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_Reunion
3 years had passed since Kyouji disappeared without a word.
Three years of Satomi convincing himself it didn’t matter, that a fourteen-year-old kid and a thirty-nine-year-old yakuza had never really belonged in the same story to begin with.
Yet here he was.
Satomi sat in one of the airport chairs, suitcase beside his feet, staring at the name card in his hands. He turned it slowly between his fingers.
I thought I was ready to leave everything behind.
Osaka. Junior High School. Old memories.
Then why was he still holding this?
“Maybe I should just keep it as an amulet to ward off evil,” Satomi muttered.
“What a shabby name card.”
The voice came from beside him. Satomi froze. Slowly, he looked up.
Kyouji was standing there.
For a moment, Satomi could only stare.
“Hold on,” Kyouji said casually, reaching into his pocket. “Let me give you a new one, Satomi-kun. I just got some new cards made. These ones even have a shiny insignia.”
Satomi blinked.
“…Hello?” Kyouji-san added, waving the card slightly.
Satomi’s voice finally came out.
“I thought you were dead, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji-san blinked.
“That’s the first thing you say?”
“But you disappeared!” Satomi said. “You completely lost contact!”
Kyouji-san scratched the back of his neck, smiling faintly.
“Satomi-kun, you were in your youthful days back then. It would’ve been pitiful if an old man like me bothered you.”
He paused and then sat on the chair.
“…But honestly, I really wanted to see you. I really do.”
Satomi didn’t know what to say. Then Kyouji tilted his head slightly.
“Oh! Do you want to see something interesting?”
Before Satomi could answer, Kyouji rolled up his sleeve. Just above his hand, dark ink stretched across his skin. Two characters.
Satomi’s name.
“I was named the worst singer,” Kyouji said lightly. “So I got tattooed. ‘Satomi.’”
Satomi stared.
“You said before,” Kyouji continued, “that if I told the boss I hated something I actually liked, he might tattoo that instead. Didn’t you suggest that to me?”
Satomi slowly lifted his eyes.
“You…You like my name?”
Kyouji-san shrugged.
“Well, I was getting tattooed anyway. Words are better than pictures.”
He glanced at the tattoo.
“I couldn’t think of any words I especially liked. But the boss’s tattoo skills have improved. It’s starting to feel like a guilty pleasure.”
Satomi was still trying to process the fact that Kyouji was standing right in front of him. Alive.
“Oh, by the way,” Kyouji said casually, “Are you flying to Haneda too? I have some business in Tokyo too.”
He leaned slightly closer.
“You’re starting college in spring, right? You’re going to be a big brother now.”
Satomi immediately looked away.
Kyouji was too close.
“Satomi.”
Satomi ignored him. Kyouji tapped his left shoulder.
“Turn around, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi flinched.
“I can’t look at you right now, Kyouji-san,” he blurted.
Kyouji paused.
“…I see. It seems you dislike me.”
Then he chuckled quietly.
“But if I don’t ask you to teach me how to sing again, your face might be the next thing I get tattooed.”
Satomi stiffened.
“If that really happens,” he said without turning around, “I might actually cut ties with you forever.”
…………
After that day, their meetings began again. Not karaoke.
Whenever Kyouji had business in Tokyo, Satomi would receive a short message:
In Tokyo tonight. Free for dinner?
Sometimes he wondered why he always replied. Yet he did.
The first time, they met at a ramen shop near campus.
Kyouji sat across from him, sleeves rolled slightly, the tattoo on his hand visible whenever he reached for his chopsticks.
“You look tired, Satomi-kun,” Kyouji said.
“I have midterms, Kyouji-san.”
“That sounds scary, Satomi-kun.”
“It’s not scary, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji grinned. “You say that, but your face says otherwise, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi frowned and focused on his noodles.
It all felt strange. Here he was, a normal college student worrying about exams and assignments. Across from him sat a yakuza. Someone whose world ran on rules Satomi didn’t understand. Yet they were eating ramen together like nothing about it was unusual.
…………
The meetings continued occasionally.
A curry shop. A late-night diner. A quiet izakaya under the train tracks.
They never sang karaoke again. They just ate. Talked. Then separated.
