by Anna Veriani
HIRO was gone by the time Obaachan helped him into his kimono, borrowed from Hiro’s cousin Shinsuke. The kimono was a deep brown, and Kai struggled with the obi, tying it again and again until Obaachan gave him her seal of approval.
“You really don’t think it’s too weird for a man to serve under the Okami?” he asked. The word Okami itself had the kanji for woman in it, emphasizing what he was not.
“If it were Hiro or one of my sons, I would,” she said. “But you have the touch, Kai-kun. A gentle, relaxing air about you.”
Kai thought of his earlier panic attack and stifled a nervous laugh. He felt like a walking collection of unconcealed neuroses.
But he made his way to the tea room with Obaachan regardless, just as Hiro’s mother was arranging the wagashi sweets on trays already bearing cups of tea. Guests who were checking in would head toward the lobby’s tatami room, where they could relax with tea and sweets while looking out the glass doors into the garden. It was the job of the Okami and her staff to serve the tea as quietly as possible.
Okami looked up as Kai walked in.
“Good morning, Kai-kun,” she said pleasantly. “Would you like some tea?”
“Kai-kun is here to serve today,” Obaachan said, placing a hand on Kai’s back.
Hiro’s mom was too graceful to show her displeasure, but Kai saw a flicker of hesitation in her eyes.
“Kai-kun is a guest,” she said kindly. “He should be relaxing.”
“Risa can’t work today. Kai-kun is going to fill in for her.”
Kai felt like a little kid, standing still while adults discussed him. The subordinate servers working around Okami politely pretended they couldn’t hear the conversation.
“That’s all right,” said Okami. “We can manage without one server. Thank you, Kai-kun,” she added quickly. “It was thoughtful of you to think of us.”
“I didn’t—”
“Kai-kun is your Waka-Okami for today,” Obaachan said sternly.
She was such a tiny woman, but she held so much authority. He’d never heard that tone of voice from her before. This must be Obaachan on duty, behind the scenes, and he could easily imagine her scolding Hiro’s mom back when Hiro’s mom was the Waka-Okami, the apprentice to the inn’s manager.
Waka-Okami. The title sent chills through Kai. He hadn’t meant to take that role, but it was clear Obaachan had planned this. If Hiro had married a woman by now, she would likely be standing in Kai’s place, equally nervous and uncertain about how to serve tea. But if Hiro were to marry a man, then his mother was going to have to train a male Waka-Okami. Kai was their test drive.
Which meant he really, really could not mess up.
He stood a little straighter. He’d studied ballet as preparation for modeling; he could summon that instilled intention and grace. And he knew how a tea server bowed. He could do this.
Hiro’s mother looked at him, a frozen smile on her lips. She wasn’t going to contradict Obaachan, the older woman who had trained her and was now Oo-Okami, the Grand Proprietress.
“The inn has no Waka-Okami,” she said, while looking straight at Kai. “But I could use another server for the day.”
Chapter Five
KEEP the tray steady. Smile. Remember to breathe. Don’t fuck up. Kai repeated it like a mantra in his head. He was so used to being the center of attention in any given room that he half expected people to gasp, either demanding his autograph or demanding to know why he, a man, was serving them tea.
He lightly set down his first tray beside two older gentlemen who were in quiet conversation. He bowed and retreated as inconspicuously as he could, careful not to bump into the server walking behind him.
The men picked up their tea and sipped in unison, never looking at him.
He’d actually done it.
He retreated back to the tea room to get his next tray.
The process went by quickly. It was immeasurably relaxing not to be the center of attention in a public space. He was supposed to be invisible, the opposite of the role he played in New York. Besides Hiro’s mother and the other servers, he didn’t think anyone recognized him at all. He was ashamed to realize he’d forgotten what that felt like.
When they were finished, he followed Hiro’s mother to a small kitchen, where they washed out the emptied teacups and cleaned the trays. Even in private, their movements were ritualistic, soft and meditative.
“You move like a woman,” she said. It took Kai a moment to realize she was complimenting him.
“Th-thank you.”
