Chapter Text
When he was a baby, Ainosuke was used to kisses. They were frequent and abundant, painting his whole face, his stubby little toes, his milk-full belly with affection and adoration. His mother would plant kisses on his forehead and kiss into his soft blue hair; she would kiss every finger on his claspy little hands, his nose.
Ainosuke was a happy baby. He knew what love was and it was his mother's laugh, her smile, her sparkling eyes and singsong voice. In her orbit, he needed nothing, yet she willingly gave him everything, her pride and joy after years of trying and years of crying. Ainosuke was perfect in every single way, so very much wanted, much needed, and much loved.
As a toddler, Ainosuke learned to walk by following his mother’s clapping hands, encouraged to stumble and fall and get up again in his quest for her cuddles, and when he reached her he’d be swept up in her arms and spun about and he’d laugh and laugh and laugh, her own laughter dancing with it, carrying through the estate and bringing joy to everyone so fortunate enough to hear it.
As his mother fell ill, Ainosuke noticed his kisses came fewer, then, the cuddles less frequent, her laughter less vibrant. He spent less time in her company, often marched off and away from her bedside where he’d be forced to study or learn some pointless etiquette that honestly was never very fun.
He wasn’t there when she died. He’d been in class, in some distant wing of the estate, a private tutor reading joylessly from a textbook. There had been a knock at the door, and one of the many servants had requested his leave from studies. Ainosuke hadn’t realised at first what this unusual escape had implied, skipping merrily down the familiar path to his mother’s quarters. Maybe she had some exciting story to tell him, or maybe today she was well enough to play a game - she’d been too tired lately for games. But as he reached the door, the servant clasped his shoulder, and broke formality enough to kneel down to his height. He explained as best he could to innocent ears, offered a handkerchief as the tears began to fall, and then he gently coaxed the boy inside. There would be no games, no silly story to tell, but there would be kisses, as Ainosuke kissed and kissed and kissed her cheek and into her hair and sobbed wetly, not really understanding but understanding enough.
There were no more kisses after that.
Time moved quickly in the Shindo estate after the lady of the house had passed. The funeral was very formal and very heartless and passed in a blur of well wishes, condolences and comfortless hugs. Ainosuke saw his father very briefly at the wake, who was preoccupied with thanking guests and networking. He didn’t recognise many faces in the crowd, seeking the comfort of his mother’s friends and finding none. He did find himself in the company of the head gardener of the estate though, who offered him a real cuddle, squeezing him tightly, the first true embrace he’d felt since before his mother died.
“I’d like you to meet my son,” the gardener had told Ainosuke. He gently pushed a young boy forwards. He looked a little older, Ainosuke guessed, but not by much. “He asked to come help around the estate after school and I thought you two might get along.”
The taller boy looked at his feet, looked at the wall, looked anywhere but at Ainosuke.
“Oh, don’t be shy,” the gardener said, softly patting his son’s back. “This is Tadashi. Tadashi, this is the young master, Ainosuke. Why don’t you two go outside and play. This must be awfully dull.”
Both boys stood motionless, Tadashi felt shy and Ainosuke wasn’t sure he was even allowed to escape the confines of the wake. The gardener stood, smiling. “Go on,” he coaxed with a wink, catching a fleeting eagerness in Ainosuke’s eyes. “I’ll cover for you if anybody asks. Have some fun.”
Fun . The concept had been long absent from Ainosuke’s life. He looked from the gardener, to Tadashi, and back to the gardener, a smile creeping over his face. Then he grabbed Tadashi’s wrist and bolted, weaving between the guests, down the hall and out into the garden, laughing wildly as though they were the sneakiest criminals in the whole wide world and as though they had somehow pulled off the most daring escape of the century. Together they ran past the ornamental pond, down across the exotic flower beds and finally stumbled into the rose garden, where Tadashi tripped, rolling head first onto the lawn, giggling stupidly.
“You’re going to get in soooo much trouble,” Tadashi said, rubbing his knee. “You’re all muddy.”
