#masato aizawa | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

kulemiwrites · 2 years

Text

𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐚 𝐅𝐥𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐊𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨 𝐀𝐢𝐳𝐚𝐰𝐚

Genre/Content Warning: Work-related Angst, Fluff

Word count: 8.7k

Character(s): Masato Aizawa, gender-unspecified Reader

You're caught at your miserable job during a typhoon without an umbrella.

*tap banner for higher quality

The rain pelted down against the gray cobblestone, obstructing the view of the cars that lined the street and the row of shops behind them. The dark gray clouds stretching across the sky had been shielding the sunlight all day and now that the sun was setting, evening approached with a quickness. The usually vibrant, ostentatious city was enveloped in monochrome. This week was the start of typhoon season, and the reflection frowning back at you in the window had the great displeasure of working through the worst of it.

On days like today, the name “Restaurante Sol”, ‘sol’ meaning ‘sun’ in Spanish, was nothing short of ironic at best and ludicrous at worst as the place was anything but sunny nor did it serve anything remotely close to Spanish cuisine. In order to maintain an elegant ambiance (and distract from the poorly polished glass and silverware) the lights were kept dim and tired jazz tunes croaked through a set of timeworn overhead speakers. You had been playing a silent game with yourself, a bet on when they were on their final encore. You gave them a solid month more but the thick layer of gray dust surrounding the loose bolts suggested a few weeks max.

Uniforms consisted of stale black and white articles from head to toe; men were to wear their hair slicked back, unless buzzed off and white cotton dress shirts with black ties and vests and a black apron tied at the waist. As for women, their hair had to be tied back in low ponytails, unless cut short, in which case, would need to be pinned behind the ears. They were to dress in white buttoned blouses, black skirts with opaque stockings underneath and a black apron tied at the waist.

In a few words: wholly, utterly uninspired.

Before the most recent change in management, every table was clothed in white and the center boasted beautiful seasonal bouquets that were intricately culled by a local partner, a small-town florist. These days, it was decided that a single, clear candle votive in the center of bare, lacquered dark walnut tables was ‘good enough’. It wasn’t uncommon to have guests complain about the film left behind on the tabletops when they hadn't been polished or cleaned with care, which was often.

There were a few pops of color that came in the form of a swamp green carpet with crude splashes of yellow and orange swirling around in a pattern that no one could ever make sense of. In addition to that, there were a few ‘abstract’ paintings hanging up on the walls which were all made by the owner’s third wife, who was certain that she was the planet’s gift to art. And these ‘statement’ pieces were her gift to Restaurante Sol.

You were to be sure to thank her whenever she decided to grace you all with her presence; her and her rich housewife friends who never ordered from the menu.

Soga, the current manager as of four months ago, might have been the worst thing to ever happen to Restaurante Sol and it wasn’t just because of the lack of flowers and tablecloths. After this many personnel changes, it was an open secret that there was a hefty quarterly bonus for management and it was clear that his business model was based on that fact. His budget cuts could only be described as self-serving. Despite the countless complaints by staff, he continued to skimp on necessities, forcing you and your coworkers to become innovative when it came to side work. Setting up for dinner service had been far more strenuous than it had ever been and rushes during service could be a nightmare if you weren’t prepared for anything. You weren’t sure how he got away with it but he did and you were positive that if he had control over the sous chef, the food quality might’ve suffered too.

In truth, you weren’t too fond of most of the others on staff tonight either. The lanky bartender, Watanabe was alright; perhaps a little temperamental but he wasn’t too bad. Your two fellow servers however, generally added to your anxieties and you couldn’t stand it when you had to work with them both at the same time. Yamamoto, the thin-lipped older woman who’d been working there for nearing a decade, never missed an opportunity to micromanage you despite being on the same level as you, albeit far more handsomely paid.

Interestingly enough, she’d been offered the role of manager multiple times but she always turned it down. And then there was Akari, a 1st year college girl whose hobbies included ignoring her tables and skipping out on work whenever the opportunity presented itself to blow her money at host clubs. She whined at you to help her whenever she was in the weeds, which was often, regardless of how much you had on your own plate and she insisted on being called ‘Akachan’ much to everyone’s (but especially your) dismay.

It wasn’t as if you hated them, no, that would require far more energy than you could spare. You just… preferred to spend your free moments alone and it would seem that tonight would be yet another night where you would have plenty of it. So, instead of pretending to be amused by Akachan’s latest host club exploits with the others around the bar, you opted to stand at the foggy picture window near the entrance admiring the hideous weather.

It was funny… You were sure to check the weather report before leaving for work this afternoon: warm with cloudy skies and perhaps a few scattered showers here or there.

This might have been the heaviest “shower” you’ve ever seen.

You chuckled bitterly at the thought as you pressed your fingertips against the glass, cool from the air conditioning. Your body heat created a small pool of fog around them, insignificant compared to the fog on the exterior. You squinted past it, desperately attempting to make out what lay beneath the angry downpour. Turbulence along the curb took the form of a mini river, pushing along what looked to be a crumbled paper cup.

