Work Text:
Takuto gotten used to having a variety of people in different occupations in the back seat of his taxi. Bakers, sommeliers, lawyers… Name an occupation, and Takuto can say they needed taxi. And Takuto has no problems giving a ride to anyone, provided they have funds for his service.
A salesman being one of the occupations sitting in the back seat is something Takuto can now add to the list. The salesman hailed Takuto at a good moment too; he had just gotten out of his lunch break, and was just aimlessly driving. Seeing the salesman with his carry-on bag on his shoulder, waving his free hand into the middle of the street had Takuto on instinct, pulling up to the curb, and allowing the other man in.
The salesman is quite tall; he’s almost or is actually 182 centimeters, going by Takuto’s estimate. He is wearing a purple suit, with an interesting tie design of chains and handcuffs. It gives off very late 1990s and early 2000s aesthetics.
And of course, no salesman look can’t be complete without a suitcase holding whatever that needs to be sell.
Takuto wouldn’t have mind striking a short conversation with the salesman when the drive began. But there’s something about the other man that has Takuto hesitating.
It isn’t due to salesman’s forehead scars hidden by his bangs. Nor it is also slightly scarred, callus hands that Takuto suspect came from years of fights. It’s not even the way the salesman spoke when asking him to go to the train station (slightly curt and to-the-point).
No, it’s the intensity of the salesman’s eyes. The way the salesman is staring at the rear-view mirror at Takuto, all while casually talking on his truly out-of-date cellphone to his wife —she called abruptly, and the man quickly entered a sweet conversation about the family’s new cat and what cat food he should eat— it’s a bit frightening. It’s frightening, and almost familiar.
Where has he seen that intensity before? Takuto feels it’s on the tip of his tongue.
Takuto couldn’t think on the question longer, for the salesman is ending his conversation.
“I’ll see you and Takashi when I get back home,” says the salesman, closing his eyes, smiling softly. “Take care now.”
The salesman reopens his eyes, and presses a button on his phone to end the conversation. The other man once again, stares at the rear-view mirror, at Takuto himself.
“So…” begins Takuto slowly, “your family has a new member in the household. If you don’t mind me asking, is the cat a stray you picked up from the neighborhood and gave a new home?”
“I didn’t do the picking up,” answers the salesman, chuckling a little. “My son did that. He picked up a random stray during his stay in Tokyo last year.”
“Your son was in Tokyo last year?” Well, color Takuto intrigue. “I thought that—”
“I live in Tokyo? Oh no. I live in Mikage-cho. It’s a good place to live and raise a family. My job just had me make a short visit here. I also had to visit an associate of sorts to thank him for taking in our son last year. I never wanted my son in Tokyo, but circumstances made it so. You know, just thinking about it has me wanting to punch that particular son-of-a-bitch who basically made it so! If that bastard wanted a real attack on him…”
The salesman curls one of his hands into a fist, and smack it into his other hand. The intensity of his eyes becomes ten-fold.
Takuto gulps at the sight of it. He hopes it wasn’t audible of a sound.
“Let me tell you,” continues the salesman, “that Takashi’s mother and I busted our asses off so our kid can have a better future than either of us had. Especially me. We worked hard and are still working hard for him. We made sure was taken care of since he was born. We made sure to taught Takashi when young to learn right from wrong, to have a sense of justice. And we achieved that. Our Takashi is a good, outstanding teenager.”
The salesman’s mouth curls into a scowl. “And some asshole politician decided to ruin Takashi’s reputation by painting him a criminal. Accused our kid of assault, when the politician himself was the one who assaulting a poor woman. That fucker used his influences and powers to make Takashi the villain!”
Asshole politician accusing a teenager of an assault? Teenager picking up a stray cat? There’s no way—
“Mikage-Cho was split into two,” the salesman continues his tale, disturbing Takuto from his thoughts. “Half believe the politician; half believed my wife and my words of our son good nature. In the end, we send him to Tokyo to start his first year of high school. He stayed with the associate I mention before. I almost wished we hadn’t. I was worried about my son, and how he was going to be treated. Pardon my language, but teenagers can be a bag of dicks of bullies to outsiders, especially those who aren’t seen as ‘proper’ in society. Adults even more so.”
Is it possible?
“Lucky for me, that never came to be.” The salesman’s voice suddenly got cheery. “Our son quickly found himself friends who believe his innocence. Not only that, the bastard politician was eventually arrested, and Takashi was vindicated of his actions not long afterwards. It was still a rough year, but knowing that some good came out of it—Ah, I see the station!”
Takuto doesn’t say anything as he pulls up to the curb. All he does is watch the salesman exit the taxi, the carryon over his shoulders once again, suitcase in his hand. The salesman quickly turns around, walking fast towards the station, giving his payment and brief thanks.
Takuto couldn’t help but quickly turn down the front passenger window. He just had to say something. Even if the salesman’s son isn’t who he thinks he is…
“I’m glad that everything turned out well,” shouts Takuto. “I hope everything continues to be well for your family. Especially for your son, Takashi. I—it’s not my place to say this, but I believe like you, he deserves better. And I’m glad to know that he has parents who care for him. Especially of a dad who would have done anything for his kid.”
The salesman turns back around towards Takuto. He briefly nods his head, and smiles. The intensity of his eyes now gone, replace by an unexpected softness And the softness of the man’s eyes is also familiar.
“I wish well for you too, sir. And thanks for listening. Didn’t mean to force it upon you. Have a good rest of your day.”
Takuto couldn’t help but smile as he watches salesman walk inside the station proper.
“Like son, like father,” says Takuto quietly, as he begins to drive away from the curb.