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This getaway is exactly what the two of them deserve after spending so long throwing themselves into work.
Shinobu has endured hundreds of sleepless nights as the head pharmacist, and Giyuu hasn’t had it any easier. Teaching a classroom full of nosy, curious kids is hardly ideal for a man who speaks about five words a day — and that’s him feeling generous. Imagine what it does to Tomioka Giyuu to talk almost non-stop to multiple students for five classes a day, forty-five minutes each; it has been nothing short of hell.
So yes, he couldn’t be more relieved to spend an entire week with Shinobu in this secluded little town, far away from practically everyone else.
The receptionist beams when they step up to the front desk to check in.
“Hi! You’re the Tomioka family, right? You’ve arrived just in time!”
After a ten-hour flight, the girl’s loud, overly high-pitched voice is the last thing Giyuu wants to hear first thing in the morning. Still, he stands quietly beside Shinobu and lets her handle the pleasantries, as always.
“Here, you just need to sign this… and here…” The girl spreads several forms across the counter, and Shinobu signs them right away in her neat, elegant handwriting. When she hands the papers back and accepts the key to their room, the receptionist bows politely and smiles again.
“We hope you and your brother enjoy your stay!”
Just like that, it feels as though a bucket of ice water has been dumped over Giyuu’s groggy mind. Brother? Him? What on earth…
“I am her husband.” After a full five seconds of stunned silence, Giyuu forces the words out. Four words. They haven’t even reached their room yet, and he has nearly used up his daily word count already.
The girl’s eyes widen ever so slightly in disbelief, but she quickly smooths her expression back into the polished smile expected of a five-star hotel employee. She steps back and bows once more.
“My apologies. That was my mistake for not checking carefully. We hope you enjoy your stay, Mr. and Mrs. Tomioka.”
But the damage is done all the same; the bubble of anticipation he has been nursing all morning for the five-star salmon daikon at the hotel’s main dining hall pops instantly. Even when Shinobu squeezes his wrist and practically drags him toward the elevator, the scowl etched onto his face refuses to go away. All he wants now is to crawl into bed and sleep for the entire morning.
“Come on, Giyuu.” Shinobu clicks her tongue in an attempt to coax him out of his sulk. For once, it doesn’t work; that’s how big of a tantrum he’s throwing now. “She only said that because we look so alike.”
Giyuu grumbles. “I have never heard anyone we know say we look alike.” Eleven words, which clearly mean he’s very, very upset. He notices Shinobu struggling to hold back a laugh and pointedly chooses not to glare at her.
Turns out his sister has been right all along. When she tells him, “You dress like an old man, Giyuu-kun,” perhaps she doesn’t mean it as some sort of sister-brother teasing as he had hoped. Time and again, the hurtful comments from strangers only point to one undeniable truth: his fashion sense is a disaster.
If he hears someone call him Shinobu’s brother – or worse, her fucking uncle – one more time, he might genuinely consider locking himself in a basement for the rest of his life. So, after much painful deliberation and even more self-encouragement, he finally convinces himself to visit a clothing shop alone the next morning while Shinobu is still asleep. The mere thought of stepping into a fashion store without his wife sends goosebumps across his skin, but Giyuu tells himself he will manage.
____
Turns out it isn’t nearly as bad as he’d imagined. Giyuu arrives at the shop a little past nine just as business is picking up, which means he has the undivided attention of every staff member on the floor. His awkward stammering doesn’t seem to bother them in the slightest; after some hesitant browsing and far too much nodding, he manages to settle on a few simple casual shirts and a pair of jeans that, according to the sales assistants, “really highlight his toned muscles.”
They even push his unruly bangs back and style them neatly away from his face. Giyuu barely recognizes the man staring back at him when he looks in the mirror.
Still, the staff all assure him it looks good, and if they say so, then it must be true. He swipes his credit card without a second thought and leaves with several neatly packed shopping bags in hand.
As he opens the door to their hotel room, Giyuu half expects Shinobu to gasp in pleasant surprise. After all, on his way back, more than a few women had told him the exact words he’s always wished to hear from his wife.
“What a handsome young man!”
“Are you visiting from out of town? I’ve never seen you before—and I would definitely remember someone as good-looking as you.”
“Can I have your number?”
(That last one, he declines politely. Two women having his number, namely his wife and his sister, are more than enough, thank you very much.)
What actually happens, however, completely escapes his understanding: Shinobu takes one look at him, strides forward, snatches the shopping bags from his hands, and drops them onto the floor. Then she grabs him by the front of his shirt and yanks him forward. Before he can even process what’s happening, a rush of warm, floral scent overwhelms his senses. Her lips press firmly, hotly, against his.
“Bed,” she murmurs against his mouth. “Now.”
“What?” Giyuu is dumbfounded, though his arms instinctively come up to circle her waist. “Didn’t we already… last night…?”
“Shut up,” she snaps. “Why are you so talkative today?”
Any further protest (more like confusion rather than protest, actually) dies in his throat after that.
_____
Later, when they are soaking in the bath and rinsing off before heading out for the day, Shinobu speaks almost nonchalantly.
“Throw them away.”
“Throw what?”
“The clothes you bought this morning.”
Giyuu stares at her, aghast. “But they cost a thousand dollars!!”
“Then give them to Shinazagawa or something. I don’t care.”
He had woken up early on purpose. Spent hours speaking to strangers. Let them fuss over his hair. Let them study him from every angle just to pick out what suited him best. And all of that effort, every little bit of it, was for her, so that he could look like a husband she would be proud to stand beside and not some tired, wrinkly uncle.
If it weren’t for Shinobu, he wouldn’t have bothered at all in the first place. So the fact that she dismisses all that effort without so much as a glance…
His throat tightens as he presses his face against her damp shoulder. “Why? I just… I don’t want you to feel embarrassed by me.”
Her fingers slip between his as she laces their hands together beneath the water. Her voice softens noticeably when she senses his distress. “Did people stare at you more than usual today?”
“A little,” he admits.
“Did girls ask for your number?”
Shinobu really is an amazing woman; she knows everything without him needing to explain. “Yes,” he says. “They did. But why?”
She turns her face away at that. “Then no more fancy clothes. Just wear what I buy for you, Giyuu.”
“I…”
“Trust me. It’s for your own good.”
He still doesn’t understand, not at all. But if his wife says so, there must be a good reason. So he nods, letting the matter drop, and rests his damp forehead against hers once more.