Archive of Our Own

It starts, as many things do, gradually.

Tomizawa didn’t join the group magically knowing he’d be surrounded by a bunch of absolute horndogs. How could he, when they looked like (relatively) well-adjusted, even respected members of society? Who would take a look at the heiress of the Fujinomiya family, for example, and think she cares about these things more than going to her violin classes or whatever it is that rich people do? Not Eric Tomizawa, that's who.

Then again, he is in no position to complain. Not when these people have saved his ass more than once—although, considering Tomizawa has also saved theirs sometimes, perhaps he would be justified in raising some objections to this behavior.

But also, it’s not like this is public indecency. It’s not like his friends are deliberately having sex in front of him. Tomizawa just has really shit luck, and that’s something he should have realized years ago, when the whole reason he met Marie to begin with was because he hit on the wrong girl and got the crap beaten out of him. He’s had more bad things than good happen to him, if he’s being honest with himself. This? It doesn’t even scratch the damn surface, doesn’t even crack the top 5, maybe not even the top 10 if he thinks about it really hard and pushes it.

He can handle the occasional discomfort and subsequent awkwardness that arises after catching yet another one of his friends in the middle of business with their pants down to their ankles. Mostly, they keep it within the group, so it’s not like they are fooling around with strangers that could like, give them STDs or something. It’s cool, it’s chill. They are adults who know what they are doing.

And, most of the time, Tomizawa does get something in exchange for his silence, so it’s not like it’s all bad.

So hey, if he has to walk in on Ichiban bare-assed (and half of Hawaii already saw that, Tomizawa didn’t invent the wheel with that one) once more, he’ll do it. Those Ichiban crackers, as it turns out, are pretty damn tasty. Even better with Shaoxing wine, funnily enough. Not a combination he would’ve ever thought of by himself.

He’ll toast to them tonight. Individually, one for each drink.

After all, Chitose is paying.

The first victim, appropriately enough, is Ichiban Kasuga.

It kind of feels like comeuppance to him personally. He did trick Ichiban within his first five minutes in Hawaii. Pointed a gun at him not once but twice. Ate that important envelope (and man, did his stomach give him shit for it; Tomizawa regretted it almost immediately), chased after him with Yamai. Twice, too. And sure, Ichiban forgave him for all that, something Tomizawa still finds nonsensical even to this day—but he’s not going to complain when it gave him some necessary closure as well as great friends (lack of decorum not withstanding).

The universe doesn’t forget though, and karma is so very fucking real. Tomizawa finds out in just the most bizarre way possible.

So it starts with Ichiban, as most things tend to do. Like their karaoke sessions at Revolve or a street fight.

It’s not something Tomizawa sees coming until it happens (kinda) for the first time.

Sure, he has eyes (four of them, glasses included). He could wager a guess and say that Nanba is very important for Kasuga and viceversa, has probably been for a good while. There is a story there he’ll likely learn in depth one day, at Survive or Revolve, in between drinks and some other strange anecdote these guys seem to never run out of.

The way Nanba looks at Ichiban, in particular, did grab his attention. Because Ichiban looks at the world around him with those big brown eyes, still innocent despite the yakuza life and the tattoo on his back and the scars to back it up. He does get serious on ocassion, but there is no mean bone in his body.

And then, there is Nanba.

Nanba has this exhausted aura around him. It reminds Tomizawa of himself, driving his taxi around aimlessly knowing there was nothing waiting for him back home, eating all his meals in the car and sometimes sleeping there, too. When his life was in shambles and Yamai reminded him everyday of how worthless he was. It makes him wanna sit down with the guy and ask about his life; the homeless part, Tomizawa knows, but it can’t be the only issue he has faced.

So Nanba has this generally tired look around him. His eyes behind his glasses stay half-open most times. His voice is gruff, laced with sarcasm more often than not. Animals like him though; once, back at Aloha Beach, he had fallen asleep on a lounger then woke up several hours later with a bird nesting on his hair. Ichiban had laughed and called it a classic Hawaii experience. Whatever that meant. Tomizawa had certainly never lived through it himself, but Kasuga does keep getting wrapped up in crazy shit.

It’s not only animals that like Nanba though. As it turns out, it’s also Ichiban.

(Although Tomizawa thinks he's heard Chitose refer to him as a golden retriever sometimes, if that counts.)

And, while Ichiban looks at the whole world with bright, pure eyes, Nanba is a little more selective. And that usually means his special gaze is reserved for Ichiban and that’s it. Sure, his other friends get the nice Nanba stare, but when it comes to Kasuga, it’s borderline smitten. Tomizawa would know—he used to look at Marie the same way, and she would him.

There was a whole thing, between Ichiban and Saeko and how they had actually given it another shot and gone on a few more dates (not without Kasuga having to apologize a thousand times over for the sheer embarrassment that was that shirt). And there was a realization that Ichiban would talk a lot more about Nanba, and Saeko would bring up Seonhee just as often. It wasn’t that none of their friends had noticed before, but they brushed it off easy enough—Ichiban does have a habit of talking about his party a lot, no matter the situation.

So yeah, it really wasn’t surprising when he jumped from crushing on one friend to dating another. Not that Ichiban is going to be jumping from person to person until he has fucked them all or something. Hopefully. Nah, he wouldn’t. Too pure-hearted, that dumbass.

Ichiban and Nanba are together. Big deal. And Tomizawa is happy for them! Truly!

That being said...

That being said, Tomizawa would rather not see certain things, right? Right. Like how he’d rather not see people butt-naked when he goes to the beach to relax—there is plenty of nudist beaches around, and Aloha Beach is not one of those. He would also rather not have a random customer tell him all about their sex life (and even that has happened a few times, normally men drunk off their asses). That’s the gist of it.

And, as much as Tomizawa loves his dear friends, he’s a firm believer in the seemingly forgotten concept known as privacy.

To be fair, Revolve is not exactly big. There are only so many places where one can... well, do the deed privately. The upstairs bedroom and that’s about it; the bathroom is not exactly pleasant, the balcony has the risk of a public indecency fine. Lower floor is not really an option when it’s always crawling with people. And the upper floor doesn’t even have a door. Real tough shit.

It shouldn’t come as a surprise, really, and yet it does. No one ever walks around thinking that they might find a couple of their friends going at it when going into a room. Perhaps Tomizawa should make an exception for himself though, there is a history there.

So it starts gradually, yeah?

