“You know, in high school and college, I was a top athlete,” Daichi said through gritted teeth. His fingers tripped over his controller as he tried to mash the buttons faster.
“What sport?” asked the kid sitting next to him. “’Cause it’s obviously not basketball.”
“Volleyball,” Daichi sniffed. The kid did something and his character launched the virtual ball all the way across the court and through the hoop. The kid crowed and threw his hands in the air, and Daichi smiled despite himself. “So what do you think?” Daichi asked. “Do I have potential?”
“I think you should stick with volleyball,” the kid replied. “Or better yet, don’t quit your day job.” Daichi threw his head back and laughed.
“You got it,” he said, handing the kid his controller. “Think you can take over teaching the others how to play for me?” The kid muttered an affirmative without looking away from the screen. Daichi snorted and climbed to his feet, off to see what else needed attending to.
The gift shop was never quiet, exactly, but right now it was considerably less crowded than usual. There was the cluster of kids in the back by the video games, one or two with their parents browsing the shelves, a pair of teenagers trying on hats and giggling, and the woman in the front harassing Asahi. Daichi rolled his eyes and went to rescue his boyfriend.
“Excuse me, ma’am, is there something I can help with here?” Daichi asked in his very best Respectable Young Man voice. The woman stopped shouting at Asahi and turned to stare Daichi down instead.
“I sure hope so,” she spat, thrusting a toy at Daichi’s chest. “My boy wants an action figure of one of your characters, but you only have them wearing pink.”
Daichi blinked at the woman. He looked down at the toy she was waving around, a figurine of one of the characters that hung out in the Super City area. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, ma’am,” he said slowly. “That character’s costume is pink. It’s the only color he comes in.”
“But he’s a boy!” screeched the woman. Daichi felt his face settle into a placid, reassuring smile.
“He is,” Daichi agreed. “If you like, I can show you some of the original character designs for him. We have the prints for sale as well.”
“I don’t want to see the designs, I want to know why you expect my son to play with a pink superhero!”
“If your son doesn’t want to play with him, it’s perfectly all right,” Daichi tried. “We have several other heroes, with a variety of colors on their uniforms.”
“He wants to play with this one!” The woman was shrieking now. Daichi could see Asahi flinch at the counter and wondered just when he had slipped away. “Exactly what kind of business are you running here?” the woman continued. “If you insist on pushing this- this unnatural agenda on children, then I will have no choice but to- to-” she trailed off, waving her hands in front of her red face in what Daichi took to be an unspecific but serious threat. “Now, I demand you find me a toy with this character in a color suited for boys.” Daichi’s eye twitched, and distantly he mourned the loss of his evening to an official reprimand session.
“I’m afraid, ma’am, that there is no such toy. That character wears a pink costume. If you would like further proof, I would be more than willing to call my boyfriend, who I believe is portraying him today in Super City, and have him come down here to explain this to you in person. Otherwise, I will have to ask you to not harass any shop employees.” The woman’s face turned a remarkable shade of red, and Daichi watched the eruption with the kind of scientific detachment one would a particularly disgusting toad.
-
“Was it at least worth it?” Asahi asked as he dabbed at the cut under Daichi’s eye with a cotton ball soaked in alcohol. “That ring looked pretty sharp.”
Daichi shrugged, trying not to grin. “It’ll bruise a bit. Nothing too bad. Besides, you saw the look on her face when I offered to call Koutarou.”
“You shouldn’t have done that,” Asahi scolded, but he was smiling. He finally took the cotton ball away, and Daichi grinned up at him.
“I love you,” he said.
It was a testament to how long they had been together that Asahi had no reaction other than a light blush and a quiet “I love you too, you blockhead.”
“How long d’you think Ukai-san will keep me on ticket duty for this?” Daichi asked, closing his eyes to let Asahi smooth a bandage over the cut.
“Not as long as he should,” Asahi muttered. “You really need to stop provoking guests.”
“Where’s the fun in that?” Asahi’s hands lingered, cupping Daichi’s cheeks. His thumb stroked along the cheekbone that wasn’t injured, large and slightly rough. Daichi leaned into the touch.
“You can’t change the minds of every bigot you come across,” Asahi said softly.
Daichi raised a hand to cover Asahi’s, turning to press a kiss to the inside of his wrist. “I know,” he murmured. “Doesn’t mean I’m not going to try.”
“I know you will. And I’ll be here to patch you up after.”
“My hero.” Asahi snorted.
“I thought Koutarou was the super hero today.” Daichi grinned, too full of roiling, bubbling light to keep it down.
“He is,” he said. “And Hajime’s our knight in shining armor, and Wakatoshi is our steady foundation. And you,” he murmured against Asahi’s wrist, looking up at him through lowered eyelashes, “are the light that keeps us moving. You’re the home we return to, and the safe haven that makes us whole again. You’re the reason we can keep going.”
Asahi stared at Daichi, his eyes wide and shining. Color bled across his cheeks, the prettiest shade of red Daichi had ever seen stretching to the tips of his ears and down his neck. He bit his lip, and the hand against Daichi’s cheek trembled. Then all at once, his eyes narrowed and it was gone.
“I’m not covering for you with Ukai-san,” he said flatly.
