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Shiba knows he’s been complicated to talk to lately. He sees it in Kunishige’s face as he vents to him about the same topic for the third month in a row. He also sees it in Chihiro’s face when he sits down with them and then leaves after a few minutes because he thinks Shiba is annoying these days. So, it doesn’t really hurt Shiba’s feelings when Chihiro looks displeased to go on a trip with him to Tokyo for a week or two.
Chihiro asks Kunishige, “Do I really have to go?”
“Chihiro, don’t be rude. Shiba wants to spend time with you and show you around the city,” Kunishige scolds him. They’re already at their door, with Chihiro’s suitcase packed. He’s been unhappy with the idea since Kunishige sprung it on both of them a week ago. Shiba had no opinion on the matter. He wasn’t going to go to work because he was no longer a part of the Kamunabi, and he wasn’t going home to anyone either.
Kunishige is also tired of hearing Shiba vent about his old job and the people there, so this is his guarantee Shiba won’t visit him minimum of five days. Or speak to him because there’s no cell phone on the property to check in with. Kunishige trusts Shiba enough with Chihiro that they don’t need to do daily check ins.
As they’re about to teleport, Kunishige waves to them and tells them, “Take care of him.” Shiba is unsure who he’s talking to. They disappear to Shiba’s apartment in Tokyo before either of them can reply.
There’s a guest bedroom in Shiba’s apartment where he has boxes of things he hasn’t unpacked from moving out of his last place, shared with Azami who he hasn’t spoken to since. Kunishige talks to Azami, but he won’t tell Shiba what he says and vice versa. Sometimes though, if Shiba is annoying enough, Chihiro will whisper a comment that Azami made about Shiba. It’s small stuff like he said you let his plants die and he said you would shred paperwork instead of filing it, but it gives Shiba enough ammo to continue the silent treatment.
Chihiro settles into the spare bedroom while Shiba looks up spots in town he can take him to. He should’ve planned things in the last week, but it was more fun to go out and smoke with strangers in bars instead.
He takes him out to eat to a hole in the wall spot for dinner, and the old woman serving the tonkatsu is enamored by Chihiro’s red eyes. Shiba has done a background check on most of the vendors in his area and knows she has no connections to anyone important. He’s been a regular, and the lady even knows his name. So, he doesn’t pull Chihiro away when she starts pinching his cheeks. Chihiro is a sweet kid at heart, but severely under socialized, so Shiba lets him have the experience of being nagged by his elders.
They spend the first two days walking around the city, Chihiro trying a lot of different foods at a local market. Kunishige told Shiba not to give him too many treats because he’s going to end up with a stomach bug, but Shiba can’t say no to the kid. He’s never been able to.
It’s the end of a long day, and they sit down at a park bench in front of a pond in silence. Usually, Shiba will talk Chihiro’s ear off, but they’ve both been in a quiet mood lately. Shiba has that rumbling ache in his chest that shifts from one side to another, and Chihiro is busy processing the city around them. They’re a good match right now.
Shiba’s phone starts to ring, and it’s an unsaved number. But the +1 at the start of the number gets his attention. He knows who it is. He looks between his phone and Chihiro, wondering who risky it is to answer it when he’s right next to him. He decides it’s riskier to leave Chihiro alone, so he clicks the green button anyways.
Shiba answers, “Hello.”
“Hello,” the deep voice from the other answers in Japanese. “Is this Shiba Togo?”
“Yes. Is this Bruce Wayne?” It wouldn’t be anyone else.
“Yes. How are you doing?” He’s talking like this is business which means he’s about to propose something insane, and Shiba wonders how fast he’ll say yes.
“I’m fine.” He tells him, “Your Japanese has gotten better.”
“Thank you. I’ve been studying during my free time.”