Ainosuke blinked, looking down at his legs. He was wearing a suit jacket and shirt, with long shorts and shoes that had once been wax shone, but now every inch of them was mucky and brown. A wave of laughter escaped him. “Oops,” he giggled. “But so are you!”
“I’m allowed to be muddy,” Tadashi said matter-of-factly. “Won’t you get in trouble?”
Ainosuke stopped laughing. He looked back down to his bare legs, covered in mud. “I’m always in trouble,” he said quietly. “Since Mum got sick...”
As his voice trailed off, Tadashi grabbed his sleeve. “Get down!” he urged, pulling the two of them to the floor. They ducked near a rosebush as two adults, presumably funeral guests, passed by. They sat motionless on the grass until the figures were far in the distance, and then Ainosuke started giggling again.
“You could be my bodyguard,” he laughed, nudging Tadashi, who looked at him blankly, before narrowing his eyes, just a little.
“What makes you think I’d be any good at that?”
Ainosuke considered for a moment. “Well, you’re taller than me, for a start. And you’re older than me.”
Tadashi stared, realising Ainosuke had apparently no concept of their wildly different lives or the roles they each played in the estate. “Well, that’s true,” he said finally.
“That settles it, then!” Ainosuke declared with a triumphant giggle.
“We should probably get back,” Tadashi sighed, standing. He reached down, offering his hand. “They might be wondering where you are.”
Ainosuke laughed. “See? You’re already looking after me,” he said with a silly pout, allowing Tadashi to pull him to his feet. The two of them headed back to the mansion slowly, neither one really in a rush to return to their real lives.
As time passed, Ainosuke and Tadashi spent more time together, though they both became increasingly aware that their time spent together was ‘improper’. Occasionally, Ainosuke would sneak out into the gardens and help with the work there. Tadashi’s father was a kind man who often snuck sweets and juice boxes into their pockets as reward for a job well done - even if they hadn’t really done anything at all. Sometimes, Ainosuke could sneak away long enough to hide in the rose garden again with Tadashi and they’d share snacks, and Tadashi would show him some of his newest Pokémon cards or the latest issue of his favourite comic.
“This is for you,” he said one day, handing Ainosuke a small box. “I made you a deck, we can play together.”
Ainosuke’s eyes glistened with tears. “For me, really?” he exclaimed, fanning the deck in his hands and admiring the cards. “But some of these are super good, are you sure?”
Tadashi smiled. “I’m double sure,” he giggled, and he got his own cards out to play.
The evenings were the worst, when Tadashi and his father had returned home and his family was ‘busy’. His mere existence seemed to be an irritant. Somehow every day there had been something . His lessons had probably gone poorly, or his sports had probably gone poorly, or his etiquette was somehow lacking and he’d be called to his family’s chamber and escorted by some servant who often, but not every time, squeezed his shoulder in an act of comfort before closing the door behind him. And there he’d be left, tiny and meek in a room so much larger and older than he, surrounded by aunties who were his father’s sisters and had all the love and compassion he held - which was very little, as it turned out.
“You realise we only do this because we love you,” they’d say, each word punctuated by the throbbing burn of a bruising arm. When he was very little, the sting had been lighter, but now he was older, a sharp cane to the forearm was more their method. HIs failings as a person always admonished, their punishment quickly administered via the sharp slap and the admission that this pained them just as much as it hurt him , that they were only enduring this for his own good, and that they loved him - oh , how they loved him.
One day, they found his Pokémon cards. He’d hidden them pretty well, he thought, under his bed and behind a box of books, but somebody found them all the same. He’d been dragged quite literally by his ear to the main family quarters where he’d been made to sit and endure the agony of love, before watching as his father had snarled, tossing his cards into the fireplace.
“This sort of thing is unacceptable in this house,” he’d stated. “Such childish nonsense. You want to enjoy yourself? That won’t change your life.” And one by one the cards burned, the flames eating them up as they curled and rotted. Ainosuke watched every one of them turn to dust, emotionless and dry eyed, unwilling to show emotion, or perhaps quite simply unable to.
