Work Text:
Letters from Home
Professor Johansson had just pulled up the first slide of the PowerPoint presentation when the door to the lecture hall creaked open. Anabeth chewed on the end of her pen as she watched the newcomer enter the classroom, an expensive messenger bag over one shoulder and an arrogant smirk on his face.
“You’re late,” their professor said in annoyance. “Class begins at 1 PM sharp.”
“What can I say? It’s my first day. I got lost.”
There was no apology in the heavily accented English. If anything, it sounded flippant, even amused by their teacher’s irritation. Anabeth’s eyes stayed on the new guy as he adjusted the bag on his shoulder, waiting impatiently to see if the professor was going to say more. Tall and lean, with striking blue hair and intense crimson eyes, he was hard not to look at.
Ainosuke Shindo.
He’d been in her Economics class that morning as well. She had a feeling she’d be seeing him in her Tuesday/Thursday afternoon Political Science lectures, too. Though it was doubtful he’d be in her journalism class she had those mornings. It was clear what his major was, especially after she’d done a deep dive on the internet about him when he’d shown up in her morning class.
She’d researched all her classmates at some point or another. If they were to be the future political leaders of the country, it seemed prudent to have a head start learning who they were. Knowledge was currency in journalism, and she intended to be rich.
So far, she’d reached the conclusion that America was likely screwed in the coming years because her classmates were all dumbasses.
Japan, however, might have an advantage, because Ainosuke Shindo looked around the classroom with shrewd eyes filled with cunning. The transfer student was a week late starting classes and already had a better grasp on the material than most of the students she’d spent the last couple of semesters getting to know.
“Take a seat,” the professor ordered Shindo. “You’ll need to find somebody to borrow last week’s notes from.”
“I’m sure I’ll manage just fine,” Shindo said coldly as he began making his way up the side stairs of the lecture hall. He slipped into the row directly behind Anabeth. She had to force herself not to crane her neck to watch him, to see if he even bothered getting out pen and paper since he hadn’t in their morning class.
Which meant she startled slightly when his voice was suddenly right next to her ear as he leaned forward to whisper, “I thought you might like a challenge.”
“A challenge?” she whispered back without turning to look at him.
“Staring at me. You are hardly what I’d call subtle.”
Anabeth bristled. “You think pretty highly of yourself.”
“Do I?”
The mocking tone was clear, and Anabeth spent the rest of the lecture silently fuming as she studiously took notes.
It wasn’t until class was dismissed and the lights had brightened in the lecture hall that she turned to face the new student. Pushing aside her annoyance from earlier, she offered her hand. “Anabeth Lawson,” she told him in introduction, her soft southern twang wrapping around the syllables of her name in a way she’d been told was rather charming.
Shindo stared at her outstretched hand with palpable disgust. “Charmed, I’m sure,” he said dryly.
He might be smarter than most of his classmates, but he was just as much of a dick, Anabeth decided.
She pulled her hand back as Shindo slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder, ignoring her as he made his way towards the stairs to the exit. As he did so, Anabeth watched something slip out of the front pocket of his bag, falling unnoticed by him to the ground.
“Hey, Shindo,” she called out, picking up the letter. Still sealed, the front decorated with an impressive amount of postage stamps, import documentation, and the elegant inking of kanji that meant nothing to her.
Shindo ignored her. After a moment, Anabeth pocketed the letter without saying anything more.
*************
Master Ainosuke,
I apologize for my stilted English. It seemed to be the best way to keep your aunts from interfering with your correspondence, though I will have to make certain it remains out of your father’s hands still. Considering you were the one to first begin my education in the language when we were mere children, I hope my handwriting is not too offensive to your eyes.
I am sending this letter only a handful of days after your departure. It is my hope that it finds you well, and that your travels were not too arduous. My greatest hope is that the distance from Okinawa will allow you some measure of freedom from the expectations of your family and let you be who you truly wish to be.
Forgive my forwardness for saying as much, and for presuming to write these words at all. Already, the estate is quieter without your presence, though we did not speak much in the days before you left. That is but one of my myriad of regrets.
Ever, your loyal servant,
Tadashi
*************
The pot of water was at a gentle boil, steam rising up from its surface to lick at the edge of the envelope she held in its path. She didn’t want to rush this, letting the glue that held it sealed become gummy without getting the paper damp enough to become damaged.
It had taken a lot of trial and error to master the technique — opening everything from her parents’ utility bills to her brother’s birthday cards from their grandparents — but she’d gotten rather good at it. Practice made perfect, after all, and she’d been teaching herself how to do this since she’d read it in a Nancy Drew book.
That was years before she discovered Veronica Mars, her idol as a teenager, and decided that she was going to pursue her dream of becoming a political reporter, regardless of what her family’s plans for her future were.
She pushed the thought away to concentrate on sliding the tip of a letter opener under the envelope flap, releasing the seal. She took a moment to bask in the small victory before carefully pulling the letter out.
It was written in English, letters perfectly formed with a careful precision that suggested a significant amount of time and attention had gone into them. Anabeth wasn't certain if the sigh she let out was relief or disappointment. She’d been completely prepared to have to translate the letter; it wasn't the first time she’d stolen a classmate’s mail, after all, though Romance languages were far easier than Japanese. Whoever had written it had made her job simple, though.
She read the contents slowly, a frown forming between her carefully shaped brows. It… wasn’t what she was expecting. She’d thought the correspondence would be from Ainosuke’s father, or one of his aunts, as the articles she’d read about the family all mentioned that Aiichiro Shindo was a widower, raising his only son with the assistance of his sisters.
Instead, it was from a servant?
Though the language was formal, there was something in the tone, something Anabeth couldn’t quite put her finger on, that hinted at a level of… familiarity. Maybe even intimacy.