“I thought billionaires didn’t get free time.” Does Chihiro know what a billionaire is? Chihiro doesn’t seem interesting in Shiba’s conversation, though. He’s now crouched down by the pond, observing a frog that’s started croaking at him. Does he know what a frog is? Okay, yes. Kunishige has him pretty well educated. But he’s probably never seen one up close.
Bruce tells him, “Studying for five minutes a day for a year or so does wonders.”
“Has it really been over a year already?” Shiba asks. He looks at his watch as if it would show him a calendar. He had a casual fling with Bruce and the translation apps on their phones for a few weeks before there was a mutual ghosting. Then, he got back with Azami. Everything feels short lived these days.
“No point reminiscing in the past.” Shiba really knows how to pick them. “I was in Japan for a quick stop, and I have to leave already.” Shiba’s throat starts to itch already at the mess this is going to be. “You should come to Gotham with me for a week or two.”
Shiba needs a cigarette in his mouth right about now. “I can’t. I have my friend’s son with me right now. I’m showing him around.”
“Where is he from?” Bruce asks. He doesn’t sound convinced by Shiba’s immediate response. Stubborn man. Shiba must have a type.
“It’s too complicated to explain over the phone.”
“I understand.” There’s a pause. “Bring him with you.”
Shiba almost laughs. “He doesn’t have a passport, and mine is at my ex’s house.” He could easily teleport to Azami’s place and grab it and leave without saying anything, but he doesn’t feel like seeing him right now.
Bruce doesn’t seem phased by the location of the passport or the fact that there’s no passport at all for Chihiro. “I can take care of that. If you want to come.”
Shiba looks at Chihiro who has grown bored of the frog already and is looking at Shiba, as if he’s ready to go home. Is he really about to put Chihiro on his first airplane without asking Kunishige first?
He did tell Shiba to show him around. He just didn’t specify any borders.
“Chihiro, want to go to America with me?” Chihiro shrugs. “He’s never seen a white person before. He might see you and scream.” A weird noise comes from the other side of the phone, and Shiba doesn’t know him well enough to know if that’s a chuckle.
“How old is he?” Bruce asks. He seems to be in a lighter mood now that Shiba has agreed.
“Eleven.”
“He can hang out with Jason. He’s not that much older.”
Shiba might not pay attention to some of the men he’s had flings with, but Bruce was one of the very few exceptions. “That’s not the same one from before.”
“It’s too complicated to say over the phone.”
Bruce agrees to send a car to Shiba’s apartment while they pack their things, and Chihiro who has been living from his suitcase is ready to go immediately. He also looks tired and like he might knock out any second now. Shiba checks his forehead for a potential fever, and Chihiro gets annoyed. He’s just having a sugar crash. Maybe he should’ve listened to the man who was a real father.
They get into the luxury car that was sent, and they’re taken to a private airport that Shiba recognizes as the last place he saw Bruce Wayne. He admits now that it was too romantic for someone like him to accompany a fling to the airport and watch the airplane take off, but he had wanted every second he had to give him back then. Bruce had all the money to give; it was his time that was a valuable currency.
It's dark out in the tarmac, and Shiba and Chihiro are led up airstairs and into the light of the open private jet door. Nobody asked for any identification or passports. Bruce did take care of it like he said he would.
Bruce is standing in the middle of the aisle with his hands behind his back. The man doesn’t smile much, but he does give Chihiro a polite one in acknowledgement before he approaches to shake Shiba’s hand.
“Good evening,” Bruce tells Shiba, the contact in their hands lingering. “I’m glad you said yes.”
“We had nothing better to do,” Shiba teases. “Right, Chihiro?” Chihiro shrugs again. Bruce makes himself Chihiro’s height and greets him with a much brighter smile.
“Hi, Chihiro. I’m Bruce. It’s nice to meet you,” he says in Japanese.
Chihiro looks at Bruce, a bit confused, and then at Shiba. He tells Shiba, “I can’t understand him.” Shiba knows Chihiro well enough to suspect that the little punk might be lying to get out of talking to strangers. But Chihiro has had a long day, so he lets it go.
