Chapter 9: Autumn Knows Not to Ask || Towanu Aki

  Ryuichi’s apartment—Shinjuku-ku → September 29, 2022

  "Without asking anything / I watched you quietly / and just by that / I came to understand / the words that never bloom."

  Shunsuke sat curled on the couch in Ryuichi’s apartment, a warm cup of tea cradled in his hands.

  “Seriously, tea?” Ryuichi leaned against the kitchen counter, raising a brow. “You know coffee exists, right? Like, for normal human beings?”

  “You’re not a normal human being, Ryuichi,” Shunsuke replied flatly without looking up.

  From the side room, soft giggling floated out—Hina stood in the doorway to the living area, holding something in her hands. A delicate scarf, folded neatly, thread glinting softly in the light.

  “I hope this is what you envisioned,” she said shyly, stepping over and placing it in his lap.

  Shunsuke unfolded it slowly—and then smiled. Genuinely.

  Embroidered on the fabric were a dragon, a fox, a small fox pup, and a little raccoon—stitched together like a tiny found family.

  “It’s amazing,” he said quietly. “Thank you, Hina.”

  “I’m happy I could help out, Shunsuke-kun,” Hina said softly, stepping beside Ryuichi to make herself a tea of her own.

  Ryuichi sighed like the world had disappointed him yet again. “You two are so weird.”

  Shunsuke let out a quiet chuckle. “That’s why you like us. We’re weird—just like you.”

  He picked up the scarf again and gently wrapped it around the raccoon plushie he’d bought for Yuki. The little fox and dragon designs now sat perfectly over the toy’s tiny chest.

  “Ryu,” he said, eyes still on the plushie, “you know Miyu’s parents. How are they, really? I… did I buy a good gift?”

  His voice gave him away—cool and collected on the surface, but the nerves seeped through the cracks. He wanted this to go right. For Miyu. For Yuki. For all of them.

  Ryuichi took a long sip from his espresso, studying him over the rim of the cup.

  “You got this, Shunsuke. They’re... normal. Well, as normal as a Nakashima can be. But definitely not like our parents.”

  Shunsuke nodded slowly, trying to let the reassurance sink in. He wanted to believe it.

  At that moment, Kuro leapt onto his lap and curled up, tail swishing once as if to say I got you.

  Shunsuke smiled and stroked the raccoon’s back. “Even Kuro believes in me.”

  Ryuichi rolled his eyes but smiled. “That’s because he’s fluff royalty. You’re just his chauffeur.”

  “I can’t take you with me, Kuro,” Shunsuke said gently, brushing a hand over the raccoon’s soft back. “But next time—you’ll come with me.”

  Kuro stared up at him, unmistakably unimpressed.

  “Don’t look at me like that,” Shunsuke said, faking a wounded tone. “Ryuichi will take care of you.”

  Kuro let out a chirp that could only be described as skeptical.

  “And if he isn’t obedient,” Shunsuke added, “you have full permission to scold him.”

  Kuro’s tail flicked, pleased at the idea.

  Ryuichi scoffed from the kitchen. “Kuro should be grateful he even gets a warm blanket. My apartment’s practically a freezer compared to yours.”

  As if in response, Kuro jumped off Shunsuke’s lap, gave them both a look of aristocratic disdain, and padded across the floor—straight into Ryuichi’s bedroom.

  Ryuichi’s eyes widened. “Hey—don’t you dare—!”

  He dropped his cup and darted after him. “Stay off my bed, you little menace! That’s Hina’s favorite blanket!”

  A muffled chirp came from the room, followed by the sound of paws landing on something soft.

  Shunsuke just sipped his tea, hiding a grin behind the cup. “He owns this place now. You’re just the tenant.”

  Shunsuke looked at Hina and nodded gratefully. “Thank you—for your help and for taking care of Kuro.”

  Hina sipped her tea, smiling softly. “No problem, Shunsuke-kun. We both like Kuro, so we really don’t mind.”

  Shunsuke nodded, finished the last of his tea, and brought the cup to the kitchen sink. As he reached to wash it, Hina gently stopped him.

  “There’s no need. I’ll do the dishes later. You’ve got a date with your future in-laws,” she added with a teasing glint. “Don’t be late.”

  Ryuichi stepped out of the bedroom, Kuro lounging like royalty on his arm. “Let us know how it goes later,” he said with a lazy grin.

  Shunsuke nodded, taking the raccoon plushie and the carefully prepared gift for Miyu’s parents. He took a steadying breath and headed out of the apartment. Down the hall, into the elevator, and toward the garage—where his car was waiting, and with it, the next big step in his life.