Why was Shindo getting letters like that from a servant? A male servant. One who was, by his own words, hiding the correspondence from Ainosuke’s family.
Had all of her snooping finally led to her an actual scandal?
It was just her luck that it would involve an exchange student instead of one of her American classmates.
Still, she decided as she carefully took a picture of the letter before sliding it back into its envelope, resealing it as carefully as she opened it, she was going to keep an eye on Ainosuke Shindo. Because there was, it seemed, more to him than his arrogant attitude, and her instincts told her there was definitely a story there.
*************
By midterms, all of Anabeth’s observations had only reached one conclusion: Ainosuke Shindo was an asshole. Really, that wasn't a shocking revelation in the slightest. Most of her classmates were assholes. It tended to come hand in hand with being raised to literally rule the world one day. There was so much arrogance and entitlement that such an upbringing caused, not to mention there was usually an underlying bitterness at the sheer amount of expectation placed on their shoulders.
Anabeth should know. Her parents’ sole ambition for her was that she marry such a man.
Except for once a month, Anabeth noticed Shindo’s attitude changed. He became quieter, more contemplative. Almost… humble, if such a word could ever be applied to Ainosuke Shindo. She might not have even noticed, if she hadn’t noticed the pattern. The change in his routine. Because once a month, he’d get a coffee to go from the cafe on campus and walk to a nearby botanical garden. He’d sit on a bench amongst the roses and pull a letter from his bag. He’d read it carefully, two or three times, something close to a soft smile playing on his lips, before shoving it in his bag and continuing on to his next class.
And for a few days after, he’d be… nicer.
It made Anabeth even more curious about those letters. Especially since Ainosuke had been so dismissive when she’d returned the first one. He hadn’t even managed a polite thank you. He’d simply snatched it from her, shoving it unceremoniously into his bag, and turned away, grumbling something about “that damn dog.”
Anabeth had bristled for all of half a second, thinking he was talking about her, until she heard him mutter, “he’s going to get into trouble doing this.”
She had cringed, realizing that was what Shindo was calling the servant who sent him the letter. It made her dislike him even more than she already did. Until later that day, when she’d seen him, quite by accident, reading it. When she’d seen the softness and… sorrow on his face. Right before he’d crumpled it in his fist and shoved it back in his bag.
Then, the next morning, after their Economics class, he’d approached her. “As you are far more… studious than most of our classmates, I was wondering if I could borrow your notes for the week I missed.”
Anabeth had agreed and offered to bring copies of her notes for all three of the classes they shared to their lecture that afternoon. Shindo had even thanked her when she’d handed them over! She thought, briefly, that she had misjudged him. Except by classes the following Monday, he was back to being cold and dismissive again. That had lasted for two full weeks before he’d come to class one day acting… different. Quieter, more contemplative. More withdrawn, and less performatively arrogant, than normal.
If she hadn’t seen him leaving the cafe and walking towards the garden — and if she hadn’t chosen to follow him — she might not have thought anything about it. But she had, and she’d seen him with another letter. Then once again, he’d been far more tolerable to be around for the next couple of days.
It was then she discovered the pattern. Once a month, Shindo would get a letter from home — she suspected each one from Tadashi, whoever he was — and for a few days his sharp edges would be just a bit softer. Then he would go back to normal until, like clockwork, another letter arrived. Noticing it, Anabeth could only determine one thing for certain:
She had to get her hands on those letters somehow.
*************
Master Ainosuke,
The roses are in bloom and the garden is heavy with the scent of them. The new gardener does not trim them as diligently as I wish, as I was once trained to. It is not yet my place to correct him, but once I am the head butler, I will instruct him on the proper methods.
I find myself taking walks in the garden at night when I cannot sleep, which is often these days. Sleep is a luxury my training does not much allow.
I remember when the garden was filled with not only the scent of roses but the sound of laughter, the moon the only witness to the hours we spent there.
I hope you have been sleeping well and taking care of yourself. It worries me, you being there on your own. Not because I think you are incapable of taking care of yourself — I know how you value your independence — but because you shouldn’t have to do so.
Of all the tasks I have done for your family, that was the one I took the most joy in and stressed about the most.
Your faithful dog,
Tadashi
*************
“Shindo!” Anabeth called out, hurrying to gather her notebooks, shoving them into her bag haphazardly, so she could catch her classmate before he left the lecture hall.
If she timed this right, he should have just gotten another letter, hopefully making him more amenable to her plan. The fact that he stopped and waited for her suggested that might be the case.
“You know, exams are coming up soon,” she began.
“With observational skills like that, no wonder you decided to study journalism,” Ainosuke drawled sarcastically. He started to walk off, but she fell in step with him, trying to hide her flush of embarrassment.
They’d talked about little other than the upcoming tests in their classes. It truly had been an asinine opening. She pushed aside her mortification, though, in favor of saying, “How did you know I’m a journalism student?”
Ainosuke arched a pointed blue eyebrow at her. “Do you really believe you are the only one to look into who your classmates are, Lawson?”
Oh. Well, that was just even more embarrassing.
“Then I guess you know why it’s important for me to do well on my exams,” she said instead of admitting that she’d researched him. “Unlike most of our class, I’m here on scholarship.”
“Considering you have a 4.0 GPA, I doubt you have much to be concerned with.”
“We have three classes together, Shindo. Doesn’t it make sense for us to study together?”
“Hmm. Perhaps. What’s in it for me?”
“You get to study with somebody who has a 4.0 GPA,” Anabeth told him, not even trying to hide her smirk.
“True. Then I suppose the question should have been, what’s in it for you?”