Bruce, who understood Chihiro, says, “I see I still have a lot to learn.”
The workers on the jet settle Chihiro in a seat that reclines all the way back, and Shiba sits next to him during takeoff. Chihiro has always been really brave, but he doesn’t seem impressed at all by his first flight. He gets more excited about the train.
Once they can’t see the city lights below the clouds, Chihiro lays back and falls asleep almost immediately. Shiba drapes a blanket a worker brought over on him and watches him sleep for a few moments before going to find Bruce at the back of the jet.
He’s reading a book under a single dim light, and he looks up when he hears Shiba approaching him. Shiba sits down in the seat next to him and Bruce splays out one hand on the arm rest between them, picking up where they left off. Shiba puts his hand in his and reclines the seat back slightly.
Shiba feels the roughness of his hands, “You’re still fighting crime?”
“You’re not?” Bruce can probably tell Shiba’s hands lack callouses and paper cuts now. The only work they do now is holding up cigarettes to his mouth.
“I wasn’t really fighting crime towards the end anymore. They kept me in the office all day to stay out of trouble,” Shiba tells him.
Bruce says, because he remembers, “You weren’t really happy there anyways, were you?” It makes the buzz in Shiba’s chest disperse in a million directions. It was so easy for Bruce to understand. He just put it so simply. Azami and him could never put these feelings into real words. It was all just unexplained frustration.
“No, I wasn’t.” Shiba squeezes Bruce’s hand a little tighter, and he puts his book down on his lap. “What brought you to Japan?”
“I had business to take care of.”
“With the Wayne name or the other one?”
He can see a small smirk rise in the corner of his mouth. It’s been so long since Shiba has been near it. “The Wayne name.”
“That sounds boring,” Shiba whispers. Bruce turns to him, cocking his head to the side.
“It was.” The staff are at the front of the jet and probably under tight NDAs. Chihiro is fast asleep and will probably sleep for ten hours. It’s just the two of them again.
Shiba isn’t sure how he finds himself teleported into this private world with Bruce. He wonders if this is a lesson he has to learn. He leans to kiss him, quick and chaste. It doesn’t feel like a lesson. It feels like a break from it all.
Bruce gets them blankets and pillows, and they recline all the way back in their seats. Shiba lays on his side, staring at Bruce’s side profile, watching how he blinks up at the jet ceiling where the lights are now fully off. It’s quiet in this world, just the sound of the engine breaking through clouds.
Shiba reaches his hand over and puts the back of his fingers to Bruce’s sharp cheekbone. There’s an old cut there that Shiba recognizes from back then. It’s felt familiar always. It’s odd how this all feels familiar, stuffed and airy. It reminds him of his first nights of sleep after the war ended.
“The kid eats a lot,” Shiba warns him, already half asleep. He just wants to talk a little longer before he’s out. “He’s going to be polite and say he doesn’t want more food but just have them bring him more or he’s going to be hungry, and he gets angry when he’s hungry.”
“You know him very well.”
“I spend a lot of time with him.”
“You care for him a lot, don’t you?”
The words fall out of Shiba’s mouth so easily. “He’s not my son, but I’d give my life for him.”
Bruce is quiet for just a moment. “I understand.” Shiba falls asleep, and he feels Bruce kiss the corner of his mouth before nodding off himself.
They arrive in Gotham at nighttime. Chihiro slept for most of the flight except for the last three hours where he was served a variety of dishes that he made no comment on. But Shiba could tell he was enjoying the food by the barely there smile on his face. Shiba ate with him while Bruce took a couple of phone calls. To this day Shiba has no idea what Wayne Enterprises even sells. He knows more about Bruce’s extracurriculars.
The three of them get off the plane at a private airport and on the tarmac, the first thing Chihiro says, “It smells bad.”