The corporate crowd should have been invading the streets by now, scouring for a spot to unwind after a long day of kissing their bosses’ asses. Old, married chumps should be lining up at the door with pretty young college girls who play secret girlfriend by day and hostess by night, hoping that one more insanely expensive dinner will be enough to earn them a peek at her perky talents. Young street punks should have been on the prowl for their first unsuspecting nobody to shakedown in a back alley.

But at the start of typhoon season, there were no alcoholic salarymen and no pretty women bravely ignoring natto breath. All there was to watch was the occasional umbrella wielding passerby. They were frantic and faceless, probably rushing to the station and Restaurante Sol was the last thing on their minds.

Nothing but ten minutes had passed since you learned that the silver wall clock that hung above the entrance was broken. You knew that because you had a habit of checking your wristwatch against any clock you hadn’t set yourself. Swiping your thumb across the face, you smiled to yourself, watching the second-hand tick away as the one overhead stood still. For the briefest of moments, you– very briefly, considered letting Soga know about the broken clock but quickly decided against it. You wanted to add it to the list of things that were wrong with the place that no one but you seemed to notice.

Besides, this restaurant needed a symbol to really solidify how miserable it was and a broken clock was absolutely perfect. After all, in Restaurante Sol, time always stood still.

During what should have been the peak of the evening, your section was as dead as your will to get out of bed in the mornings. Before hanging out at the window, you busied yourself with yours and Akachan’s side work but now there wasn’t one thing to do to pass the time.

You checked your watch– a single minute had passed since you last checked. If you didn’t find some way to distract yourself from the silence, you would go crazy! Inspired by the frenzied pedestrians, you conjured up a new game: you could count the color of each passing umbrella and whichever color reached 5 first, won.

One, green. One, polka dot. One, purple… Two, green, One blue, One– oh.

Shit.

You spotted an umbrella that was nearly identical to your own and no sooner than you realized did a sinking feeling find its way into your gut and a chill tickled your spine. Your gaze lingered on that familiar umbrella as you recalled passing your own and the jacket that had been left hanging up near the front door for you before you left for work. You studied the dark sky, much darker now than it was when you first acknowledged it.

At this rate, your commute would be downright horrendous. You could picture yourself schlepping through puddles, your hair- an absolute mess, clothes- sodden and clinging to you while you practically swam in your shoes all before you even reached the station. You could call a taxi, but the soul suckers in this town tended to hike up the rates for long distance trips during storms. You didn’t have that kind of money to waste.

“It’s really comin’ down tonight, huh~?” Akachan said in the singsongy way she always did, startling you out of your deep trance as she came up behind you.

Grinding your jaw, you pried your eyes away from the window to face her. “Yeah…”

“The boss’s thinkin’ ‘bout cuttin’ one of us early if things don’t pick up.” she said, whipping her long ponytail over her shoulder so that she could twirl the ends across her thin, manicured fingers while she batted her false lashes at you; and you knew what was coming. “Man~ it’s the third time this week. The weather’s so miserable~! I can’t even bring myself to get all excited ‘bout it.”

You repeated a half-hearted, “Yeah.”

She chewed at her round bottom lip for a moment before she continued, “But, ya know~… I could really use a hot bath an’ nap. Since you left the other day, would ya mind it if I left tonight?”

Fighting back a sigh, you shrugged and turned back to the window. It wasn’t like you were thrilled about rushing home in these conditions anyway. “Go for it.”

“Cool!” she said, turning on her heels to leave.

Now that there was nothing more to possibly ask of you, there was no longer any need for small talk which was just as well.

Yet another ten minutes had gone by. Only seven patrons had come in all evening and not a single one of them belonged to your section. So, you continued to stand at the window. You noticed your reflection staring back at you again and this time your lips were tucked and your jaws were clenched. You tried to loosen your brows but no matter how hard you fought the expression you couldn’t iron out the worry. Regardless, you remained drawn to the window, mesmerized by the rain pelting against it as if it were meant only for you. Perhaps it was a precursor for what you would experience on your way home?

There were a set of fingerprints lingering behind from when you last touched the glass. So, you returned them to their designated place and imagined how the water might have felt if you could reach out and touch it from there. Directly beneath the curve of your hand, you spotted a large figure slinking past a dark colored car. It was too far across the street to make out much of it but even so, you couldn’t shake the feeling of familiarity you got when you looked directly at it. Narrowing your eyes, you leaned in and your forehead thumped against the cool glass as you fought to focus on it. It didn’t matter though. Just as quickly as the figure appeared, it disappeared, leaving you with a pang of longing in your chest and a cloud of hot breath shrinking on the glass. You stepped back from the window, wrapping a wistful hand around your wristwatch and you could feel your heart pounding.

How did such a bleary figure invoke so much emotion?

As the thought began to settle, the door swung open and the gust of hot air that followed was enough to disorient you but still you felt an excitement. Once you faced it, the odd feeling dissipated. Two patrons had entered: a short, elderly woman and what might have been her grandson. There was no host on staff tonight to greet them. So, they stared expectantly while your disappointment set in. You felt silly; to think for the briefest of moments that he might have shown up here of all places at a time like this was just….