It was actually an easy question, because Anabeth didn’t even have to lie. “Brandon hosts a large study group every year,” she informed him, referring to one of their other classmates. “He’s also been trying to get into my pants since I started going here.”
“And I’m assuming you aren’t interested?”
“Especially not after he told his parents he was interested in me, so his mom called up mine to discuss how it would be an advantageous match. I’ll be damned before I let him put me in a position that could be seen — in any way, shape, or form — as compromising.”
Ainosuke actually barked out a laugh at her ordeal. “Shall I assume you simply consider me a… safer alternative?”
There were several ways she could answer that. Because, yes, it was a safer alternative because she couldn’t imagine the Shindo family, no matter how progressive they might be considered, to force a marriage between the family heir and an American. Not to mention, she had a suspicion that Ainosuke had very little interest in women.
Neither of those was the answer she gave, however.
“It beats studying alone,” she told him bluntly. Which, unfortunately, was what she’d had to do every semester before this one.
“Fine,” Ainosuke agreed with palpable reluctance. “Tomorrow night? Your place?”
“I live in the dorms. You wouldn’t be able to smoke.” She nodded towards the cigarette he’d pulled from his pocket as soon as they’d exited the building.
“My place it is, then,” Ainosuke said, voice laced with amusement. “I’ll text you the address.”
Anabeth had to force herself not to grin, keeping her victory dance entirely internal. That part of the plan had gone even better than she’d hoped.
*************
Ainosuke Shindo was actually smart. Which she’d known, of course, but only in the peripheral sense of watching him during classes. A one-on-one study session with him quickly showed her how much she’d been underestimating him. He was really smart.
Which was a benefit to her plan that she hadn’t taken into consideration. She was actually getting some quality studying done. That didn’t mean she wasn’t subtly checking her watch, though.
She’d promised Marcus her journalism ethics notes — the irony of which wasn’t lost on her — in exchange for one well-timed phone call. He’d promised to keep Ainosuke on the phone for at least ten minutes, though she had no clue how he was going to manage that since, as far as she knew, they didn't actually know each other.
But Marcus had been eager to help once he’d learned what the favor was, probably because, unlike Ainosuke, his sexuality was not at all in question. He was flamboyantly gay, and Anabeth had been forced to endure him waxing poetic about how very pretty he thought Ainosuke Shindo was after she’d told him what she needed him to do.
If Shindo caught her, he was as liable to kill her for giving Marcus his number as he was for snooping through his room.
Unfortunately, in all her planning, there was one thing she hadn’t even considered as a possibility.
Ainosuke didn't answer his phone.
He gave it nothing more than a brief glance when it began ringing and went right back to quizzing her.
Marcus, thankfully, was tenacious. He called back only a second later.
“Do you need to get that?” Anabeth suggested when it appeared Ainosuke was just going to ignore the call again. “It might be important? Or… family?”
“Doubtful,” Ainosuke said dismissively. “It’s a local number.”
Well… fuck.
Anabeth was trying not to panic, watching all her plans go down the drain, not to mention losing perfectly good leverage over Marcus, when Ainosuke’s phone dinged with a text message.
Whatever the text said, it got more of a reaction than the phone calls. And when it began to ring only a moment later, he answered with a cold, “What?”
Whatever Marcus was saying, it caused Ainosuke to move off the couch, heading towards the kitchen for privacy. Anabeth caught his eye and pantomimed that she was going to use the restroom before hurrying down the hall.
She had ten minutes. Hopefully.
The first thing she did was turn the bathroom light on and close the door, just in case her host looked down the hallway towards where she’d supposedly gone. Only then did she slip into the bedroom, easing the door closed silently behind her.
Thankfully, Ainosuke didn’t seem to believe in conserving electricity because the light was already on in the bedroom. Nothing more than a dim, bedside lamp, but it would be enough to search by.
The room wasn't immaculately kept by any stretch of the imagination, but it was still tidier than she’d expect a college boy to keep his rooms. Certainly better than most of the dorm rooms. Nicer, too.
The messiest part of the room was the large desk that was strewn with papers. She began her search there, quickly riffling through them. There were several drawings — fairly decent ones, at that — on several different subjects. One showed a stylized S in red and gold, shot through with an arrow that had a heart on the end, like a Cupid’s bow might. Another showed what seemed to be a costume design in the same color scheme. By the shock of blue hair in the drawing, she guessed it was for Ainosuke, but the outfit seemed to be a skin-tight, flashy matador costume, complete with a carnival mask that was sketched in detail on the side, along with the name Adam in bold letters.
Was it some sort of drag persona? Was that Shindo’s secret? Maybe that was what his mysterious letter writer meant by being who he wanted to be. Was Ainosuke a queen?
Anabeth photographed everything, phone camera clicking constantly as she sorted through the papers, barely even skimming them. She found another drawing, more detailed than the others, of a bleeding heart resting on a large Chrysanthemum, pierced by two swords with the words Til Death Do Us Part written on a banner beneath it. She photographed that, too, before quickly moving on.
The letters weren’t on the desk, nor in any of the drawers she opened. She took several wide angle photographs of the desk top, knowing she didn’t have time to sort through it all. Ten minutes wasn’t that long, assuming Marcus could actually keep him on the phone the entire time.
Anabeth had just finished searching the desk when she heard Ainosuke in the hallway, right outside the door. Without even thinking, she threw herself to the floor, shimmying under the bed as the door swung open. She had to bite her cheek to keep from crying out as her elbow smashed into something. She turned her head and saw a skateboard stashed under the bed with her, one well-worn wheel spinning.
A skateboard? Really? She never would have taken Ainosuke Shindo as a skateboarder.
