Work Text:
Poor thing.
Toku hears all the whispers about him from gossiping relatives as they gather at the viewing hall, eyes bloodshot behind his glasses. His cousin holds Kazuya so he can bow and give his thanks to everyone for coming, but by the time the priest has come to bless his deceased wife's ashes, he's taken his son back into his arms for comfort.
Luckily, Kazuya is a quiet baby—he doesn't make a fuss as his father moves him from shoulder to shoulder, peacefully sucking on his thumb and dozing off during the procession.
A dozen people he hasn't spoken to for years come up to him and offer to take his son off of his hands. It's obvious that nobody truly believes that Toku can take care of Kazuya by himself, not when he's the owner of a small, unstable business and when he has little to no free time. "No thank you," Toku says again and again, fighting back the urge to cry in frustration.
His wife wouldn't want them to be separated, even if it would make life more difficult for Toku in the end.
Kazuya kicks off every pair of shoes that Toku tries to put on his feet for daycare, launching them across the messy living room amongst the dozens of half-read books about parenting and cooking strewn about the floor. "No."
Toku sighs. He hasn't slept for more than two hours in a week, and his glasses are broken because he'd stepped on them by accident yesterday morning. "What's wrong, Kazuya?"
Instead of answering him properly, Kazuya wrinkles his round little nose. "No." He's two and a half, and Toku knows that Kazuya could tell him if he wanted to, but instead, he's made this into some sort of test. It would be adorable and hilarious if Toku weren't about to pass out.
He stands up slowly, rummaging through the shelf in the closet full of Kazuya's things. He's growing so fast, and Toku knows he'll have to buy his son new clothes soon, but his shoes should still have room. The three sets he'd tried already had a couple centimeters of extra space left in the toes.
After a minute or two, he spots a set he'd bought on a whim, enticed by the tittering saleswoman. These are very popular nowadays, sir, shoes designed to look like animals.
He'd always thought of them as slippers more than anything, content to let Kazuya roam around in them on the floor. He brings them out to the living room, where Kazuya has started slapping his tiny hands against one of the magazines Toku has scribbled notes all over for reference, and the boy lights up when he sees what his father has in his hands. "Yes!"
Relief floods through Toku as he finally manages to get Kazuya ready. When he drops the boy off, the attendant stares at Toku like the man has grown a second head, all but speaking her thoughts, her expression clearly saying, you brought him here in his house slippers, but he doesn't care. It doesn't matter.
Kazuya is smiling, and he's happy, so it's fine.
"Oh, Dad," Kazuya huffs, currently going through his phase where he thinks he's so much smarter and more mature than his father at the tender age of five. "Don't cry. Boys don't cry."
Toku snorts, pushing up his glasses to wipe away a fresh wave of tears. "Who told you that?"
Kazuya puts his hands on his hips. "Maeno-san, from the next block over."
"Well, Maeno-san lied. Sometimes, crying is the best way to let out your emotions." Toku fusses with Kazuya's hair for another minute or two before Kazuya groans, pulling away with a gap-toothed smile. "One more picture, okay? Then you're free to go play." Today is only the opening ceremony, so he can't imagine they'll keep the children in the assembly hall for long.
He snaps the shot and about jumps out of his skin when a tiny little woman grabs his shoulder, pointing to his camera. "I can take a shot of the two of you together, if you like?" Her daughter and husband are playing together off to the side, seemingly finished with their photos already, so Toku nods. He stands with his back ramrod straight, dressed in a suit for the occasion, and he waves as Kazuya disappears into the throng of children afterwards. "They grow up so fast."
Toku hums, feeling both elated and melancholic. "They really do."
He gets home late, but it smells good inside once he arrives, like spices and fish sauce. Kazuya's been playing around in the kitchen lately, and Toku doesn't mind—he's really gotten quite good at cooking. All it really means is that he needs to go to the grocery store, or otherwise increase Kazuya's allowance by a slim a margin, as much as he can afford to part with, so that he can buy more food.
