Chapter Text
Neito stared out the clubroom window and tried to focus on how pretty the cherry blossoms were. He could see dozens of trees from his third-story vantage point, most of them clustered around old red brick buildings. The sidewalks were littered with pink petals, mostly undisturbed because few people needed to come to this out of the way corner of campus.
In the distance, Neito could see the university's more modern buildings. They stood tall, like sentinels of knowledge, the white limestone gleaming in the mid-afternoon sunlight. It really was a lovely campus. Neito often forgot that as he rushed from class to class. Especially in the spring, he had to remind himself to stop and admire the beauty of nature.
But right now, not even the sight of sun-dappled cherry blossoms could distract him from the fact that the club was in financial ruin.
Stifling a sigh, he turned away from the window and focused back on the club meeting that was going on. Thanks to Hagakure's work as the student outreach officer, the Japanese culture club had seen a surge of new members. They now had almost seventy, which was the most they'd had in more than a decade. Only about a fourth of the members showed up for the non-mandatory meetings, which was good, since the clubroom literally didn't have enough space for all of them.
The room itself was typical – a former classroom abandoned by the professors in favor of newer, more modern accommodations. In deference to the club's long history, the room was on the bigger side, long and a bit narrow. It sat at the corner of the building, the two outer walls filled with windows, which let in a lot of afternoon sunlight.
The inner walls were covered with pictures of past members and the events they'd put on. There were even shadowboxes containing objects gifted to the club – everything from an intricately designed puppet used during a bunraku performance to a replica samurai sword.
For as long as the Japanese culture club had been around, its main focus had been bringing master Japanese craftsmen and women to the university, whether to perform, give lectures, or hold a workshop. During Neito's freshman year, a famous kimono designer had visited and did a live demonstration where she hand-painted designs on a white kimono. The demonstration had been well attended by all sorts of students, especially those interested in fashion and design, and was even covered on the local news.
Neito still remembered how excited the then-club president had been. The university gave out funding depending on how much benefit it deemed each club to have contributed to the students, but everyone knew that bringing prestige to the school also mattered. And the kimono painting demonstration had certainly made an impact. The next year, the Japanese culture club's funding had doubled.
With the increased money, the club had been able to do even more projects Neito's sophomore year. By his junior year, the club had an excess of funds. Which was when everything went wrong.
The previous year's club president, Yokota, had been a charismatic guy with big ideas and poor follow-through. He'd thrown money around like crazy, with not much to show for it in the end. By the time Neito and the rest of the seniors had taken over a month ago, the club was not only massively in debt, its funding had been slashed to a tenth of what it had been.
Which was why they were now brainstorming fundraising ideas.
"I still think a food stall is a good idea," Yuki said. She was one of the new freshmen members, and still had the shine of naive youthfulness to her. "We could set up in front of the dorms and make something fun. Like cotton candy. I've seen Youtubers review the machines. They look simple to use."
At the front of the room, Yaoyorozu stood next to the whiteboard where the ideas were listed in her neat handwriting. She looked to Kendo who, as president of the club, had the final say.
"We already have 'food stall' on the list," Kendo said. "If that's what we go with, we'll pick the food later." She softened her decision with a small smile, but it wasn't nearly as genuine as usual.
A glance around the room showed that all the senior members looked frazzled. None of them wanted to be the ones who ran the club into the ground. Even though it wouldn't technically be their fault, it would happen on their watch, since most of Yokota-senpai's bills hadn't come due until after he'd graduated.
Neito already knew they wouldn't be doing a food stall. For one thing, it was cheap and tacky. The haughty university deans wouldn't allow something so basic to tarnish the university's aesthetics. Plus, it took a lot of money to get the equipment and ingredients to run a food stall.
Currently, the club had exactly three hundred and two dollars to its name, and just over eight thousand dollars' worth of dept. And that was the amount left over after paying off the most urgent bills using generous donations from both himself and Yaoyorozu. The rest Neito, as the club treasurer, had managed to arrange a payment plan for, starting next month.
If Neito had enough money, he would've gladly paid the club's depts himself. But though his family was rich, he wasn't old enough to touch his trust fund yet, other than to get a monthly check that mostly went to rent, food, and his tuition. The fact that he'd been able to give the club twelve hundred dollars showed just how good he was at saving money.
Out of his and Yaoyorozu's combined donations, the three hundred and two dollars left in the club's account was all he'd managed to hold back, and it wasn't even enough to mail out a fundraising letter. That took over five hundred dollars. It was worth the cost, since a lot of the club's former members would give donations, especially the older ones. But, like with all older people, the physical letter was a necessity. An email just wouldn't get the same response, and might even piss off some of the people who would have otherwise donated.
No, whatever they ended up doing, they'd have to rely on their own ingenuity to get out of debt. Which meant that most of the ideas on the whiteboard were out of the question. They simply didn't have the money to make t-shirts or food or any other sort of product. And they certainly didn't have enough money to make costumes and props in order to put on a play.
Neito chewed on his bottom lip as he once again tuned out the discussion. He could ask some of his family members for donations. They had more than enough money to help out. But every single one of them would ask why they weren't getting an official fundraising letter, and he didn't want to explain. Mostly because he was sure they'd tell him that he'd never learn how to be a good businessman if he didn't figure things out on his own. As if he was a little kid and not twenty-one years old and less than a year away from graduating college with honors.
He was sure Yaoyorozu was in the same predicament. Her family was as wealthy as his, and no doubt she was under the same pressures. Kendo might be from an old, well-respected martial arts family, but they weren't wealthy. And Hagakure and Shoda were both from normal families.