One day, Tomizawa is over at Survive for a visit (he’s kind of living in between Hawaii and Ijincho now, if he’s being honest with himself; been thinking about starting work as a taxi driver over in Yokohama, even), and then he stumbles over into the upstairs bedroom only to find Ichiban clinging tight to Nanba in their sleep. Tomizawa brushes it off and plops down on a futon, ready to sleep the drink off.

Then there is another time, in Ijincho as well, where Tomizawa sees, out of the corner of his eye, a pretty tipsy Ichiban giggling and pressing a kiss to the corner of Nanba’s mouth. Nanba had then pushed him away and told him his breath reeked and to cut it off. Of course, the guy doesn’t have room to talk. Neither does Tomizawa, if he’s being honest; sometimes, back in his 'crooked cabbie' days, he forgot to brush his teeth or straight up decided he was too tired and didn’t care enough to wash them before bed. He’d rather avoid any further commentary on dental hygiene.

The party trips to Hawaii go pretty similarly. Ichiban would always spread his attention as evenly as he could, make sure no one felt left out, but it was inevitable.

He would spoil Nanba just a slight bit more, just enough that it wouldn’t be slammed as favoritism, but also enough to show he is that special: a hand that lingers on Nanba’s shoulder for too long, picking him up one time too many to throw him into the sea (Kasuga would press closer too, and Nanba’s face would go so red it looked sunburnt), things like that. It was obvious for anyone with eyes, but not bad enough to gross them out from all the sugary sweetness. Though it was worthy of an eyebrow raise, how they’d both stay in the water standing suspiciously close for quite a while. Tomizawa prefers to think Kasuga wouldn’t risk getting arrested again for public indecency, for his own peace of mind if nothing else—and well, just kissing and (consensual) groping isn’t illegal, so it's whatever.

Except it isn’t whatever anymore.

It isn’t illegal either, to be fair. Tomizawa just has shit timing and the barkeep doesn’t see the point in installing a door to the main room because no one uses it when the party isn’t over at Hawaii.

So it might be Tomizawa’s own fault. Kind of, sort of. But in his own defense, he's excited, alright? It had been so long since all their schedules had aligned, and they were finally back in Hawaii and Tomizawa wants to make the most of it, have a guys’ day out, the whole package. Adachi jumped on board, unlike Zhao and Joongi—those two had grown quite fond of the Black Hibiscus, whether for the food or the gambling aspect. Both, maybe.

With the girls already out on a girls-only beach trip, that only left two other people.

Now, if Tomizawa had been paying more attention, he would have noticed the suspicious amount of time that Kasuga and Nanba had been spending upstairs. Supposedly, to unpack.

“Hey, Ichiban, Adachi-san and I are gonna go play darts at that Aloha Beach bar! You wanna co—? Oh my God!”

“Oh, shit!!”

“Fuck! That’s why I told you to fucking wait, Ichiban!”

Not a single suitcase has been open; in fact, all the luggage has been shoved into a corner all willy-nilly. The room, stuffy and cramped and messy as always. Nothing seems too out of the ordinary.

Except, well, the one thing.

The dragonfish tattoo stares right into Tomizawa’s eyes for one brief second before turning his head to the side—Nanba, thank God, has more decency, still mostly clothed, pulled-up shirt and half-undone pants, and Ichiban’s big body over his as he lies in the couch would keep him covered from prying eyes anyway. Kasuga isn’t bare-assed just yet, but his jeans are already down to his ankles and thank God he's not going commando. His poor red Hawaiian shirt that he always wears when he comes over, somehow, had ended up hanging from the goddamn ceiling lamp, holy shit, how do you even manage that? 

“Yup, okay, you guys are clearly busy so I’ll be taking my leave now! Peace out!!”

“No, Tomi, wait, I do wanna play darts with you guys! Just lemme...”

Ichiban shifts, reaching out like he's trying to find his shirt (good luck with that, dude) and actually commit to hanging out after just getting busted like this. Tomizawa knows he would, too.

But thankfully, because he knows he wouldn’t be able to stand within two feet of him after witnessing this, Nanba knees Kasuga in the stomach.

“Ichiban, if you leave me with blue balls after all this I’m shoving those darts up your ass!”

“Welp, you heard Nanba-san! Can’t have that happen now!” Tomizawa is acutely aware of his own voice pitching higher and higher by the second, the blood rushing to his ears out of sheer embarrassment. He needs to leave. Already has one feet out of the room when he adds a rushed, “Bye bye, sleep tight, promise we’ll have fun!”

He almost falls flat on his face, rolls down the stairs, tripping with his own sandals in a hurry. In his mind, he wishes he could tell Adachi to skip the darts and jump straight to the drinking. Getting shit-faced would really help erase that image.

Adachi is waiting for him downstairs, chatting up the bartender when Tomizawa comes back.

And all he does, unaware as he is of the fuckery going on at the top floor, is beam this huge smile at Tomizawa and ask, “So? How’d it go?”

Tomizawa plops down on the stoll right next to him at the counter. Just barely, he bites his tongue to avoid asking the barkeep for the strongest drink he has. Cancelling plans after going through that just to keep them going sounds like a mean thing to do, doesn’t it? Right.

“I think I’m gonna take my glasses off for the rest of the day.” Is what he goes with in the end. “I’ve seen more than enough.”

At least, he thinks, Ichiban is decent enough to send him a box full of Ichiban Senbei bags (around twenty, Tomizawa counts) and a cool glasses case (purple, white flowers on it) that he says comes from Nanba, all the way from Japan once he returns.

Oh, but Adachi is far from innocent himself! As a matter of fact, he is the very next guy victim of Tomizawa’s shitty timing—or, perhaps more appropriately, Tomizawa is victim of his horniness.

Now, admittedly, Adachi has always been horny. It’s not a secret or something he tries to keep hidden, something he’s ashamed of. If anything, he wears it on his sleeve and doesn’t care about who likes and dislikes his behavior. Adachi is just unapologetically himself, and honestly Tomizawa likes that about him, finds it refreshing. He’s a fun guy to be around. He’s cool. Tomizawa likes Adachi.

What he doesn’t like is when Adachi forgets everything else in favor of getting laid.

This time, it’s Tomizawa over for a visit in Japan. Adachi had dragged him all over the bar district last night, arguing that Survive was nearby enough that they could stumble their way back easily, hopefully not end at the bottom of the Sakura River.