When he turns on the light in the kitchen, he spies Kazuya sprawled out over a bunch of old sports magazines, likely copies from the boy down the street who's recently joined a little league team. There's a bowl of fried rice waiting for him with plastic wrap over it and a serving spoon laid out on a napkin.
Toku goes to get a blanket to drape over his son before he takes a seat, chewing idly and studying his son's expression. He's seen him come home in dirty clothes and in second-hand jerseys, but Kazuya hasn't said anything—hasn't asked for money to buy a bat, or a glove. With the neighbors so well-to-do, he assumes his son has gotten everything he needs to play baseball, if that is what he's been doing in the afternoons after school, from them.
Idly, he reaches out to run a hand through Kazuya's hair. "I'm sorry I can't do more for you," he whispers, pulling his hand back to wash the dishes. Once the kitchen is clean, he picks Kazuya up in his arms, even though he's decidedly too big for Toku to tote around anymore, and Toku tucks him in before taking a shower and getting a few hours of sleep.
Kazuya stares at the suspiciously large box on his birthday with wary eyes, pushing his glasses up as he pokes it. Toku laughs while he puts the candles into the cake. "Go ahead and open it."
He double-checks that it's really okay and Toku nods, giving him express permission. Kazuya artlessly tears off the paper, finding a tiny sports bag, a bat, a new uniform and cap from the team Kazuya joined, which Toku had found out about by pressing the neighbor boy for details one afternoon, and, most importantly, a brand new catcher's mitt made for a youth, bright yellow, together with a couple of canisters of glove polish and replacement strings to keep it maintained.
Kazuya's eyes are round with wonder. He sits and stares at it for so long in silence that Toku begins to think that he'd misstepped. "You don't like it?"
Fiercely, the boy holds the glove against his chest, eyes glossy as he furrows his brow. "No, it's perfect." As if to prove his point, Kazuya sits down on the floor and begins to play with his new piece of equipment, fiddling with the strings until the leather hugs his fingers.
Assuming that he'll only be busy for a few minutes, Toku lights the candles on the cake, and he frowns when he sees that Kazuya has made no move to get up. "Aren't you going to eat your cake?"
"Sure," Kazuya mumbles, clearly distracted. "In a minute."
Which Toku takes to mean not yet, so he rolls his eyes and blows out the candles, keeping himself busy by reading the paper until Kazuya is ready to finish celebrating his birthday.
With business at the mill coming to a grinding halt, Toku has to spend more time than he wants there, trying his best to keep from going bankrupt. He has to let people go to continue paying the bills, but there are still orders to be filled, so he keeps a small staff and does the best he can with what he's got.
He doesn't see much of Kazuya these days, as the boy has become fiercely independent, but every once in a while, Toku hears loud voices bickering near the warehouse garage, spying a shock of blonde hair accompanying a haughty, bratty tone, and Toku is glad that Kazuya seems to have one friend, at least, because he's never been very good at making them.
It runs in the family, he supposes.
"I got scouted," Kazuya explains one evening, pencil coming to a halt as he lazily does his homework.
Toku lifts an eyebrow at that, cradling his mug of tea with a frown. "It's only your first year, isn't it?" Kazuya is thirteen already, which Toku finds difficult to believe, especially since it feels like his wife just passed yesterday. The ache has gotten dull, but it never fades, shocking him with how somber he feels about it sometimes. On the other hand, Kazuya's astounding growth is something to be proud of, and he never, ever regrets the fact that he'd elected to take care of his son by himself.
That same son, the one who Toku rarely gets to spend time with because he's doing everything in his power to give Kazuya the life he thinks he deserves, has dropped quite a shocking fact on him quite casually. "Yeah," Kazuya says, laughing a little as he rubs his nose. "That's what I said too. The lady must've thought I was really good, because I'm pretty short. I thought it was obvious."