The five of them were the only seniors in the club. They were the only upperclassmen period. After the full extent of Yokota-senpai's financial fuckups came to light, the juniors all quit, leaving only a dozen or so sophomores and an army of freshmen. Neito was sure the freshmen would come in handy once they decided on a way to make money. Until then, their unbridled enthusiasm was really starting to grate on his nerves.
"Okay, everyone," Kendo said, raising her voice over the chatter. "This is a good start to our ideas list. Thanks for all your input. We won't make any decisions now, so if you come up with more ideas, bring them with you next time. That's all for today."
Her voice was upbeat, but Neito could tell that Kendo was frustrated. To someone like him, who knew Kendo well, it was obvious. But to the rest of the club members, she probably seemed as happy as always.
While the underclassmen packed up their things and left, Neito and the other seniors remained. After a few minutes, only the five of them were left in the club room, clustered around one end of the long conference table. Kendo sat at the head, as befitted her position as club president. Yaoyorozu, as vice-president, sat at her right, and Neito, as the treasurer, sat at her left. Next to Neito was Shoda, the club secretary. And Hagakure, the student outreach officer, sat next to Yaoyorozu.
For a new seconds, none of them said anything. Neito finally broke the silence, letting out a loud breath as he ran a hand through his blond hair.
"Well, none of those ideas are going to work." He glared at the whiteboard. Thirty-two ideas, and they were all shit.
"I think you're right," Yaoyorozu said softly.
It was rare for her to agree with him so easily, which was a true testament to how inadequate the ideas were. Neito eyed the whiteboard once more, and this time, he didn't hold back his snort of derision. Holding a raffle or a carwash? They'd never get out of dept that way. Not to mention the fact that they couldn't do anything to tarnish the club's reputation.
"At least they're trying to be helpful," Hagakure said. Her pastel teal hair spilled around her shoulder in loose waves, a lock of which she was idly wrapping around her finger. Out of all the senior members, she knew the freshmen best. After all, it was her outreach that had brought in the new students.
"Trying and succeeding are two different things," Kendo said. She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. "We need to get this right. We've got a month until the next payment is due."
"It'll be almost seven hundred dollars," Neito said. "Even if we manage to pay everything on time each month, we'll graduate before the debt's totally cleared."
"And if we only focus on paying off the debt, the university will slash next year's funding even more because the club didn't do anything worthwhile," Yaoyorozu added. "We'd be leaving the club broke, with next to no chance to get back on its feet."
They were all silent for a moment until Hagakure thunked her forehead down on the table.
"Uuugghh! Yokota-senpai, you idiot!"
"I still can't believe he spent so much money last year," Shoda said softly. His shoulders slumped in defeat, which made him look even shorter than normal.
"A lot of it was on preparation for the Obon performance that never happened," Neito said. "I've got the accounts full sorted now, and Yokota wasted almost ten thousand dollars."
Shoda let out a little "eep" at the amount, while Hagakure lifted her head to stare at him in shock. Neito didn't blame them. It was an outrageous amount of money, even if – had everything gone to plan – the performance would have been stunning.
There were several groups of bon Odori dancers who'd become famous throughout the country, and Yokota's plan had been to bring one of them to the university's Obon festival last August. The arrangement Yokota spearheaded included paying travel, accommodation, and performance fees for the entire dance troupe, as well as funding the yagura tower. Luckily, the music club had agreed to play the shamisen and taiko drums, so the Japanese culture club hadn't been on the hook for that.
But, in true Yokota style, everything had fallen apart due to poor planning and lack of follow through. Despite buying the dance troupe's train tickets and reserving rooms in a nearby hotel, Yokota hadn't asked the Obon planning committee if the dance troupe could perform. By the time he did, other bon Odori dancers had already been chosen.
So all the money spent on travel, accommodations, and the yagura tower had been wasted. The club had even been forced to pay the full performance fee even though the troupe hadn't come, since Yokota canceled at the last minute.
Yokota had also spent money on other events throughout the previous school year, but the failed Obon performance was what really destroyed the club's financial situation.
"We'll figure something out," Kendo said. Her expression was grim but determined. "I'm not going to be the one to let the club fail."
"We could always sell some of the club's memorabilia," Shoda said, even though the words made him wince.
"I'd prefer not to do that," Kendo said. "Not as anything other than a last resort."
"I agree," Yaoyorozu said. "We've got some valuable items." She gestured towards the hard-carved wooden flute on display in a shadowbox. "I'm fairly certain we could get a few thousand for Master Hibiki's flute alone. But the university would pitch a fit if they found out we sold such a valuable item."
Neito groaned as he pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes it sucked being part of the oldest non-sport club at the university. There was so much pressure not to tarnish the club's reputation and to uphold its proud traditions. But more than that, Neito knew that their personal reputations would be hurt if they let the club fail. After all, he and Yaoyorozu were business majors. What company would want to hire them if they couldn't even keep a college culture club from going bankrupt?
"Let's table this for now," Kendo said. "It's late, and we're all on edge." She lifted her chin as she met each of their eyes in turn. "We can fix this. I know we can. It'll take a lot of hard work, but I trust all of you."
It wasn't a movie worthy inspirational speech, but Neito still felt better. And judging from the looks on Yaoyorozu, Hagakure, and Shoda's faces, they did too.
None of them dawdled as they packed up their things and left the building. They parted ways at the front door, and Neito fell into step with Kendo like he always did, since the two of them lived in the same apartment building.
"I'm counting on you to come up with the idea, you know," Kendo said as they walked under the cherry blossoms. A few of the petals fell onto her head, and she shook them off, causing her long ginger ponytail to flick through the air.
"Why am I the idea guy?" Neito asked with a huff. "I'm not creative."
"No," Kendo agreed. "But you're clever. If anyone can get us out of this mess, it's you." She bumped his shoulder lightly with her own.
