Chapter Text
yuma didn’t sleep well.
he still woke up on time and moved through the morning like nothing had changed. routine carried him, steady and practiced.
but his mind lagged behind.
it kept circling back to small things that refused to stay quiet.
jo’s voice lingered, low and persistent, impossible to shake once it settled.
even the way he adjusted thr fabric felt deliberate, precise, leaving no room for hesitation.
yuma clicked his tongue softly, pressing his fingers to his temple.
“this is getting ridiculous,” he muttered, more annoyed it kept coming back than anything else.
it made no sense and that alone irritated him.
he adjusted his sleeve as he walked, purely out of habit, eyes fixed ahead.
“focus on something useful for once,” he muttered under his breath as if that would fix anything.
by the time he reached the study, his expression had settled back into something neutral.
he pushed the door open.
the study always felt colder in the afternoon.
the heating stayed steady, controlled somewhere out of sight, while the light shifted as the day settled.
it stretched across the floor in long, muted shapes, catching on the edges of the desk, the glass surface of the tablet, the polished wood shelves lined with books he had never touched.
yuma stood by the doorway for a second longer than necessary before stepping in.
he lingered for no reason, which made it worse.
jo was already at the desk, sleeves neat, posture straight, controlled, one hand resting lightly against a stack of documents while the other moved through a tablet screen.
there was something irritating about how prepared he looked like everything had already been decided before yuma walked in.
yuma sucked his teeth.
“do you ever sit, or is that against your principles?" yuma asked, dropping into the chair.
“i sit when it’s required.”
“that sounds like a corporate policy, not a human answer.”
“it works.”
yuma pulled the chair back and dropped into it, the legs scraping softly before settling.
“you’re exhausting to look at this early,” he muttered, dragging the chair closer with a quiet scrape.
jo ignored that.
he set the tablet down, the screen dimming as his hand left it, then reached for one of the files instead.
“the gala is this saturday,” jo said, flipping the file open as he spoke.
"you’re not going there just to stand around,” jo continued. “you’ll be expected to engage.”
the page turned cleanly under his fingers.
“we’ll go over the key people first, who they are, why they matter, and how to handle them.”
he slid the file across the desk.
jo’s gaze lifted to him briefly.
“start with him,” jo said like it required no explanation.
yuma looked down.
it was a photograph of an older man. probably in his late fifties, maybe early sixties. clean-cut, composed, the kind of face that didn’t give much away but still carried weight. something about him felt familiar like yuma had seen him before in passing, maybe at a dinner, maybe in the background of one of his father’s meetings.
the name sat just beneath it.
fujimoto keisuke.
yuma’s eyes moved lower.
“fujimoto keisuke,” he read under his breath. “chairman of fujimoto logistics… board advisor… external shareholder...”
he stopped, glancing up.
“you’re starting me with shareholders?”
“with him,” jo corrected.
yuma leaned back slightly, the file still open in his hands.
“what makes him worth starting with?”
jo didn’t answer immediately.
he stepped around the desk instead, stopping just beside it, close enough to see the file without needing to lean.
“he holds 11.8% of nakakita holdings through subsidiary investment,” he said. “second-largest external position.”
yuma blinked once.
“you memorized the percentage.”
“you will too.”
yuma let out a quiet breath, caught between disbelief and annoyance.
“i barely remember my own schedule.”
“that’s part of the problem.”
yuma ignored that.
mostly.
he looked back down at the page, reading slower this time.
“he doesn’t attend everything,” jo continued. “he chooses what he considers worth his time. the fact that he’ll be at this gala matters.”
“so i just go up and talk to him?”
“you greet him first,” jo said.
“before my father’s board?”
“yes.”
“that’s going to look weird.”
“not if you do it correctly.”
“and what does ‘correctly’ even look like?"
“start with eye contact,” jo said. “hold it just long enough to register, then speak.”
“then?”
“say your name clearly,” jo continued. “don’t rush it, but don’t hesitate either.”
“…that sounds very specific.”
“it is.”
yuma huffed faintly, looking back down again.
“and if he doesn’t care?”
“he will.” jo said without pause.
“how can you sound so sure?”
jo tilted his head slightly.
