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“Kurusu-kun, can I see you after class?”
Akira blanches at Miss Kawakami’s words. He nods robotically, gathering his things slowly as the rest of the students filter out of the room, glancing at him as they go. A few whispers pass between his classmates, and he knows at once what they’re saying. The country bumpkin is an idiot.
Stuffing his belongings into his bag, Akira slings it over his shoulder and approaches the desk at the front. He jams his hands in his pockets and rocks back on his heels, trying to keep his anxiety to a dull roar as his teacher pulls out his most recent test.
“I’m concerned about your grades. At the beginning of the year, your grades in my class were decent. Unfortunately, your last two tests show an increasing decline as we delve into more difficult work. I think it would be best to send you to tutoring before this situation becomes any worse.”
“Tutoring…?” Akira frowns. He didn’t realize something like that existed at Shujin.
“Yes. The student council president hosts tutoring for special cases like yourself three days a week. He’s a third year with an outstanding record of success in his courses.” Kawakami scribbles a room number onto a scratch sheet of paper and hands it over. “He will also let me know if you do not show up, so do us both a favor and attend.”
Taking the note, Akira stares at the information. His mind doesn’t register the number, still stuck on his teacher’s words. “Special case?”
“Y-Yes. Well…” Kawakami trails off, a little red in the face as she struggles for words — perhaps more than Akira did with his test. “Normally, we suggest a study group before jumping to more serious tactics; however, you-”
“Don’t have friends,” Akira finishes for her.
She sighs, clearly relieved that he is aware of his circumstances. “The student council president will be available from 4 to 6 on Tuesdays, Wednesdays, and Thursdays. Please let me know if you have any personal issues with him.”
“Right…” He bows slightly. “Thank you for the advice, Miss Kawakami.” Akira turns and heads for the door without her response. The situation is frustrating enough, he doesn’t need to make things uncomfortable with his homeroom teacher.
The number scrawled onto the paper leads him to a water closet of an office. The tight quarters are obsessively tidy and hold only enough space for two learners and their books. Akira decides to take a seat at the lone desk, despite knowing his tutor won’t be showing up for at least another fifteen minutes.
Alone — like always — Akira’s hand migrates to the thin necklace around his throat. He pulls it out of his turtleneck shirt and begins to toy with the ring slung onto the chain. It’s hard, pearlescent white plastic. Tiny. Fit for his eleven year-old finger and not the body he grew into six years later. He sighs, slipping the tip of his ring finger into the band, like he often does when he’s alone and wearing burdens heavier than he’d like to carry. It serves as a reminder that there’s someone out there that loves him, even if they haven’t seen each other in five years — since Goro’s mother took a job in Tokyo and ripped him from Akira’s life.
Tokyo… Akira laughs to himself at the sheer happenstance that he’s here. It’s been seven months since he moved, but Akira remembers as clear as day how thrilled he was that his father chose to relocate the family once their care of Akira’s grandmother transferred to his uncle. It still sparks excitement in Akira’s chest, thinking about that first glimpse of the city. What awaits him here.
Having been separated from Goro so long, Akira wonders if they’ll even recognize each other. The city is so big, after all. Finding Goro in a sea of faces won’t be easy. At the same time, a childlike confidence burns in his chest. It doesn’t matter how many people he has to sift through. He would know Goro anywhere. Any time.
Akira twirls the ring and squeezes it gently. He’ll find him. Soon. He’s certain of it.
With a heavy sigh, Akira leans in the chair, pitching back onto two legs and balancing as he stares at the ceiling tiles. Boredom chews at the edges of his mind. This guy better hurry up. It’s not like Akira has better plans to pursue, but he doesn’t like the idea of being trapped at school longer than necessary just because he struggles to write kanji well. It’s not like any other teacher ever paid attention to his shortcomings.
The door swings open with a creak. Immediately, a tired voice chastises him. “You should keep all four legs of your chair on the floor. It is dangerous to rock in them.”
“Sorry, Senpai. I’ll be more ca-” Akira’s seat slams down, and his words lodge in his throat. He blinks, struggling to process the vision before him. Broad shoulders clothed in a tight black ribbed turtleneck. A school blazer slung over an arm carrying a stack of books. Shoulder-length tawny hair. A jaw that could cut glass. And wide auburn eyes, staring back at Akira with the same amount of astonishment.
Those eyes rake down Akira’s agog expression, sticking when they get to his throat. An audible swallow precedes the words Akira has long awaited to hear. “You kept my ring.”
A strange, nervous energy thrums in Akira’s veins. His heart stutters as Goro steps closer, dropping his belongings onto the table with a thud. He’s so much taller than Akira — interesting given Akira always towered over him when they were kids.
Fighting to find his voice, Akira stutters, “Y- You gave it to me.” Akira’s fingers once again toy with the comforting band. “We made a promise.”
Goro leans down, hand planting against the back of Akira’s chair. “And what promise was that?” He asks, not because he doesn’t know — Akira can tell that much. No, he’s testing Akira. Testing his faithfulness to their childhood vow.
Akira flushes, almost embarrassed to speak it aloud, despite how often he’s thought of it since the Akechi family left Hyogo. It’s something he’s kept to himself for so long, it almost doesn’t feel real to confirm it aloud. “To get married.”
A satisfied grin appears on Goro’s face, like he didn’t expect Akira to so effortlessly remember. “Are you ready to make good on that promise?”
The blush on Akira’s cheeks grows deeper, and he can barely breathe with how close Goro is. “You still…” His gaze flickers down to Goro’s lips. “You still want to?”
“We made a promise, didn’t we? ‘We’ll reunite in Tokyo, then we’ll get married.’ It wasn’t just some childish yearning farewell before I moved. I meant every word, Akira.”
Joy explodes in Akira’s chest. He laughs, in utter disbelief at how his day has gone. How his life went from adrift to right on course in the manner of seconds. “So… So then we’re dating?”
It’s Goro’s turn to laugh. He shakes his head, smile on his face. “Dating?” He gently grabs Akira’s chin, tilting his head up and pressing his lips to Akira’s. Electric energy thrills down Akira’s entire body at the kiss, and he finds himself leaning heavily into it before Goro pulls back. His gaze is soft, filled with adoration. “I’ve known that I love you since I was seven years-old. You and I are engaged. Though, we will have to go shopping to get you a ring that fits.”
Goro winks, and Akira’s entire being fills with delight – thrilled to bits by having his most beloved in his life once more.
Dragging Goro back down for another kiss, Akira still barely believes that this can be happening. That his hopes and dreams for reunion have lead to this moment. That Goro did and does love him. Breaking away, breathless, Akira asks, “So when do we start planning the wedding?”
Goro smirks and stands, hand gravitating down toward the pile of textbooks. His fingers rap against the covers and draw Akira attention to what he had so eagerly ignored. “Right after our tutoring session is finished.”
Akira deflates, having long forgotten that was the original reason he’s in this dinky room. “Oh.”
“Don’t worry,” Goro purrs. “We can go back to my place and catch up all night once we’re done.”
It’s an innocent enough statement, but Goro’s suggestive tone has Akira blushing again. He nods and hastily digs into his bag, slapping his workbook onto the table. “What are we waiting for? Let’s get started.”