“You didn’t draw attention to yourself. You seemed to have a relaxing effect on the guests. You spoke softly but clearly when that married couple asked to go straight to their room, and you brought them tea in private without needing to be told.” Yikes. Kai had been enjoying his newfound invisibility while Hiro’s mother had been watching him like a hawk. “You did well.”
She was like two different women: the sweet, warm lady who was Okaasan, Hiro’s mom, and the brisk all-business lady who was the Okami. Kai had a feeling the Okami didn’t praise her servers lightly.
“Thank you,” he said again, bowing.
“Obaachan told me to let you help at the front desk during the three-o’clock check-in.” She stopped to acknowledge her servers as they left the kitchen. “Do you want to?”
“Sure.” Kai paused. “I don’t know how.”
“I’ll teach you,” she said. “Normally I would never let a new worker interact with guests immediately, but Obaachan seemed very certain.”
Kai was pretty sure this just meant that Obaachan was older than her and she didn’t feel like getting into an argument with her elder.
“I’ll do my best,” Kai promised. Don’t fuck up, he chanted. Hiro’s future husband’s position was likely resting on this.
KAI had never bowed so deeply in his life. He had never had a reason to. But he stood next to Hiro’s mother, distinctly aware of his kimono not matching the colors of the rest of her staff’s attire, hoping his back stayed straight while he lowered his head and welcomed the influx of guests. They were all dropped off at once by the inn’s private shuttle bus.
The process went like this: deep bow, help the guest register at the front desk, take their luggage to one of the assisting workers, lead them to the tatami room to relax before their tea and sweets. And repeat. He was more nervous now that he knew his every movement and utterance was being assessed, but he kept a smile on his face.
“Welcome,” he said in polite keigo Japanese to a group of older ladies. “Thank you so much for coming. Please follow me.”
Think serene thoughts, he prodded himself urgently. Yoga. Ballet. Hiro holding you from behind and breathing against you like a sleeping bear.
Once check-in and tea were finished, the guests filtered into their rooms, and Okami’s crew returned to the front desk to let out a collective sigh. Kai, however, knew that Okami’s assessment of his performance was imminent, and he didn’t let himself relax. She turned to him just when the front door slid open and a man stepped into the genkan.
“I missed a guest!” Kai murmured frantically, momentarily losing his head. He rushed to the front entrance and bowed deeply before the man. “Welcome. Thank you so much for coming. Please follow me.”
“What’s this?” came Hiro’s voice. “What have they done to you?”
Kai shot up, blushing furiously. Hiro was unfairly handsome in a black jacket, balancing a massive burlap sack over his back. A man came from behind the front desk and took it from him, seeming to know its contents.
“Kai-kun wanted to serve,” Okami said, approaching Kai’s side. “Or rather Obaachan intimidated him into doing so.”
Hiro looked aghast. “Kai, you don’t have to work.”
“I wanted to,” Kai said quickly. “Really.” He knew he was probably pushing things, but he said, “We all… pretended I was the Waka-Okami.” He forced a chuckle, feeling horribly self-conscious. “Crazy, right?”
/> “I thought men would throw off the guests. They can’t be gentle in the same way as women,” Okami said. “But I was wrong. Kai-kun has a certain air about him.”
Kai wasn’t sure what he wanted. For Hiro to look impressed, maybe, or proud, or to give him a high five. But Hiro only regarded him with a blank expression before saying, “We don’t have a Waka-Okami.” He swept past Kai down the hall.
Kai looked helplessly at Hiro’s mother. Her expression changed, softened a little, and all at once she was back to being purely Hiro’s mom and not the Okami. She said gently, “He’s been driving around the prefecture all day. He’s probably just exhausted.”
“I’ll go see if he wants some tea,” Kai said automatically.
She smiled and smoothed Kai’s collar maternally. “Spoken like a true Okami.”
HIRO didn’t know what he was feeling, only that it hurt. He stopped by the kitchens to give the cooks some instructions and then retreated to the Winter Quarters. The room was so cold that his breath emerged in a puff of steam. He quickly turned on the kotatsu, sliding under its blanket.
