hard he pinches it or pulls at it, it's a part of who he is right now.
Ash sees Eiji approaching in the bathroom mirror, but makes no attempt to hide his own troubled expression. He left the bathroom door open while analyzing himself in the mirror, not exactly as a cry for help, but just because there's nothing he wants to lie to Eiji about. Not anymore.
Eiji makes eye contact with Ash through the mirror, ensuring that Ash is aware of his presence. Then, gently, he places his hands over Ash's—both of them, one on each side, so he's almost hugging Ash from behind. Eiji presses his hands into the spaces between Ash's fingers, loosening his death grip on his own skin. Ash can't hold Eiji's hands like that. He can't squeeze and prod at Eiji. Eiji's skin isn't designed to be broken and bruised.
Ash draws back from that thought. He didn't mean it, he thinks. He doesn't want to believe that he's meant to be broken either. But sometimes certain thoughts arise without Ash's permission.
Eiji takes Ash's hands in his, away from their task busying at how much space Ash takes up. He used to be small.
But Eiji wraps his arms around Ash, with Ash's hands still in his own, so that Ash is almost hugging himself too. He peeks out from behind Ash's shoulder to make eye contact in the mirror again, and just holds him like that for a moment. Neither of them has said a word.
"You know—" Ash starts, then clears his throat and continues in his halting attempt at Japanese. "I think you're supposed to at least be tall enough to put your chin on my shoulder for this."
Eiji's expression sours dramatically, and Ash can't help a laugh. Eiji drops Ash's hands and steps away, putting his hands up in mock surrender.
"Fine then! You want a tall boyfriend? There's plenty out there. Go to the Caribbean with Blanca after all, why don't you?" He's teasing, though, a smile coming through past his words. And really, it's a bit of a miracle that they're even able to joke about any of it.
Especially when Eiji can't stay even a step away from Ash for long. Only a moment later he's back at Ash's side. They're both looking in the mirror, but Ash can tell that Eiji isn't looking at himself. He's looking at Ash, just like Ash is. He's looking at how everything about Ash has changed so drastically since they met.
Ash wants to think that Eiji finds him repulsive, but even in his own mind he can't make the thought make sense. Eiji's never been so shallow, so critical. Eiji's never cared about something as insignificant as body mass index. Eiji's always thought that Ash was beautiful, but Eiji probably still does now.
Ash tries not to idolize Eiji anymore. It took him a while to realize that he was doing it at all, and then a while more to realize that it was just another form of dehumanization. Ash doesn't want to do that to Eiji. Ash doesn't want Eiji to ever feel any of the ways that Ash has always felt, especially not because of him.
But back before Ash had that realization, he would use it to justify the way Eiji looked at him. To make sense of it. Of course something as vain as surface level beauty wouldn't even register to someone like Eiji. Eiji's beautiful, too, of course, but it's one of a few billion things about him that make him so wonderful. It's not even a particularly large part of the equation. So of course it doesn't matter to him. Of course Ash gaining weight didn't change who Ash was. Not to Eiji.
But to Ash? To Ash, there was never an equation at all. All he's ever been is a constant value. He's just lucky that that constant is beautiful. Or, rather, that it was. He guesses even that turned out to be variable, in the last couple years. Not so constant after all.
But Eiji still looks at him the same way.
"What are you thinking about?" Ash asks.
"You," Eiji replies, coyly.
"And what do you think of me?" Ash presses. His speech in Japanese is grade school at best, but he tries to practice it when he can around the house. When needed, he and Eiji both revert to English for the sake of Ash's understanding.
"I think you are the most amazing human I've ever laid eyes on. I think that I am lucky to have you by my side. I think I must have been a saint in a past life—"
"Eiji!" Ash interrupts, flustered.
"I'm only telling you the truth." Eiji's speaking a bit slower than he does on the phone or with his other friends, which Ash knows is also for his sake. He thinks Eiji's even simplifying his word choice too. "You are my everything. You have been for a long time now. But you already knew that."
Still, Ash checks the mirror again to make sure his face isn't too red at Eiji's words.
"I think, Ash, that there's a more important question to be asked here." Eiji softly bumps his shoulder against Ash's arm, affectionate even in that motion.