  ???????

  Ryuichi sat on the couch, Kuro perched beside him, staring at him like a betrayed noble.

  “You’re such a drama queen,” Ryuichi muttered.

  Kuro let out a loud, indignant chirp.

  “What? You think I’m the drama queen?” Ryuichi scoffed. “Unbelievable.”

  From the kitchen, the soft clink of dishes came to a pause, followed by Hina’s warm laughter. She glanced over her shoulder, a teacup in hand.

  “Ryuichi,” she said gently, “do you think Shunsuke will be accepted?”

  He leaned back with a sigh, eyes distant. “I don’t know. Miyu’s parents were always warm—at least to me… back when I was dating Yuka.” His voice flattened, the warmth draining away. “But I’m not the heir to the Kawamura-gumi. I’m not blood-related. That makes a difference.”

  He looked over at Hina, who had now joined him on the couch. She took his hand in hers, gentle and grounding.

  “I’ve never seen Shunsuke like this with anyone,” she said softly. “I really hope he gets accepted.”

  Ryuichi nodded, eyes heavy. “Yeah. He deserves it. Especially after the whole mess with Ren.”

  Hina tilted her head, curious. “Who’s Ren?”

  Ryuichi exhaled slowly, like the name weighed something inside his chest.

  “Shunsuke’s ex,” he murmured. “His first love. Ren was what Yuka was to me.” He gave a bitter little smile. “Same poison. The only difference is… Shunsuke was already broken before it started.”

  Hina didn’t say anything at first, just squeezed his hand. Kuro, sensing the shift in mood, nudged Ryuichi’s arm gently before curling into a loaf beside them.

  ???????

  Shunsuke reached his destination, the sleek black car gliding to a quiet stop in front of the high stone walls. He killed the engine, sitting for a second as he stared at the gate ahead.

  A breath.

  He stepped out, locking the car with a soft beep, and reached into the passenger seat to retrieve the gifts. In one hand, a box wrapped in elegant furoshiki—seasonal wagashi and a tin of premium green tea for her parents. In the other, a carefully wrapped raccoon plushie in a gift box for Yuki, its scarf lovingly embroidered by Hina with a dragon, a fox, a fox pup… and a little raccoon. Their strange little family.

  His heart thudded wildly against his ribs as he walked toward the gate. Every step echoed louder than it should have.

  Two guards stood on either side of the traditional wooden entrance. Both straightened as he approached, eyes sharp but unreadable.

  Shunsuke gave a respectful nod, keeping his voice calm and steady.

  “Shunsuke Kawamura. Nakashima-sama is expecting me.”

  For all his nerves, not a single tremble touched his tone.

  This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

  Both guards nodded.

  “We’ve been informed. But keep in mind—we’ve got eyes on you, Kawamura.”

  They opened the gate.

  Shunsuke stepped past them, the crunch of gravel under his shoes much louder than he liked. His nerves twisted in his stomach, but he held himself with calm precision. His father had drilled into him the importance of posture and composure. Now it served him well.

  Unbeknownst to him, a small face peeked out from around the corner of the house. A flash of wide eyes and black hair—Yuki—before she disappeared with silent, eager footsteps.

  Shunsuke stood before the traditional wooden door. One deep breath. Then he rang the bell.

  The door opened, revealing a poised woman in a navy kimono. Her features were gentle but unreadable, her voice calm.

  “Welcome, Kawamura-san. We’ve been expecting you,” she said.

  Shunsuke bowed low. “Thank you for having me.”

  He stepped out of his shoes and into the house slippers offered, then followed the woman inside.

  This had to be Meilin Nakashima—Miyu’s mother.

  The hallway opened into a warm, spacious living room framed by wooden panels and shoji screens. There, sitting together on the tatami, were Miyu, Yuki… and Yuu Nakashima.

  Shunsuke’s gaze briefly caught Miyu’s—just for a heartbeat. Her expression gave nothing away, but her eyes were soft. He turned to Yuu, bowing again, deeper this time.

  “Thank you for receiving me today.”

  Shunsuke bowed once more, offering the carefully wrapped box toward Miyu’s father.

  Yuu accepted the gift with a polite nod, bowing slightly in return. “Thank you,” he said simply.

  Before the silence could stretch, a bright voice broke through.

  “You’re the man my mama smells like,” Yuki said cheerfully, staring up at Shunsuke with wide brown eyes full of curiosity.

  Shunsuke blinked—caught off guard—then chuckled softly, kneeling down to meet her gaze. “This one is for you, Yuki,” he said gently, holding out the second gift. “I hope you like it.”