Well, silly.

Using your faint reflection in the window as a mirror, you smoothed your apron and straightened your collar with a heavy sigh. As rotation would have it, this table belonged to you. Great. You hoped it would be the first of many. You didn’t need Soga to have any excuse to send you home as well. Not tonight. Straightening your shoulders, you approached the pair with your best customer service smile.

“Good evening and welcome to Restaurante Sol.” you bowed with clasped hands, “Might there be anyone else joining you this evening?”

“No, dear. Just my grandson and I. Thank you.”

“Splendid. Well, my name is ______. I’ll have the pleasure of serving you this evening. If you don’t mind, please allow me to show you to your seats.”

. . .

The typhoon's unforgiving winds pushed hard at the backs of pedestrians until they had no choice but to filter into the various shops and restaurants along the avenue. Restaurante Sol was one amongst the lucky, meaning that everyone on staff tonight were to remain. Though Akachan made it a point to pout at you whenever you looked in her general vicinity, you were quite happy that it picked up. A full house meant that you were no longer under threat of being thrown out to fend for yourself at the height of chaos by yen-yanking Soga.

By the end of dinner service, the storm seemed to have relented enough that patrons felt safe trying to hurry home again before it got worse but it still wasn’t welcoming for someone as unprepared as you. You were on your final table and as you were headed to the terminal to print their bill, you noticed another team huddle taking place at the bar. You might have ignored it too had not everyone been staring anxiously at the door. Originally, you assumed that perhaps a soigné reservation had just been called in, or maybe an inquiry for a party of 15 or more but even Yamamoto seemed shaken– and she was relatively fearless. After overhearing the word “yakuza'', you decided it might be worth your time to hear what the anxious whispering was about.

“Hey,” you interrupted, handing off a recovered bar mop to Watanabe to butter him up in case he’d fallen into one of his moods. “Something going on?”

Yamamoto’s beady eyes flashed toward the door. “There's a yakuza standing outside of the restaurant… Big, scary looking guy.”

“How do you know he’s yakuza?” you asked plainly.

Her thin, red lips stretched back in a frown, showcasing her fine wrinkles. “You kidding me? You can look at him and tell! If you can’t look at a guy and know he’s bad news by now in this town, you’re in real trouble.”

Ignoring her snarky tone, you looked toward the wooden door now that the window was too foggy to see through but unless the man walked in, there was no point.

“S-should we call the police?” Watanabe asked, clutching tightly at the towel you had just given him.

“And tell them what, exactly? There’s some gangster outside waiting for us to close up so he can shake us down?” Yamamoto mumbled, tucking her delicate hands beneath thin arms.

“That’s exactly what you tell them!” he argued. “You kidding me?!”

“Shh! Be quiet!” Soga interrupted; his expression slightly sour as he joined you at the end of the bar. “Watanabe-san, what on earth would possess you to believe that it is appropriate to raise your voice during dinner service?”

You stared at his flat profile for a moment before questioning him, “Soga-san, did you pay the protection fee?”

His eyes widened, lifting his sparse brows with them. The lines in his forehead showed with prominence. “Of course, I did! I’ve never once missed a payment!” he said, unable to hide his offense.

“Then why’s there some yakuza muscle standing guard outside our door?” the bartender challenged, throwing the towel on the bar. “I say we call the police!”

“Don’t be ridiculous. That will only cause a scene and we cannot afford a scandal.” he frowned, “Relax yourself. I’ll take care of it.”

Akachan fell into a giggling fit, covering her mouth as she looked up at the older man. Her brown eyes glimmered with delight. “Sorry, that’s too funny! No offense, Soga-san but that guy’s gonna wipe the floor with ya. Maybe we should leave this one up to the cops. Besides, he could probably be waiting on his boss or something for dinner. S’not like we don’t serve yakuza types here on the regular.”

“Enough.” he huffed; his mind clearly made up. “Disperse. Get back to your tables or finish your side work. There’s no excuse to be standing around doing nothing.”

Funny he would say that considering that was all you were doing before it got busy. You wondered if he was simply trying to distract you all from the action in case there was a scuffle. He wasn’t one for losing face and you were willing to bet that the man had never even been in a fight before. A sadistic excitement filled you and you could tell by the way the others’ heads bobbed as he stepped out of the door, that they felt much the same.

Side work be damned. Was Soga going to get beat up tonight and if so, who was your mysterious hero?

You kept an attentive eye on your watch, counting each minute that he was out there. After about five minutes, he returned paler than usual with his cold eyes fixed upon you and nothing else. The others seemed to have noticed as well because soon you could feel their eyes on you too. The closer he got, the more confusion and perhaps even concern, started to play upon his features until he stood at your side. With his body facing away from the others, he spoke only high enough for you to hear.

“I need to speak with you right this instant.” he muttered.

You shrugged and nodded for him to lead the way, pretending not to notice the passing glances beside you. It was obvious that they were thrilled for you to leave so that the speculative chatter could begin despite no one, not even you, knowing what had just transpired outside that door.