Tokyo. Osaka. Tokyo. Osaka. A strange kind of relay.
…………
One evening, Satomi stared at Kyouji ’s tattoo again.
His name. Permanently there.
Why? Satomi thought. Why had Kyouji-san allowed it? Why show it so casually at the airport?
Every time Kyouji came to Tokyo… he always made time to see Satomi.
Is this the right thing to do?
………..
Finally, after months of this, Satomi spoke.
They had just finished dinner. Outside, the air was cold. Station lights flickered across the pavement.
“Kyouji-san,” Satomi said.
“Hm, Satomi-kun?”
“This is weird, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji tilted his head.
“Dinner, Satomi-kun?”
“No, Kyouji-san,” Satomi said, gesturing vaguely. “This.”
Kyouji waited.
“I’m just a normal person, Kyouji-san,” Satomi continued. “A college student.”
Kyouji said nothing.
“And you’re… you, Satomi-kun.”
A faint smile appeared on Kyouji’s face.
“That’s not very descriptive, Satomi-kun.”
“You know what I mean, Kyouji-san,” Satomi said quietly.
Their worlds were dangerously different. And there was no reason for them to keep meeting.
Before, there had been one, the karaoke competition. Now there was nothing.
“…So I think this should be the last time, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji-san studied him. Then nodded. “…Alright, Satomi-kun.” No argument. No teasing. Just acceptance.
……….
They walked toward the station. Neither spoke.
“Well, Satomi-kun,” Kyouji said quietly, “take care of yourself.”
Then he turned toward the ticket gates.
Satomi froze.
This was what he wanted. A clean ending. Normal life.
But suddenly, something in him panicked. His chest tightened.
Before he knew it, he ran. Without thinking, he ran forward and wrapped his arms around Kyouji from behind.
The hug was sudden. Almost desperate.
For a moment, neither moved. Satomi’s heartbeat thundered in his ears.
Why did I do that?
All the dinners. The messages. The times he had told himself it was meaningless.
The answer surfaced, painfully obvious.
“…Oh.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “I get it now, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji-san remained still. “…Get what, Satomi-kun?”
Satomi pressed his forehead against Kyouji-san’s back.
“I’ve liked you,” he said softly. “…All this time.”
_Confrontation
Satomi-kun’s arms wrapped around him from behind, sudden and warm.
Kyouji tensed for a fraction of a second, then didn’t move.
He’s hugging me.
He told himself it was fine. Casual. Innocent. Satomi-kun just… being affectionate. Nothing more.
Don’t think too much. Just let him do it.
Kyouji stayed silent, letting Satomi press against him. He felt the boy’s heartbeat, steady but fast, and tried not to let it affect him. Tried to remind himself: this was just a hug. Nothing else.
But… he noticed. Every subtle shift, every careful weight, every hesitation. Satomi-kun’s trust. His patience. His quiet insistence on being close.
Hmph. I’m not… attached or anything.
He almost laughed at himself. That would be ridiculous. He couldn’t like a boy. Couldn’t care that much.
And yet… every time Satomi-kun looked at him, smiled at him, or let him get this close… it tugged at him. Quietly. Insistently.
I’m not leading anything here. He repeated it firmly in his mind. I won’t decide. He decides. I follow. That’s all.
The hug lingered. Satomi breathed softly against him, and Kyouji resisted the urge to pull him closer. He wouldn’t admit it, couldn’t admit it, that letting go would be unbearable.
“…Oh.” Satomi’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I get it now, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji remained still.
“…Get what, Satomi-kun?”
When Satomi whispered, “…I’ve liked you, Kyouji-san. All this time,” Kyouji-san’s mind went blank for half a second.
Hm. That’s… interesting.
He could feel the weight of the confession, but he didn’t respond emotionally. Didn’t confirm. Didn’t deny.
That was it. No elaboration. No lingering words.
After a brief pause, Satomi pulled back slightly, his voice soft but firm:
“I… I should go home now.”
Kyouji didn’t say anything. He let the boy move, silent, unreadable. But inside, his chest tightened.
……….
One Week Later
It had been a week.
Kyouji stared at his phone.