After the whole darts at the beach fiasco from last time, Tomizawa couldn’t have been happier to agree.

Whether Adachi was right or not... Well, they didn’t wander too far. That was good, at least. However, after the fourth or fifth round, the room started spinning. Badly. Not throwing-up-bad, but bad enough that they couldn’t get their asses up without immediately tripping and eating shit. And Adachi then said it was fine, that he knew the perfect person that just so happened to be free right now and could come pick them up. Had them on speed-dial so he wouldn’t fuck it up and end up calling a brothel or something instead.

Tomizawa’s memory is blurry, but he still vividly remembers the unamused look on the Survive bartender’s face as he walked into Harbor Light, around five minutes after Adachi’s call.

It took Tomizawa a little to connect the dots, but then Adachi drunkenly waved at him, laugh boisterous and as big as his body, calling him over. The barkeep sighed and apologized to the Mama for the racket before grabbing them both off their seats and dragging them all the way back to Survive.

After that, it’s all a blur.

But then comes the morning after, and Tomizawa’s got a massive headache and feels like he might throw up his guts if he so much as moves funny. There is also a contradictory hole in his stomach urging him to get his ass up and eat something.

For a moment, he can simply ignore it. Close his eyes and try to go back to sleep and hopefully the second wake-up will go easier on him. But some asshole left the window open, the sun is hot on his face and the room fucking reeks of sweat and booze, he feels gross sleeping in his street clothes, and—shit, didn’t they launch a new breakfast menu at Wette Kitchen not that long ago? There are none of those in Hawaii, so Tomizawa hasn’t gotten to try it yet. Kasuga did, and he announced it loud and clear in their group chat just how delicious it was. It had left Tomizawa thinking about it for a while, and now it’s back on his mind and he can’t stop wondering if it’s really that good or if Ichiban was exaggerating like he tends to.

“Adachi-san? You up already?” Tomizawa manages through a scratchy, dry throat.

When he looks to his side, where Adachi should be, he finds no one. The futon is still warm though, so Tomizawa can only guess he left only recently. Maybe a bathroom trip.

Shit, now he really needs to use the restroom.

By some miracle, Tomizawa doesn’t roll down the stairs this time around either, if only because he follows the wall for balance. By yet another miracle, the restroom is unlocked. No signs of Adachi, and that doesn’t send alarm bells until Tomizawa is washing his hands and realizes that oh.

Cause Adachi and the bartender are not obvious like Ichiban and Nanba, but Tomizawa has eyes. Four, to be exact. There is a difference between the way Adachi talks to the Revolve barkeep and how he chats up the Survive owner. Maybe Tomizawa is just used to reading the less talkative clients in hopes of making the silence less awkward and the ride more enjoyable.

It could also be that, being as old as these two are, they see no point in hiding, nor in announcing it. They just do their thing on the side. If anyone asks, they’ll be honest with their answer, but they won’t go out of their way to make sure everybody knows. And Tomizawa can respect that approach, actually. He even shares it a little bit, even more the older he gets.

But then, much like Nanba and Ichiban, he’d rather not get... insight on the more intimate details.

Which is what he gets when he closes the bathroom door and dares take a peek into the lower floor. Just to check if Adachi is there and if he’d like some Wette Kitchen breakfast menu. Is it even early enough to get those still? Maybe not, but there’s no shame in trying. Maybe the employees will let them order breakfast items for lunch.

That is, if they even make it.

Adachi seems... rather busy.

“Don’t you know it’s rude to leave your guests hanging to come satisfy your own urges?”

Tomizawa only gets a quick glance before quickly hiding behind the wall. Still, he can see Adachi standing behind the counter, pressed up against the bartender with those big arms wrapped around his waist.

“Oh, come on! Ricky is a big boy, he can take care of himself for a bit!” Adachi is incapable of whispering, even though he’s trying. “Just a little, Osamu? I’ll be fast, promise!”

Huh, so his name is Osamu. Good to know. Not that Tomizawa is ever going to use it, unless it ever comes up in casual conversation; he’d rather not have to explain how he learned that piece of information.

“What I think you’re going to do,” Osamu says, “is shut your mouth and put it to better use. You don’t wanna wake your poor friend, do you?”

Oh, if only these two knew. Tomizawa doesn’t want them to, because he’d rather not come across as a voyeur, a pervert, whatever. It helps that Osamu has that old-school yakuza look to him—Tomizawa has hung around enough of those to know how they carry themselves, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Osamu opened his shirt to reveal a stylish, colorful irezumi on his back.

Even hungover, the irony of a former cop hooking up with a potential former yakuza is not lost on him.

“Fuuuck, Osamu, you know how I get when you talk to me like that!”

“Get on your knees before I make you, Koichi.”

Well, Tomizawa will have to wait a little more for breakfast.

What a shame. For once, he didn’t feel like sleeping till noon. He was really looking forward to that new menu, he laments as he climbs back upstairs, dropping back into the futon that’s disgusting and stained all over, trying to sleep the headache away.

He can forgive them this once though—because, almost like he had felt Tomizawa’s presence (and that is a bit unsettling), Osamu has made him a big bowl of fruit salad (with painkillers as a side dish) for breakfast. And once night falls again, Adachi is taking him over to Wette Kitchen for dinner.

One would think Kiryu would be safe.

Legendary yakuza like him, surely he must know how to control himself and keep bedroom activities in the down-low. Private person like him, leaving behind his past life, people he used to know, it only makes sense.

Tomizawa didn’t account, however, for one thing: just because Kiryu is quiet and reserved, doesn’t mean everyone he still keeps in touch with from his yakuza days is.

And, considering who the other person in question is (judging from the stories Tomizawa has heard from Yamai and his goons anyway), it’s not surprising that Kiryu is the very next on the chopping block.

So, Ichiban owns a luxury island resort now. And he has told the story, in long-winded detail and with his usual fanfare. Even for Kasuga’s standards, it sounded so outlandish that Tomizawa was more inclined to believe it had all been a drug-induced bad trip. At the same time, the sheer insanity of it had him believe that a JRPG-influenced brain couldn’t possibly come up with all that on the spot.

Bottom line, Ichiban does own a whole luxury resort on some remote island. And, of course, it was only logical that he would invite his friends over some time.