“No, I’m most certainly not interested, as you’ve yet to tell me who you are or how you got this number,” she heard Ainosuke saying. She turned her head back to peek out from under the bed. All she could see were her classmate’s shoes, but from the sounds of it, he was rummaging for something in his closet.
She prayed that whatever it was he was looking for wasn’t under the bed with her and the skateboard.
The floorboards creaked as he moved closer. Her heart hammered so loud she was certain he’d hear it. The closet door slid open with a soft scrape. She held her breath, watching his feet through the narrow gap between the bed frame and floor.
“Yes, I know who Anabeth is,” she heard Ainosuke say. She froze, wondering what the hell Marcus was telling him.
Then she heard Ainosuke give a dark chuckle and say, “Does your classmate know you routinely rummage through her phone? During your ethics class, no less.”
She almost breathed a sigh of relief, but she held it back. At least until Ainosuke — having found whatever it was he was looking for — left the room, still on the phone with Marcus.
She doubted that was going to last much longer. She had to hurry and find the—
Anabeth froze in the act of sliding back out from under the bed, staring at the rather large shoebox tucked under there with her. She pulled the box out from under the bed with her. Lifting the lid, she immediately gave a triumphant smile.
Jackpot.
She quickly checked the time on her phone. It had been seven minutes. Only three minutes left. Maybe. She would need to hurry.
There was a small bundle of dried roses on top, petals browned and curled, held together by a red ribbon. She carefully set the delicate bouquet aside before pulling out what looked to be a charred piece of wood, covered by some type of sandpaper on one side, hints of paint — bubbled and peeled — on the other. It still smelled like ash and soot.
The Polaroid she pulled out next was the true find. Ainosuke Shindo, looking like a smaller version of himself but otherwise exactly the same. Except for the wide, joyous smile on his face. The boy next to him was taller, a little older, and more reserved, though the smile on his face was filled with affection as he stared at the child beside him. Written in a childish hand on the bottom of the photo was “Me and Tadashi.”
Anabeth laid it beside the other items she’d removed from the box before snapping a quick picture of all three.
Beneath them were the letters, four of them, loose and no longer in their envelopes. The first one she picked up had been crumpled, balled up, and then carefully smoothed back out and kept. She unfolded it, knowing what she’d see even before she read the first lines.
Master Ainosuke,
I apologize for my stilted English.
It was the first letter Ainosuke had gotten, the first one Anabeth had read. He had kept it after all. Clearly, he’d been upset by something in its contents, but hadn’t destroyed it. By the way it had been carefully smoothed and refolded, Ainosuke had regretted his initial reaction.
Knowing she was about out of time, Anabeth grabbed one of the other letters at random. Her hands trembled as she tried to fold the crumpled letter back exactly as she’d found it. Close enough. It had to be close enough. She slid the box back, pushing it with her fingertips until— it caught on something. Wouldn’t go back. She pushed harder, heard wood scrape against wood as the skateboard beneath the bed shifted. She froze.
Had he heard that?
Silence from the hallway.
She pushed again, gentler. It slid into place. She pocketed the letter before moving to the bedroom door. She paused with her hand on the doorknob, listening. Was he still in the kitchen? Or had Marcus lost him? She couldn’t hear his voice anymore. She eased the door open inch by inch and peeked out. The hallway was empty. She exhaled. Then she sprinted down the hallway as quietly as possible.
She flushed the toilet for cover and turned on the faucet, scrubbing the smudge of soot from her hands. The water ran gray, then clear. She stared at her reflection—flushed cheeks, too-bright eyes. Guilty. She looked guilty. She splashed cold water on her face, counted to ten, and forced her expression neutral before opening the door.
She emerged back into the living room just in time to see Ainosuke hang up the phone and toss it aside.
“One of your friends stole my number from your phone,” he informed her irritably.
Anabeth laughed, light and easy, ignoring the way her gut twisted with nerves. “Let me guess: Marcus? He’s been crushing on you all semester.”
“So I gathered,” Ainosuke said, his annoyance transformed to amusement. “Shall we continue?” he asked, gesturing grandly at their scattering of notes.
Anabeth nodded, ignoring the letter burning a hole in her pocket, and tried to focus on their studies. She really did have an exam to prepare for, after all, and she’d be a fool not to take advantage of Ainosuke’s help.
*************
Master Ainosuke,
The cherry blossoms have fallen and the garden feels bare without them. For several days, the wind was a vibrant swirl, and I remember how much you loved it….
Master Ainosuke,
Your aunts asked how your studies have been going today. Your father told them you are top of your class. I was unaware he was keeping apprised of your grades, but I wanted to congratulate you. Not that I am surprised in the slightest….
Master Ainosuke,
I fixed the trellis by the old pool this last weekend. I remember how nervous I used to get when you would climb it so you could skateboard off the roof of the old pool house….
Master Ainosuke,
There are days I find training with your father to be untenable. My single consolation is that the skills I am learning will one day be given in service to you instead. While I hope your time in America is well spent, I must admit that I miss you. Even if you refused to so much as look at me in the months before you left, your absence is an ache that I carry with me constantly.
Do you remember when we were children? How simpler everything seemed back then, though even then I knew our friendship was improper. Still, the trouble I would have gotten into paled in comparison to the brightness of your smile. I think of those days fondly. I regret not speaking up when your father burnt your skateboard. I feared being sent away from you. I should have instead feared that he finally managed to break your spirit. My own heartache would have been worth your continued happiness.
I miss you.
Forever yours,
Tadashi
*************
As soon as Anabeth read the letter she had stolen, she wished she’d thrown caution to the wind and taken all of them. She was right, there was a story here, but the vignettes she got from these two letters hardly showed the bigger picture.