Good ‘ol Restaurante Sol.

Leading you away from prying eyes and into the privacy of an empty breakroom, he carefully locked the door behind you before finally speaking up.

“Are you in trouble of some kind?” he asked.

You shook your head slowly, brows tight as you searched his dark eyes hoping that you might be able to guess what would lead him to such a conclusion. When it finally hit you, there was a chuckle forming in your chest and you fought to keep it there.

“The man out there asked for you… By name. I attempted to throw him off your scent by informing him that you no longer worked here but he laughed and insisted I let you know that he would be waiting for you to get off.” he said, growing slightly more frantic with each word. “You’re aware that I don’t make a habit of getting involved in my employees’ affairs. However, it proves quite bothersome if those affairs happen upon my doorstep… I would prefer it if you didn’t come to any harm. So, if you’d like, you may use the back exit to avo–”

“Soga-san, relax and just… try and describe to me what the guy looked like. I might be able to let you know if it’s cause for concern or not.”

He stroked his naked chin as he recalled the mystery man’s traits. “Well, he was b-big. Very big and tall. He’s got an almost foreign look to him. Oh, but he spoke perfect Japanese so I’m unsure. His voice was deep and he was surprisingly polite… Right, his suit; his suit was white, pinstriped with a purple shirt underneath. I couldn’t tell if he was from one of the local families or not as there was no pin on his lapel. Of course, that was the first thing I looked for–”

“Did he give you a name?” you asked, though, hearing the description alone told you everything that you needed to know. Suddenly, you were reminded of the bleary figure from earlier and that warmth returned. Now there were butterflies fluttering in your belly and you were so giddy, you almost couldn’t hide it.

Shaking his head, he held up a small cola flavored lollipop. “No, but he gave me this… He claimed that you would somehow know what he’s here for if I gave this to you.”

You’re forgetting something.

Soga was hesitant when he passed the candy off to you. You wondered if for a moment, he considered keeping it for himself for some reason. It was all you could do to not snatch it out of his hand.

“I understand. Thank you, Soga-san.” you said, feeling the corners of your eyes lifting for perhaps the first time today.

Not once did he take his eyes off the candy. From the crease in his brow, it was clear that he was trying to understand how something so seemingly insignificant could make you gleam this way.

“Will you be alright?” he asked finally.

Rolling the stick in between the pads of your fingers, you nodded. Your smile became more and more pronounced by the second. “I’ll be just fine.”

He stared at you in silence for a moment then returned to his usual pompous air with a sigh, “Fine… Then, close your checks and clean your section. The sooner you can do that, the sooner you can leave. We don’t need those types hanging around. It’ll give the wrong impression.”

You slid the candy into your apron with care before returning to the floor. As you danced about, your eyes would occasionally shoot toward the door in hopes that it would open and you would see him but no dice. While you were watching the door, inquiring eyes were watching you but somehow, it didn’t bother you. Not when you knew that there was a ray of sunlight waiting out in the rain just for you. You hasten your pace; you couldn’t delay him any longer.

. . .

You were met with a heavy resistance as you pushed open the door and for a moment, you considered that maybe someone had been leaning on it. However, it was simply the wind welcoming you into its dreadful gale. It showed no sign of relenting, not an ounce of mercy for you or anyone else; and despite standing beneath the safety of the yellow awning, an occasional warm mist would coat you.

Your neck snapped in either direction in search of the man who’d promised to brave these conditions for you. The cola flavored candy was clenched tight between your fingers as if you thought it to be a good luck charm and perhaps it was so as you spotted him just a few shops over. He’d been leaning against the masonry of a loan business that had recently been shut down, protecting himself from the rain beneath black awning. Even from where you stood, you could see a white stick hanging out of his mouth and knowing him, there was a lollipop of his own tucked in his cheek. He was in a daze, lightly kicking at the puddle of water pooling at his feet.

“Masato!” you called for him, waving the candy over your head to catch his attention.

Almost as if the storm wanted you to help you find your way into his arms, it slackened and you thought it was the perfect moment to run toward him. Instead, he called back at you, “_____, hold tight! I’ll meet you over there!”

You waited for him with a smile. Your toes drummed in your shoes while you watched him jog your way. His hands were buried deep within his pockets and his smile bit down on the white stick. With each step, his black hair bounced; perhaps, he’d decided against using his usual mousse or the rain had washed it away. Either way, it was a welcome change. Once he finally reached you, he removed the candy from his mouth and leaned in to press a sticky, cola-flavored kiss upon your lips.

“Good evening, amor.” he whispered, then pressed his sticky lips against your cheek and chuckled out an apology after realizing just how sticky they were.

“Hey there, you.” you said, caressing his stubbly cheek while he hovered in front of you, admiring your eyes. “Did I forget something?”

Straightening his posture, he popped the candy back into his mouth as you waved yours at him. He smiled, biting down on the stick again. “Good job. I’m proud of you for figuring it out.” he said, lightly placing his large hand at the crown of your head.