After that, he’d been grounded for two weeks, which in the Shindo household honestly didn’t make a lot of difference, but he'd been given extra tuition and refused desserts or sweets of any kind. “In this house, you earn pleasure,” he’d been told. “And you have lost that privilege.”
Strict as they were, however, Ainosuke’s family had their own lives and pressing matters to attend to. One Saturday evening soiree meant Ainosuke had a chance to sneak out, his father and his aunties busy with their own affairs and the entire house staff tasked with party preparations. He first ran to the gardens, looking for the kind gardener with whom he’d become so acquainted over the months, or more specifically, in search of his son who often accompanied him. He searched the greenhouses, the ponds, the lakeside. Finally he found himself in the rose garden again, a place he and Tadashi had spent so many hours alone, secretly giggling and laughing and enjoying their own time away from adults, responsibilities and commitments.
This time, however, there was no Tadashi. He was alone, in the dimming light of a Summer evening, and suddenly he felt as though he had no direction, no place left to run, no escape. He stumbled, the wind knocked out of him.
I’m alone.
And then, Ainosuke cried, and cried, and cried. He cried for the first time since his mother passed away. He cried loudly, sure nobody was able to hear, his sobs wet and miserable and honest. He fell to the ground, uncaring of the dirt that would surely mark his knees. He picked up a rock from beside him and threw it earnestly. He pulled the grass from the earth, clutching it in his fists and throwing the blades angrily into the air. He cried until his throat ran hoarse and until his eyes stung and until he was sure there were no tears left to cry.
He hung his head, exhausted, and an age passed where he merely sat. The evening drew in, mild and moist.
Finally, Ainosuke pulled himself to his feet and slowly trudged back towards the mansion. His aim was to sneak back in and head right back to his room, but with each step towards the house his feet grew heavier. He could hear music playing faintly through the walls and heard the chatter and laughter of people inside. Everybody was having fun, there was merriment there, joy. The Shindo house hadn’t really felt joyful since his mother died. It certainly hadn’t been a place of laughter. Ainosuke found himself heading towards one of the large bay windows, stealing an opportunity to remind himself what happiness was, what fun was.
His eyes grew wide. Inside, people were mingling and talking, large groups gathered around the dessert island and primarily engaging themselves with a chocolate fountain taller than his whole body. People danced by the stage while a live band played some slower tune. People held champagne flutes in their hands or small plates filled with tiny things. Everybody was smiling or laughing. Ainosuke felt so jealous of them all.
As he watched, he finally caught glimpse of his father. Aiichiro Shindo held court over a small gaggle of people but his presence clearly resonated throughout the whole room. People fawned over him, pandered to him, peacocked for him. Ainosuke was in awe of it all, wondering if he would be anywhere near this stature someday, proud of this man he could call his father, until he noticed-
Aiichiro’s arm was draped around another woman, a girl so much younger looking than his mother, blonde and beautiful and full of giggles and mirth. He leaned in and kissed her fully, his hands sliding down her waist, and Ainosuke could barely hold back a gasp. Who was this woman, and why was his father kissing her? Didn’t he love his mother? Didn’t he miss her like Ainosuke did?
Ainosuke fled from the scene, kicking up dirt as he bolted, running around to the other side of the mansion and far enough from the party that the music wasn’t audible any longer. He ran until his lungs ached, and when he was certain he was alone, he slumped down against a trellis and hugged his knees, sobbing loudly. It just wasn’t fair. None of this was fair, and he felt so, so alone. He missed his mother. He missed her kisses, her cuddles, her laughter. He missed it all.
“...Do you wanna try?”
Ainosuke blinked, head snapping upward, tear-stained eyes searching before falling on the boy that approached. Tadashi held out a skateboard, firmly presenting it towards Ainosuke as though it were a lifering rescuing him from darkening seas.
"I can show you how."
Ainosuke regarded him for a moment before his eyes fell to the board. He reached up and held it, standing shakily to his feet as he did so.
“Really? I can try?”
“Of course,” Tadashi said with a tender smile.
“I’ll fall,” Ainosuke muttered quietly, examining the wheels. He’d never been anywhere near a skateboard before.