So here Tomizawa is, unpacking his bags while Kiryu unpacks his because Ichiban has decided they should share accomodation. And Tomizawa is completely cool with that, actually. It’s the best option: Adachi, Nanba and Ichiban himself all snore, nearly roar like fucking engines (and Tomizawa already gets enough of those at work); Zhao loves his inciense, which Tomizawa is not particularly fond of, especially the crazier, fancier scents. Joongi and Seonhee are practically attached at the hip, and he’d rather not have to share a place with Chitose and Saeko—one girl in the party picking on him every chance she gets was already enough, and then a second one just had to join. And a third, too.

Sure, those two would have a great time if they were to all share a room, but Tomizawa would prefer to... just not.

Kiryu, objectively speaking, is the best option.

If he were alone, that is.

Cause Tomizawa doesn’t notice when he first comes into the lodge, until he has to stuff his clothes into the closet and that’s when he realizes there’s already some in there. That there’s someone else sharing the place with them both. And it strikes him as odd that Ichiban hasn’t warned them, but then again he wasn’t paying that much attention to whatever Ichiban said after hearing the words ‘vacation’ and ‘luxury island resort’. He might have missed it, and it would have been his fault.

So, he says nothing and just begrudgingly accepts it.

Kiryu himself doesn’t seem that fazed when he notices the jackets and pants hanging inside the closet. Doesn’t even make a comment about how uncomfortable the snakeskin and leather must feel in the humid heat of Dondoko Island. Idly shoving the now empty suitcase underneath his designated bed, Tomizawa wonders if it’s because he’s seen way weirder stuff back in his day (and he knows the Dragon of Dojima has extremely weird stories to tell, even more than whatever ended with Ichiban owning an entire island), or because he already knows who they belong to.

“Yo, Kiryu-chan! Ya have the nipple clamps and condoms? That shit was expensive as fu—Oh, never mind, I remember now!”

As it turns out, it’s the latter.

Perhaps Tomizawa should have gone with Saeko and Chitose instead. The Dragon of Dojima is the better option yes, but the Mad Dog of Shimano is a different matter entirely.

And thing is, Goro Majima (Goro fucking Majima, holy shit!) does see Tomizawa, sitting on his bed and staring at Kiryu like he’s grown a second head because he doesn’t dare look up at Goro fucking Majima. He sees Tomizawa and acts like he’s not even there, like he didn’t just make an incredibly out of pocket comment in front of a stranger that doesn't know about... whatever type of relationship they have.

Yakuza relations, as Tomizawa has come to know, are complicated as shit; he has just accepted he’ll never truly understand those.

Goro fucking Majima is right there, babbling about nipple clamps and condoms and fucking strawberry lube and some Goromi’s dress, whatever that is, and that’s when Tomizawa decides he’s heard enough and he doesn’t want to understand what this is all about.

He’d rather put on his swimsuit and jump into the ocean, or spend twelve straight hours in the Café Alps (how the hell Ichiban got one of those here, he’ll never know) next door, leeching off the free wifi and pumping caffeine straight into his veins than stay here for whatever Goro fucking Majima is planning to do with Kazuma fucking Kiryu (and oh, isn't fucking just the most appropriate word). And he knows that, at least Majima, won’t give a fuck if Tomizawa leaves or stays—he’ll put on a show regardless. Kiryu might try to persuade Majima otherwise, but if that doesn’t work, Tomizawa is afraid they’d end up beating the shit out of each other instead. And then they’d jump to the sex.

The objectively better option is to simply not be there to witness either of those scenarios.

“I... would appreciate it if you didn’t tell anyone about this.” Kiryu asks him with a gentle hand on Tomizawa’s shoulder, just as he is two steps away from getting to his freedom.

Tomizawa barely registers a rushed, “Yeah, of course. Don’t worry, Kiryu-san.”

What’s one more of these, after all? Tomizawa’s been nothing if not discreet about his friends’ affairs, and in doing so he’s always gotten rewarded so far.

Kiryu treats him to a bunch of souvenirs at Dondoko and a trip to the batting centre during his following trip to Yokohama ‘for the troubles’. Tomizawa thinks that’s as good a incentive to keep quiet as any.

He knows better than to test the patience of the Mad Dog of Shimano.

And then there is Zhao and Joongi Han.

An odd couple, those guys. One never wanted the criminal gang life, the other’s only known that for most of his life. Both video game lovers, surprisingly. Huge food nerds, and that’s not so surprising. When they’re not talking murder, Tomizawa actually enjoys being around them; he’s actually gotten quite a few good show recommendations from Joongi; the guy even rents the DVDs for him, but only when Tomizawa is in Ijincho. Something about shipping fees and Tomizawa potentially forgetting to send them back so he can return them on time. Which, fair enough.

Their displays of affection are kinda all over the place. Joongi likes to keep things private, perhaps because he knows the Geomijul have eyes everywhere and would rather not become a free source of entertainment for his coworkers. Even in Hawaii, he seems to still be on his guard, though that's slowly but surely fading. just force of habit.

Zhao is way more shameless. Yokohama or Hawaii, he doesn’t care. He’ll keep an arm around or a hand pressed up to Joongi at all times as if to make a statement. He might be, all things considered—with how devoted Joongi is to Seonhee, Tomizawa can see how Zhao would want to make it public knowledge that he, too, is important for Joongi Han. Something like that anyway, he’s just guessing.

Point being, there’s kind of a middle ground with them: they are either the most secretive or the most blatant. It takes Zhao insisting just a little bit, insisting just right to appeal to Joongi’s clear weakness for an authority figure, and Joongi will allow for just a quick kiss, just a little touch. He’ll give Zhao an inch, then another inch, then another, until eventually he’ll have the entire mile and then some.

No one is really fazed when it happens. Most encourage it, in fact.

Seonhee, at most, has jokingly warned Joongi not to skip out on work to stay over at Zhao’s. Saeko sometimes tells Zhao to lay off and give poor Han-chan a break cause he looks about two seconds from passing out. Adachi, Nanba and Ichiban just take one glance and smile it off, make the occasional comment about lovebirds if they're drunk. Chitose, more new to this than the rest, has openly cooed and called them adorable and joined in on Zhao’s incensant teasing. Poor Han. Tomizawa honestly feels for him when that happens.

As for Tomizawa himself... honestly, he doesn’t care too much what they do so long as he gets treated to dinner at You Tian.

