It was quiet when Atsushi opened the door; something that felt distinctly Incorrect. “I’m home,” he called, and noticed there was only one other set of shoes in the genkan. “Akutagawa…?”
When he looked up, hand still braced on the wall from removing his shoes, Akutagawa had come around the corner, wearing an apron and cleaning his hands with a towel. His face was neutral, as it often was; but there were lines beginning to develop around his eyes from smiling. “Welcome home,” Akutagawa said, and closed one eye when Atsushi kissed his cheek. “Don’t do that.”
“Sorry,” Atsushi said automatically as he passed, absolutely not sorry in the slightest. “Where are the boys?”
“Acchan is at practice, I’m not certain about Ryuu-chan but I’m not worried. They’ll be home at a reasonable time or face my wrath.”
Atsushi knew precisely what that wrath entailed and how little of a threat it actually was. He rolled up his sleeves as he entered the kitchen. “So just us for dinner again, huh? What can I help with?”
“You can help by exiting my kitchen before I remove you,” Akutagawa rumbled from behind him, and Atsushi laughed but did as instructed, seating himself instead on one of the stools that sat under the bar behind the sink.
“Does it ever feel weird,” he asked, chin in hand as he watched Akutagawa work, tendrils of Rashomon surrounding him like a web, “that it’s just us now, more often than not?”
He could see Akutagawa’s mouth quirk. “Is it not a victory for the children to grow up and away from the nest? Besides,” he scraped vegetables into the skillet, “they are children yet. They will need our protection and guidance for many years to come.”
“Yeah,” Atsushi said, and smiled back. “You’re right.”
2087
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