"Then get ready to collaborate with another club," Neito said. "That's the only way I can see us earning enough to pay off Yokota's debts and have enough money to do something that will get the club more funding next year."
"Yeah, I don't want to leave the underclassmen with nothing," Kendo agreed. "Anyway, let's change the subject. Did Tanosuke ever come to collect his box of stuff?"
Neito rolled his eyes. "Changing the subject from the club's financial problems to my failed relationship is a weird choice."
Kendo just shrugged. "Thinking about Yokota-senpai made me think about another man who fumbled something good."
Neito felt a faint blush creep up his cheeks. Kendo never had trouble giving people compliments. And with her forthright personality, there was never any doubt about her sincerity.
"I'm glad Tanosuke fumbled," Neito said honestly. "I knew he wasn't a good fit right from the beginning. Watching him get drunk and try to hook up with someone else was just the push I needed to dump him. And yes, he finally came over and got his stuff."
"Good riddance," Kendo said. "Hopefully, the next guy you set your sights on will be better." She paused. "Unless you want me to pick someone for you?"
Neito shook his head. He knew that Kendo didn't exactly trust his taste in men. And sure, his college life was littered with failed relationships and unsatisfying one-night stands. But he didn't just want to date some random person and hope it worked out. He wanted to be with someone who had similar interests. Someone he really clicked with.
He liked to cook and try new recipes, but he didn't want to spend hours in the kitchen trying to make something look Instagram perfect. He loved all kinds of live performances, from theater to music to comedy, but often got bored when watching movies, especially if he'd already figured out what was going to happen.
He liked video games, but hated having to do the same task over and over again in order to farm items. He'd never understood the appeal of watching sports, though he did enjoy most forms of exercise, with the exception of running. But if given a choice, Neito would always choose to dance or do gymnastics. There was something so freeing about finding expression through physical movement. And the stamina and flexibility he got was an added bonus.
Unfortunately, most of his interests were turnoffs for the 'masc for masc' crowd. Neito might not be fem, but he'd never be a man's man, not with his lithe body type and hatred of getting dirty. And he didn't fit in with the twinks either. In his experience, twinks were fun and flirty and cute. He was much too opinionated and sarcastic for the guys who wanted a subby little pillow princesses.
In truth, Neito knew he was an acquired taste. He had a sharp tongue and could be brutally honest, especially if he knew that honesty would help in the long run, even if it stung a little in the moment. He hated being proved wrong. Hated not measuring up to his own expectations. Which meant he pushed himself hard. Multiple boyfriends had dumped him because he was more focused on school than on his relationships.
But Neito also knew he was amazing. He was a great friend – loyal and supportive and more than willing to help bury a dead body. He didn't mind paying for a round of drinks or hosting parties, and he always splurged to get his friends good birthday gifts. And maybe he wasn't the best shoulder to cry on, but that was only because he thought his friends were too good to be heartbroken over whatever loser had dumped them.
There was no doubt in Neito's mind that he'd eventually find a great guy. After all, everyone knew you had to do a little digging to find a diamond. And he wasn't the kind of person who felt compelled to graduate college with a ring on his finger. He didn't need to find Mr. Diamond right now. But it would be nice to at least find a sapphire or an emerald. Hell, he'd settle for a Mr. Amethyst. Anything but the average guys who seemed to live with a constant fear of missing out that made them unable to commit.
"As much as I'd love to get another boyfriend," Neito said, "I think it's more important to focus on the club right now."
Kendo was about to respond, when another voice, haughty and condescending, interrupted.
"What's this? Little Neinei couldn't hold on to another man? How shocking."
Anger made Neito's skin feel hot, but he kept his expression neutral as he turned towards the familiar voice. He had no idea why his cousin was on campus. The last Neito had heard, Preston was still in England.
It had been years since Neito last saw Preston, and he gave his cousin a quick once-over. Preston looked like he always did – like a rich douchebag. His entitlement and cocky attitude practically oozed out of him as he sauntered towards Neito and Kendo.
Neito hated that he and Preston shared a passing resemblance. Preston's hair was more of a dirty blond, and he was a few inches taller, but they had the same blue eyes and sharp chin. Neito thought he was the handsomer of the two, given that Preston had inherited his English father's bulbous nose. Still, there was no denying that they were related.
"What are you doing here?" Neito asked, not bothering to sound friendly. He and Preston had never gotten along. Preston liked to act like he was important, wearing designer clothes and ordering people around, but his father's company was small potatoes compared to the ones Neito's parents owned. A fact that always annoyed Preston.
"I'm surprised no one told you." Preston stopped a few feet away and ran a hand through his hair. It was on the long side, and styled to look casually tousled. As he moved, a wave of cologne wafted through the air, pungent enough to make Neito wrinkle his nose. "Or is the family ignoring you again?"
"Everyone knows I'm studying hard," Neito said, easily able to ignore Preston's weak attempt to make him angry. It was just like calling him by his childhood nickname. Neito didn't like being called Neinei, but it wasn't going to make him snap. He had more self-control than that. But he wasn't going to miss the chance to throw a barb of his own. "They wouldn't bother me with something inconsequential."
"Or maybe they just didn't want you feeling threatened. Now that I'm here, you've got some real competition." One side of Preston's mouth pulled up in a smirk. "I promise not to become the professor's favorite too quickly."
"You're studying business?" Neito wasn't really surprised. Preston's father had already promised to hand the company over to him one day. But something seemed fishy. "Why transfer your senior year? And why come here, and not somewhere else in England?"
"It's all part of my master plan," Preston said with a casual wave of his hand. "My father wanted to make sure I knew how to take over the company. You wouldn't get it, since neither of your parents care about you."
Neito's expression remained stoic, but the comment hit home.
Kendo looked deceptively sweet as she approached Preston. She was smiling, but it didn't reach her eyes.