"And that is?"
"How are you feeling?"
Ash pauses. Eiji's question catches him off guard. It's not that he didn't expect Eiji to care how he's feeling, but rather that he expected Eiji to ask what he was thinking first.
But Eiji's always been one of the few men who can effortlessly catch Ash Lynx by surprise. Even now.
"I'm ... okay," Ash starts. "Conflicted. Trying not to ... hate. Myself, I mean."
Eiji's eyes soften, and his hair brushes against Ash's shoulder as he leans in closer. "I'm glad you're trying to not hate, Ash. But that's not what I wanted to ask."
Puzzled, Ash turns away from the mirror. He looks at Eiji, letting his confusion show on his face. He tries not to be embarrassed or ashamed of himself, of how much of him Eiji can see right now. But his mind drifts to the way his pectoral muscles had their own layers of fat over them as well, and how surely Eiji can't find that attractive. Not on Ash, anyway.
"Are you well?" Eiji asks, switching to English now. "Do you feel sick or weak? Are you dizzy? Are you going to faint on me again?"
Ash is confused, not sure why he's asking or why he switched to English to ask. Eiji, though, committed to the bit, places the back of his hand against Ash's forehead.
"I feel no fever. Do you feel feverish? Do you need to sit down?" Eiji insists.
"What? Eiji, no. I'm fine. I feel fine."
Eiji nods, satisfied with that answer. "Good. Me as well. So our priority one is out of the way."
Ash frowns. He has a sneaking suspicion that he knows where this is going. "But—"
"No buts, as you Americans like to say! We can handle other priorities as they are relevant, but first will be our safety. No ifs, ands, or buts. Right?"
"Right, but—"
"I just said no buts." Eiji crosses his arms. He's turned to face Ash now, and his eyes do scan Ash's body up and down. But it's not ... it's not in the way Ash is used to getting from men, that's for sure, but it's also not in disgust or disapproval. In fact, if anything, there's a smile pulling at the edges of Eiji's mouth.
Ash pouts.
"You look healthy," Eiji confirms. "More so than I've ever seen you, I think. And you don't look like a strong gust of wind will take my boyfriend away to the Emerald City of Oz."
Ash chokes out a laugh. "That's Kansas, Eiji, that's another US state entirely—"
"Stop pedantic-ing me!"
"And you can't just add an -ing onto a word to make a gerund. I think I regret telling you what pedantic means at all."
Eiji grins. "Well, either way it's too late. You dug this grave, so now lie in it. Or whatever."
Ash bites his lip, deciding to focus on, well, the other can of worms, so to speak. "Eiji. Please stop charming me with your adorable malaphors for a moment. You know I'm not beautiful anymore, right? You have to know that. I mean—" Ash gestures to the mirror, feeling all too helpless. "Just look at me. I'm not what I used to be."
Eiji's smile softens, but it doesn't fade. He reaches out slowly, ever so slowly, with a single hand, and brushes the tips of his fingers along a protruding roll on Ash's stomach.
"You are not," Eiji agrees, "what you used to be. And that is okay. Could you imagine if we all stayed seventeen forever? Ugh." An expression as though he just bit into a raw lemon crosses Eiji's face. "Let's not dwell on that, actually. I do not want to spend time with myself at seventeen."
Ash laughs under his breath, shaking his head. Even as he does, Eiji's hand slowly moves up toward his face to cup his chin, where an overgrown patchy reddish-blond beard has taken up residence.
"I love you, Ash," Eiji whispers. "I always have, and I always will. But you do not need to stay the same way forever just for that to be true."
"I'm just ... worried, I guess." Ash fidgets a little under Eiji's soft touch. "And conflicted, like I said. I mean ... I know you're right. I feel so much better now than I ever did as a kid. And I know I couldn't feel this strong or energetic if I still wanted to see my ribs in the mirror. I like being strong, and I don't even mind being all chubby, really. I just ..." Ash trails off, wondering if Eiji will say the rest for him.
Eiji doesn't, instead looking into Ash's eyes with so much compassion that Ash almost wants to stop saying any of this at all.