Toku has never been to one of Kazuya's games, but it's not for lack of trying. When Kazuya was little, there had always been someone at the factory clamoring for his attention, knocking on the door to the house to pull him in for questions, and now, taking a day off would be akin to ritual suicide. Guilt nearly eats him alive as he swallows, a lump building in his throat. "Well. Was it a decent school?"
"It's Seido," Kazuya says.
Toku hums knowingly. He might be out of the loop as far as sports are concerned, but he's heard his employees talk about notable games. "They've been to the nationals a few times, right?"
Kazuya beams, clearly excited by his father's understanding of the magnitude of such an honor. "Yeah! They were the runners-up a couple years ago. I did some more research after I got the offer, and apparently there are even higher ranked schools right here in West Tokyo. Mei—I mean, Narumiya Mei, the blonde kid who comes by to nag at me sometimes—is thinking about going to one of them. Isn't that cool?"
He doesn't have the slightest idea what his son is on about, truthfully, but Toku is pleased as long as Kazuya is pleased. "Sure is, kiddo."
"Toku-san, have you seen this?" Toku looks up from the welding machine to see what it is, exactly, his employee is referring to. There's a magazine with a mockup of a bunch of teenagers playing baseball, and the man flips to a page in the middle with an all-too-familiar face on it. "I knew your son played, but I didn't know he was that good. The whole country is talking about how he could go pro right out of high school."
He had a sneaking suspicion, given that Kazuya had been scouted at thirteen, but having someone see his son's potential as a prepubescent boy and knowing that he's remarkably talented as a blossoming sixteen-year-old are two very different things. "If that's what he wants to do, then I'll support him."
Toku knows there's a stigma against people going into the workforce without a college degree, but this is important to Kazuya. Baseball is what he loves. He would never dare to take away anything that precious in Kazuya's life, not when it's been hard enough for him already, when he's been so patient and understanding every step of the way.
Toku doesn't know what it is about his son that so attracts loudmouths. Perhaps it's because Kazuya himself is usually reserved, or at least he is around his father. "Sorry for intruding!"
Sawamura Eijun is a whirlwind of motion, babbling on about something or another full-stop with Kazuya quipping back retorts every once in a while. Toku wonders where all his energy is coming from in the middle of the evening, or if, as he suspects, Sawamura is the type to burn off all of his energy before falling asleep in place when he stops, like a baby.
"Didn't think you'd be home," Kazuya remarks casually, lifting an eyebrow. "Sorry about him."
"What do you mean sorry about him," Sawamura snarls, growling as his son grabs the shorter teen's jaw.
"That's what I mean, idiot—do you even know what time it is?"
Sawamura whines. "You said you wanted to stop by and cook before we left. If we don't hurry, we're gonna miss the last train."
Something about their banter makes Toku laugh. He feels like he hasn't seen Kazuya talk this much in a long time, the silences between them comfortable but often creating a bit of a social rift, making it difficult to cross and ask questions, no matter how much Toku wants to. Kazuya is only home for the holidays lately, which doesn't help matters.
Sawamura offers to help Kazuya in the kitchen, but he gets shooed away after a few minutes of botching up his tasks. "Wouldn't want you to cut your fingers by accident," Kazuya chides him, sending the pitcher off to the living room where his father is lounging, flipping through channels on TV.
Unlike Kazuya, Sawamura can't sit still, bouncing up and down and roaming around the house even while Kazuya warns his teammate to stop being a nuisance. Toku shrugs, because he doesn't mind, really—it's nice to have a little noise around the house.
"That brat doesn't make a little noise," Kazuya grumbles, but he doesn't sound altogether too upset, so Toku smiles. He had to be awfully fond of Sawamura to let him come over here in the first place.
Eventually, Sawamura plops back down on the couch, asking a dozen questions about Kazuya's childhood. "Has he always had such a rotten streak?"
Toku blinks at him in confusion. "Kazuya has always been an agreeable boy."
