#kamakura

you didn’t know how bad you missed it until the jet lag wore off and you cried in the shower the first morning because the water pressure here just hits different.

sae pads in from the room, hair messy from the nap he pretended he wasn’t taking, he hasn’t bothered gelling it since the plane. his schedule loosened up at the beginning of october—fewer matches, more recovery days, some sponsorship stuff he can do remotely.

so he actually agreed to a couple weeks here without complaining (much).

“he’s hungry” he says, nodding toward the baby, your finger caught between his gums

“just look at him,” you murmur. “future striker, jaw’s already strong.” you bounce peach lightly, earning a delighted coo as his tiny legs kick.

sae steps close, slides a hand under peach’s butt to take the weight off. the baby immediately lets go of your finger, grabs a fistful of sae’s shirt, and tries to stuff it in his mouth instead.

“cannibal,” sae mutters, but lets him chew on the fabric anyway. he looks at you, eyes doing that thing where they go a little less cold. “you’re smiling like an idiot.”

“because i’m home, sae. real home. i can hear the wind outside, the lady next door yelling at her cat. it’s perfect.” you tilt your head onto his free arm. “i missed this so much i could cry again.”

“you already cried. twice. once in the shower, once at the store when you saw they still sell that chocolate milk you liked when you were younger.”

“shut up, it was hormonal.”

your mom turns around, wooden spoon in hand. “sae-kun, sit. food’s almost ready. and take that hoodie off the baby, he’s sweating.”

sae glances down—peach is indeed a small furnace and peels the hoodie off him in one smooth move. under it, haru’s wearing the cutest “i love mommy” onesie.

dinner is chaos in the way only family dinners can be:

too many dishes.

too much rice.

your dad asking sae about his soccer season even though he’s balancing a sleeping baby against his chest & trying to eat, your mom piling seconds onto your plate because “you’re still too thin after giving birth—look at your wrists!” peach wakes up halfway through, furious and loud, demanding milk. he gets passed to you under the table like contraband, a bottle passed into your hand while you keep eating with the other.

sae watches the whole circus with his usual blank face but his foot is hooked around your ankle under the table.

later, the house is finally quiet, you’re sit on the back engawa with the sliding door cracked open. october night air smells like wet leaves, it's so quiet compared to madrid. no car horns, no tourists yelling, just cicadas and the occasional train in the distance

sae's sprawled on his back beside you, one arm flung over his eyes, the other resting on your thigh.

peach is passed out in the portable crib inside, cheeks flushed, tiny fists curled by his face. he makes a tiny noise in his sleep and you both freeze like someone pulled a grenade pin. when he just smacks his lips and settles again, sae exhales through his nose.

"he slept six hours straight last night," you whisper, still scared to jinx it. "six. i woke up in a panic thinking he died."

"he didn't die. he just finally figured out nighttime is for sleeping. took him long enough."

you nudge sae's leg with your foot. "says the guy who can sleep through a full eight hours on a turbulent flight sitting straight up."

"discipline."

"freak of nature."

your mom slides the shoji open, balancing a tray with tea and sliced apricots. she's been in heaven since you landed, always making sure you’re fed, taking roughly eight hundred photos of peach a day.

"you two eat," she orders, setting the tray down. "sae-kun, you lost weight again. european portions are too small."

sae sits up, takes the glass with both hands (polite boy when he wants to be), and murmurs, "thank you."

the door slides shut again. silence falls, just cicadas and wind chimes.

you lean back on your palms, staring up at the slice of sky you can see between the houses. “i forgot how many stars you can actually see here. madrid’s too bright.”

sae’s beside you, elbow on his knee, chin in his hand. “you wanna stay longer?”

you turn your head. “you’d be okay with that?”

he shrugs, eyes on the sky. “schedule’s light till january camp. and you light up here. it’s annoying how obvious it is.”

you lean your head on sae's shoulder. "i miss this place so much when we're gone. like... my soul misses it. madrid's beautiful but it's not home, you know?"

“we can stay till after new year’s,” he says, voice low. “if you want.”

your heart does that annoying floppy thing. “are you going soft on me?"

sae hums, hands sliding up your back. “so. till new year’s?”

you nod, pressing your face into his neck. “mhm, thank you.”

he just tightens his arms and lets the quiet stretch, cicadas and distant trains and peach’s soft baby snores through the open door.

home, for a little while longer.

a week later and you’ve migrated from your parents house to the itoshi family home in kamakura, because sae’s mom called him three times in two days going “bring my grandson here or i’ll die” and sae, for all his coldness, actually folded.

the house is exactly what you expected: spotless, modern, windows overlooking the sea, everything in cool tones of gray and white. peach is now twelve weeks old, fat as a little dumpling, and has started smiling real smiles that make you want to fling yourself into the sun. every time you look at him you understand why old ladies in the supermarket keep stopping you to squeal.

sae’s mom greets you at the door with the softest hug, like she’s afraid she’ll break haru, then immediately takes him from your arms and starts crying because “he has rin’s baby cheeks but sae’s eyes, oh my god.”