"Hello there, miss," Preston said, not even bothering to hide the fact that he was checking her out. "I'm Preston Herrington. Nice to meet you. How about we leave my pathetic cousin behind and I take you out on a date? My treat. Wherever you'd like to go." He cocked his head to the side so that a few strands of hair fell in front of his eyes. It was an obviously practiced move, and Neito wondered how long Preston had spent in front of a mirror perfecting it.
"Are you rich?" Kendo asked. She stopped a foot in front of Preston and looked up at him.
Neito had no idea what she was up to, but he trusted Kendo. She was a good judge of character, and had probably clocked Preston as a sleezeball the moment she saw him.
"Not as rich as my dad," Preston said with a laugh that was a little too loud. It drew some attention from the people walking by. They weren't in the heart of campus, but there were more people around than there had been by the building the clubroom was in.
"Then you wouldn't mind giving a donation to our club," Kendo said. Her smile remained in place as she held out her hand, palm up.
"I'd rather spend it on you," Preston said, his voice dropping into a purr.
Neito wondered if Preston was dumb or if he just didn't know how to pick up on body language. Kendo was so obviously not into him that it was almost embarrassing. Even a small group of girls walking past had stopped to watch the exchange, staring at Preston like he was an idiot.
"You're spending the money either way," Kendo said. "Or do you not have it?" She heaved a sigh and shook her head. "I don't know what things were like at your last college, but you won't get anywhere with the girls here if you're a liar."
"I'm not a liar." Preston finally seemed to catch on that he wasn't going to get his way. He held his arms out to the side and made a slow turn. He was wearing grey slacks, a white short sleeved button-down shirt, and shiny black wingtips. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone, revealing a thick gold chain dangling loose around his neck. He had a gold signet ring on one pinky finger and a flashy gold watch on the opposite wrist. A black leather satchel was strung across his chest and rested against one hip, the only evidence that he was a student.
"Look at me!" Preston said, voice rising as he glanced around to see if anyone else was watching. He grinned when he saw the groups of girls, and gestured at himself. "I'm wearing nothing but name brands. I'm not a poser. So how about you drop the attitude and come have fun with me? Huh, baby?" He reached out and gently brushed the back of his fingers down the side of Kendo's cheek.
Neito knew what was coming, and took a step back.
Preston had barely made contact with Kendo's face before she had his wrist in an iron grip. Preston didn't even have time to react as Kendo stepped into his space, turning her back to him as she used his arm to pull him up and over her back in a well-executed flip. He landed on his back on the grass, letting out a huff of air at the impact. Kendo's free hand cradled the back of his head, protecting it from the impact. Then, with the grip she still had on Preston's wrist, she rolled him onto his stomach and pulled his arm behind his back as she put him in a joint lock.
"Touching requires consent," Kendo said, her voice loud and firm.
"What the fuck? Get off!" Preston demanded. He tried to struggle, then let out a yelp of pain as Kendo pressed a knee against his back. That, plus the pressure of the joint lock, kept Preston in place. Kendo might be smaller than him, but there wasn't much she didn't know about martial arts.
"Not until you say it back," Kendo said. "Touching requires consent."
If looks could kill, the one Preston shot at Neito would've had him dead on the sidewalk. Though it was spoiled a bit by the way Preston's cheek was pressed into the ground.
"You can't keep a man so you hang out with butch women?" Preston sneered. "Looks like you're going to end up needing an arranged marriage, just like your dad."
Neito didn't break eye contact with Preston as he shrugged off his backpack and pulled his thermos from its mesh compartment on the side. The coffee, long since gone cold, sloshed as he unscrewed the cap. Only about a third of the thermos was full. Neito usually drank all of his coffee, but he was glad he'd forgotten about it today. A slight film had formed from the half and half he'd added. It wasn't rancid, but it certainly wasn't fresh.
"You won't," Preston said, as Neito walked over to him. He really did look confident that Neito wouldn't dump the coffee on him. Too bad he was wrong.
Neito made sure to pour the coffee slowly enough that he could coat Preston's entire head. Preston let out an inarticulate yell as Neito directed the stream first over his face, and then into his hair. Streaks of the congealed half and half stuck to Preston's cheek and chin as the pale brown coffee dripped onto the grass.
"You don't know me," Neito said. He capped his thermos back up and slid it back into place in his backpack. "You don't know Kendo. You don't know a lot of things. So let me give you some advice, cousin. Stop running your mouth."
Neito knew he wasn't good at intimidation, so he didn't try to growl or sound tough. He spoke conversationally, as though he was exchanging some pleasant small-talk. It was condescending it its own way, as was the way he was literally looking down on Preston, and that was good enough.
"Now, I'd suggest you do as the lady requested," Neito said. "Kendo doesn't fuck around when it comes to consent."
Preston looked like he'd rather eat glass, but he finally seemed to realize that his only option was to do what Kendo wanted. "Touching requires consent," he said through gritted teeth. The words weren't loud, but apparently they were enough for Kendo.
She released her hold on Preston's arm and quickly stood up, stepping back far enough that even if Preston tried to lash out, he wouldn't be able to hit her. But Preston didn't seem interested in trying to fight. He pushed himself to his feet, rubbing angrily at his coffee coated face.
"You're a fucking piece of shit," he told Neito. "No wonder your parents don't love you."
With that, Preston left, muttering under his breath as coffee dripped from his hair onto the collar of his white shirt.
"Is he going to cause problems?" Kendo asked, coming to stand next to Neito as they watched Preston walk away.
Neito sighed. "Probably. He's always liked causing problems. I heard a rumor that his high school nickname was Shit Stirrer."
"Yikes." Kendo winced, then turned her attention to the group of girls who were approaching. They were the same girls who'd been watching the altercation from the start, and even before they spoke it was obvious they were some of Kendo's fans.