  Yuki's eyes widened as she took the plushie-sized parcel from his hands. She glanced at her grandparents, then at Miyu.

  “Can I open it?” she asked politely.

  They nodded, and Shunsuke smiled as she carefully unwrapped the paper.

  A delighted squeal slipped from her lips. “A plushie! A raccoon plushie!”

  She ran straight to Miyu, cradling the plushie in her arms. “Mama, look! Look at the scarf!”

  Her small fingers turned the embroidered scarf to show the images.

  “There’s a dragon, a fox, a fox pup—and a raccoon!”

  Miyu’s eyes shimmered softly, lingering on the details of the embroidery.

  She knew exactly what it meant. Her gaze briefly met Shunsuke’s—and in that look were both a silent thank-you and a thousand unspoken feelings.

  Miyu’s parents exchanged a glance, their eyes lingering on the tender moment unfolding between their daughter and granddaughter.

  Neither of them spoke, but the quiet shift in their expression said enough—they, too, understood the meaning woven into the scarf.

  Shunsuke hadn’t just brought a gift. He had shown something rare. Acceptance. Unreserved and gentle toward a child that wasn’t his.

  Yuki clutched the plushie tightly to her chest, hugging it like a newfound treasure.

  Then she looked back at Shunsuke, her brown eyes sparkling.

  “Thank you, Shun-nii,” she said, voice soft and full of joy.

  Shunsuke’s heart gave a small, quiet ache. He smiled at her. “I’m glad you like it, Yuki.”

  He stood slowly, smoothing out the crease in his pants, his gaze drifting toward Miyu.

  Their eyes met for the briefest moment—just a flicker—but the warmth in it was unmistakable.

  No words were spoken. None were needed.

  ???????

  That evening, Miyu was putting Yuki to bed.

  Shunsuke stood just outside the doorway, unsure if he was allowed to step in—unsure if it would be too much, too soon. He could hear Miyu’s soft voice murmuring gently to her daughter, the sound laced with comfort and routine.

  A moment later, Miyu appeared in the doorway, her expression soft and warm.

  “Shunsuke?” She said quietly, “Yuki wants to say good night to you.”

  He straightened slightly, then gave a small nod. “Is it alright if I come in?” he asked, his voice equally gentle.

  Miyu nodded.

  Shunsuke stepped into the room slowly. Yuki was already tucked under the blankets, her raccoon plushie nestled tightly in her arms. Next to it sat a fox plushie, resting like a loyal companion.

  “Good night, Yuki,” Shunsuke said softly as he approached the bed, his eyes gentle.

  Yuki beamed. “Good night, Shun-nii! Thank you for the plushie—and for making my mama happy.”

  Miyu instantly flushed, the tips of her ears turning pink. Shunsuke blinked, his own face warming, but he smiled through it.

  “You’re welcome,” he said quietly, his gaze moving from Yuki to Miyu and back again.

  “I just… want the best for both of you.”

  Miyu and Shunsuke stepped out of Yuki’s room, and she gently slid the shoji doors shut behind them.

  Yuki’s room was warm—filled with soft colors and little treasures—unlike the cooler, more formal atmosphere of the rest of the house. Shunsuke followed Miyu down the hallway, their footsteps muffled by the tatami, until they reached her room.

  There, just outside her door, he reached out and wrapped his arms around her in a quiet, careful hug. His touch was tender and protective.

  He pressed a soft kiss to her forehead.

  “Good night, Miyu. Rest well, my love,” he murmured.

  Then he let go.

  He didn’t step inside. It wouldn’t be right. Not yet. Not here. He wanted her parents to see—he would respect her, cherish her, and prove himself worthy.

  “Good night, Shunsuke,” Miyu whispered, her voice warm. “Thank you for the gift for Yuki. She’s so happy.”

  She hesitated for a breath, then added softly,

  “Thank you for accepting her.”

  Shunsuke held her hand just a moment longer.

  “Always,” he whispered. “She’s yours… so I accept her—completely.”

  Miyu’s eyes shimmered, and she nodded gently. Then, with a small bow of her head, she slid open the shoji screen to her room.

  She turned back, smiling one last time.

  Then she closed the door.

  ???????

  Shunsuke lingered for a moment outside Miyu’s room, a soft smile still on his lips. Then he turned and made his way back down the hallway, steps quiet but purposeful.

  The sliding door to the living area stood open. Inside, Miyu’s parents still sat together, their posture relaxed but dignified. Shunsuke paused in the doorway and bowed low.

  “Thank you for the invitation,” he said respectfully. “It was an honor to be here.”

