Disclaimer: Not mine.
Warning: This is yaoi. And silly, verging on crack.
Summary: Shiyuma is a family man. But he'd rather be out killing Soviets.
When Sena was nine, someone at the playground saw a man trying to convince Sena to go with him into a car. Sena, well-rehearsed by his parents, unquestioningly refused. The man then attempted to drag Sena away, and it was uncertain what would have happened had a boy at the elementary school named Hisashi not taken matters into his own hands.
They said later that the boy had stabbed the man in the leg, arm, and hand with a mechanical pencil upwards of five times. This forced the man to release Sena and stopped him long enough that someone was able to shout for help. Several teachers came running, but the man got into his car and left before anyone could get close enough. The license plate number was written down, the police notified, and Shiyuma got the call while cross-referencing last month's covert North Korean nuclear product movement data to this month's.
Shiyuma, who knew what the inside of a Siberian gulag looked like, had never felt such a rush of cold fear.
When he arrived at the school, Mihae was already there. She was sitting in the principal's office next to Sena, who was in one of two chairs. On Sena's other side was the boy who had saved him, and their hands were tightly clasped together.
"Kobayakawa-san," said the principal, who looked very strained. "I can't tell you how sorry I am for this to happen at our school."
Sena's teacher was there, bowing and apologizing, tears in her eyes. But Shiyuma couldn't look at anyone or anything but his son, who was sitting quietly between his mother and the other boy.
"This is Hisashi-kun," said the principal. "He is the one who prevented the stranger from taking Sena."
Hisashi sat in his chair, eyes calm and focused. He looked relaxed, as if that wasn't someone's blood staining his sleeve.
Sena was trembling. Shiyuma hadn't been able to see it until he got close enough. Sena's face was pale and Shiyuma could see where the tears had been recently wiped away.
His hand was in Hisashi's. Shiyuma thought for a moment that Sena was the one clutching Hisashi's hand so tightly, but when he knelt down in front of the boys, he saw how Hisashi's own fingers were clenched around Sena's, so that they gripped each other's hands.
"Sena," said Shiyuma. "Dad is here."
Sena didn't say anything. Hisashi looked at Shiyuma.
Shiyuma stood back up. "You have the license plate number?"
He could tell that the teacher and the principal were baffled by how composed he was. The principal handed him a piece of paper with a number on it, which Shiyuma memorized with a glance.
"Mihae-san," he said then, "will you take Sena home?"
The teacher's eyes widened. Both she and the principal stared when all Mihae said was "Of course, Shiyuma-san."
Shiyuma glanced again at Sena, then at Hisashi. The look Hisashi gave him back was level and considering, not the look of a child. Something like distaste rippled through Shiyuma's calm, and then he left.
When he returned home late that night, Hisashi was there.
"His father didn't come," murmured Mihae as she met him at the door. "I couldn't bear to leave him."
She didn't ask where he'd been. He didn't offer.
It destroyed Shiyuma to see how this affected his son. Sena had always been such a sweet, cheerful boy, smiling and laughing for everyone, open and loving. Now he was sitting mutely at the table, his chair pulled close by Hisashi's. His pallor had not improved and he barely picked at his food. Whenever he put down his chopsticks, his hand would automatically go out to clutch at Hisashi's shirt.
Hisashi didn't seem to mind. If anything, he seemed to take it as expected for Sena to cling to him, and rather than complain, he was patient, if quiet, and held Sena's hand whenever his own was empty.
By nine o'clock, Hisashi's father had not come. Mihae called the number to Hisashi's house repeatedly, but it was useless.
"Hisashi-kun," said Mihae, ignoring Shiyuma's look, "would you like to stay here tonight?"
Sena's hands immediately took hold of Hisashi's sleeve, as if he was terrified Hisashi might say no. That answered the question.
Mihae called their teacher to update her of the situation, and then she put Hisashi and Sena to bed. She hadn't even left the room when Sena slipped from his futon into Hisashi's and laid his head against Hisashi's shoulder. Hisashi didn't even open his eyes, but only put that arm around Sena's back and stroked Sena's hair reassuringly. Shiyuma didn't have the heart to even be alarmed.
Two days later, the newspapers reported on the apparent suicide of a convicted child molester released from prison the year before. He was from Saitama and had broken parole. There was embarrassment all around on the part of the authorities and several extensive apologies were made to the general public. Three parole officers were disciplined.
By the time a week had passed, Sena had begun to recover. He laughed more easily, and his smile wasn't as fragile at it had been. He still stayed very close to Hisashi, and Hisashi stayed over most nights, but neither Mihae nor Shiyuma minded.
Hisashi's father also did not mind. He owned a company that was apparently going through some anxious times, and was always very difficult to reach. He seemed relieved if anything that his son had a place to go to most of the week, and regularly sent gifts of fruits or delicacies to show his appreciation. Shiyuma met the man once, and got from him the impression of an extremely harried but otherwise quite pleasant individual. He did do some background work, just to make sure Hisashi's father wasn't mixed up with yakuza or anything too dangerous, but everything seemed in order.
So when Hisashi's father committed suicide nearly five months later, Shiyuma found himself in the hateful position of being taken completely by surprise.
The last time Sena saw Hisashi as a child, he threw his arms around Hisashi's neck, distraught and weeping. Hisashi himself hadn't shed a single tear, not since the moment he found his father at home. But now he put his arms around Sena, holding him tightly, his face in Sena's neck, and Shiyuma could not see if the boy was crying or not.
When Hisashi had left with his mother's relatives, Shiyuma took Sena home.
"Sena," he tried asking, "are you sad?"
Sena didn't answer for a long while. Shiyuma kept walking, Sena's mittened hand warm in his gloved one.
"Dad," said Sena, "boys can't get married, can they?"
Shiyuma—paused. "Er, no."
"OK." Sena was quiet for a few more steps. Then, "I'd marry Hisa-nii if I could."
"Um." What to say to that? At least you don't have to worry about in-laws? Shiyuma's eye twitched. I'm going straight to hell. "Oh."
Another block passed.
Sena asked, in a small voice, "Do you think Hisa-nii could take Guri Guri?"
Shiyuma had to get someone to tell him who Guri Guri was. "Depends. Is he holding a pencil?"
Mihae and he waited for a long while, but Sena never did go back to being their baby. He was quieter than he had been, and much more diffident, his manner almost nervous around strangers and children he didn't know. His teacher called out of concern a few weeks on, mentioning that Sena seemed to be having some trouble with bullying, especially some brat by the name of Takefumi, but Sena wouldn't say anything to his parents.
Shiyuma was a counterintelligence officer, not a therapist. He felt helpless and awkward in the face of his son's changing person as he never had as a covert agent, not even that time in Singapore with the slave traffickers. It was nauseating to realize that there were some things from which he could do nothing to protect his own son.
For several days after Hisashi left, Shiyuma took time off from work and stayed home. But Sena maintained his reticence on the whole affair, so Shiyuma ended up spending most of that time in his study with his laptop, not enough ulcer medication, and too much Grey Goose.
Hisashi's father's former business partners had a very, very bad week.