It’s Ichiban paying this time, brought Chitose along too since she’s never had a meal at Zhao’s before—and it doesn’t escape Tomizawa that just yesterday he had arrived at Ijincho a little too early and barged into Kasuga’s apartment (since the moment he set foot in the airport and found no one waiting for him —after Kasuga had insisted that he wouldn't leave his friend stranded—, Tomizawa knew what the deal was) to find him and Nanba still in bed. Naked, because of course. At least there was more than one blanket for them to cover up.

Not fast enough though. He did get a view of Ichiban's bare ass this time.

But hey, he’s letting it slide again and getting paid in chili shrimp, shark fin soup, beer and almond jelly. Tomizawa might have ordered the most expensive shit on the menu on purpose. Oh well. It doesn’t feel too terrible either.

“God damn! I know I’ve said this before but, good God is this great!”

“Right?! Zhao is an amazing cook, I’ve never tried anything like this! Don’t think you’ll find shrimp as good as this, here or in Hawaii!” Ichiban talks like he's bragging about something he made himself. Propping up a friend often feels like that when it comes from him.

Tomizawa could argue that Hip Hop Shrimp is also pretty tasty, but that might be his own bias speaking. He grew up eating those, of course he’s gonna be wearing nostalgia goggles.

And shit, Zhao is just a great cook, there is no denying it; he’s got the spice levels perfected, the broth’s never too salty, the vegetables not too hard but also not too chewy. The man knows his way around the kitchen way better than anyone else in the group—it wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say they would all starve without Zhao and Osamu.

“Hah! Maybe we should try to talk him into opening a restaurant in Hawaii as well.” Tomizawa jokes, though he wouldn’t mind if Zhao actually did. Living without all this back in Hawaii is proving harder and harder every time.

Maybe this is all a very elaborate scheme to get Tomizawa to move to Ijincho for good once and for all, instead of this constant back and forth he keeps doing. What’s tying him to Hawaii anymore at this point anyway? Certainly not Yamai. There’s cabs here in Yokohama. A lot, actually. He wouldn’t be short on work. Or friends. Even if they do get too chummy with each other sometimes.

“Hey, be my guest!” Ichiban laughs, open-mouthed. He’s got chili sauce under his lip that Tomizawa thinks he hasn’t yet noticed. Chitose certainly has, but hasn’t said a word. She must find it hilarious. “He seems pretty comfy here in Ijincho though, so I don’t think it’ll work. Unless you try holding him at knife-point, then maybe you’ll have a shot!”

“It was one time!” Tomizawa fights back. Not like it isn’t the truth, even if he was running on pure adrenaline at the moment.

“Two, actually!” Ichiban says. “Yamai?”

“Fine, two!”

Chitose decides that’s the perfect moment to put aside her fried rice and join the conversation. Anything to further tease him to death.

“Three! Wong Tou’s men ring any bells? Oh, and didn’t you point a gun at Ichiban twice, too?”

Tomizawa huffs, his ears burning up. Chitose giggles, so he must have made a funny face, and Ichiban joins her with that friendly belly laugh of his. Tomizawa can’t even be too mad because the image is so endearing.

Still, he decides to act like he’s hurt.

“You know what? I’m just gonna take these” And he picks up his own, already whipped-clean plates to demonstrate his point, “to the kitchen so I don’t have to keep listening to you guys.”

“Compliment the chef for us while you’re at it, Tomi!” Ichiban shouts. If Tomizawa’s hands weren’t full, perhaps he would’ve felt tempted to show him the middle finger.

It’s certainly not standard procedure, for customers to walk into the kitchen like this. But considering Zhao doesn’t have any employees (or at least they’re never there when he’s hanging out with friends) and who Tomizawa is to him, it might as well be self-service.

And besides, it’s been a good while since Zhao locked himself in there. With Joongi.

Tomizawa quite literally walks himself into the lion’s den already knowing what would be waiting for him inside. It’s either that or Ichiban and Chitose.

“Hey, man! Don’t mind me, just leaving these he—”

Yeah, figures.

At least he came in prepared. It could have been worse, all things considered. He could have dropped the plates and broken them, and the china looks expensive as shit and he’s really got no money to cover it if Zhao asked him to pay the damages. Instead, Tomizawa leaves them intact in the kitchen counter and pretends like everything’s peachy.

Because really, what’s the other option? Staring like a psychopath?

Sure, Joongi has a great body and all, but Tomizawa has seen the guy in his swimsuit before, so it’s nothing new. Seeing him like this now, stripped off his raincoat and shirt (they’re both thrown in the corner, unless Tomizawa needs a new prescription and that giant black ball is a racoon or something—are there even racoons in Yokohama? He’ll have to ask Nanba) and his pants halfway off, it’s not that different. Zhao, loyal to his personal ‘I will be wearing a shirt to the beach if it kills me’ philosophy, is still fully dressed himself. So Tomizawa might as well be back at Aloha Beach with how familiar this particular scene is.

He’d rather not dwell in here too much though. Privacy is already a lost art without him intruding.

“Oh, hey, Tomizawa-kun!” Zhao greets him so normally. Like he doesn’t have Joongi pressed against a wall, with one of Zhao’s legs in between his own and blushing red as fucking chili paste. The poor guy looks like he wants a hole the ground to open up and swallow him whole, even more when Zhao goes check on the empty dishes and just leaves him standing there. “I’m guessing you enjoyed your meal? I mean, these are clean!”

“Y-Yeah! Real tasty stuff!”

“Hah, good to hear! You know I had some asshole review-bombing this place not that long ago? Really drove me up a wall, not gonna lie. But all that’s water under the bridge now!” Zhao says as he moves the plates to the sink. “I think I heard you say something about opening up shop in Hawaii?”

Tomizawa didn’t realize the restaurant’s walls were that thin. Then again, Ichiban speaks loud enough for the bunch of them. Maybe he has subconsciously started speaking louder himself too.

“Oh? Well, yeah.” He admits. “Just a suggestion though, sometimes crazy shit just comes out of my mouth and...”

“No, no, it actually sounds interesting! Expanding the business is good for the economy.” Zhao keeps talking, like this is the most normal situation in the world. Turns to Joongi, who hasn’t moved an inch, like they weren’t making out and about to do worse right in the kitchen of Zhao’s restaurant with their friends just outside when the walls are apparently paper-thin. “What do you think, Kim-chan? You think I’d be successful over in Hawaii?”

Oh, Tomizawa thinks. It shouldn’t surprise him that Zhao is using Joongi’s real name. The others do, sometimes, but it’s only now hitting him that he’s never heard Zhao calling him Joongi.