He had never imagined Kai like that. Looking not like a guest at the inn or even like a close family friend, but like the Waka-Okami. Like Hiro’s spouse. Which he wasn’t—marrying Hiro had nothing to do with Kai bowing at the inn entrance—but he looked so good doing it, like he belonged, and Hiro had to get ahold of himself and remember that Kai was leaving in thirty-three days. There was no Waka-Okami. Hiro and Kai were probably never going to live close to each other again, never going to get to spend constant time with each other like they had at school, and—
None of these thoughts were helping. Kai had looked so fucking handsome in his kimono. How dare he?
“Hiro?” Kai entered the room, sliding the shoji door shut. “Can I get you something?”
Like an old-fashioned wife, Hiro thought viciously, just to hurt himself.
“No, you can’t get me anything.” Hiro hadn’t meant to sound so bitter. He regretted it immediately.
Kai looked stricken. “Did I do something wrong?”
Hiro softened. “Of course not.” He shuffled out from under the table and got the electric kettle, which had been freshly filled by a worker while he was gone. “Why don’t you change into comfier clothes and get under the kotatsu? It’s cold.”
Kai changed behind Hiro, not leaving the room. The mere sound of his layers of kimono rubbing together, his breathing, made Hiro’s chest pang. If Kai had looked grossly out-of-place as a hotel greeter, it would have been something they could both laugh about together. But he looked so elegant and competent, like he was precisely where he belonged, and Hiro couldn’t stop thinking about all that that implied.
“Can you help me out of this?” Kai asked after a few minutes. “I feel like the more I try to untie this, the tighter it’s squeezing me.”
“Of course.” Hiro helped Kai extract himself from his kimono. After years of practice, Hiro could disrobe by himself in half the time it took Kai. They both changed into jeans and sweaters.
“Let’s have some tea,” Hiro said, just as Kai’s phone went off.
Kai flinched and said, “I should get that,” grabbing his phone and heading toward the bathroom, probably for privacy.
He emerged a few minutes later.
“That was my PR manager,” Kai said, needlessly apologetic. “I need to do an hour or so’s work. Do you mind if I use my laptop?”
“Of course not.”
They fell into a comfortable silence as Kai set up his laptop on the kotatsu.
“Should I turn the heat up?” Hiro asked.
Kai nodded wordlessly.
“Get properly under the blanket,” Hiro said, sliding a cup of tea toward Kai. “You’re letting out the heat.”
“You’re kind of bossy, you know that?”
“You’re shivering.” He scooched around the table to Kai’s side, tucking in the blanket so there weren’t any gaps between the warm and cold air. He peered nosily at Kai’s laptop screen.
“Hey!” he blurted. “That’s me.”
Kai’s background was a picture of Hiro grinning in the inn garden. It was recent, so Kai must have screenshotted Hiro while they were video chatting. Kai stiffened, but then he relaxed and said in a sarcastic school teacher voice, “Very good, Hiro. That is you.”
Hiro felt inordinately pleased. Kai had been looking at him—thinking of him—every time he turned on his laptop, and Hiro hadn’t even known it. The Asada Inn was full of old family pictures, and plenty of them featured Kai, so Hiro felt like they were even.
Kai opened his email and typed in his password.
“Three hundred emails?” Hiro leaned over. “When was the last time you checked this?”
“Yesterday,” Kai said dryly. “My assistant filters all the crap and puts the important ones in this folder.” He clicked, and that narrowed the new emails down to thirty-five. “These I have to respond to.”
“God. Do you like spending time online?” Hiro hated it. He needed the dynamism of fresh air and physical activity; the space-less space of the cyber world always felt static to him, oddly draining in a way the real world wasn’t.
“Hate it,” Kai said. “LED lights give me a migraine, and I’d rather be running or something, to be honest.”
Hiro grinned as his own thoughts were echoed.
He let Kai work in silence, inching closer so he could see the screen well enough to read Kai’s messages. Hiro was a normal person with a normal sense of personal boundaries, but Kai didn’t seem to mind him looking, and he was curious about Kai’s life. What did a famous person’s inbox look like?