She had downloaded the photos she’d taken that night to her laptop as soon as she’d gotten home so she could look at them better. Yet she found it was the picture of the two young boys, so happy and innocent, that remained on her screen as she finally unfolded the short letter and began to read.
Her breath caught as soon as she read the opening paragraph about the roses being in bloom as she pictured Ainosuke, sitting by himself on the bench in the rose garden reading this letter. Tadashi had worked in the garden at the Shindo estate, apparently. No wonder he surrounded himself with such beauty when he read Tadashi’s letter.
And Tadashi had worked in the gardens, which was why he spoke of how they should be tended. Was that how they met?
No. The picture showed them far too young for that. Though Tadashi was clearly a couple of years older than Ainosuke, a child that young had probably not actively worked at the estate. The child of a servant, perhaps? Were the two boys raised together?
Had they, at some point, become lovers?
Then, there was the signature to consider. “Your faithful dog.” The words made her stomach twist. He’d taken Ainosuke’s insult and claimed it as devotion. Or maybe it had always been their private language, and she was reading cruelty where there had once been affection.
It was hard to tell from the letters she had read. Tadashi was deferential, respectful, in his address. But there was so much longing in his words. Just reading them made Anabeth’s chest ache, made her eyes burn. It was clear he was devoted to his master, perhaps even loved him.
It was also clear Anabeth had to, somehow, go back to Ainosuke’s apartment again. Not just to get her hands on those other letters, but because she finally took a better look at the papers that were strewn across Ainosuke’s desk.
It was easy to tell from them that he was planning something. Something that wasn't entirely legal. One of the notes, partially obscured in her photos, only said, “Will need to bribe officials to take location off patrol routes.” She could see another part that held a heading of “Possible Locations.” Though there seemed to be a list beneath it, she could only see “Abandoned mine outside of-” and the rest was hidden under the page on top of it. Which was, unfortunately, rather uninteresting in comparison. All it said was, “Anything goes at S. Everybody puts something on the line. No rules, only freedom.”
Another one of the notes, visible in the picture of the “Adam” costume she’d taken, said, “Underground. Secret. Possible recruitment: Dope Sketch?” It sounded like it should mean something. Was it some sort of slang? A Google search showed definitions of both those words, but not the phrase as a whole. On instinct, she added “Okinawa” to the search and got a hit.
Dope Sketch was a skateboarding shop in Naha, Okinawa.
Anabeth sat back in her chair, thinking. Remembering the skateboard she’d banged her elbow against under Ainosuke’s bed. She flipped through the pictures again, getting a clearer idea of what she was looking at. Ainosuke was going to build an underground, probably illegal and dangerous, skateboarding race once he returned to Okinawa. Adam was the persona he would skate under. Or maybe that he already skated under. She probably would have heard if Ainosuke was tearing up the streets, but Adam was an anonymous name, especially in the States.
She’d found it. The scandal she was looking for. The son of a prominent Japanese official, funding and operating an illegal underground skateboarding venue. A scoop like this could launch her career if she timed it right.
And it would completely destroy Ainosuke’s before it ever began.
Clicking the next button again on her picture gallery, Anabeth looked at the photo of the dried roses and the two boys smiling out from a Polaroid.
She supposed she could see if she could find out more information on this “S” that Ainosuke was planning when she went back to his place to try to get her hands on more of Tadashi’s letters. First, though, she had to figure out how she was going to do that, as well as return the one she’d stolen.
That part, at least, proved to be easy enough. She managed to slip it into his bag while he wasn’t paying attention easily enough. Then she tried to push aside all thoughts of Ainosuke Shindo so she could focus on her exams.
She wasn’t expecting him to be waiting for her outside the lecture hall after she’d turned in her paper. She had a moment of fear — had he noticed her putting the letter in his bag — but then he’d just arched an eyebrow at her and said, “Well? How do you think you did?”
“I did alright,” she replied with a smirk that absolutely said she’d aced it.
“We should celebrate. One down, two to go. I’ll buy you a coffee.”
Anabeth blinked in surprise at the invitation, if that’s what it could be called, and fell in step with Ainosuke as he walked off without waiting for a response.
Conversation over coffee was… well, it was awkward, at best. She didn’t know Ainosuke all that well, and what she did know, she wasn’t supposed to. Truth was, she wasn’t very good at small talk. It tended to come out sounding like either an interview or an interrogation.
Both were strangely appropriate when it came to Ainosuke.
“Do you miss Okinawa?” she asked as she sipped her mocha.
“Parts of it,” Ainosuke admitted. “I miss the weather. I don’t like the cold. And the scenery. It’s beautiful there. I intend to make environmental preservation of the island one of my platforms when I return.”
“Is that all you miss? What about friends? Family?”
Ainosuke shrugged, just slightly. Then a small smirk curled his lips. “I miss my dog.”
Anabeth had to force herself not to gasp. Was he talking about Tadashi?
“You have a dog?” she asked, letting some of her excitement bleed through into her voice. It was appropriate, if she thought they were talking about an actual dog.
“Had,” Ainosuke corrected. “I lost him. A long time ago. He chose another master, I suppose you could say.”
No, he didn’t, she thought. Not if they truly were talking about Tadashi. His loyalty, his devotion, had been inked into every word of the two letters she’d read.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “Have you… thought about getting another dog?”
“Hmm. He is irreplaceable, I’m afraid. Enough about that. What’s your sob story?”
“What makes you think I have a sob story?”
“Don’t we all? We're rich, beautiful. Of course, we have one.”
Anabeth snorted out a small laugh. “Well, if you must know… my parents are under the impression that being rich and beautiful should be my only ambition in life since I’m a good southern belle.”
“How dreadfully dull,” Ainosuke declared.
“I know, right?”