“Falling’s part of the fun,” Tadashi said authoritatively. “Besides, I’m your bodyguard right? I’ll look after you.”
Ainosuke smiled, meekly at first and then wide. “Right! Of course. Let’s go!”.
Life was something different, after that. Ainosuke felt the swell of happiness in his chest as he'd sneak off into the mansion grounds. He'd always enjoyed spending time with Tadashi when he could, but his newfound love of skateboarding brought the two of them even closer. Tadashi explained the basic moves and tried as best he could to keep Ainosuke from falling and hurting himself. Ainosuke wasn't a natural, not really, but he was a fast learner, and what he lacked in experience he more than made up for with enthusiasm.
"This used to be a swimming pool," he said once, offhandedly. They'd been practising ramps and he'd been doing really well until his wheel caught itself on a nasty crack in the ground and he'd bailed, hard. After ensuring he wasn't seriously injured, Tadashi had slumped down beside him, pressing a cloth to his cut-up knee.
"I remember."
"I don't, not really." Ainosuke shook his head with a sigh. "Sorta, I guess." The pool had been most loved by his mother, who had spent long lazy Summer afternoons swimming or sunning herself with her friends while Aiichiro spent time elsewhere, on other things, with other people. "I liked swimming. I remember that."
When his mother got sick, the pool was the first thing to go.
Tadashi didn't like to see Ainosuke sad, so he stood to his feet again, stepping onto his board. "It makes a great skatepark though. Come on, you still gotta show me that new trick."
Ainosuke grinned, melancholy dissipating as he took Tadashi's hand and allowed himself to be pulled upwards.
"You'll get a kick out of it," he laughed, launching himself onto his board. "Check this out."
Time passed. Time passed faster now, the drudgery of lessons and formality spliced between laughter, skateboarding tricks, bruised knees and grazed, bloody palms.
One evening, as the sun slowly stole away the light and the chill of evening wrapped around them, Ainosuke kissed Tadashi. They'd been skating together - when hadn't they been? - and he'd taken a trip on that same crack again. This time, however, Tadashi had been right beside him, and he'd grabbed his wrist and pulled him to safety. They'd paused in that moment, and Ainosuke had realised how very close Tadashi was and how very near his lips were and how he could have died , damn it, if he hadn't been there to save his fall. He'd regained his footing and threw his head forward, kissing Tadashi hard but chaste, a firm peck to the lips. He pulled back the moment he did it, brain catching up with the involuntary movements of his heart.
"Mister Ainosuke…"
Tadashi's eyes were wide, searching. This was foreign, dangerous territory. He hadn't yet released Ainosuke's wrist, but he did so then, shock practically paralysing him.
Ainosuke, in turn, bolted. He didn't even take his skateboard with him in his exodus, fleeing towards the mansion.
"Mister Ainosuke!" Tadashi called after him, but Ainosuke didn't stop, and he didn’t glance back.
Tadashi was left alone in the darkness.
They didn't see each other for weeks after that. Or rather, they didn't acknowledge each other. Tadashi tried, waving awkwardly as Ainosuke passed on his way to class once, but Ainosuke picked up his pace, eyes straight ahead.
Eventually, Tadashi got the hint.
Time passed still, as time always does, and the two shared the estate as ghosts might; silently, unspoken, invisible to each other.
But, Tadashi was nothing if not loyal, and Ainosuke was his friend. He remembered the times Ainosuke had cried on his shoulder, the times he'd sat silently and broodingly on the steps by the pool, the evening he found him in the rose garden and just hugged him, wordlessly, for what felt like hours in an unspoken embrace. I'll look after you.
The knock at the window woke Ainosuke, a cautious tap at first but louder and more desperate within moments. He blinked, pulling the bedsheets off and padding across his bedroom.
Tadashi looked back at him, half suspended in the tree Ainosuke had often used as his method of escape. For a moment, Ainosuke considered closing the curtains and returning to bed. Instead, he opened the latch.
"What are you doing here?" he snapped, his whispered voice angry and somehow loud in the silence of night.