It takes him back, when Marie had switched the usual Tomizawa-san for Ricky. Might not be the same thing, but he’d say it comes pretty close.

“I don’t see why you wouldn’t.” Joongi says plainly, with a slight shrug of his shoulders. The blush is spreading down to his neck, but he’s managing to play it cool regardless. “Your cooking is delightful, anyone with good taste can tell.”

Finally, Zhao goes back to Joongi. Rests a hand full of rings on his white hair and pets him like he would a cat.

“Hmm, guess we could give it a try. Just don’t try to pull anything funny on those with bad taste, will ya?”

“Hmph...”

“Uhhh, yeah, you guys do that.” Tomizawa decides this is as good a moment as any to intervene, since they seem to be getting back into that cozy kinda mood “I’ll just... go wash my hands or something.”

“Wait, Tomizawa-kun, you guys ordered dessert too, didn’t you? Here, for you, Kasuga-kun and Chitose-chan.” And again, Zhao is pulling away from Joongi (Tomizawa is starting to fear for his free DVD drama binges—if Joongi doesn’t hate him after this, nothing will make him). To be honest, Tomizawa had already forgotten about the almond jelly, until now that Zhao is handing him the platter with the three tiny bowls and equally tiny spoons. “And if you keep this on the down-low,” He gives Joongi a knowing look, “I’m adding a bottle of Shaoxing wine on the house for you.”

“Oh, eh... Thanks, man. Appreciate it.”

His tone doesn’t convey it, but Tomizawa really does. So much that he doesn’t even mind having to play waiter for himself and the other two. Because hey, free Chinese wine is free Chinese wine, and the food is not going to be any less tasty just cause he has to put some semblance of effort into getting it.

He thanks Ichiban’s loud laugh for the paper-thin walls not giving away whatever is going on in that kitchen.

The very next day, Joongi is at the door of his hotel room with the promised bottle of Shaoxing and (and this surprises Tomizawa) a whole new season worth of DVDs that Tomizawa promises to return before he needs to leave for Hawaii.

Ah. Life is so good when you're a great friend.

The girls are a weird case.

Saeko and Seonhee often bicker and tease each other, throwing jabs back and forth with this weirdly flirty, kinda sexual undertones most of the time. Them being friends with benefits would be the natural conclusion, and that’s what Tomizawa used to think.

But then, one good day, he opens the group chat and finds photos of what seems like a double date between the two and (who else) Zhao and Joongi. And then it becomes multiple throughout the day, like they are pulling a 24-hour long date.

Breakfast at Plague, where Saeko has a latte foam moustache and she’s clearly giving the camera a death glare while Zhao laughs at her in the back and Joongi minds his business, eating his bread. Zhao and Joongi playing darts. Or, at least, Zhao is focused on throwing them; Joongi waits for his turn and gives him heart eyes in the meantime. Seonhee staring straight into the camera with the most unamused look there is. Walk at Hamakita Park, and only Saeko and Seonhee’s backs are visible. They’re chatting, seemingly too engrossed in their conversation to realize Zhao taking their picture. Or that they are holding hands. Seonhee splitting a meatbun between herself and Saeko while Joongi gives them a side-eye, munching on his own. A video of Saeko at Survive, singing her ass off, and Zhao and Seonhee are her little cheerleaders—but especially her, the queen of the Geomijul, screaming and jumping everywhere in heels, and that’s a particularly impressive feat, and cheers of Saeko’s name.

And then Survive’s upper floor bedroom, and it looks like a nail-painting circle: Seonhee doing Saeko’s top coat, Saeko filing off Joongi’s, Joongi reapplying dark nailpolish on Zhao’s, Zhao trying his best to draw something resembling spider webs on Seonhee’s.

A final one shows Saeko, blushing and possibly drunk, asleep and with drool running down her chin, with her head on Seonhee’s lap.

So, Tomizawa would say it’s not so much an exclusively sexual thing, but something romantic too. Proper girlfriends, maybe. Or they are still figuring things out, or whatever. It’s frankly none of Tomizawa’s business.

Until it is.

At some point, Saeko and Ichiban start hanging out again like normal. One day, they bring Tomizawa along. If he hadn’t already walked in like, on a dozen different ocassions, on his friends fucking around before, and had Ichiban and Nanba not been the biggest offenders, he would’ve thought he was third-wheeling.

In a spiritual sense, if he thinks about it too much, he kinda was—Nanba and Seonhee were not present, but they might as well. Or would that be considered fifth-wheeling?

It was supposed to be a search for a birthday present for the Geomijul-slash-Liumang queen, and suddenly it made sense to Tomizawa why they had headed all the way to fucking Sotenbori for it: sight-seeing benefits aside, no Geomijul surveillance meant no risk of Seonhee accidentally ruining her own surprise.

And then it devolved, and somehow they ended up going into manga shops and Ichiban would talk nonstop about the ones Nanba loves, and how he might pick up a volume or two for him just because (five is the answer; five, he bought). And then they passed by a jewelry store, and Saeko had found spider-shaped earrings and decided she needed to get them. And then the food stalls, and even though the food would be cold by the time they arrived back at Ijincho, they still bought a shit-ton of takoyaki and okonomiyaki.

Another store and Saeko left with about three lipstick bars, all from the same brand and the same color; it wasn’t the one she was wearing, nor did Tomizawa remember ever seeing her in such dark-colored makeup.

If nothing else, it was a very productive day. Even if Seonhee had somehow found out about her birthday presents anyway in the end (Tomizawa suspects Ichiban’s loose tongue when drunk has quite a lot to do).

As of yet though, and this is impressive as hell all things considered, Tomizawa has never walked in on those two. At most, he’s caught Saeko wearing Seonhee’s necklace a few times, along with a couple hickeys here and there. But since nobody asked any questions, neither did he.

And here is when Chitose comes in.

Thing is, Tomizawa has never seen a three-way relationship. Or if he has, unbeknownst to him, met people who were in one of those, it was never public or didn’t last long enough for him to learn about it. As far as he knew, every one of his friends was monogamous as they come.

Well, not everyone, it seems.

But he guesses he shouldn’t be too surprised. The most atypical shit happens around these guys. And it’s not like any of the others is in a normal relationship either: two yakuza legends well into old age who have probably beaten each other’s faces in as much as they’ve fucked. A pair of formerly homeless men, their detective friend who’s hooking up with a possibly-probably-likely old yakuza. The mob boss and the loyal hitman. Three women all in love with each other is not far-fetched when he considers all that.