In spite of herself, Anabeth found that she relaxed slightly, actually enjoying herself while they finished their coffees.
And it ended up not being the last time that happened. Ainosuke invited her out to coffee after their next exam as well. And then the one after that, too. She expected it to stop, once exams were over and Ainosuke’s good mood from his last letter had worn off, but to her shock, they had lunch together the following week.
By the end of April, they were something almost akin to being friends, and Anabeth was still no closer to seeing any more of the letters Ainosuke had gotten. Or learned more about S.
She had, quite honestly, stopped trying, letting the thought sit idle in the back of her mind.
Until Ainosuke invited her to a birthday party he was throwing himself. At his apartment.
*************
There were people everywhere, and most of them were drunk. Ainosuke had invited their entire class, it seemed, and Marcus, for whatever reason, who had been ecstatic at the invitation. He was currently making his latest attempt to charm the birthday boy. Ainosuke looked amused and completely uninterested. He was also the only person at the party who wasn't trashed. Other than Anabeth, that is. She rarely drank, and never to excess. Not since she was fourteen and had gotten horribly drunk on some homemade moonshine that her cousin had gotten from somewhere.
She’d been waiting for the most opportune moment to slip away, and it finally came when a group of their classmates decided Ainosuke absolutely needed to learn how to play beer bong. Unfortunately, her attempts to slip away while he was distracted were impeded by Marcus, who stopped her before she could pick the lock on Ainosuke’s bedroom, which he’d declared off-limits at the start of the party.
“I think I have a chance with him,” Marcus told her with a painful amount of hope.
“Really!?”
She hadn’t meant it to sound as skeptical as it did, but… well.
“He seems amused when I’m talking to him,” Marcus pointed out defensively.
There was no way Anabeth could tell her friend that she was relatively certain Ainosuke was laughing at him, not at whatever asinine joke Marcus was inevitably telling him.
“Has he even admitted he’s gay?” she asked instead.
“No, but it is kind of obvious, isn’t it?”
“I’m pretty certain he’s a closet case.” That much, at least, was true. She looked around them before quietly adding, “But I think he might be in a relationship with somebody in Okinawa.”
Rather than be disappointed, Marcus’ face lit up. There was a reason he was a journalism student, and the possibility of gossip was far more important than a potentially broken heart. “What makes you think that?”
“Just something he said. Or that he didn’t say,” Anabeth hedged.
“Is that why you’re currently trying to break into his room? You’re trying to get the story?”
Anabeth was actually impressed. She’d kinda thought Marcus was so drunk that he hadn’t even noticed her jimmying the lock with a bobby pin. Instead, he’d actually reached the correct conclusion.
“Something like that,” she admitted, grinning in triumph as the knob finally turned in her hand. “Want to be my lookout?”
“Only if you agree to tell me if you find anything,” Marcus told her, grinning.
“Of course!” Anabeth lied before slipping into the room, closing and locking the door behind her.
She flipped the overhead light on this time. Between Marcus acting as look out and the locked door, she’d have plenty of warning before anybody came in. Plus, she might have a bit more time to search, since she wasn’t pretending to be in the bathroom, but she still needed to hurry.
She turned towards the desk first, only to find it immaculate. The notes, the drawers, all of it was gone. She checked the drawers, but couldn’t find them there, either. One of the drawers was locked — an old-fashioned key lock — and she spent a couple of minutes trying to pick it before admitting defeat. She’d never been all that good at that type of lock.
Giving up on finding out anything more about S tonight, she moved to the bed instead, dropping to sit on the floor next to it. The shoebox was in the same place as last time, though the skateboard was gone. She wasn’t concerned about that. She lifted the lid to the box.
The contents were the same. Once again, she carefully removed the dried bouquet of flowers, lifting them to her nose to see if any faint aroma of rose still clung to them. She smelled nothing but the scent from the charred bit of wood, which she removed from the box next.
She removed the picture last, studying it again. She’d looked at it on her computer, of course, memorized the wide smile on Ainosuke’s face and the faint flush on the other boy’s cheeks. She knew the way Ainosuke’s eyes seemed to sparkle with happiness, and the small smudge that appeared to be a mole under Tadashi’s eye. She’d studied the handwriting, childish and written with such care, as if every one of the three words held weight of equal importance.
Me and Tadashi.
She set it aside almost reverently before reaching back into the box. There were more letters this time, but she knew there would be. She found the first one, its crumpled paper making it easily distinguishable from the others, and opened it, reading it again.
She set it aside and pulled out the next one.
She read each of them carefully, photographing them once she was done. They were all mundane, dealing with nothing more than everyday life at the Shindo estate. But her heart ached with the longing she could feel in the words that remained hinted at but unspoken.
Until she reached the last letter. The most recent one, going by the date in the top corner, but its paper was already worn along the creases, as if it had been unfolded and refolded again and again. Ainosuke had reread this letter multiple times since receiving it.
The ink was blotched in a couple of places where small droplets of water had fallen upon the words. Had Tadashi wept as he’d written it or were they Ainosuke’s tears? Anabeth felt her own eyes burning, her vision blurring with unshed tears, as she read Tadashi’s letter.
His confession.
Finally, everything that she’d glimpsed between the lines of the letters was laid bare, stark and beautiful.
Master Ainosuke,
There are days I find training with your father to be untenable. My single consolation is that the skills I am learning will one day be given in service to you instead.
Ainosuke had said his dog had left him for another master. Was this what he had meant? Tadashi had begun working for his father?
While I hope your time in America is well spent, I must admit that I miss you. Even if you refused to so much as look at me in the months before you left, your absence is an ache that I carry with me constantly.