Neito was happy to stand back and watch as the girls fawned over Kendo. She was something of a minor celebrity among the university's female population, though she didn't like to acknowledge that fact. Or that she'd played a huge part in the rise of women joining the university's martial arts clubs.
Neito was just glad that Kendo's talent was finally being acknowledged. Kendo had never let her martial art skills go to her head. As far as Neito was concerned, Kendo could stand to be a bit less humble. She was a real badass, and had the medals and trophies to prove it.
If it weren't for the fact that no one could be president of more than one club at a time, Kendo would likely have been pressured to lead at least one martial arts club. She had four different blackbelts, as well as being skilled in archery and, of course, kendo, which was the martial art her family was known for.
She'd made waves when she chose to become president of the Japanese culture club over any martial art club. But Kendo had always done what she wanted, regardless of what other people thought. And Neito had supported her the entire way.
"Is the aikido club still mad at you?" Neito asked after the group of girls had finished taking pictures with Kendo and were walking away.
"Haven't checked," Kendo said, her cheeks a bit pink from how many compliments she'd gotten. "Why?"
"Like I said, we're probably going to need help from another club to make the fundraiser work. It would mean splitting the profits, but I just can't imagine how we'd be able to do something on our own with how little money we have. And then there's the issue of location."
"The martial arts clubs do have a nice courtyard," Kendo agreed. "But I'd prefer not to be put on display like that. Since I assume you're thinking of some sort of competition with me as the headliner."
Neito didn't try to deny it. "You'd be the big draw."
Kendo didn't look happy at the prospect, but she didn't reject the idea. Still, Neito didn't want to make her uncomfortable, so he'd just have to come up with something else.
Their conversation turned to less urgent things as they left campus and headed to the train station. Their apartment building was only two stops away, in an area that had practically been taken over by students. All of the houses were rentals, since the original residents hated how loud college parties could get.
It was easy to spot the party houses. The yards were littered with red solo cups, and there was always a battered folding table for the beer pong. Neito was glad his apartment building was a little more upscale. Sure, his neighbors could get loud, but not in a 'let's party until we pass out' kind of way.
Kendo cleared her throat, interrupting Neito's wandering thoughts. "So, about what Preston said earlier…"
Neito sighed. He'd been hoping to avoid having to talk about it, but out of all his friends, Kendo was the most likely to understand. After all, she already knew all the tea about Neito's family situation. Like how his parents had had an arranged marriage, and that while they were still legally married, they weren't even trying to have a relationship anymore.
"Preston didn't say anything I haven't heard before," Neito said as they reached their apartment building and walked into the lobby. "He'd have to have an original thought to do that, and Preston isn't the innovative type."
"He seems more likely to steal someone else's idea," Kendo agreed. "And anyway, the family you choose is much more important." She knocked his hand out of the way so she could be the one to push the elevator call button, grinning when he scowled. Their friendship had always had a sibling-like vibe, filled with gentle teasing and annoyance but with a deep wellspring of care and respect.
"Speaking of family," Kendo continued, "My mom expects you at dinner this Sunday. She told me to literally drag you there, if I had to."
"As if I need to be dragged." Neito rolled his eyes. "Your mom's cooking is more than enough to get me there."
The elevator dinged as the door opened onto Kendo's floor. She stepped out, but left her foot in front of the door to keep it from closing. "Are you sure you can come? You've been busy the past few weeks. Everyone will be disappointed if I say you're going to show up and you don't."
"I'll be there," Neito said. "I promise."
Now that his ex-boyfriend was out of his life, Neito could spend time with the people who actually cared about him. It was a little sad that none of those people were actually his family, but Neito only had one blood relative he was close with. Preston had been right when he said that Neito's parents didn't care about him.
"Good," Kendo said. "If I don't see you beforehand, I'll text you on Sunday so we can head over together."
They said their goodbyes, and Kendo moved her foot so the elevator doors could close. Finally alone, Neito let his shoulders sag as he leaned heavily against the elevator wall. He hadn't been lying when he told Kendo that what Preston said wasn't anything he hadn't heard before. But that didn't mean Preston's words had no effect.
Neither of his parents had actually said it to him, but Neito knew that he'd been born out of necessity, not love. He doubted love had ever been part of his parent's relationship. They'd met during an omiai arranged by his paternal grandmother. It had been a joining of wealthy business families, more than anything else. Which was probably why he was an only child. Once his parents had fulfilled their duty, they were free to pursue their own dreams.
Neito's childhood had been filled with nannies and other sorts of caretakers who'd raised him while his parents worked. Often, his parents were gone for months at a time, travelling all around the world in pursuit of profits and new business opportunities. His parents each ran their own company – his father's dealt with Japanese exports while his mother's was firmly entrenched in the beauty industry.
It was an open secret that both of his parents had longtime lovers, though Neito suspected it was a closer kept secret that that they were also queer. His mother lived with her Nigerian girlfriend in France, while his father had a place in Tokyo that he shared with his girlfriend, who he'd helped transition.
Neito wondered if his own gayness would surprise his parents. He didn't think they knew. Then again, what they did know about him could probably fit in a short email.
Neito only saw his father once a year, at his grandmother's birthday, and they never had anything to talk about. As for his mother, well, Neito hadn't seen her since starting college. He did get a birthday card every year, no doubt sent by her assistant since his name was always spelled wrong.
It wasn't an idea situation. And Neito was self-aware enough to know that his childhood had fucked him up. After all, the first example of a healthy relationship he'd ever seen was Kendo's parents.
Neito let out a humorless laugh as the elevator finally reached the top floor. He was an idiot for missing out on the past few Sunday dinners, especially for someone as worthless as his ex. Kendo's family genuinely cared about him, and the feeling was mutual. If it wasn't for them, Nieto might have turned out like Preston.