Masato always kept something sweet in his pockets. It was his vice ever since he gave up smoking years ago. They were generally hard candies or lollipops but every now and then he was fishing out a chiroru chocolate or two. He would always offer you some of what he was snacking on. However, even if you were to decline certain types of candy, he would insist that you take it anyway.

For later, he would say.

There was a box of candies you had stored away in your kitchen; the “for later” collection. Not long ago, you found yourself unintentionally cracking the code when you added a plum candy he’d given you to the box. There were four flavors that were most prominent in the box and they happened to be amongst his favorites. You racked your brain trying to figure out why he would insist on giving away his favorite candies until it hit you. Thinking back on the circumstances in which he gave many of the pieces to you, you realized that each candy had meaning.

What you had pieced together was that chocolate was given to you as a sign of affection, an “I love you” of sorts. He typically gave you green tea flavored candies after an argument or disagreement, an apology almost. When he finally got to see you after a long while (or just a difficult day) he would slip a plum flavored candy into your pocket which you interpreted to mean that he missed you. Cola flavored candies were the hardest to figure out, so you needed to wait on him to give you more in order to piece it together. After some time, you figured out that he’d give you cola flavored candy when you made plans together, it was to serve as a reminder. “Don’t forget.”

However, when there were no plans, it meant that you were forgetting something but of course, he wanted you to remember on your own what that something was.

“So,” you smiled, bouncing on the tips of your toes. “What did I forget?”

He carefully slipped the lollipop out of your hand and took the liberty of unwrapping it for you. “Care to take a guess?” he asked.

His deep voice under the sound of pouring rain was like a relaxing massage for the soul or comforting song. Those few, simple words were almost enough to melt away the tension you regularly left the restaurant with from your shoulders. The sweetness of his brown eyes was what really did the job though. You had to break away from them, a bashful smile playing upon your lips.

“My umbrella, maybe.”

“Bingo.” he said softly, pressing the now unwrapped candy against your lips which you happily accepted with an ‘ahn’. “Well, lucky for you I didn’t forget.”

He discarded the wrapper in his pocket then lifted the back of his white coat, presenting the foldable umbrella you’d left behind at his place.

“Thank you, Masato.” you said. “I can always count on you.”

He stared at you for a moment, his forehead wrinkling the longer he looked. Finally, he broke away with a shake of his head. He tucked the umbrella beneath his right arm as he maneuvered out of his coat. Once it was off, leaving him in his well fitted purple shirt, he assumed possession of your work bag then draped the coat over your shoulders. A dark, woody musk lingered off it, his cologne and yet it was still as sweet as the candy pressed against your check.

“If I’d known you didn’t bring a jacket, I would’ve brought a spare along.” he sighed. “It’s typhoon season. You shouldn’t be so careless.”

He ensured that the coat was secure before stepping back and staring out at the rain. Its slack long revoked. He was likely thinking the same as you: this coat, as comfy as it was, and a single umbrella wasn’t going to be enough to keep the both of you dry.

“When was the last time you ate, _____?” he asked, checking his wristwatch. It was a match to the one around your own wrist.

You hesitated to answer, knowing that you skipped lunch today. Food just didn’t taste right when you were there and because of the storm, it was impossible to stop elsewhere for a quick bite. His frown hurt but this had become something of a habit now and though he could empathize, he clearly didn’t approve.

“What am I gonna do with you?” he mumbled, not really expecting an answer. “Let’s take care of that empty stomach then. Are you alright with Cafe Alps? It’s nearby and since they’re open late, we can wait out the storm before we head to the station. Or are you in the mood for something heavier?”

You shook your head, “No, that’s okay. I don’t mind Cafe Alps.”

“Alright…” he said, working at the strap of your umbrella. “We’ll need to get you a spare umbrella and probably a raincoat or something to keep in your locker here.”

“I would have brought something... I just thought it was gonna be a cloudy day.” you pouted, knowing that he was preparing a well-meaning lecture for you. “I mean, that’s what the news said this morning.”

“I hate to say it but,” the umbrella popped open beside him, “the forecasts might not be so trustworthy for a while. You have to make sure you’re prepared no matter what the news says. If you kept spares in your locker, tonight would’ve been a breeze.”

“I know that.” you said with an exasperated sigh.

“Do you really?” he nagged.

Slipping a strong but gentle arm around your shoulder, he pulled you close and you naturally melted into his large frame. His cologne seemed warmer, even more comforting when it lingered directly off of him. You reached for the stick hanging out of your mouth, swirled it across your tongue before slipping it out with an audible pop as you looked up at him.

“You’re real fussy tonight, Masato.”

He chuckled, lightly squeezing at your shoulder, “Oh well. Maybe if you didn’t make me worry so much, I wouldn’t have to be.”

You nodded, slipping the candy back into your mouth. “That’s fair.”

“Let’s get going, amor.”

“‘Kay.”

Lifting the umbrella over your heads, he led you away from the security of the awning. A long silence lingered between you as you carefully strolled along the sidewalk, listening to the rain drum against the umbrella. Whenever a heavy gust would whip at you, you could always count on his protective arm to keep you from staggering against it.