The message thread with Satomi-kun was still the last thing on the screen. No new notifications. No messages. Just silence.
…Well, that’s normal, he told himself.
Satomi-kun was busy. College students were always busy. Midterms, assignments, friends.
Still, the quiet bothered him.
Kyouji leaned back in his chair and lit a cigarette.
Should I be the adult and contact him first this time?
The thought felt strangely heavy.
For someone who had handled negotiations, territory disputes, and dangerous jobs for years, this should have been simple. Just a message. Just a conversation.
But this was different.
Satomi-kun had confessed.
Kyouji still remembered the warmth of the hug. The quiet voice behind him.
“…I’ve liked you, Kyouji-san. All this time.”
Kyouji exhaled smoke slowly.
What am I supposed to do with that?
Ignore it?
Pretend nothing happened?
That felt cruel.
But if he acknowledged it too directly… he might drive Satomi-kun away.
Kyouji glanced at his hand.
The tattoo was still there. Satomi’s name, dark against his skin.
I don’t want to let him go.
The realization settled in his chest like a quiet weight.
Still… what should he say?
He picked up his phone.
Typed.
Deleted.
Typed again.
Deleted.
Finally, he sent something simple.
I have business in Tokyo this week. Should we meet?
The reply came faster than he expected.
For what?
Kyouji frowned slightly.
Dinner as usual.
There was a short pause.
Then the next message appeared.
I hate you.
Kyouji stared at the screen.
“…Well,” he muttered.
That went wrong.
He leaned back in his chair again, rubbing the back of his neck.
Maybe he should have said something else.
Maybe he should have acknowledged the confession.
Maybe-
The phone buzzed again.
Another message.
Where this time?
Kyouji blinked.
For a moment he just looked at the screen.
Then he let out a quiet laugh.
“…Kids these days,” he murmured.
Satomi-kun really was difficult.
But the tight feeling in Kyouji’s chest eased slightly.
He typed back.
Same ramen place near your campus, Satomi-kun?
He paused.
Then added another line.
Unless Satomi-kun hates that place too.
…………
Satomi closed his phone.
The screen went dark.
For a moment he just stared at his own reflection.
I hate you.
Why had he typed that?
He leaned back in his chair and ran a hand through his hair.
Kyouji-san…
Didn’t he say it clearly that day?
That would be the last time they met.
And yet Kyouji-san had messaged him as if nothing had happened. As if the hug, the confession, all of it had simply vanished.
Dinner as usual.
Satomi frowned.
Was Kyouji-san pretending it never happened?
Or… was he deliberately ignoring it?
The thought made his chest tighten.
Is he leading me on?
Satomi didn’t know.
He rested his elbows on the table and stared at the floor.
First things first.
What did he even want?
Did he want to date Kyouji-san?
The idea felt strange when he tried to picture it.
A college student and a yakuza. Walking around like a normal couple. Going to cafés. Watching movies.
Satomi couldn’t imagine it.
That doesn’t make sense.
But at the same time…
He didn’t want to stop seeing Kyouji-san either.
The thought of never meeting him again felt worse somehow. Like something important would quietly disappear from his life.
Satomi sighed.
So what is this?
Did he even like Kyouji-san romantically?
Or was it something else entirely?
He didn’t have an answer.
And that irritated him the most.
………….
The day finally came.
The ramen shop near campus was just as noisy as usual, filled with students and late workers escaping the cold evening air.
Satomi pushed the door open.
The smell of broth and soy sauce filled the room immediately.
Kyouji-san was already there.
Sitting at the same counter seat as before.
Sleeves rolled slightly. The tattoo visible on his hand.
He looked exactly the same.
Kyouji glanced up as the door opened.
Their eyes met.
“Ah,” Kyouji said casually. “Satomi-kun.”
Satomi walked over and sat down beside him.
“…Kyouji-san.”
For a moment, neither of them said anything.
It felt strangely familiar.
And strangely different.
Kyouji picked up the menu.
“What are you having, Satomi-kun?”
Satomi blinked.
“…Ramen.”
Kyouji nodded.
“Good choice, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi stared at him.
Kyouji-san is really acting like nothing happened.
It was irritating.
Confusing.