"I should bring something on Sunday," he muttered as he unlocked his apartment and stepped inside.
It was a nice place, if a bit on the small side. Neito hadn't wanted a roommate. As an only child, he wasn't used to sharing his space. But he also hadn't wanted to pay thousands of dollars in rent every month. So he'd painted the walls bright white to make the space feel bigger, and kept his furniture minimal and neutral-toned, with the occasional pop of color.
He'd always wanted a cat, but knew he wasn't home often enough to have a pet. Instead, he had plants. They cluttered every windowsill and hung from woven baskets. Some of them were herbs he used for cooking, but he'd bought most of them because he liked the way they looked. There were dozens of varieties, including a money tree, a jade plant, and a golden pothos with vines trailing almost down to the floor. They might not be as fun as a pet, but the plants did make the apartment feel a little less empty.
After kicking off his shoes in the genkan, Neito tossed his backpack onto the couch and headed for the kitchen. It was a small space, like everything else about his apartment, but one look at the countertop and his love of gadgets was obvious. Neito just couldn't help himself. When it came to cooking, he loved trying new things.
It had been a while since he made fresh bread, and just seeing his bread maker made him want some. A dark blue apron hung on a hook by the stove, and Neito put it on before measuring out the ingredients. He watched as the machine combined everything into a soft looking dough. The bread maker was his favorite purchase of the year so far. As much as he loved fresh bread, he hated feeling sticky, which made kneading dough unpleasant. Now, the machine could do everything, including bake the bread.
With that done, Neito turned his attention towards what he should make for Sunday. Kendo's family was health conscious, which wasn't a surprise given their line of work. Even the family members not directly involved with the dojo tended to be slim and athletic. He couldn't just bring over a cake, or he'd end up bringing half of it home and eating it himself. Whatever he made had to either be utterly irresistible or at least somewhat healthy.
Neito flipped through his recipe binder, enjoying the physicality of the task. Sure, he knew a dozen ways to save recipes online, but the binder was different. Everything in it was a recipe he'd personally tried and rated five stars.
A lot of the desserts were rejected out of hand, though he marked a few as possibilities. The cakey cinnamon rolls, for example, could be brought over raw, and the smell of them baking would be sure to entice even the healthiest person into having at least one. Or he could bring over some meat-stuffed artichoke hearts, if he wanted to go a little healthier. If he went with the artichoke hearts, he'd need to make a trip to the grocery store before the weekend.
He was about to text Kendo and ask what she thought, when his phone buzzed with an incoming call. Neito didn't need the caller ID to tell him it was his grandmother. She was the only one who still preferred to call instead of text. And now that she knew how to make video calls, it was her preferred method of communication.
Neito glanced in the small mirror he'd stuck to the front of his refrigerator, checking to make sure he didn't have flour on his face before he answered. He grinned as his grandmother appeared on the screen, a grin that was answered as soon as she saw him.
"Neito!"
"Hi, Grandma Seia. You look lovely as always," Neito said. It wasn't just idle flattery. His grandmother had been a beauty in her youth, and still retained her poise and charm, even though time had caused her skin to wrinkle and sag. As far as Neito was concerned, she was still beautiful. Her eyes were a soft blue, lighter than his own, and filled with intelligence. Her silverly hair sparkled in the light of the setting sun as she sat in her garden.
"Thank you, my dear," she said, reaching up to touch her hair lightly. Both of her hands were free, thanks to the adjustable phone tripod Neito had bought her. "The light during the golden hour is quite flattering. Your cousin came over this past weekend and spent so much time out here taking selfies, and now I can see why."
"Cousin?" Neito asked, pushing down the instant surge of annoyance. "You mean Preston?" He had several cousins, due in part to Seia being a twin. Most of them were much older than him because his father had waited so long to get married.
"No." Seia shook her head. "Sumiko was the one who came to see me. Preston hasn't been here since he first arrived in Japan a month and a half ago."
"And how is Sumiko doing?" Neito asked, glad not to have to talk about Preston. He began to put away the ingredients he'd used to make the bread, moving slowly because he knew that Seia got motion sick if he swung the camera around too fast.
"I'm honestly not sure," Seia said with a slight frown. "We didn't talk much. She was here more for the garden than for me. She wouldn't even tell me how to find her on social media so I could see the pictures."
Neito made a mental note to find out what Sumiko was up to. The fact that she wouldn't tell Seia her social media handle was a little suspicious. Sumiko wasn't exactly the sharpest tool in the shed, and if anyone was going to fall victim to some sort of scam, it would be her.
"Still, it was still nice to see her," Seia said. "I don't suppose you have some free time coming up, do you? I'd love to see you. And you could bring Preston, if he's available."
"I'm sure Preston's busy getting used to how different things are here," Neito said. He knew his grandmother wouldn't be happy to hear that he still didn't get along with his cousin. Seia was big on family solidarity, and Neito didn't want to upset her. But he did want to know the real reason Preston was in Japan. He didn't buy that the transfer was part of a plan to make Preston a better businessman. "I was surprised to see him, actually," Neito said, trying to sound casual. "I don't really understand why he transferred for his senior year."
"He's still a junior," Seia said. "He had some… trouble getting used to college, and he fell behind where he should be. His mother thought it would be a good idea for him to transfer somewhere else. Give Preston a fresh start." She tapped her cheek with one finger while she looked off into the middle distance. "If I remember correctly, it took Preston a few tries to get into the Japanese university. It's a prestigious place, after all. Luckily, I know the dean of admissions, and was able to help smooth the way. I'm sure that Preston will do wonderfully now that he's there. He's a smart boy."