Closing his eyes and turning back to the mirror, Ash murmurs, "Do you know how many people told me that this"—he gestures to himself in the mirror—"would be a fate worse than death for me? That I'd be worthless? That I'd lose everything I've ever been good for? And I don't—I mean, I don't know. I don't believe them. I don't think I do. But when I see myself, I hear their words. You know?"
Eiji looks at Ash, first through the mirror, and then turning to fully face him. He waits for Ash to do the same before responding, and when Eiji does speak, it's in Japanese again.
"I can give you more words," Eiji says. He rests his hands on Ash's waist, one on each side, and gently pulls Ash in closer to him. "I have a whole extra language of them, you know."
Ash laughs, halfheartedly pushing Eiji's hands away. He gives up immediately, just letting his hands rest on Eiji's instead.
"This stomach?" Eijis says in Japanese, poking gently at Ash's waist. Not a hard, bruising grip like what Ash imagines doing to himself. Soft. Affectionate. Playful, and loving. "This stomach is my boyfriend's stomach. And I love my boyfriend, stomach and all."
Ash tries to avoid meeting Eiji's eyes, looking down at the space between them, but there's not much space there. Perhaps sensing Ash's intention, Eiji takes a half step closer.
"I care for you, Ash. No matter how much or how little of you shows up in kilograms on a scale, I care for you. All of you." Then, in English, Eiji continues, "You say—in sickness or health, right? And so it is. No matter if your thighs gap or chafe, it means very little to me. You are what means the world to me. And you're still you in all of these appearances. But ..."
Eiji hesitates, then trails off. Ash waits, expecting him to pick the thought back up, but he doesn't.
Ash frowns, just slightly. He's worried. He can't tell where Eiji was going with that, and he doesn't know if he should ask about it. Eventually, he just breathes out, "Eiji?"
Eiji glances up, meeting Ash's eyes. The fear in Eiji's face stuns Ash for a moment. "Sorry," he says. Then, this time in Japanese, "I'm sorry. I don't mean to put so much pressure on you. It's just that when I think of you at that party, when I saw you in the wheelchair? I didn't know what had happened, but it scared me. And after, when we took you away from him, you were walking and speaking okay, but you were—you were barely you, Ash, not for a while. I was worried that there was so little of you left. And I always thought how if you ever one day couldn't walk, I'd want to be someone who could push your wheelchair. If you ever couldn't speak, I'd want to help be your voice. If your sight is taken from you, let me be your eyes. But more than any of those things, I just wanted you to be with me. Any way at all. So when I look at you now, even when I know you're conflicted about it, I can't help but be happy. You're not the person you were at seventeen. And as much as I cared for you then, I'm very grateful that you've come so far. And I'm very grateful that I've been allowed to stay by your side."
Eiji kept his speaking pace slow, but the waterfall of words in Japanese still takes a moment for Ash to process. He feels a step or two behind as it all comes together, and by then Eiji is already hiding his face against Ash's shoulder.
"I'm sorry," Ash mumbles in Japanese. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"I know," Eiji says. There's a catch in his voice, like he's trying not to sob. "But you did."
"That was so long ago." Ash brings an arm around Eiji, indulging in the feeling of the way they just coexist. "It's been bothering you all this time?"
"Not so long ago. Not really," Eiji says, barely audible. "You were so sad."
"Oh, Eiji," Ash whispers. "I'm so sorry. I'm okay now. We'll be okay."
Eiji nods, and Ash feels the motion more than he sees it. "I like to hold you like this. I like to know that you're here with me."
"... I like this, too," Ash breathes. "I think it's the person I've always wanted to be."
He glances at the mirror, at the reflection of him and Eiji together. He looks at the way Eiji is tucked away safely in his embrace. At how secure Eiji looks in his arms. Ash was worried that he would look like he's crushing Eiji, consuming him. But he doesn't. Instead, there's a surge of something almost like pride as he notices his arms no longer look like brittle twigs against Eiji's back.
With a slow, soft smile, Ash realizes that this time, he actually looks like someone who can protect his loved ones.
And hey, if Eiji likes him this way, he's the only one Ash cares to impress anyway.