The first message Kai opened was from his mom.
My dearest Kai, it began, and Hiro could imagine Kimi’s breathless tone. Darling, where are you? Carlos and I have been so worried!!!
“Who’s Carlos?” Hiro asked.
“My mom’s fiancé. They met six weeks ago. He’s twenty-eight and the son of a Spanish handbag designer. He doesn’t speak English or Japanese, and she doesn’t speak Spanish, so that’s been fun.” Kai shrugged. “Somehow I don’t think Carlos is actually worried about me.”
The email went on, reaching a crescendo of drama as Kimi wondered whether Kai had perished, or been abducted, or was being held for ransom. Should she contact the FBI?
“She’s not actually worried,” Kai said. “She texted me the same stuff right when I left. She just wants me to feel guilty.”
“Do you?”
“Yeah,” Kai admitted. “I’m leaving her alone with the Duffys for Thanksgiving. When I’m gone she has literally no one she can be real with.”
Hiro put an arm on Kai’s shoulder. “Your mom’s a grown woman. She’ll be okay.”
“Your parents are adults too. Does that mean you don’t care about them?”
“Touché,” Hiro said. “But it’s easier for me.”
“Harder for you,” Kai disagreed, glancing at him. Hiro’s hand was still resting on his shoulder. Nothing about their proximity felt awkward. “My mom knew I was gay from the time I was, like, five, and she’s never cared.”
“That part is easier,” Hiro acknowledged. “But my parents have each other, and my aunts and uncles, and my grandmother. Since I’m not the only loved one in their lives, I don’t feel that pressure to be there for them all the time or provide for their every emotional need.”
“My mom has Carlos,” Kai said, then snorted. “Oh, look.”
It was a second email from his mom, with no subject line. It’d been sent right after the first.
P.S. I’m assuming you’re with Hiro. Hiro, if you’re reading this, make sure Kai sends me even the briefest reply. I’m his mother and I do worry!!
P.P.S. I won’t tell a soul where you are, darling.
Hiro laughed. “You have to reply to that one, man.”
Kai shook his head. “She knows you too well.” But he sent her a quick message, neither confirming nor denying his location. “My mo
m would never leak my location to the press, but her assistant reads all of her emails. Best to keep the few secrets I have while I have them.”
After that there was a stream of messages from his PR manager and assistant. He answered a few boring emails arranging dates for events Hiro didn’t know about, some months from now. Hiro’s eyes unfocused from the screen. Between the heat and Kai’s very conveniently placed shoulder, he found himself drifting off, leaning down until his nose hit Kai’s ear.
Kai wriggled, letting out a breathy laugh. “You’re tickling my neck.”
“Mm,” Hiro murmured sleepily.
“You can lean against me. Just don’t crush me,” Kai warned.
The position wasn’t comfortable, considering their difference in height, but Kai was warm and smelled like tea leaves and his own pleasant scent. Hiro moved until he was leaning down, hands hooked around Kai’s waist, face tucked into the nook of Kai’s neck. It hurt Hiro’s back, but it was worth it.
Was this normal? Was there anyone else Hiro would do this with? The answer was very obviously no, but nothing about this felt uncomfortable.
Kai suddenly stiffened. Hiro opened his eyes.
Kai was reading an email. It started very abruptly: It might be nice to tell me where the fuck you are. Seems kind of bad if I have to tell the press I don’t know where my fucking “boyfriend” is. Use your head, idiot. P.S. Veronica’s pissed at you.
“What the hell is this?” Hiro growled.
“Ow—” Kai wriggled. “Hiro, you’re crushing me.”
He hadn’t realized it, but he’d tightened his arms around Kai, pulling him hard against his chest in a protective embrace. He loosened his grip. “Is this James Duffy?”
“Yeah—”
“Is this how he always talks to you? Who sends an email like that?”
“It’s not that bad.”
“He cursed at you. Twice.”
“Someone’s going to hear you.” Kai’s voice cracked. He was upset despite his objections. Hiro had been about to let out a stream of curses, but maybe using the same language as Duffy wasn’t what Kai needed.