“We’re in Gotham,” Bruce says. There are police helicopters in the distance somewhere and ambulance sirens echoing up to the hill where the airport is located. A car is approaching them from a distance to take them to Bruce’s home. Workers are handling all of their luggage.
Shiba puts his arm around Chihiro’s shoulder and tells Bruce, “I thought you lived somewhere nice.”
“I never said that. I said I lived in Gotham.” Bruce is cheeky when he wants to be. Shiba likes it although he’s going to have to deal with a lightly cranky Chihiro for the new few hours.
Shiba tells him, “Your son who is only a few years older than Chihiro better not be twenty.”
Bruce looks like he might say something. Something that might sound like he’s not my son but he only says, “Jason just turned thirteen. It’ll be fine.”
Chihiro who is a little tired leans his head on Shiba’s shoulder. Shiba has to manually instruct himself to not overreact. It’d be like scaring off a cat. Chihiro says so only Shiba can hear, “I don’t know English. How does he expect me to get along with his son?”
“Making friends is easier than you think,” Shiba reassures him.
Everything and everyone is loaded into the luxury car, and they’re taken through a small part of Gotham. Chihiro looks out the car window the entire time, watching people on the streets and in their cars. He looks a little scared and a little bit amazed at everything. Shiba has no idea how he’s going to explain this to Kunishige later because this probably wasn’t what he meant when he asked Shiba to show Chihiro outside of their protected water bubble. That’s a problem for later.
Leaving the buzz of the city behind, they’re taken to a manor a few miles away where they drive up a gated hill into a manor. Bruce is still on the phone as they get out of the car, apologizing every time he hangs up before immediately getting another call.
Chihiro stretches his arms and then whispers to Shiba, “Is this his house?” Shiba nods. “Is he a vampire?”
Shiba shakes his head. “No, he’s just emo.”
“Like Azami?”
“No,” Shiba says immediately, knowing that he already sounds defensive. He swears on everything he sees Chihiro smile before turning back to look at the manor. Brat.
Bruce gets off his phone, and he turns it off, tucking it into the pocket of his slacks. He tells them, “Okay. That should be the last call for a week. Let me show you inside.”
Shiba underestimated how much he and Bruce talked about their lives. He knows who Alfred is when he meets him. His office is just as he pictured it with the leather bound books and antique statues. The dining room has a painting of an autumnal landscape Bruce mentioned to Shiba because it reminded him of Japan at the time they met. He feels like he’s been lifted back in time to when they left off. That year gap does not exist.
They’ve been there for an hour before the kid who he assumes is Jason comes out of his room and he freezes when he sees Chihiro sitting in the living room, watching TV with subtitles. Shiba and Bruce are sitting at a table by a large window, watching the interaction. It’s like two alley cats running into each other, Chihiro perking up.
Jason doesn’t turn his head but tells Bruce, “Are you replacing me?” The kid tried to make it sound like a joke, but Shiba can tell it’s a fear he has.
“Never that, Jason. This is Chihiro, and this is Shiba. They’re only staying here for a week or two,” Bruce says. Shiba is glad the Kamunabi forced him to learn some English years ago. Jason looks Shiba up and down from the corner of his eye but ultimately ignores him. “Be nice to Chihiro. He didn’t grow up with other kids around.”
Jason crosses his arms before leaving for a moment. He comes back with a laptop, and he has a translating tool open. Shiba and Bruce watch how the computer asks Chihiro basic questions like his age in Japanese and Chihiro speaks back to the computer in Japanese, his words getting translated for Jason. Eventually, they land on video games as common ground and go to Jason’s room to play.
“Kids will be kids,” Shiba says.
Shiba who is a bit worried is assured by Bruce, “I’ll have Alfred keep a close eye on them. They’ll be fine.” Bruce then asks, “Would you like a drink?” Shiba can’t say no.
Throughout the week, Jason and Chihiro don’t understand a single word from each other’s mouths, but they play video games together and swim in the pool during the sunny afternoons. Shiba watches them in the water from Bruce’s bedroom window.