And somehow… relieving at the same time.
The shop owner shouted their order from the kitchen.
Kyouji rested his chin lightly on his hand.
“You look tired again, Satomi-kun.”
“I have classes, Kyouji-san.”
“Scary stuff, Satomi-kun.”
“It’s not scary, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji chuckled quietly.
Satomi looked down at the counter.
What are we even doing?
Next to him sat a yakuza.
A man twenty-five years older than him.
Someone who should have disappeared from his life years ago.
And yet here they were.
Eating ramen together.
Again.
Satomi glanced at Kyouji’s hand resting on the counter.
His name was still there.
Dark ink against skin.
Satomi looked away quickly.
Kyouji-san…
What are you thinking?
“Why did you message me again?” Satomi asked.
Kyouji paused mid-bite.
Ah.
Right. Satomi-kun had said that would be the last time they met.
Kyouji had completely forgotten about that part. He had been too preoccupied with the confession.
He set his chopsticks down.
“Because Satomi-kun said it was the last time,” Kyouji said casually. “So I wanted to confirm.”
Satomi stared at him.
“…Are you joking with me, Kyouji-san?”
He looked away, ears slightly red.
The ramen bowls arrived just then, steam rising between them.
For a moment neither spoke.
Satomi tried to focus on eating, but he could feel Kyouji beside him. Close. Too close.
Kyouji-san is impossible.
Kyouji leaned slightly toward him.
“Satomi-kun.”
Satomi froze.
“There’s broth on your face.”
“What?”
Before Satomi could react, Kyouji reached out and brushed his thumb lightly against the corner of Satomi’s mouth.
It was a simple gesture. Casual. Almost absent-minded.
But Satomi’s entire body locked up.
“There,” Kyouji said, pulling his hand back.
Satomi stared at the counter.
His ears burned.
Kyouji-san…
Why did that feel so..
His chest felt strangely tight.
He quickly lifted his bowl, pretending to drink the soup.
Kyouji-san does things like that so easily.
Like it meant nothing.
Like touching him was normal.
Satomi pressed the bowl to his lips longer than necessary.
His face was hot now. Definitely red.
This is bad.
He finally lowered the bowl and stared at the noodles.
Maybe…
Maybe he really did like Kyouji-san.
Not just in some vague, confusing way.
But like this.
Romantically.
The realization made his heart beat even faster.
Across from him, Kyouji glanced sideways.
“…Satomi-kun,” he said mildly.
“Yes, Kyouji-san.”
“You’re turning red again.”
Satomi immediately grabbed his water.
“I’m not, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji chuckled quietly.
“College must be stressful, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi refused to look at him.
This man is the worst.
When they finished eating, they stepped out of the ramen shop together.
The night air was cool.
Students walked past them in small groups, laughing, heading back toward campus or the station.
As usual, they started walking without really deciding where to go.
Side by side.
Satomi kept his hands in his coat pockets.
Kyouji-san is acting completely normal.
They talked about small things. Satomi’s classes. A professor he disliked. The weather in Osaka.
Nothing about the confession.
Nothing about the hug.
Nothing about that night.
It was almost irritating how easily Kyouji moved through the conversation.
Satomi tried to focus on the street ahead.
But every few steps, their shoulders brushed lightly.
Just for a second.
Then again.
Satomi became painfully aware of it.
Is he doing that on purpose?
No.
Kyouji-san was walking the same way he always did, relaxed, careless, long strides.
Satomi’s face felt warm again.
This is stupid.
Their shoulders brushed again.
Satomi immediately looked away.
Kyouji-san probably doesn’t even notice.
To him, it was nothing.
But Satomi could feel his heartbeat speeding up for no reason.
…………..
They eventually reached the station entrance.
People flowed past them toward the ticket gates.
“Well then,” Kyouji said lightly, stopping near the entrance. “Take care of yourself, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi nodded.
“…You too, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji turned slightly, preparing to leave.
Then, almost out of habit, he reached out and placed his hand on Satomi’s head.
Just like he used to.
A casual pat.
“Study hard, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi froze.
When he was fourteen, this had been normal.
Encouraging. Friendly.
Now..?
Now it felt completely different.