The golden-eyed youth gapes. "I find that extremely difficult to believe." With that said, he prattles on and on about how Kazuya tricked him on his first day at school, cutting off his own story to explain that Kazuya is a terrible tease with a wealth of sarcastic comments, a mean and unforgiving upperclassman. "But," Sawamura comments, his cheeks growing pink and his eyes wandering as his voice drops an octave to keep this part a secret from Toku's son. "I think he's the best partner I could've ever wound up with, and I know he only says things to help make me better. Don't tell him that, though. He'd just be annoying about me admitting it."
Toku laughs. "Right."
Sensing that he's being spoken about, Kazuya taps the top of Sawamura's head with a ladle, eyes narrowed behind his glasses as the pitcher scowls. "What are you bothering my dad about?"
"Nothing," Sawamura replies truthfully, his tone indignant. "Why are you so convinced that I'm a problem child?"
"Because you are," Kazuya drawls, a smirk on his lips as he pinches the pitcher's cheek.
Absently, Toku wonders if his son has any idea what he's doing before coming to the conclusion that no, he probably doesn't.
Kazuya comes home from his trip to Nagano a changed person, with an almost permanent blush painted on his cheeks and the tendency to get flustered at the slightest, silliest things.
Toku thinks it's a little late for Kazuya to be experiencing his first crush, but then, Kazuya has always been a late bloomer.
Kazuya is eighteen, currently being lauded as the best high school catcher in the country, and should, by all rights, be elated by his status and everything he's managed to achieve in three short years.
Instead, he looks heartbroken. "What's wrong?"
He's been coming home more often since he had to switch dorms at school, feeling melancholy and morose about graduation. "Nothing important."
Toku knows he hasn't been much of a father to Kazuya, what with how difficult it had been just to provide the essentials for his son and having very little time for heart-to-heart chats when they'd kept opposite waking hours through his school years, but he can handle this much. "If it's about college, I have enough money saved for you to go."
"No," Kazuya stresses with a sigh, reminding Toku suddenly of his fit about his shoes as a toddler.
"Is this about going pro, then?"
He wrinkles his nose, his face every inch that of an adult, but his demeanor withdrawn and young. Toku thinks Kazuya really is just a boy, after all. "No. I have a lot of choices to consider, so there's that, but I have time."
Toku pauses for a moment, pondering over all the options before his brain latches onto the most obvious answer. "Is this about Sawamura-kun?" Kazuya tenses up and Toku thinks bingo, unable to keep a wry smile off of his face. "You really like him."
"He's a good...friend." Kazuya's words sound stiff and stale—rehearsed.
His father puts a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to lie to me, Kazuya. I don't care. We only have each other, you know, and I'd never do anything to push you away. I love you."
Tears well up in Kazuya's eyes. Toku hasn't seen Kazuya cry in a long, long time, because boys don't cry. "I hate this," Kazuya mumbles through gritted teeth, dropping his head down on the table and allowing his father to rub his back while he sobs. "I hate leaving. I don't want to go."
"Is Sawamura-kun going to stop playing after high school or something?"
Kazuya reels, eyes blown wide in panic. "As good as he is? I'd kick his ass if he suggested something so stupid."
Toku shrugs. "Then you'll be in the same world for the foreseeable future."
Disgruntled, Kazuya frowns. "There are twelve teams and two leagues. Even if you're right, we might never get to play together again. I might never." He bites his lip. "Get to live with that idiot because of all the public scrutiny or whatever. And baseball comes first, it always will, for both of us."
It's his father's turn to frown this time. "You've never been the type to give up, Kazuya. Your team never would've won the nationals if you had been, and all the papers said you were the crucial figure who made that happen. You and Sawamura-kun. Things will only end between you if you give up," Toku says, "because Sawamura-kun is still alive."
Kazuya freezes at that, a fresh wave of tears coursing down his cheeks. "I'm sorry. What I said was selfish."
Toku shakes his head with a smile. "It's okay. I just need you to realize that you're overthinking things. As long as you're both safe, you can try to figure things out time and time again. I want you to be happy, Kazuya, and I don't really care what the rest of the world thinks about what your happiness looks like."