Shiba tells Bruce who is laying in his bed with a book, “They seem to be getting along really well.”
“The two things in common that they have seems to be helping,” Bruce says. “Video games and making fun of us.” Chihiro is still pretending that he can’t understand Bruce’s Japanese. Bruce thinks he genuinely can’t and goes over his Japanese dictionary at nights, but Shiba knows better.
“I heard from the translator you like men with dimples,” Shiba says and forces a smile, poking at his own cheek. “Is this why you hit on me?”
“You didn’t smile until a few hours after we met. You didn’t trust me.” Shiba walks over to the bed and lies down next to him, flat on his back. Bruce doesn’t let him smoke in here, but Shiba hasn’t felt the need to do it as much lately.
Shiba says, “You were some foreigner who wouldn’t leave me alone and asking me questions about my job that I hated talking about and wasn’t supposed to talk about.”
“I knew you hated your job when you started spilling secrets,” Bruce tells him. He puts his book on the nightstand and rests his head on a hand as he stares at Shiba. Bruce isn’t outwardly affectionate in the daylight, so he gains a staring problem when the sun is out. Not that Shiba doesn’t like being admired. “I felt a little guilty about it.”
“Is that why you told me your secrets?”
“That and I never thought I’d see you again.”
Shiba sucks at the inside of his cheek. He asks, “Did you really have a business meeting in Japan last week?”
“Yes. But it could’ve been an email.” Shiba smiles, looking to the side at him. Bruce’s jawline is tense like always. It’s difficult to soften him up. Shiba doesn’t know how he feels about it when he doesn’t even know why they’re starting all of this up again. Maybe it’ll end in the same manner again.
But that doesn’t matter right now. Shiba is here in Gotham with him, and he gets to kiss him as much as he’d like. Bruce reaches over and twirls the front piece of Shiba’s hair in his finger, letting it fall gently on his face before repeating the motion. It surprises Shiba a little, but he lets it happen.
Bruce surprises him again and says, “You should stay longer.”
Shiba snorts. “You’re crazy. I have to take the kid back to his dad.”
“Take him and then come back.” Before Bruce can pick up the strand again, Shiba puts his hand in his, locking their fingers together.
“You must be really lonely if you want to keep a sleazebag like me around.” They only find each other when they’re this alone. It feels good to be together. Like temporarily keeping a broken scale balanced.
“You’re good company.” Shiba thinks Bruce is, too.
The days in Wayne Manor are long because Shiba savors every second of it. Chihiro and Jason are in bed by nine because they’re running around all day, and Bruce disappears into the night the second the bat signal is in the sky. He leaves Shiba allegedly clueless in the bedroom to sleep.
But he can’t sleep well without him there. It’s no different laying in a bed alone in Japan than laying in bed here. He wants someone’s black hair back in his face, the softness of healed scar tissue under his finger pads. He doesn’t realize how touch deprived he is back under someone’s thumb.
Shiba drifts in and out of sleep until he hears a lot of yelling. He blinks a couple of times. He checks the time on his phone, and it’s two in the morning. He hears the yelling again. It’s Bruce and Jason going back and forth.
He gets out of bed and heads down the stairs, following the aggravated English sentences into Bruce’s study.
Bruce is firm with his words, “I’m not saying you can’t make mistakes, but I’m saying you should’ve known better.”
“It wasn’t even a mistake!” Jason defends himself. “It was an accident! He wanted water, and I was being a good host! He taught me the word, mizu. Right Chihiro, mizu?”
Shiba turns the corner and he can see all three of them standing, facing each other. Chihiro is looking up at Bruce in his bat suit in quiet admiration, but neither Jason or Bruce seem to notice in the middle of their debacle.
Jason repeats, “Chihiro, hello?”
Bruce asks in Japanese, “Chihiro, whose idea was to come down so late in the night?”
