Chapter Text
A perfectly ordinary morning. Akai Shuichi was having breakfast in the kitchen, while Furuya Rei was at the front door, putting on his shoes and getting ready to leave for work.
‘I’m heading out,’ Furuya said once he was ready, picking up his briefcase and calling towards the kitchen.
There was no response. From the kitchen came only the faint clink of a spoon against a bowl.
‘I’m heading out!’ Furuya called again.
Still, there was no reply.
Furuya dropped the briefcase, kicked off his shoes, and stomped into the kitchen. He slapped a hand down on the table and said to Akai, who was eating a bowl of porridge, ‘Are you hard of hearing or something?’
Akai set his spoon down and looked up at Furuya with a grin. ‘Who were you talking to just now? I had no idea you meant me.’
Furuya choked on the spot, his face flushing red. He turned to leave, but Akai caught him by the arm. Knowing he was in the wrong, Furuya obediently let Akai cup his face and place a kiss on his lips.
‘Take care on your way.’
‘…Yeah, yeah… honestly, you’ve got porridge on my face…’ Furuya muttered as he headed back towards the front door.
Akai wasn’t trying to be difficult. It was simply a small knot he carried in his heart. Ever since they got together, Akai had immediately started calling Furuya ‘Rei’ - and he was genuinely pleased about it, because now he was the only one who did. It felt like something that belonged to him alone. And yet, hard as it might be to believe, Furuya had never once addressed Akai directly since they were together. Not a single time. It was, in fact, perfectly possible; when you’re speaking face to face, you don’t actually need to call someone by name. Akai couldn’t help feeling a little dissatisfied. He had brought it up with Furuya a few times, but each time it was neatly sidestepped or brushed off. He suspected that Furuya still couldn’t bring himself to say ‘Shuichi’, or any other more intimate form of address, and at the same time didn’t want to keep calling him ‘Akai’ in that stiff, businesslike way. So one time, he suggested that they might follow the usual family convention - starting from a child’s point of view - and have Furuya call him ‘Daddy’, the way they did with Haro.
Furuya gave him a look that was hard to put into words. ‘So you’d call me that way too, then?’
‘Sure,’ Akai said. ‘You call me Daddy, and I’ll call you Papa.’
Furuya nearly blurted out How ridiculous?! but, feeling guilty, he only shot Akai one of his trademark eye-rolling glares and walked off.
Jokes aside, Akai had never once tried to force Furuya. Much as it unsettled him, he was still willing to give way. He understood that sometimes a name was simply hard to say out loud.
Because Akai, too, had someone he could not properly name.
The person who had mattered most in Furuya’s past.
What should he be called? ‘Hiro’ was clearly out of the question - that would be crossing a line. ‘Hiromitsu’ didn’t feel like something Akai had any right to use either. ‘Morofushi-san’, ‘Officer Morofushi’ - those were just awkward in their own way. Altogether, it was an uncomfortable question. If he had to be honest, the name Akai felt most able to use was still ‘Scotch’. Only now, this name was no longer appropriate.
So when he truly had no choice but to mention him, Akai would simply say ‘him’. Furuya would understand anyway.
In reality, if Furuya didn’t bring it up himself, Akai would never dare say anything about Morofushi Hiromitsu. The difficulty of naming him was part of it, but more than anything else, Akai was afraid of what might happen if he misjudged things even slightly. On ordinary days, that could be set aside, but at certain key moments - such as 7 December - he found himself unable to decide whether to speak or to stay silent, caught completely between the two. So far, Furuya had shown nothing unusual, behaving just as he always did, yet Akai could not quite shake his unease. They had once agreed to remember this person together, and on days that mattered so much, it didn’t feel right to Akai that he had done nothing at all. It felt disturbingly like saying the right things and failing to live up to them.
Ah - come to think of it, 7 December… that was today. It seemed that this morning, this day, was not quite as ordinary as it had first appeared.
Akai thought back over Furuya’s recent behaviour. There had been no obvious emotional fluctuations; over the past few evenings, he had even been sitting down with his guitar now and then, looking in rather good spirits. As for what ought to be done, Akai decided to wait until Furuya came home and see how things unfolded.
At dusk, as soon as Furuya got home, he disappeared into the storage room, seemingly searching for something. Akai stole a glance from the doorway, and it looked as though Furuya was rummaging through a few cardboard boxes containing old belongings from his days at university and the police academy. After a while, Furuya suddenly stopped what he was doing and began to look quietly at something in his hands.
Akai let out a breath and scratched his head. It seemed Furuya needed a little space, so perhaps he should wait patiently by the door… or would it be better to go in and keep him company?
It wasn’t that Akai didn’t remember the departed. Rather, he felt that remembrance didn’t need to take the form of any particular ritual. In the steady passage of time, in the flow of everyday life - a turn of the head, a casual glance - that person’s presence would surface on its own, much as the name ‘Scotch’ would rise naturally to mind. It might be while he was watching Furuya busy himself in the kitchen, or while he was cleaning his rifle; more often than not, there was no particular reason at all. This did not trouble Akai; if anything, it gave him a sense of calm acceptance. He had never spoken of it to Furuya, but he knew that, like Furuya, he would never forget - not for the rest of his life.
Akai was standing by the door to the storage room, lost in thought, when it was suddenly pushed open and Furuya stepped out. He nearly ran straight into Akai standing there and jumped in surprise.
‘What are you doing standing there?’
Akai came back to himself, unsure how to answer, when Furuya suddenly exclaimed, ‘Oh - look at the time. We need to get dinner started.’ And with that, he headed for the kitchen.
Akai reached out and caught hold of him. ‘It’s OK, I can cook instead… if you’re tired, you could take a break, or maybe go back to the storage room for a bit…’
Furuya turned back. ‘Come on… It’s only that dinner’s a little late - do you really have to make a thing of it?’
‘No, no…it’s not that…’ Akai said, unusually flustered. ‘I mean, if you need a bit more time… given what day it is…’
Furuya looked at Akai. In contrast to Akai’s disquiet, his expression was remarkably calm.
‘Oh… no, nothing like that. I was just looking for this.’
Furuya took something out of his trousers pocket and held it out to Akai. It was a guitar pick.
‘This old one just feels better in the hand. I’d been meaning to find it for a few days now. I came across some old photos while I was looking and just couldn’t help leafing through them.’
‘Is that so…’ Akai said, unable to hide his surprise. ‘I thought you might have been -’
Furuya slipped the pick back into his pocket, his expression thoughtful.
‘You don’t really have to do anything special to remember someone, when you’re already thinking about them every day… that’s enough, isn’t it?’
Akai felt the tension ease in his chest. ‘Yes… I agree.’ He smiled. ‘Alright, let’s cook together. It’ll be quicker.’
‘Hey…’
Akai heard Furuya speak softly as he was putting on an apron in the kitchen. When he turned around, he saw that Furuya was once again holding the guitar pick in his palm, studying it intently.
‘Actually… this is a pick he and I used together…’
Akai turned fully to face Furuya.
‘Do you think what I’m doing now… looks like I’m remembering him?’
‘Mm… it does…’
Furuya closed his hand around the pick. ‘Then let’s call it that. Some things are better off having a name… don’t you think?’
Akai walked over and slipped an arm around Furuya’s shoulders.
‘And some things,’ he said, ‘if you know what they are, don’t need a name at all.’
*The End*
Move to next chapter to see an illustration created by ChatGPT for this work -