Besides, and he won’t admit this out loud until he’s on his deathbed, Chitose has gone through enough shit in her life.

She deserves some estability, some people she can be herself around. Her friends, yeah, but coming back home to not one but two girlfriends who adore her sounds just as nice. If anyone had anything to say about that, Tomizawa would probably ask to borrow one of Zhao’s butcher knives.

But again, Chitose can’t know. He’s got an image to maintain, whatever that is.

It’s one day that Tomizawa, Ichiban and Chitose had agreed to hang out at Kasuga’s to watch baseball. An hour or so before the game is set to begin, Chitose calls claiming a cold and apologizes for not being able to make it, but promises she won’t miss the next one. And her coughs through the phone sound so clearly rehearsed and forced that Tomizawa’s sixth sense already knows there is something else going on.

Ichiban, however, sees nothing wrong with it. Of course he doesn’t, the softie. Kind of an ass though, the way he drags Tomizawa all over Yokohama for everything that a sick person could need.

Shame. Tomizawa really wanted to watch that baseball game.

He’s thinking about exactly that when he knocks on the door of Chitose’s apartment. Idly, he also thinks about how weird it is to have the heir (now leader) of the Fujinomiya family living in a dingy old place like Ijincho—and it only makes him feel more like the one outcast of the group and like he should pack his bags yesterday and just freaking move here already.

Thankfully, he can’t spiral too far. There’s steps approaching, the telltale sound of Chitose’s giggling, and then the door opens and she’s greeting Tomizawa with a wide grin on her face and an enthusiastic, “Awww, did you forget something, silly?”

That’s when Tomizawa knows his hunch was correct.

“... No?”

Because Chitose is standing there barefoot, her hair wet and water droplets sliding down her neck and into the open collar of her bathrobe. In her hand (it doesn’t escape Tomizawa that her nails are the exact same baby pink as Saeko’s, and they've been recently trimmed), Seonhee’s necklace.

Someone give him a fucking Friend of the Year award.

“Oh.” Chitose sounds disappointed, understandably so. “Sorry, thought you were someone else.”

Tomizawa snorts. “Obviously.”

“Yeah, obviously!” She stomps her foot, hiding away the necklace into the pocket of her fluffy, white robe. Something tells him the blush spreading on her cheeks is not due to the hot water or the aggressively scalding weather. “Anyway, what are you doing here? I was about to take a bath.”

More like she was already taking one, but semantics. Tomizawa doesn’t really care about that right now. He’s got bags filled to the brim with reasons for him to be there just at his feet.

“Ichiban is why.” He says simply. “You told him you’re sick, didn’t you?”

Chitose nods.

“I did.”

“Well not to be rude, but you don’t look very sick to me.” And he knows he’s being an ass, kind of, but he can’t help himself.

“Oh, screw off!” Chitose rolls her eyes at him, and Tomizawa can tell she’d love to slam the door in his face too. “I took my meds and had some soup and I’m feeling better now, that’s all.”

“Whatever. It’s not my business why you said it.” He admits. But he’s got much more to say, so Chitose will be sorely disappointed again if she expects him to be here only to yell at her for being the reason they couldn’t watch the baseball game. “But that you said it at all? Oooh, you don’t know what that little stunt has cost me! I’m not talking money here, thank God. But man, Ichiban’s dragged me and that poor taxi man all over Ijincho to get cough drops, then takeout, then some heating pads, then freaking blankets of all things, can you believe it? Like you don’t have a bunch of those already, and much better quality! Oh, not to mention Nanba-san! You know how the guy used to be a nurse, right? So of course Ichiban wanted to bring him to check on you.”

“You’re kidding!?” She seems genuinely bewildered. Tomizawa can’t fault her—they all know Ichiban Kasuga cares about them, a lot even, but it's harder for some to truly grasp it than it is for others. He fears Chitose’s upbringing has a great deal to do with that reaction. “Wait, no, don’t answer that, it was a rethorical question. I know Ichiban would do all that.” And she shakes her head as a small smile draws on her lips. “So, why are you here alone?”

Tomizawa sighs.

“Because by some miracle I managed to talk Ichiban out of coming. Told him to give me everything he bought and stay the night with Nanba-san, that I’d give it to you.”

Friend of the Year award, he’ll say it again.

It would be somewhat embarrassing, having Ichiban come here and find Chitose like this, yes. Then again, they’ve seen each other in swimsuits, so it wouldn’t be that big of a deal. Realizing who is with her at the moment (Chitose tries to hide them with her body, but Tomizawa has already seen the red-bottom black heels lying by the doorstep), on the other hand... Well, that would be awkward as fuck. Tomizawa would rather save someone else from sharing his same fate; he’s got enough experience that these sort of situations don’t impact him much anymore.

“You... talked him out of coming here? Seriously? But why?” Chitose blinks at him, as if she’s expecting him to start laughing and say it was all a joke and that Ichiban is actually hiding behind the open door.

Needless to say, that doesn’t happen. And it only seems to confuse her further.

“You seriously have to ask?” Tomizawa asks, utterly exhausted, shaking his head. “You’re with someone right now, aren’t you?”

“Of course no—!”

No time for Chitose to finish that sentence. A rowdy female voice coming from the bathroom interrupts her.

“Hey, Chi-chan! What’s the hold-up? Water’s gonna get cold!”

Chitose stays there, sparing one quick glance at the bathroom door behind her, then turning back to Tomizawa. Like a deer in the headlights. She stuffs one hand into the pocket of her robe, the other going up to tug at her own hair. She tries to hide her increasingly red face, but even in the oranges and yellows of the Yokohama sunset, it still stands out.

“You were saying?”

“Okay, fine!” Chitose says. “Yeah, I’m with... someone.”

“With Saeko-san to be more specific.”

“... Yes, fine, you got me.” She sounds defeated. “What about it?”

“Well, there you have it.” Tomizawa shrugs like it’s not a big deal. Which it kind of isn’t, considering the group’s track record. “Aren’t you happy I protected your privacy? Honestly, at least thank a guy.”