“Mine,” Chihiro replies, suddenly able to understand Bruce’s Japanese perfectly. “I wanted water. I am sorry if I caused an inconvenience.” Even Bruce seems a little stunned because Chihiro has not said that many words to him combined the entire time there.
Bruce’s shoulders relax. “It’s okay. Are you good with secrets?” Shiba thinks, yeah he doesn’t know anyone, who would he tell?
“Yes.”
“Okay. I trust you to keep mine then.” Chihiro’s eyes sparkle with respect towards Bruce. Maybe Shiba should put on a costume and Chihiro will like him better.
Shiba asks, “Is everything okay here?” They all turn to look at him.
Bruce removes his cowl, revealing a lightly bruised cheekbone that shows he’s been in a fight that night and has lived to talk about it. Show off. “We’re okay.”
“Cool,” Chihiro whispers, not blinking as he studies Bruce’s suit. “Does the cape get in the way?”
Bruce lifts it up, exposing the width of it. Chihiro steps back to look at the entire thing. There are stars in the boy’s eyes. “No. I’ve learned how to move with it.”
“Cool,” Chihiro says again, this time a little louder. Bruce seems pleased, and Jason looks a little bit happy that Chihiro thinks his dad is so cool.
Not that he’s jealous or anything but Shiba suggests Chihiro go back to bed, and Bruce sends Jason off behind him after saying a few, much kinder words to him. The kid looks happy as he goes off to sleep.
Shiba looks Bruce up and down and asks, “This is the suit?”
“This is the suit.” Shiba puts his hand on the chest plate, Bruce watching him closely.
“I like it. A lot.” Shiba then adds, “Chihiro did, too.”
Bruce smirks. “Are you jealous?”
“I don’t get jealous,” Shiba says, maybe a little unconvincing. He wants to add, Azami is the one that gets jealous. But he’s not relevant right now. Until four seconds later when his phone is ringing, and he checks it. He forwards the call when he sees the name. “Let’s go to bed.” Bruce looks a little suspicious, but he doesn’t say anything. Enough secrets had been spilled that night.
Bruce goes to put his suit away while Shiba heads back to the bedroom. Azami calls two more times before Shiba attempts to turn off his phone, and he accidentally ends up answering the call. He has no choice now.
“What do you want?” Shiba asks Azami, aggravated with him. This is the first time Azami and him talk since they broke up a few months back.
“Where the hell are you guys?” Azami isn’t in a good mood either.
“Why do you care?”
“Because Kunishige is asking.” Horrible liar, still.
“It’s only been about eight days, and he’s gone longer without hearing from us so what’s really happening?”
There’s a small pause before Azami says, “I passed by your place to see if Chihiro wanted a break from you, but the neighbors said you hadn’t been back in days.” Shiba’s face turns red. He has multiple options here. Flirt and ask if it was really Chihiro he was there for or ask him why he thinks he’s so annoying Chihiro would need a break from him. But he’s never been much of a fast thinker when it comes to Azami.
“Creep!” It’s the first word he can think that just might bother Azami. “You have no basic respect for my privacy.”
“At least I don’t ask an eleven year old about my ex.”
“Yeah, you go ask his dad!”
“Togo,” Bruce’s voice comes from the doorway. He’s back without the bat suit on. “Who is that?”
“Who’s calling you that?” Azami’s voice is heavy. He asks, “Is that who I think it is? Togo, are you seriously in-,” and Shiba hangs up immediately. Too many men he’s slept with are calling him Togo at the same time, and it’s overwhelming.
Shiba tells Bruce as he properly turns off his phone this time. “Don’t worry. It’s just someone annoying.”
“Your cheeks are flushed.” Bruce seems to be more amused than anything.
“With anger,” Shiba crosses his arms, the silent phone tight in his grip.
Bruce approaches him, still smiling. “You don’t seem the angry type.”
“When I’m tested. I can be.” Bruce’s nose is now touching his.