Kyouji’s hand was warm.
Too warm.
Satomi’s ears turned red almost instantly.
“K-Kyouji-san…”
Kyouji didn’t seem to notice anything strange.
He simply withdrew his hand.
“See you next time, Satomi-kun.”
He turned to go.
But before he could take more than a step-
Satomi grabbed the hem of his sleeve.
The movement was small, almost hesitant.
But it stopped Kyouji immediately.
Kyouji glanced down at the hand holding his sleeve.
Then slowly looked back at Satomi.
“…Satomi-kun?”
Satomi stared at the ground.
His grip tightened slightly.
He hadn’t planned to do that.
His body had just moved on its own.
His face was burning again.
“…Don’t,” Satomi muttered quietly.
Kyouji tilted his head.
“Don’t what, Satomi-kun?”
Satomi still wouldn’t look at him.
“…Don’t act like it’s normal, Kyouji-san.”
For the first time that evening, Kyouji fell silent.
The sleeve was still caught in Satomi’s fingers.
And neither of them moved.
………….
Kyouji glanced down at the hand gripping his sleeve.
Then he gently freed the fabric from Satomi’s fingers.
But he didn’t step away.
He simply stood there.
“…Do you want to go somewhere, Satomi-kun?”
Satomi hesitated.
For a moment it looked like he might let go and pretend nothing had happened.
Instead, Satomi grabbed Kyouji’s hand. And pulled.
Kyouji blinked.
“…Satomi-kun?”
Satomi didn’t answer. He just started walking.
Kyouji followed, long strides easily catching up with him.
After a few seconds, Kyouji chuckled softly.
“Satomi-kun… are you trying to kidnap a yakuza?”
Satomi didn’t turn around.
“…Just come with me, Kyouji-san.”
“Dangerous behavior, Satomi-kun.”
They walked for another block.
Then another.
Finally Satomi stopped in front of a familiar building.
Kyouji looked up at the sign.
Karaoke.
“…Oh.”
Satomi finally released Kyouji’s hand.
His face was slightly red again.
“I never saw you sang again after that time,” Satomi said quietly.
Kyouji hummed.
“That’s true, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi pushed the door open.
“So you should.”
Inside, the staff guided them to a small room.
The same kind of place they had first met years ago.
The door slid shut behind them.
For a moment neither of them spoke.
Satomi picked up the remote.
“…Sing.”
Kyouji raised an eyebrow.
“Commanding, Satomi-kun.”
“You’re the one who asked me to teach you before.”
“That was a long time ago.”
Satomi looked at him.
“…I’m asking again, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji studied him for a moment.
Then he laughed quietly and took the microphone.
“Well,” he said, stretching his shoulders slightly, “I suppose I can’t refuse my teacher.”
The music started.
Kyouji began singing.
His voice was… still terrible.
Satomi stared at him.
“…You didn’t improve at all, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji grinned mid-song.
“Harsh critic, Satomi-kun.”
But as Satomi watched him sing, something strange happened.
His chest felt warm.
Kyouji looked completely relaxed.
Carefree.
Like the dangerous world outside the karaoke room didn’t exist.
Satomi realized something then.
He liked this.
Being here with Kyouji.
Like this.
Watching him.
Laughing with him.
Maybe… that was enough.
Maybe that was what he wanted.
Across the room, Kyouji finished the song and lowered the microphone.
“…Well?” he asked.
Satomi sighed.
“…Still the worst singer, Kyouji-san.”
Kyouji laughed.
“Good. Then Satomi-kun still has a job.”
Satomi blinked.
“What job, Kyouji-san?”
Kyouji leaned back comfortably on the sofa.
“Teaching me.”
Satomi felt his face heat up again.
Kyouji continued casually.
“For as long as Satomi-kun wants.”
The karaoke machine hummed quietly in the background.
And Satomi realized something else.
Kyouji-san had never actually answered his confession.
But he hadn’t rejected it either.
And somehow…
Satomi was starting to understand what that meant.
…………………
The song ended.
Satomi lowered the microphone.
The screen switched to the next track automatically, soft instrumental music filling the room.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Satomi stared at the remote in his hand.
“…Kyouji-san.”