“It’s really coming down tonight, huh?” he said, following a whistle.

Your neck nearly snapped when you looked up at him and after a while, he returned your odd look.

“What?”

Finally realizing that you’d begun to stare, you shook your head. “Nothing. My coworker said the same thing a little while ago. Hearing it again from you just felt weird for some reason.”

“Hmm,” he hummed, swiping his lollipop to the opposite side of his mouth using his tongue alone. “Which one?”

“Akachan.”

“Oh, your favorite little sister, right?”

“Ha ha ha.” you laughed sarcastically.

“Guess not.” he shrugged. “Hey, watch out for this puddle coming up, ok?”

You nodded, “Oh, by the way, you spooked all of my coworkers. They definitely think I’ve got shady yakuza ties now.”

“What makes you say that?”

“They all thought you were standing outside waiting for us to close so that you could rob us or something.”

Masato laughed heartily.

“And when my boss came back in after talking to you, he looked like he saw a ghost and kinda made a big deal about speaking to me in private in front of everyone. When we talked, I told him it was fine but I never explained how I knew you.”

“Didn’t need to. It wasn’t his business.”

“I know.” you said, biting through your lollipop. “Oh, but he had me leave as early as I could because he thought letting you stand outside was a bad look.”

“I figured. That’s why I walked down to the loan place afterward. Guess it didn’t matter much in the end but I’m glad I got to meet him. Maybe now he’ll think twice about giving you a hard time.”

“Somehow, I doubt that. He thinks you’re ‘surprisingly polite’.”

“Well, I guess that means I’ll have to come back another day to really shake the place down to get the message across… When’s your next day off?”

You stopped walking for a moment to frown at him.

“Relax, it was a joke.” he laughed, pulling you back into him.

You swatted at his broad chest, “Well, it wasn’t a very good one.”

“Maybe not but I saw you in there.”

“What does that mean?”

“I saw you through the window.” he said thoughtfully. “Before he came out, you looked so miserable I almost couldn’t recognize you. I really thought about going in and busting heads for a second… Lately, you’ve been coming home with an expression similar to that and I don’t know… It got to me. When that asshole of a boss of yours came out here, it took every fiber of my being not to bash his face in.”

“Masato…”

“I looked at him and thought, ‘This is the prick that’s been making _____ miserable.’ I was barely listening to anything he was saying. I was just trying to keep myself calm for you… I really wish you would stop going there.”

You reached a crosswalk light and he took that moment of pause to look down and take you in but you did everything except meet his gaze. You chomped away at the hard candy until nothing was left but the stick and then you chewed at that as you processed what had just been said. It was a weekly occurrence by now so you knew what was coming but you were too stubborn to hear it.

“______, you know that I don’t mind taking care of things until you find a new job. You don’t have to keep working there. It’s obvious that you’re not happy. I know you dodge the question every time I–”

“I’m sure it was just the weather… draining me.” you lied, just like you lied to yourself every day to bring yourself into work. You didn’t want to admit outright that you hated the job. Admitting that, even to yourself, felt almost akin to admitting failure. It seemed that no matter where you worked, you were never happy. And that thought left you with the very uncomfortable question: have you crossed the point in which you had to admit that perhaps, you were the problem?

You weren’t brave enough to approach that topic.

So, for now, you would continue to suffer under the hopes that maybe, just maybe it would get better again. Perhaps, all it would take was another change in management.

He didn’t press you on it. He never did and it made you wonder how much longer he would offer his support without you actively looking to make a change.

“I thought you had a work meeting tonight?” you asked, changing the subject and as usual, he didn’t skip a beat.

“I did but something more important came up. So, I decided to tend to that instead.”

“Oh, really? What was it?” you asked, finally meeting his eye.

“This.” he smiled, patting the top of your head with the hand that had been holding onto your shoulder.

The light changed and he was ready to take a step forward, securing his hold on you again until he noticed the mini river raging along the curbside. His brows furrowed as he watched the waters roll, he removed the white stick from his mouth and then he chewed at his inner lip.

“Hold this a sec.” he said, crouching just a bit as he passed the umbrella off to you. “Make sure you’ve got a firm hold of it, alright?”

You nodded, wrapping your fingers around the handle. Your knuckles pressed into the plastic while you studied his steeled expression. You weren’t certain what he was thinking until a soft grunt escaped him and he was already cradling you in his arms leaving your legs dangling in the air. You were pressed firmly against his chest and from this seat of leisure, you could see his long, thick legs cautiously striding across the street. His soft dark hair bounced with each step. Occasionally, his focus would shift from the crosswalk to you, checking in to make sure that you were okay.

Once he’d carried you to the other side of the road, he was just about to put you down but something made him hesitate. “Are you alright?” he asked, his breath smelling of the candy he’d just finished. His brown, deep set eyes were gentle when they scanned your features. The corners of his wide mouth lifted into a smile, sending back his deep laugh lines.