“I just don’t believe you,” Bruce says and kisses him.
Between kissing, Shiba tells him, “Just don’t get me angry.”
“Noted.”
In the morning, Shiba gets a phone call to Wayne Manor’s landline. Alfred holds the house phone out to him while him and Bruce are eating breakfast with the kids who are talking about their plans for the day with the translator.
“Hello?” Shiba answers.
“Shiba, did you take my son to fucking Gotham, New Jersey?”
They get sent back on the private jet that afternoon. Chihiro and Jason are a little sad saying bye to each other on the tarmac. There’s no way for them to safely keep in contact, so this might be the last time they see each other. But kids are hopeful, and using the translator for the final time, they talk about what they might do together in Tokyo one day.
Bruce is subtle about holding Shiba’s hand as he stands next to him, his side pressed to him.
“See you later?” Shiba asks him.
“Yeah,” Bruce says, squeezing his fingers. Shiba’s type is bad liars.
Years later.
Jason Todd is dead.
Kunishige Rokuhira is dead.
The passage of time when your life is always at risk is a funny thing. Every day feels like a year to Shiba because he makes it a habit to appreciate every morning stretch, every cup of coffee, and every pack of cigarette. He picked that up after watching so many of his young comrades die in the war.
But since Kunishige has died, time speeds up and slows down. It feels like it moves in a loop. Some weeks feel like two days, and some days feel like a full month. Shiba doesn’t know what he’s doing with Chihiro in his apartment, both of them circling Enten in their grief. It’s become a mission to do something deadly, following the trail of violence those killers left behind.
Some days are a little different. Some days Azami goes over and checks on them both. Him and Azami aren’t together, but they don’t have it in them to fight each other or for each other. Sometimes they will fall asleep together on the couch, and they will hold hands, but Azami will leave without another word. It’s all too dull right now.
A sudden phone call in the morning startles Shiba. He’s been collecting information from a variety of people and he feels that any phone call now can tell him who killed Kunishige, maybe give Chihiro even just an inch of peace in that abyss in his chest.
But he sees the +1 code in front of the number, and it kicks a rare smile out of him.
“Hello,” Shiba answers.
“Hi.” Bruce sounds jetlagged but also like he’s trying to sound approachable. “I happen to be in the neighborhood, and I wanted to see if an old friend would like to meet me for coffee?”
Shiba is in his kitchen, alone, and he looks down the hallway where Chihiro is still sleeping in the bedroom he’s moved into. “How about I make you a coffee instead?”
Bruce is at Shiba’s in less than an hour. He stands at the door with a box of chocolates, and Shiba recognizes them the ones Chihiro and Jason would eat by the pool. Chihiro spoke about those chocolates to Kunishige once he stopped being mad and was open to hearing about the trip.
They smile kindly at each other. There is no pressure or expectations right now. Just two old friends reuniting.
“It’s been a while,” Shiba says and invites him in. Bruce knows better than to leave his shoes on and hands Shiba the box of chocolates to take off his shiny oxfords.
“For you and Chihiro. And whoever else you’d like to share way.” Bruce is subtle about asking Shiba if he’s with anyone right now. Bruce has a long, black trench coat on and he takes it off to hang on the coat rack before Shiba leads him to the kitchen table.
They fix themselves over cups of coffee each, drinking quietly. Bruce looks like he’s aged ten years, and Shiba feels like he has, too. He wonders if Bruce can also see it on him. The familiar cloud that hangs over them. Does the rain it pours taste like guilt, too?
Bruce asks first, “Are we both in mourning?”
“Can you tell?” Shiba asks.
“There’s a certain weight in the air.”
Shiba takes a long drink from his coffee before he’s able to say, “Chihiro’s dad got killed, and he’s been with me ever since.”
Bruce says, “I’m sorry. I know he meant a lot to you.” Bruce knows Shiba has been fighting for the Rokuhiras for so long. There’s a piece of his identity asking how far he’s willing to keep fighting until he’s unrecognizable. “How’s Chihiro?”