"You've been avoiding me."
Tadashi, ever stoic, ever blunt. It wasn't a question. He'd left no room for debate.
"I've been busy," Ainosuke said, but they both knew there was no truth to it and the statement died in the heavy air between them. He moved away from the window, and Tadashi took it as an invitation, clambering through gracelessly, stumbling in the darkness. This time, it was Ainosuke’s turn to catch him, and Tadashi landed clumsily in his arms. Neither moved for a beat, before Ainosuke shoved him away. “Be quiet,” he hissed. “I can’t have you getting me in more trouble.”
Tadashi frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
"Boys don't kiss boys," Ainosuke said, his face darkening.
"I-huh?" Tadashi blinked. "What?"
"You heard me."
" You kissed me !"
"It was an accident," Ainosuke snapped. "I tripped."
"Ainosuke…"
"You know you're supposed to address me as Mister Ainosuke," Ainosuke spat, venom dripping from his voice. "Or have you forgotten your manners?"
"Mister Ainosuke," Tadashi corrected obediently. "Why are you acting like this?"
"Maybe it's about time we stopped hanging out." The words 'stopped skating together’ were left unsaid, but hung heavily between them all the same.
"Mister Ainosuke…"
"You're affecting my studies. I'm starting senior school next year. I don't have time to waste-"
"Skating? But you love to skate…"
Ainosuke said nothing. He looked away, unable to quite meet Tadashi's questioning gaze.
"Mister Ainosuke," Tadashi began, softly. "I'm sorry but, do you like me?"
Ainosuke's head shot up, his eyes wide and vicious. "What?"
"You… I mean. It's okay, you know. If you do."
"Get out," Ainosuke said through gritted teeth, but Tadashi didn't move. Ainosuke became shrill. "Get out! Before I call someone to throw you out!" He moved towards Tadashi, arm raised as though to strike him, but Tadashi remained steadfast, his lack of response stalling Ainosuke in his tracks and he stood, a domino primed to topple the world and instead staying rigid and unmoving.
There was a moment, and it passed between them like a heavy wall of hyperspace, altering the air in the room and throwing the two of them into another dimension, a new reality. Tadashi didn’t back down, his eyes boring into Ainosuke's own. “No,” he said, firmly. “I’m not leaving.”
Ainosuke had never been disobeyed before by anybody of a lower status than his own. The hierarchy in his family was clear and absolute. His father ruled the roost, his aunts collectively came second place, and Ainosuke was below them all. The station of the Shindo staff was very much beneath every one of them, however, and none dared answer back to Ainosuke, even when he was a child, not even those far older than he. That Tadashi had the sheer nerve to stand there, in Ainosuke’s own bedroom, and directly disobey him… Ainosuke found himself completely and utterly dumbfounded, brain short-circuiting at this new overload of information.
“...No?”
“I’m not leaving.” Tadashi repeated, his voice firm, months of silence, thought and resolute determination finally building to this one moment and cascading out of him. He, like Ainosuke, was very aware of his station, of his lack of standing, of the risks he took in even being there. “Are we friends, Mister Ainosuke?”
“W-...what sort of question is that?”
“I’m still your friend,” Tadashi turned the question around, his voice still firm, but a softness crept in around the edges, and for a moment it seemed as though Ainosuke’s posture had softened with it. He looked to Tadashi with the same eyes that had once stared up at him, questioning and uncertain, but then as soon as the sparkle in his eyes flickered, it faded, and he took a step back.
“I don’t need friends,” he said coldly. “And I don’t need you.”
“Your father has asked me to train as his secretary when I'm sixteen,” Tadashi said flatly. “It’s an incredible opportunity and I’m grateful for his kindness.”
Kindness? Ainosuke glared at him. “Fascinating. And what does that have to do with me?”
“I would like to remain your friend, Aino- Mister Ainosuke,” Tadashi said, and his voice turned a little harder - almost imperceptibly so. “And given my new arrangement with Mister Aiichiro, I think you’re stuck with me, whether you like it or not.”