It used to be a joke before, that there were hearts in his eyes whenever he looked at you but today there was no other phrase for it and it sent your own heart leaping. You nodded, aiming to look anywhere but those spellbound eyes. Your gaze landed on his muscled chest; and it lingered there until you noticed something subtly off about the color of his shirt. It was hard to see under the moonlight and the curtain of rain obscured the town’s gaudy lights from shining down on you. So, you reached out to touch it, his eyes following your hand and after you felt the damp material clinging against him, they went back to sparkling at you.

“What about you? Look, your shoulder is getting drenched!” you panicked, the stick from your lollipop accidentally slipped from your mouth. You shifted the umbrella to offer him more coverage but he immediately corrected your hand, keeping it exactly the way you held it before.

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Well, why not?” you argued.

He met your frustration with another gentle smile and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Because I don’t get sick. I’ll be fine.”

That wasn’t true. It was the furthest thing from the truth. In fact, if you were put on the stand to testify as much, you could rattle off exactly five recent instances where he’d gotten sick; and despite his stubborn refusal, you’d taken it upon yourself to care for him until he recovered.

Your face twisted at the thought and before you could fix your mouth to argue with him, he cradled your head and leaned into you for a sweet kiss. With your bottom lip caught in between his, you wondered if he could taste the artificial cola on your lips the way that you could taste it on him. Masato pressed his tongue into your mouth, a single swipe of it against yours before he abruptly stopped as if remembering something.

Perhaps that you were still caught out in the middle of a storm?

Even so, before he showed up to save you, the thought alone of being caught in this weather was enough to drain you mentally. But now, in his arms, with his lips tenderly pressed against yours, you thought that you could stay this way for hours.

With one more soft peck, he parted from your lips and sighed. Then, he pressed another against the tip of your nose. At some point, your fingers had begun to clutch at his damp shirt and when you realized that, you slowly released him. There was no way you could avoid those eyes now. While you sat there, staring back at him, his smile from before returned this time shaped more so by arrogance.

“So? What was it that you were gonna say?”

You shook your head.

Was that it? Who knew that all it took to shut you up was a cola flavored kiss?

The bottoms of his pant legs were totally soaked by the time he put you back down on your own dry feet. He took back the umbrella, made sure that his coat was still properly draped over your shoulder then he wrapped his arm around you again. You could still feel the dampness of his shirt lingering on your fingertips and the concern from before returned. You reached for the lapels of his coat, prepared to slip it off until he stopped you.

“Hey, what are you doing?” he asked, tugging it back down.

“Don’t you think you should take back your coat at least?”

“What for? So, it can get wet too?”

“I mean, your shirt’s so–”

“Listen, I appreciate that you’re worried but right now, all I need is for you to keep walking with me. The cafe’s just a couple more blocks away. If we get there quickly, everything’ll be fine. Alright?” he said, maneuvering the umbrella back into its original position before his decision to carry you across the street bridal style. “Come.”

The argument was solid enough but still, Masato’s insistence on keeping you safe from even a drop of rain came at the expense of his silk shirt and calfskin oxfords. You couldn’t fight the guilt that crept up every time you thought about it; and if– no, when he inevitably caught a cold from wandering around town soaked from head to toe, you knew you’d have a hard time forgiving yourself. Be that as it may, moping or arguing him down about it wouldn’t change his mind or dry him any sooner. Once you accepted that, your arms dropped back down to your sides and you allowed yourself to melt into him once more. He must have felt your hesitance slip away because he chuckled out his gratitude and went on to inquire about the day you had.

You told him all the usual things: how you went into your shift with inadequate supplies needed to complete your side work and so you were left needing to improvise by the time rush came, how the boss’ decision to cut all of the dining room attendants from the floor early led to chaos is the dish room and how you were berated by the line cooks when they thought you’d left a plate on the expo for a second longer than they needed to be.

He told you all the usual things: how, even though he’d never worked in a restaurant before, he can empathize with your frustration, how your boss was just as inadequate as the supplies he offered you and how much he really wanted to catch that one line cook in a back alley someday to see if he still talks as tough. It didn’t matter that much of this conversation was under threat of sounding like a broken record at this point. His support was one song that you didn’t mind listening to on repeat. It was the reason why you were able to fight on and face that place yet another day.

The rain was far less harsh by the time you reached Nakamichi Street, he joked that the storm wanted to lure you into a false sense of security so that you would believe that it was safe to head straight to the station, only to start up again; and worse than before. The safest bet was to stick to the plan and now that you could see the sign shining above Cafe Alps, it was like finding the light at the end of the tunnel. Masato removed his arm from around your shoulders and smiled to himself when you unconsciously pouted at the loss of his affection.

He took your hand, guiding it up to his umbrella-wielding one. “Take this and get us a table. I’ll meet you there in about 15 minutes, okay?”

“Wha– Where are you going?” you asked, brow rising as you watched him duck from underneath the safety of the umbrella.

“Since the rain’s not too bad now, I’m gonna stop by Don Quijote for a few things.” he said, then immediately jogged off before calling back, “Did you need anything?”