Shiba can almost laugh at himself. “I feel like I’m fucking everything up with him. His anger is going to run him to the ground, but I don’t have it in me to stop him because I carry the same anger. It’s easier to help him.”
“Help him what?”
“Seek revenge.” Bruce gets the entire picture in that moment. Shiba doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. He doesn’t want to face what he’s creating. He still has time. It just started. He can change Chihiro’s mind one of these days, he hopes. He can change his own mind. Chihiro will never have to spill as much blood as he did when he was running loose in the war.
Shiba then asks, “What happened with you, old friend?”
Bruce puts the coffee down, and he’s unable to look Shiba in the eye. “Jason died a little over a year ago now.”
It’s a long and soft spoken conversation. Bruce talks so fondly of Jason, as if he were alive. It’s how Chihiro speaks of Kunishige. Jason and Bruce weren’t getting along before he died, and Shiba admires Bruce for still being able to breathe despite it all.
“This is easier said than done but you can’t hold onto the fact that you weren’t speaking when he died,” Shiba tells him. “Because the next time you saw him, there was always going to be a chance of you two going back to acting like nothing happened. You two loved each other to the very end. I think that’s what counts.”
Bruce drinks from his coffee. He doesn’t tell Shiba he’s right or wrong, but Shiba hopes he can go home feeling a little better now.
The door down the hall opens, and they both turn to see Chihiro standing there. He looks a little confused, but he recognizes Bruce after a few more seconds.
Shiba motions him over, “Come over and sit with us. I’ll make you tea.” Chihiro nods and goes to sit at a chair diagonal to Bruce while Shiba gets up and goes to heat up the kettle again. He listens to them talk.
“Hi Chihiro,” Bruce says. “It’s been a while. You’ve gotten a lot taller.” His Japanese is solid now. He wonders if Chihiro remembers that he pretended not to understand it at one point.
“Hi, Mr. Wayne. How is Jason?” Chihiro asks. Jason was one of Chihiro’s first friends. Or his first friend, really. Even if it was for less than two weeks, Chihiro made friends with someone who couldn’t even speak the same language as him and that made the entirety of Japan a little less scary for him. For that, they owe Jason a lot.
Bruce has to break the news a second time, “He passed a little while ago.” Chihiro can’t get more heartbroken than what he already is, but it’s another blow nonetheless.
“I’m really sorry to hear that,” Chihiro tells him. “I always hoped I could see him again.”
“He would’ve like that,” Bruce says. He clears his throat. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m alright. My dad died three months ago,” Chihiro tells him. Shiba stays in the kitchen, making eye contact with Bruce. Shiba decides not to step in. Bruce is more gentle than he thinks.
“I’m sorry for your loss,” Bruce tells Chihiro. “I lost my parents young, too.”
They’re both silent for a little while. The water in the kettle starts to boil, and Shiba grabs the green tea bag out of the box for Chihiro’s drink.
Chihiro breaks the silence between them and asks, “How did you do it?” Bruce has to think on it for a moment.
“I think I went about things the wrong way. You can’t let it consume you, okay? You can be better than me.” Chihiro doesn’t look like he will listen to the mirror in front of him. But he nods to be polite anyways because that’s who he is. He’s already better than both the men in the room who have seemingly failed their boys.
Bruce stays for a few more hours before he gets a phone call that says he already has to go back to America. There are no flirty signals with Shiba. They’re just friends now. Anything else would get too messy, and that’s the way life is. They wish each other luck before they part ways.
It’s not until nighttime when Shiba is watching the news and smoking his bedtime cigarette that he looks over at the entryway and realizes Bruce left his coat. He pulls out his phone and goes into his call history, finally adding the number to his contacts- just in case.
You left your black trench coat here -Shiba
Tell Chihiro he can have it. He’ll grow into it one of these days.