Tadashi had hoped, in his first letter, that the distance away from his family would allow Ainosuke the freedom to be himself. Was that what he meant by “time well spent”? Coupled with the loneliness and longing in his words, it was such a selfless wish, clearly showing Tadashi’s devotion. And yet, it was also the first time he’d spoken so bluntly about the distance between them, one that seemed to have existed even before Ainosuke moved halfway across the world, and the pain in his words was gutting.
Do you remember when we were children? How simpler everything seemed back then, though even then I knew our friendship was improper.
There it was. In black and white. Tadashi had always hinted at what they shared being forbidden, but now it was stated plainly. Improper. Tadashi had known, even as a child, that their relationship was improper. But it hadn’t stopped Tadashi from loving him anyhow.
Still, the trouble I would have gotten into paled in comparison to the brightness of your smile. I think of those days fondly. I regret not speaking up when your father burnt your skateboard. I feared being sent away from you. I should have instead feared that he finally managed to break your spirit. My own heartache would have been worth your continued happiness.
Anabeth looked from the letter to the piece of charred wood that was also kept in the box, finally understanding what it was. A piece of their past. Their pain made manifest. Though she doubted she would ever meet Ainosuke’s father, she decided she hated the man. For doing that to his son. For putting Tadashi in that position.
Then, at the end of the letter, Tadashi’s salutation was as simple and profound as all his letters and, she suspected, far more honest.
Forever yours.
She set the letter in her lap, simply breathing in the emotions she’d felt wash over her as she read it. Then she very carefully photographed it, just as she had all the others, before folding them all back up. She packed everything into the box and slid it back under the bed.
It was only as she went to stand up that she saw it, sitting on Ainosuke’s bedside table. Another letter. This one unopened.
He must have gotten it right before the party and had yet to read it.
Her curiosity was piqued. He’d only just sent the last letter she read. This new one was out of pattern. It broke the once-a-month routine. Why? What did Tadashi need to say after such a heartfelt confession so badly that he wrote another letter?
Anabeth knew she would probably never find out. It was doubtful she’d get a third chance to search Ainosuke’s room to read his correspondence. And the letter was still sealed. There was no way she could open it without damaging it. And he’d notice it missing. It wasn’t like the others, which had all been read and neatly tucked away before Anabeth got her hand on them.
Yet, despite telling herself all of that, it was in her pocket as she turned off the light and left the room, locking the door behind her.
The hallway was empty.
As she made her way back to the living room, weaving around her drunken classmates, she found Marcus trying to show Ainosuke the proper way to throw a ping pong ball.
Watching them, Anabeth knew her friend had never stood a chance with Ainosuke Shindo.
Nor did they stand any chance of actually winning at beer pong.
*************
Master Ainosuke,
Please disregard my last letter. I fear I may have raised one too many cups of sake in honor of your upcoming birthday. I hope I didn’t say anything too forward.
I don’t even know if you’re reading these as you have never responded to my letters. Yet I cannot seem to stop myself from writing them anyway. I can only hope that they do not distress you and offer you some level of comfort as that is how I have intended them. Perhaps your lack of response should have been my indication not to disturb you further.
Your loyal servant,
Tadashi
*************
Anabeth reread the letter she’d meticulously unsealed for the third time, trying not to scream into her pillow or, at the very least, shout her frustration loudly enough to awaken half the dorm. After having sent such beautiful, heartfelt words in the letter, Tadashi was attempting to take them back!
That was why he’d broken his schedule and written an urgent letter!?
It was infuriating. And if she felt this way, she could only imagine what these words would do to Ainosuke!
Part of her was glad she’d stolen the letter so he didn’t read it on his birthday. She couldn’t believe Tadashi, who’d shown such genuine care in all his previous letters, would do something like this. Would crush the hopes of the man he loved on his birthday!
Except… Tadashi didn’t know it would upset Ainosuke. He hadn’t seen him, sitting by himself on a park bench, surrounded by roses because it was the one place in this city that made him feel closer to home. He hadn’t seen the small, soft smile he’d get on his face as he read Tadashi’s words. He didn’t know that Ainosuke would be nicer, kinder — happier! — for days after reading one of his letters.
Because Ainosuke — the idiot! — had apparently never written him back!
Anabeth felt emotionally wrung-out as she threw herself into her computer chair. Her hands were shaking. From anger or exhaustion or something else entirely, she wasn’t sure. Months of spying and it had led to this. Not to a scandal, not to a story, but to a love so strong that just being on the periphery of it made her heart ache for the two men.
Booting up her laptop, Anabeth quickly found the hidden folder where she’d been storing all the evidence she’d gathered about Ainosuke Shindo. She downloaded the pictures she’d taken that night from her phone, deleting them from the device in the process — a precaution she’d been taking since she really wouldn’t put it past Marcus to snoop on her phone like he’d told Ainosuke he’d done — and tucked herself comfortably at her desk to review all of it.
The first thing she did was put the letters in order according to the dates Tadashi had put on them. Then, she started reading. When she was done, she started over at the beginning, reading all of it one more time. Only then did she pull up a blank page.
This was it. The line she’d been dancing around for months. Once she did this, there was no going back to being just an observer.
Without letting herself think too hard about it — about what this meant, about what she was risking — Anabeth began to type. She’d been looking for a story, after all, and she’d found one. Even if it hadn’t been the career-building story she’d been hoping to uncover.
*************
Dear Tadashi,
You don’t know me, but I am a friend of Ainosuke’s, though I use that term loosely because I have, in fact, been spying on him since the first day I met him. I am a journalism student who shares several classes with him. I tell you this with the full knowledge that if you share this letter with him, he will know precisely who it is who wrote it.
I suppose the loss of the little bit of trust I have built with him is the least I deserve, though I consider the risk to be worth it.