Neito bit back a curse. He could read between the lines, and wasn't really surprised that his grandmother had resorted to bribery to get Preston into a good school. She'd grown up rich, had married a rich husband, and even now that she was in her eighties, was still a very wealthy woman. Money was the way she solved problems. Hell, it was the way most of their family solved problems.
Neito was an outlier in that regard. He might have rich parents, but they weren't the ones who'd raised him. His nannies and private tutors had never gone easy on him. If he failed, he'd been told to try again and again until he got it right. After all, his parents paid top dollar for his caretakers, and they expected excellence. It was why Neito was fluent in five languages, had a perfect academic record, and had won a national debate contest in high school.
His parents would never have bribed a top university if he didn't get in. They would simply have fired his current tutor and hired someone even more draconian. At least, that was what had happened when his grades slipped a bit when he was in middle school.
Seia, oblivious to Neito's unhappy thoughts, continued talking, relating what the rest of her grandchildren were up to. She'd had four children, all of whom were adults with children of their own. Neito was the second youngest of Seia's eight grandchildren, which was part of why he had such a good relationship with her. He was the youngest boy, and the sole only-child in the family.
Nieto listened with half an ear while Seia chattered on about his cousins while he vigorously wiped down the kitchen countertops. The physical movement helped him let go of some of his annoyance. Preston had gotten into the university, and there was nothing Neito could do about it. If there was any justice in the world, Preston would flunk out. Then again, Neito wouldn't be surprised if Preston had been given an ultimatum by one or both of his parents which actually forced him to go to class and study.
"But enough about them," Seia said, once she'd relayed the latest family news. "What I really wanted to talk about is your love life. Or rather, lack of one. Preston told me that you can't seem to keep a boyfriend."
That fucking worm! Neito was going to strangle him. Out loud he said, "It's nothing to worry about, obasan. I'd much rather date around than stay with someone who isn't right for me."
He hoped that would be enough to put the subject to bed, but the look on his grandmother's face told him she wasn't ready to let things go that easily.
"Neito, you know I love you. I want to see you happy and settled down. I know you're still young, but it's not good to be too picky. Your father was picky, and look what happened."
Neito didn't try to hide his scoff this time. What had happened was that his father, Marihito, had been groomed to take over the family business. He'd put his personal life on hold, until Seia had decided that it was time for him to get married, and arranged an omiai.
If anyone was responsible for Neito's parent's unhappy marriage, it was Seia. But Neito had never blamed her. After all, she'd only done what she'd thought was best, even if it hadn't worked out in the end. And besides, Neito wouldn't exist if his parent's marriage hadn't been arranged.
Still, Neito wasn't going to let himself be manipulated the way his father had been. He wasn't going to get stuck in an unhappy marriage. His love life was his own. It didn't matter that his longest relationship was only seven months. The point was that he was making his own choices.
"I'm not my father," Neito said, after the silence had stretched for several seconds. He tried not to sound annoyed as he added, "You don't have to worry about me. I'm not neglecting my social life the way my dad did. I've got plenty of friends, and I'm the treasurer of a club. I still practice martial arts, so I'm not getting flabby. The only reason I'm still single is because I haven't found the right guy. That's all. There's nothing for you to worry about."
He ended his little speech with a smile, but it faded when he saw that his grandmother's concerned look hadn't changed.
"It's because you're so handsome and social that I'm worried," Seia said. "Someone like you should easily have been able to find someone good by now. Even Preston's already got a new girlfriend, and he's only been in Japan for two months."
"Of course Preston already has a girlfriend," Neito muttered. "Obasan, dating boys is different from dating girls."
Seia waved her hand like she was brushing Neito's words away. "I don't see why it should be. Anyone would be lucky to date you."
Neito was glad that his grandmother was fine with his sexuality, but it was times like this that the age gap was really obvious.
"You know, there are far fewer queer guys than there are straight girls," he pointed out. "Preston probably just got lucky. Statistically, he has the advantage."
"Psh, we both know you're the better catch," Seia said. "Which is why I want you to promise me you'll get serious about dating. I know you said I shouldn't worry, but I do. Dating at your age is important. It will help you learn about yourself, as well and figuring out what you want in a partner. I was lucky. Your grandfather, God rest his soul, felt like he was made for me. And your parents, well…" she tisked. "They might have been a match on paper, but reality was something else."
Neito knew his grandmother wasn't going to drop the subject. He wondered what exactly Preston had told her. She'd never cared much about his love life before, other than to ask him if he was happy.
He couldn't stop the feeling of resentment from settling in his chest. He literally didn't have time for a relationship right now. His priority needed to be on fixing the culture club's financial problems. Kendo was counting on him. And paying off the club's debts would do more for his future prospects than any boyfriend. After all, being the treasurer of a club that collapsed due to debt would look terrible on his resume, and could prevent him from getting a good job.
"I'm not my father," Neito said again, hoping to reassure his grandmother without having to make a promise he wouldn't keep. "I have plenty of time – "
"Your father thought the same thing," Seia interrupted with a frown. "He always said he'd get around to dating when the time was right. So I want you to promise me, Neito. Promise you'll get serious about dating. You can't just keep pushing important things off to the future."
Neito hated lying. He wasn't against blunting harsh truths now and then, but deceptions rarely helped anyone. But right now, he knew that lying was the best course of action.
"I promise," he said, forcing a smile he didn't feel. He'd just have to make up a boyfriend to keep Seia happy. Then, after a few months, he could tell her they broke up. It would be easy, if annoying. And he should probably write down everything he told his grandmother about his imaginary boyfriend, so he didn't get confused and tell her contradictory information.
Seia's frown melted into a smile. She looked like a stereotypical doting grandmother, all happy wrinkles and twinkling eyes. "Thank you, Nei-chan. You've made me so happy. I can't wait to meet your special someone at my birthday party."