“Oh, shut up!” Chitose huffs. Closes her eyes and seems to be counting to ten. Then, she sighs and her whole face softens. “But honestly though, thanks. It’s nice to know someone out there cares about you this much.” And now she looks like her usual, spunky self. Which means, of course, that she won’t miss the opportunity to get under Tomizawa’s skin. “You’re surprisingly nice, Tomi!”

Tomizawa can’t help but roll his eyes, even if he does appreciate the sentiment. He knows she’s being honest, maybe more than ever before.

But if Chitose is not missing her shot, then he won’t either.

“Surprisingly, she says...”

“Well, forgive a girl for being careful around the man with a track record of pulling weapons on people!”

That isn’t entirely fair, and there are a lot of details she’s purposefully leaving out for the sake of exaggeration. Still, Tomizawa doesn’t have it in him to even pretend to be mad. So, he simply rolls his eyes again and murmurs, “Okay, you got a point there. Barely, but still.” And leaves it at that.

Chitose giggles, and she, too, comments no further.

Instead, Tomizawa helps her out, carrying the bags full of stuff she doesn’t need (but hey, it might come in handy one day) inside her apartment.

Surprisingly, the place is not massive, though it is a little cluttered—Chitose is a sucker for useless trinkets, and it seems she hasn’t yet adapted to having less space to maneuver. Just by the TV, she’s got a little duck figurine, a realistic toy tarantula (at least, Tomizawa hopes it’s a toy and that Chitose didn’t get some new interest in exotic pets) and a small crochet bunny. It feels kind of suffocating, but Tomizawa might just be used to his own car being too small of a makeshift-home to even think of decorating it.

Maybe, he thinks, if and when he moves to Ijincho, he’ll go with her on her little trinket-shopping sprees. To monitor her expenses. Yeah.

“Hey, Tomi? Before you leave...” Chitose says now, and out of the corner of his eye he can see her pull the damning necklace back out from her pocket, handing it to him, like she’s planning to get rid of evidence of a crime or something. “Could you please give this back to Seonhee-san? She must be at the Geomijul right now.”

Or he could wait until tomorrow. It’s late already. He’s tired. He was also hoping to maybe watch some late-night reruns of old cartoons, or that baseball match they never got to today if he’s lucky.

But then he remembers—he’s no entomologist or even acquinted with how spiders behave; maybe they all do sleep till noon and it’s not only Seonhee having a terrible sleep schedule by virtue of leading two criminal organizations. Getting it out of the way now might be for the better. He never knows when the queen tarantula might wake.

So, he shoves the evidence into his jacket and, in turn, becomes Chitose’s accomplice-wingman-errand-boy.

“You know,” He adds for the sake of being oh, so fucking petty, “it wouldn’t kill you to pay me some sweet Fujinomiya money for all this delivery work I’m doing.”

It's Chitose's turn to roll her eyes at him. Closes up her bathrobe and Tomizawa thinks he sees her shiver. She must be cursing him out in her head, probably wants to get back inside the bath. Especially when there is someone waiting for her in there. Saeko is probably also cursing Tomizawa’s entire bloodline, and they are probably going to talk shit about him as soon as he leaves and laugh about it.

“Come on, Tomi!” She still sounds somewhat cordial though, Tomizawa will give her that. “Drinks are on me tomorrow, how’s that sound?”

“Good enough.” He shrugs. Already making his way to the door, if anything because Chitose’s voice is one thing, but her face spells out a clear for the love of God, just leave, you idiot. And, because Tomizawa is an idiot, and also petty as shit, he adds, “You can leave now, water’s gonna get cold!”

“I take everything back, you are the worst!”

Yeah, maybe so.

Then again, Tomizawa thinks he deserves to get his lick back, considering. He could start running his mouth, talk about the things he’s seen, and then? Well, he’d probably get hunted down for sport, realistically. He doesn’t want the Chinese or Korean mafia or the Mad Dog of Shimano or whatever yakuza contacts Osamu has, or a really angry Saeko with a handbag full of bricks, or Seonhee with her trusty bowgun after him, thank you very much. But if he was, hypothetically, to run his mouth? Oh boy!

But, because Eric Tomizawa is an angel and just about the best friend there is in the entire world, he keeps quiet and drops by the Geomijul at ass o’clock to hand Seonhee her jewelry back, like some sort of glorified delivery service. And he remembers laughing at Ichiban and the ridiculous bright yellow uniform and the bike stunts back in Hawaii—it’s not so different now, and Kasuga would so get back at him for it.

Good thing Kasuga isn’t here then.

And good thing he’ll never know about this, because again, Tomizawa is a great friend.

And because Chitose is buying him drinks, that too.

And posibly, probably because Seonhee happens to have a spare bottle of soju lying around that he lets Tomizawa take home.

"Consider it payment," she says, "for the trouble. I'll try not to make it a habit to have you fetch me stuff, as convenient as it is. Next time you can call Joongi, I'm sure he wouldn't mind."

Unless he's too busy with Zhao. It goes unsaid, but Seonhee knows it as well as Tomizawa does. Still, Joongi never says no to her. He probably would leave Zhao blue-balled, even if only for an hour, to fulfill one of the queen's requests. 

It could also be because his birthday is close enough, and Saeko (a little tipsy, but not even close to drunk by her standards. Yet) overhears Tomizawa telling Nanba about it at Survive, and she cuts in with a, "You know, we could celebrate at the club. Drinks and food on the house, of course! And just so you know, I never do that!"

"Sa-chan, you should probably stop drinking."

"Oh come on, Nan-chan, the night's still so young!"

"Yes, Nanba-san, let a girl have fun!"

"Hey! Since when are you always on her side, Chi-chan?"

"I think you're better off just ordering another beer, man. Leave it alone."

"You too, Tomi? Ugh, fine! You guys are terrible influences, by the way."

"You were clearly itching for another drink, Nanba. Don't play innocent now!"

"And you better keep an eye on your girlfriend unless you wanna drag her wasted ass all the way back to the Geomijul, Seonhee!"

"Oh, I don't think that would be a problem."

Ah, is life good when you are a good friend!

(Or life is good when you have friends; and you start thinking about moving to Yokohama, and do them favors because —yes, let’s be real— you get stuff out of it, but also because you kinda do love them, and seeing them happy kinda does make you happy too. And you don't remember the last time you've felt like you had a purpose in life like this. Feels like family, in a way. And that’s crazy to say with a history like Eric Tomizawa’s, but somehow it’s the situation he’s ended up at.

And honestly, he wouldn’t trade that experience for the world.)