“Hm, Satomi-kun?”
Satomi hesitated.
“…That day,” he said quietly. “When I said I liked you.”
Kyouji didn’t interrupt.
Satomi looked down.
“You never answered.”
Silence settled in the small karaoke room.
Kyouji leaned back against the sofa.
“…Satomi-kun.”
“Yes, Kyouji-san.”
“You’re a college student.”
“I know, Kyouji-san.”
“You’ll graduate.”
“I know.”
“You’ll meet new people.”
Satomi frowned slightly.
“…What are you trying to say, Kyouji-san?”
Kyouji scratched the back of his neck.
For once, he looked slightly troubled.
“…I don’t know how to handle something like that, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi blinked.
“I’ve handled fights. Territory problems. Dangerous jobs,” Kyouji continued calmly.
“But this?”
He gestured vaguely between them.
“I have no idea what to do.”
Satomi stared at him.
“So,” Kyouji continued, “I decided something simple.”
Satomi waited.
Kyouji looked at him.
“If Satomi-kun decides to leave someday,” he said casually, “I’ll let you go.”
Satomi’s chest tightened.
“But until that happens…”
Kyouji shrugged lightly.
“I’ll stay.”
Satomi froze.
“…Stay?”
Kyouji nodded.
“Satomi-kun seems to keep dragging me around anyway.”
Satomi felt his face heat up again.
“That’s not-”
“So,” Kyouji continued, picking up the second microphone, “I guess we’ll keep doing this.”
He gestured around the karaoke room.
“Dinner. Karaoke. Whatever Satomi-kun decides.”
Satomi stared at him.
“You mean… like we’re dating?”
Kyouji blinked.
“…Is that what this is called?”
Satomi covered his face.
“Kyouji-san…”
Kyouji chuckled quietly.
“Well,” he said, handing Satomi the microphone again.
“Teach me properly this time, Satomi-kun.”
Satomi slowly lowered his hands.
“…You’re really terrible at singing, Kyouji-san.”
“I know.”
“But I guess,” Satomi muttered, taking the microphone, “I’ll keep teaching you.”
Kyouji smiled faintly.
And somewhere between the bad singing, the quiet laughter, and the small karaoke room-
their strange relationship finally found a name.
_Epilogue
Kyouji walked into the Osaka office, loosening his tie as he passed through the hallway.
One of the younger men glanced up.
“Narita-san, you look like you’re in a good mood today.”
“I do?” Kyouji replied.
The man blinked. “A little.”
Kyouji hummed and continued walking.
When he reached his desk, he sat down and glanced at his hand.
The tattoo was still there.
Satomi.
He rubbed his thumb lightly across the ink.
At the time, it had been a convenient trick.
Better a name than something ridiculous.
But these days… he found himself looking at it more often.
His phone buzzed.
Kyouji picked it up.
A message from Satomi-kun.
Midterms are finally over, Kyouji-san.
Another message followed.
I survived.
Kyouji chuckled quietly.
He typed back.
Congratulations, Satomi-kun.
A pause.
Then he added another line.
Reward dinner?
Three dots appeared almost immediately.
Then:
Are you inviting me, Kyouji-san?
Kyouji leaned back slightly in his chair.
I might be, Satomi-kun.
The reply came a moment later.
Then I guess I’ll allow it.
Another message followed.
But you’re paying, Kyouji-san.
Kyouji laughed under his breath.
Greedy student, Satomi-kun.
A few seconds passed.
Then Satomi sent one more message.
You’re the one who keeps coming to Tokyo, Kyouji-san.
Kyouji glanced down at the tattoo again.
“…Troublesome kid,” he murmured.
But the corner of his mouth lifted.
Maybe he didn’t understand what they were doing.
Maybe he didn’t have a name for it.
But somehow-
Dinner invitations had turned into habits.
Habits had turned into something that felt… necessary.
Kyouji typed one last message.
Same karaoke place after dinner, Satomi-kun?
The reply came instantly.
You still haven’t improved, Kyouji-san.
Kyouji smiled faintly.
That’s why
I still need my teacher, Satomi-kun.
He set the phone down.
And for the first time in a long while, the Osaka office felt a little less quiet.