  Meilin looked up first, her expression calm and kind. “Please, take a seat before you leave,” she said, then glanced at her husband. Yuu nodded in agreement.

  Shunsuke gave a small bow and stepped inside, lowering himself neatly onto the tatami floor at the low table. He sat with quiet precision—straight-backed, composed—despite the nervousness simmering just beneath his skin. He knew this moment mattered. This was when they would give their verdict—approval or disapproval.

  He didn’t let his nerves show.

  Then Yuu spoke, his voice even and firm, but not unkind.

  “Kawamura-san—no, Shunsuke,” he began, meeting his eyes. “Meilin and I both see how much you respect Miyu… and Yuki.”

  Shunsuke’s heart skipped slightly at the shift in tone. He nodded once, listening intently.

  “I already told Miyu,” Yuu continued, “I can’t promise the clan will accept your relationship. And I assume your father doesn’t know either.”

  Shunsuke stiffened at the mention of his father; the warmth momentarily drained from his expression. But he nodded.

  “He doesn’t know,” he said calmly, though his voice held steel. “If he finds out… I’ll choose her. Every time. Even if it means walking away from my family.”

  The air hung heavy for a beat. Then Yuu nodded slowly.

  “We won’t interfere in your relationship,” he said. “But if you ever hurt Miyu… you’ll answer to me.”

  Shunsuke held his gaze, unflinching.

  “I would never do anything to harm Miyu—or Yuki,” he said, steady and sure. “You have my word.”

  Yuu studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small, approving nod.

  It wasn’t a full blessing. But it was something.

  A beginning.

  ???????

  Ryuichi sat quietly in the corner of Hina’s art room, legs crossed, a thick university textbook open in his lap. The soft rustle of pages blended with the quiet strokes of a brush on canvas.

  Across the room, Hina was painting—brows furrowed in focus, strands of hair tucked behind her ear. A small giggle slipped from her lips, light and genuine.

  At the sound, Ryuichi looked up from his book, one brow raised slightly.

  “Painting me again, Hina-chan?” he asked gently—softer than he usually spoke.

  Hina glanced over her shoulder, smiling. “Of course. You look amazing like this, Ryu.”

  A smirk tugged at the corners of his mouth as he stood, closing the book with a soft thud. He walked over to her, slow and relaxed, then wrapped his arms around her from behind. His chin rested atop her head as he looked at the canvas over her shoulder.

  “…It’s too beautiful to be me,” he murmured, almost sheepish.

  Hina let out a quiet sigh, her brush pausing mid-stroke.

  “No,” she whispered. “I see you like this, Ryuichi. You’re more than you think you are.”

  He chuckled low, the sound reverberating against her back.

  “I wish I could see that too…” A pause, then quieter, “Thank you for reminding me.”

  Kuro looked up from where he was curled on a fluffy blanket, blinking sleepily. Then—the doorbell rang.

  In an instant, the raccoon jolted upright, scrambling toward the front door with surprising speed, like he already knew who stood behind it.

  “Looks like Shunsuke is back,” Ryuichi murmured, pressing a kiss to Hina’s forehead before heading toward the entrance.

  When he opened the door, there stood his older brother.

  Kuro immediately jumped at Shunsuke’s leg, chirping excitedly.

  “Yeah, I’m back, Kuro,” Shunsuke said softly, crouching to scoop the fluffy creature into his arms.

  “Thanks for watching him,” he added, glancing up at Ryuichi.

  Ryuichi shrugged his shoulders. “It’s fine. He doesn’t bother us.”

  Shunsuke stepped inside just as Hina peeked out from the doorway of the art room.

  “I hope I didn’t interrupt anything?” he asked politely.

  Hina shook her head with a soft smile. “No, I was painting, and Ryuichi was studying. How was your meeting?”

  Shunsuke gave a small, genuine smile. “They approved. But… It's complicated. Still, it’s a beginning.”

  Ryuichi returned the smile, his tone sincere. “I’m happy for you, Nii-san. Really. You deserve it.”

  Shunsuke rubbed the back of his neck, a little sheepish. “Thanks, Ryuichi.”

  He looked down at Kuro, who was yawning now, already half-asleep in his arms.

  “You want to go home, huh? Didn’t sleep much?”

  He scratched gently behind Kuro’s ear, earning a happy chirp.

  “Thanks again for taking care of him. It’s late—I don’t want to bother you two any more tonight.”

  “I’ll come by tomorrow,” he added, already turning toward the door. “Then we can talk more.”

  Ryuichi nodded. “Alright. See you tomorrow, Nii-san.”