Neito froze. He'd heard what his grandmother said, but was too stunned to speak. Only a faint wheezing sound came out as he fought to keep his resentment from erupting into anger. This was more than wanting him to date. This was an ultimatum wrapped in a smile.
Unfortunately, his silence gave Seia a chance to keep talking. "Knowing that you're happily dating someone will be the best birthday present I could receive."
Only years of carefully controlling his emotions allowed him to sound normal as he said, "Obasan, your birthday is less than two months away. Even if I find someone nice to date, it would be too soon to introduce them to the family."
"Preston's already said he'll bring his girlfriend," Seia said. There was something distinctly calculating in her light blue eyes, and Neito was once again reminded that she'd helped her husband expand and run a business empire.
Part of Neito wanted to rebel against the obvious manipulation. He'd never expected his grandmother to pull something like this, and his stomach roiled with the betrayal. This wasn't how good family acted, and he was suddenly forced to wonder if his grandmother actually cared about him, or if she'd just been playing nice to get him to do what she wanted.
If it had all been an act, it had worked. There wasn't anything about his life that Seia objected to. Except his being single.
He desperately wished he wasn't on a video call so he could let his emotions show. Normally he didn't have a problem being vulnerable around his grandmother. But now, things were different.
He curled the hand not holding his phone into a fist, so tightly that his fingernails pressed hard into his palm. The almost painful distraction helped him ignore the roiling mass of thoughts and emotions so he could think. He needed to be careful about what he said next. The pleasant video call had turned into a game of chess, and if he wasn't careful he'd end up backed into a corner.
If he said he couldn't find a boyfriend before the party, then Seia would step in, the way she had with his father. Sure, Neito could refuse to go to an omiai, refuse to end up in an arranged marriage. But then what would happen? Every action had consequences, and Seia was still a powerful woman. She'd just proved that by admitting that she bribed Preston's way into a prestigious university.
If Neito didn't do what she wanted, she could make his life miserable. With her connections, Seia could get him blacklisted from all the top companies before he even finished college. Hell, there was probably a way she could keep him from getting his trust fund when he turned twenty-five. With no money and no good job opportunities, he'd eventually be forced to crawl back and beg her forgiveness. At which point he'd have no leverage and would have to do whatever she said.
"I'll bring a boyfriend to your birthday," he said. His voice sounded emotionless, like one of those AI recordings. Seia didn't seem to notice.
"Wonderful!" she said, looking almost smug. She tried to hide her expression by turning her head to the side and fussing with her hair, but Neito could see the way her lips were turned up at the corner. Seia might still be as cunning as she'd been when she'd helped run a business empire, but she'd obviously lost some of her poker face.
"I have to go now," Neito said, wanting nothing more than to end the call. "I have a lot of homework." He was tempted to just hang up and text her later saying that his phone had run out of battery. But that would feel too much like running away. And Neito made a point never to turn his back on people he didn't trust.
"Of course." When Seia turned back to the phone, her expression was once more that of a doting grandmother. "I know how important your grades are to you. Do your best. I'll talk to you again soon."
"Goodbye, obasan." Neito forced a smile before ending the call. He carefully set his phone on the counter, then walked stiffly out of the kitchen. His eyes burned and he finally released his grip on his emotions. Something almost like a growl tore through his chest, and he ran the last few steps into the bedroom before throwing himself on his bed.
He landed on his stomach and grabbed for his pillow, fingers digging into the plush fabric as he pressed his face into it and screamed. He screamed again and again and again, venting all his frustration and hurt. He screamed even as tears soaked into the pillow, hot and stinging like the betrayal that had caused them.
Seia had been the only family member he thought actually cared about him. A harsh laugh bubbled out of him as he realized how stupid he'd been. He was nothing but another pawn. Seia probably already knew who she wanted to pair him with. The guy was probably older than him, and possibly foreign to boot. Otherwise Neito was sure his grandmother would have introduced them already.
He rolled over onto his back and stared up at the ceiling. He didn't think he was being dramatic. If anything, he was finally seeing what he'd been blinded to for years. The only way to stay in the family's good graces was to let Seia have her way. It explained a lot about his immediate family members and the decisions they'd made over the years.
Of course, Neito could just accept the consequences and walk away. Give up on his plans for the future and finally pick his own path. Sure, it would mean that everything he'd done for the past twenty-one years of his life was for nothing. But he'd be free.
The problem was that Neito liked his life. He wanted to become a powerful businessman. Wanted to make his mark on the world. Giving all that up just because some old biddy wanted to treat him like a puppet felt like losing.
"No," he said to himself. "I'm not going to let her win that easily."
He'd been taught to fight. To put his own wants and desires aside in favor of accomplishing a goal. And that was what he'd do now. If his grandmother wanted to manipulate him, he wasn't going to make it easy.
Something settled inside him now that he'd made a decision. He might not know exactly what his next move would be, but he was determined to come out on top. Even if that meant he had to do a little manipulation of his own.
Pushing to his feet, he went over to his closet and pulled out some exercise clothes. He needed to think, to come up with a plan, and the best way to do that was to exercise. His mind always worked best while his body was busy.
He stuffed a moisture-wicking shirt and a pair of exercise shorts into a gym bag, along with a pair of boxing gloves. More than anything, right now he wanted to hit something. Luckily for him, the university's rec building was always open.
After adding a few more things to his bag, Neito made a quick detour to the bathroom to make sure he didn't look completely terrible. His eyes were a bit red, and he looked unhappy, but both of those things were to be expected. Hopefully the rec building wouldn't be too crowded. More time had passed than he realized, and it was just past nine on a weekday evening. Hardly the busiest time.
With one final check to make sure he had everything, Neito locked his apartment and headed for the train station.