“N-no!” you called. “Just... Don’t spend too much time out here in the rain!”

Without looking back, he waved a hand up above his head and watching him shrink away was like watching the sunset once more.

. . .

You shifted uncomfortably in your seat, head jerking toward the door every time you heard the bell above it ring. Eventually, that bell would ring and it would be him walking through that door. So, you kept glancing until it finally was. His eyes scanned the cafe for you and once he spotted you, he lit up. On his march toward you, you quickly registered his change of clothes: a black V-neck tee, some dark jeans and black sneakers. At his side was an umbrella and a plastic bag, where you could imagine his purple and white ensemble had been stored.

“Well, hello there.” you smiled.

“Didn’t get too lonely without me, did you?”

“I think I managed ok.”

“Oh yeah? Damn, and here I was in a rush to get back to you too.”

“Don’t pout. It was a joke. So, I see you did some shopping.” you said, nodding at the plastic bag.

He looked down at himself as if it was news to him, “Oh, yeah. Yeah, I had to. My feet were soaked and so was my shirt. Do you like it?”

Your eyes lingered on the gold chain resting beautifully against his warm olive skin then admired the way the material of his shirt clung to his chest and arms as he lowered himself into his seat. The shirt teased you with his physique, showing you some of his best assets yet still not showing enough. You imagined for a moment, the rain getting this shirt wet too; how the drenched material would hug him and would leave him with no choice but to take it off as well.

“It suits you.” you said in a nonchalant tone as if you weren’t mentally undressing him.

“You think so? I’m glad.” he said, sliding the bag beneath his seat. “You didn’t order anything?”

“No, I wanted to wait on you.”

“How thoughtful.” he smiled, “So, what are we gonna get?”

You shrugged, rubbing your hands together. “I’m not sure I have much of an appetite but I know you’re not going to accept that so…”

“You’re right about that.”

“I think I’ll start off with a coffee for now to warm me up. It’s so chilly here compared to outside.”

“I like the way you think.” he said, waving over a waiter.

Your decision to warm up with a cup of coffee inspired him to order himself a latte with heaps of flavored syrup and though he wasn’t quite hungry either, you knew that he could always make room for dessert. So, after your insistence on repaying him for his valiance, he ordered a strawberry parfait as well.

The sweet treat wasn’t on the table for all of thirty seconds before he started to dig in. There was a gentleness in his expression each time he went for a spoonful that wasn’t dissimilar to the way he looked at you. That was how you knew that he was truly enjoying himself. You smiled at him, hunched over the table in a seat that was almost too small for him with a smear of whipped cream at the corner of his mouth. Had the table not been a factor, you wouldn’t have hesitated to kiss it away. Instead, you were forced to settle for wiping it away with your thumb and as if he had been reading your mind, he pressed a kiss against your knuckles before you pulled away.

“Hey, I’m sorry.” he swallowed down his mouthful, then pushed the stemmed glass to the center of the table. “Wanna share it with me?”

You shook your head, stirring at your lukewarm coffee. “Oh, no. It’s alright. Don’t worry.”

“You sure? Looks to me like you really want some.”

You giggled, “No, I was just thinking about how happy you look eating it. I imagine it must be pretty good.”

He licked his lips and smiled at you, scooping up a far less generous spoonful that he’d been before. “I think it’s just because I’m in good company.”

“Geez, c’mon. Masato, don’t be sappy.” you laughed, waving a dismissive hand at him.

“It’s true. Stuff like this tastes so much better when you’re eating with someone you love. Here, have a small bite.” he said, guiding the spoon toward your mouth. “Come on.”

You’ve had parfaits here before but you were never the biggest fan. The moment the bit he fed you landed on your tongue; your mouth filled with drool. The strawberries were nice and sweet but something about the cream really packed a punch. It was indescribable and your palette mourned the loss of it the moment you swallowed it down. It left you questioning yourself: had the staff changed recently or was this truly the effect of being here with him tonight?

“Good, isn’t it?”

Your enthusiastic nod elicited a soft chuckle from him as he helped himself to another bite. “I’m glad. Here, let’s finish it together.” he said, preparing a second spoonful for you.

As much as you hated the idea of making him share what was supposed to be a gift of gratitude, there was something about lovingly being fed one of his favorite treats that felt almost wrong to refuse. Just like the candies in the “for later” box. So, you were sure to open your mouth and graciously accept each bite, enjoying the way those brown eyes would glisten as your lips wrapped around the spoon. Perhaps it was simply the bright bar lights beaming down overhead but you preferred to believe that was his affection shining back at you and your cheeks burned at the thought. No matter what the weather, a simple smile from Masato was just as warming as bathing in sunlight. And that was a feeling that you never wanted to end.

Please do not reupload/repost/rewrite but reblogs are ALWAYS appreciated. Thank you for reading!

#yakuza 5 #yakuza fanfic #yakuza x reader #rgg x reader #kulemiwrites #aizawa masato x reader #aizawa masato #masato aizawa x reader #masato aizawa

59 notes · View notes