Kazuya nods, sniffling slightly, sitting up with determination.
"Merry Christmas!" Sawamura is as loud as ever, tumbling through the front door and tugging Kazuya behind him with a theatrically reluctant grimace. Toku can tell that Kazuya is pleased by the gleam in his eyes behind his glasses, and they share a knowing look as Sawamura takes a seat at the table. "I usually go home for the holidays, but Miyuki-senpai begged me to spend time with his family first, so this Sawamura Eijun is here to entertain."
"As a general rule, I ignore everything he says that isn't about baseball for the sake of my sanity," Kazuya chimes in, and Toku covers his mouth to hide a laugh, amused by his son's sharp comment.
"If you keep acting like that, Miyuki Kazuya, I won't give you your Christmas gift."
Kazuya rolls his eyes, flitting about the kitchen to start making dinner. "Wow, I'm so scared."
The meal is delicious, and Sawamura eats enthusiastically, jostling Kazuya around for hiding such a secret from him. He's touchy, draping himself over Kazuya at every given opportunity without a care in the world, and Toku can tell that Kazuya adores it, growing soft around the edges as he stares at Sawamura.
When they finally exchange presents, Kazuya has gotten Sawamura two short books about leadership and lead-calling. "Since you're the captain this year," Kazuya says, but he does drape a fluffy muffler around the pitcher's throat, too, mumbling that Sawamura needs to hurry up and stop growing so he doesn't surpass him in height.
Sawamura waits with bated breath as Kazuya opens his present, a bright new yellow catcher's mitt with their initials sewn onto the thumb-side. MKSE. He fidgets in place as Kazuya goes silent, amber eyes wide with shock.
Toku, who's been privy to a similar reaction and situation, decides to duck around the corner to give them some semblance of privacy. As a young man with his lover, Kazuya's response is sure to be different to the one with his father, blowing him off to pay worshipful attention to his fascinating new toy.
"You're an idiot," Kazuya breathes out slowly, his voice shaking. "There's nothing wrong with the glove I use."
"No, there isn't," Sawamura agrees, wrapping his arms around Kazuya's back, "but I wanted you to have this one anyways."
"I'll send you as much money as I can," Kazuya says while he's packing his things up. There isn't much to put away because he'd really only moved home for three months—most of his things had been left in boxes when he'd come back from the dorms. "I can't promise that I'll be able to visit or anything, because it depends on my schedule, but I'll try to come by at least once a month."
"You don't have to worry about me, Kazuya," Toku replies, laughing as he reaches out and ruffles his son's hair. "I've still got a lot of money put away for your college fund, and a little extra stashed away for emergencies."
"I worry about you because you're terrible at taking care of yourself," Kazuya grumbles, the first time he's ever openly admitted such a thing to his father. Toku blinks. "Don't act so surprised, Dad. I know you barely ever sleep or eat. I figured if you didn't have to run the mill, maybe you could relax more often."
Toku smiles. "I've made it this far by myself. I'll be fine. Don't forget to call Sawamura-kun when you get to your new place."
Kazuya groans. "How could I? That moron has been texting me every thirty minutes to see where I'm at."
With everything ready to load onto the truck, Kazuya and Toku stare at each other for a long time, and then Kazuya opens his arms. "Thank you for everything," Kazuya says.
Toku's eyes well up with tears, tightening his arms around his son fiercely. "Always, Kazuya. Forever."
He waves as Kazuya disappears on the horizon after he's dropped him off, his only bird having long outgrown the nest.
The first time he sees Kazuya play for the Swallows, Toku brags about it to everyone he knows, taking advantage of his looser work hours now that he doesn't have to put so much money away for his son.
A year later, when the Swallows sign Sawamura to their team, he can't help but think Kazuya's luck is incredible after all, and he wishes them the best.
When people ask why he has so much memorabilia of the pitcher when the catcher is the one he raised, he tells them that he's a fan, because it's the truth.
After all, if Kazuya loves this boy, then Toku does too.
He figures that he owes his son that much.