First, please understand that Ainosuke did nothing untoward to gain my interest. I simply treat all of my classmates like this: as potential leads instead of as people I could care about. Ainosuke is unique in the fact that he somehow became both.
How that happened is entirely your fault, Tadashi.
The first time I met Ainosuke, a letter fell from his bag. I used his cold derision when I attempted to return it as justification for my reading it. Truth was, I was looking for a scandal, a scoop on my classmate that I thought I could use against him. In your letter, I thought I had found one. A secret relationship between the Shindo heir and a male servant on the estate? How scandalous! How titillating!
I decided, even as I secretly returned the letter to him, that I needed to learn more.
It is only because I was watching him so closely that I discovered the pattern of your letters. Because once a month, Ainosuke would go to a nearby botanical garden to sit amongst the roses while he read your words. A ritual he never deviated from. Because it was there, amidst such beauty, that he felt closest to you.
For a few days after, I discovered Ainosuke would be less cutting, less sharp. A softer, kinder version of himself. A better version of himself. From nothing more than a few words from you.
My interest, already piqued, rose to new heights. I became determined to read the other letters you sent him. I contrived ways to get my hands on them.
And I was successful.
I have read your letters to Ainosuke, Tadashi. They were personal, and I invaded that privacy. Any apology I might offer would be insincere, because it was doing so that has led me to this moment, and I do not regret that in the slightest, though I struggled with myself over this decision.
I am returning to you the last letter you wrote him. He has yet to read it, and I would ask that you reconsider sending it to him. Because my careful observation of him has led me to a singular conclusion:
He loves you just as deeply as you do him.
That is why he hasn’t responded to your letters. He couldn’t, not while you maintained such emotional distance from him. Not while you pretend your significance to him is nothing more than that of a servant.
But he has cherished every word you have written. When I found them, they were carefully hidden in a box that held dried flowers, from what I suspect is your garden, the one you both spent so much time in together as children. There was also a piece of his destroyed skateboard, which I suspect is a piece of Ainosuke’s broken heart. There was a photograph of the two of you as children, and might I say, you were both adorable.
And then there were your letters. All kept. All read. I could tell by the creases in the paper how often he’d read them. And your last one? The one you didn’t intend to send? The one where you finally let yourself be honest regarding your feelings? It was obvious he’d already read it over and over. That he cherished those words even more than the others.
Please don’t take that from him. Please don’t break his heart again. I believe he will forgive the pain of the past you share, but only if you allow you both to heal from it, and for that, there must exist honesty between the two of you.
The irony of that is not lost on me. I preach honesty while actively spying on a friend, invading their privacy. While I have not shown myself to be a person of integrity or high moral standards, I promise you I will not read any letters you send him in the future. Your words will exist between only the two of you, as they were meant to.
Truth is, I set out to find a story. And I found one. It isn’t the scandal I was looking for, or even an article for some gossip rag. It is a love story, and a beautiful one at that. One so strong it crossed an ocean and touched the heart of an outsider like myself.
So I humbly ask that you do not send him that letter again, that you don’t take back your words that touched him, and me, so deeply.
Sincerely,
A friend
*************
Anabeth felt somehow lighter in the days after she’d mailed the letter she’d written to Tadashi. Tadashi Kikuchi, she’d learned, after carefully running an image of the envelope through an online translator so she’d have the address to send it to. Google Maps had confirmed it was correct, and she’d zoomed in as far as the satellite photos of the estate would allow, hoping for a glimpse of the rose gardens.
She had not been disappointed. They wrapped the entire estate, a sprawling array of beauty.
She looked at all the evidence she had collected one more time, seeing it with new eyes, in a way. Clearer eyes. Eyes not fogged over by the greed for a story that had driven her before. Even the plans for S made sense to her now. After having skateboarding taken from him in such a ruthless fashion, it was hardly surprising Ainosuke would want to build some place to again enjoy the freedom it had brought him. To share it with others.
Then, without thinking about it any further, she deleted everything.
The only story there was one that she had no intention of sharing with the world.
When she saw Ainosuke in class the following week, he said nothing about the letter that had disappeared from his nightstand. If he was upset about its absence, it was none of her business. Not unless he told her about it directly, which he did not.
It was less than two weeks later that she saw him, once again walking towards the gardens. This time, when she followed him, it was out of concern, not curiosity. Though seeing him sitting on the bench, letter in hand and a small smile on his face, she breathed a sigh of relief.
And this time, she didn’t hesitate to join him, to sit beside him as a friend instead of as a journalist.
“Did you get a letter from home?” she asked as he carefully folded the letter and placed it back into the envelope.
“Yes. From… a friend,” Ainosuke said simply, the slight hesitation before using the term loaded with meaning that Anabeth wasn’t meant to understand, even though she did.
“Must be a good friend,” she commented. “You look happy.”
“I am.” Ainosuke sounded slightly surprised by that admission. “And he is. A very good friend.”
“Want to tell me about him over coffee?”
“Perhaps,” Ainosuke teased with a small smirk as he tucked the letter into his bag, where Anabeth let it remain. “But you can buy me a coffee regardless.”
“Oh, I can, can I?” Anabeth laughed as they left the gardens with its fading scent of roses and started towards the cafe. “Will you at least tell me his name?”
“Tadashi,” Ainosuke said without hesitation. “His name is Tadashi.”
She doubted Ainosuke was even aware of the small smile he wore as he said it.
*************
Master Ainosuke,
Your father mentioned to your aunts that you intend to come home for a visit soon. I must admit, I was overjoyed at hearing the news and had to force myself not to express my excitement.
I look forward to seeing you again. I have missed you.
With love,
Tadashi
*************