“welcome home, sae. oh my goodness look at these cheeks i’m going to eat him—”

she’s already halfway down the hallway, haru giggling like he’s known her his whole life. traitor.

sae’s dad is in the entryway, gives you a polite bow and a quiet “welcome back,” then takes both your suitcases without asking because that’s the kind of man he is.

and then there’s rin.

he’s standing awkwardly at the foot of the stairs in a black hoodie, arms crossed, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else on planet earth. his hair’s longer than the last time you saw him, falling into his lashes, and he’s taller too somehow, but the expression is the same:

resting bitch face.

sae walks past him without a word.

rin’s eyes flick to you, then to the empty space where haru was, then back to you.

“…the baby’s real,” he says, like he’s confirming a rumor.

“yeah, genius. his name is haru. peach for short because he’s edible.”

rin blinks, deadpan. “peach.”

“don’t start.”

sae’s mom comes back with haru now dressed in a tiny yukata onesie she definitely bought the second she heard you were coming. peach is gnawing on his fist and drooling everywhere, living his best life.

“rin! come hold your nephew!”

rin looks like he’s been sentenced to death.

sae drops onto the couch, legs stretched out, and pats the spot next to him. you collapse there instantly because your lower back is still hurting like a bitch.

rin shuffles over, hands shoved deep in his pockets. “i don’t… do babies.”

“you do now,” sae says flatly.

his mom literally places haru in rin’s arms before he can escape. rin freezes, elbows locked, holding peach out like he’s a live grenade.

“support the head—” you start.

“i know,” rin snaps, but adjusts immediately, cradling haru closer.

peach blinks up at him with those big teal eyes—exact copies of sae’s and rin’s and then does the most diabolical thing possible: he smiles. full gummy, drooly, right at rin.

rin’s face does something complicated. his ears go red. he looks away so fast he almost gives himself whiplash.

“he’s… small,” rin mutters.

“yeah, they start that way,” you say, trying not to laugh.

sae’s watching the whole thing. “don’t drop him. he’s the only spare i’m making.”

rin glares at him. “i’m not going to be the better uncle anyway.”

“there’s no competition. there’s only you.”

“exactly.”

peach chooses that moment to grab a fistful of rin’s hair and yank. rin makes a noise you’ve never heard from him before and haru squeals in delight, kicking his little legs.

sae’s mom is openly crying again. his dad is filming on his phone. you’re wheezing into sae’s shoulder.

later that night, after dinner you’re all in the living room. peach is having his nightly scream fest because he’s overtired and overstimulated from all the new people. you’re bouncing him, pacing, shushing, the whole routine.

rin watches from the doorway for a solid ten minutes before walking over and holding out his arms.

“give him here.”

you’re too tired to argue. you hand peach over.

rin starts walking in slow circles, one hand under haru’s butt, the other supporting his back, murmuring the most random shit under his breath.

“you’re going to be faster than your dad… gonna have a better left foot… we’ll work on your first touch when you can walk…”

peach quiets almost instantly, tiny face smushed against rin’s chest, eyes drooping.

you and sae both stare.

sae’s voice is dry. “show off.”

rin doesn’t even look up. “he likes me better.”

“he likes your heartbeat. it’s the same as mine.”

“cope.”

you lean into sae’s side, grinning so hard your face hurts. “he’s keeping him.”

sae grunts. “over my dead body.”

but when rin finally hands haru back—peach is completely knocked out, mouth open, drooling on rin’s hoodie

sae’s expression is softer than you’ve ever seen it. he takes the baby carefully, settles him against his own chest, and looks at rin.

“you can hold him again tomorrow.”

rin scoffs, but you catch the tiny curve at the corner of his mouth before he turns away. “whatever. he’s… not bad.”

that’s rin-speak for i would die for this child.

that night in the guest room, peach asleep in the travel crib, you’re curled against sae under the heavy duvet. the window’s cracked open and you can hear the ocean.

“your brother’s in love,” you whisper.

sae’s hand finds your waist, pulls you closer. “he’s always wanted to beat me at something. now he’s trying to steal my kid.”

“he can try. peach is a mama’s boy.”

sae hums, lips against your temple. “and apparently and uncle’s boy.” he sighs, but his arms tighten around you.

outside, waves fall and rise again, over and over.

inside, your little family of three (plus one new uncle) is finally, perfectly whole.