“he values recognition,” he said. “but not flattery. if you overdo it, he’ll lose interest before you finish speaking.”
yuma’s brows pulled together slightly.
“you say that like you’ve already tested it.”
“he follows a pattern,” jo said, as if it were obvious.
“you’ve met him before?”
“once.”
“…and that was enough?”
jo didn’t answer right away.
he reached forward instead, turning the page slightly so a section aligned better under the light.
“he interrupted the conversation twice,” he said. “both times when the speaker repeated themselves.”
yuma blinked.
“you noticed that?”
“you didn’t?”
yuma leaned back again, staring at him.
“i wasn’t there.”
jo paused then nodded once.
“then you’ll rely on this.”
he tapped the file lightly.
this time it felt heavier, less like a profile, more like expectations pressing into his hands. he exhaled slowly, rubbing his thumb along the edge of the paper without realizing it.
“this is a lot,” he said, quieter now.
“yes.”
yuma glanced up.
“you’re not even going to pretend this is manageable?”
“that wouldn’t help you.”
fair.
annoying, but fair.
jo picked up another file, setting it beside the first.
“next.”
yuma stared at it.
“are you for real?”
“we don’t have time to waste.”
yuma rubbed the back of his neck.
“i just sat down,” yuma said. “give me at least five minutes before you ruin my life.”
“you’re already behind,” jo said.
“how am i behind when i didn’t even know there was a starting line?"
“there is now.”
yuma let out a short breath that almost turned into a laugh.
almost.
yuma looked at him. it was annoying how put-together he always was. like hesitation didn’t exist for him.
even his voice was low, steady, carrying anyway. clear without trying to be.
and somehow, closer than before.
yuma blinked then frowned slightly, realizing the distance had shifted without him noticing.
jo hadn’t moved dramatically. it was probably just a step. maybe two. enough that the space between them felt smaller without being obvious.
yuma looked back down at the file a second too late.
“…who’s this,” he asked, flipping the file open before really looking at it.
“kisaragi mina,” jo said.
yuma scanned the page.
“editor-in-chief… seiryu business review.”
“she controls how things are seen,” jo added.
“so she’s a journalist.”
“she decides what becomes relevant.”
yuma frowned slightly.
“so i avoid her?”
“no.”
he looked up and jo was watching him.
“you engage carefully,” he said. “she asks indirect questions. you answer directly, but not completely.”
“that sounds like a trap.”
“it is.”
yuma stared at him for a second then broke eye contact.
“i hate this already.”
“you’ll manage.”
“based on what.”
jo didn’t answer that immediately and for some reason, that made yuma look up again.
“…what.”
“you’re not incapable,” jo said.
it wasn’t said like reassurance.
it was said like a fact.
yuma looked at him for a second longer than he meant to.
then dropped his gaze first.
“…yeah, well,” he muttered, flipping the page again. “we’ll see about that.”
jo didn’t push. he just stepped back slightly, giving him space again.
“continue,” he said.
yuma exhaled quietly and went back to it.
this time he slowed down and actually read, letting each line sit long enough to make sense instead of slipping past it. the names started to feel less like a list and more connected, each one tied to something else, making the whole thing harder to ignore.
the important parts weren’t written outright. they sat in the details, in titles that carried weight, in affiliations pointing to something bigger.
he started to see it.
who held real power, who only appeared to and why that difference mattered more than anything written on the page.
so his focus stayed, steadier than before, drawn into the logic of it.
somewhere along the way, though, his awareness widened.
jo moved around the desk with an easy, practiced rhythm, his steps soft against the polished floor, his presence settling into the space without needing to announce itself.
he stopped beside him again, close enough that the quiet shift of fabric registered this time, close enough that the air felt slightly different.
when jo leaned in to adjust the angle of the tablet, something else followed with it.
a faint, clean scent followed the movement, something subtle but expensive enough to stand out once he noticed it.
yuma blinked, eyes still on the page, the last line sitting unread for a second longer than it should have.
“do you own anything that isn’t this exact outfit or is this a long-term commitment?" yuma asked, glancing up from the file, tone light but edged with something else.
jo adjusted the tablet slightly, unfazed.
“there are variations.”
yuma looked him over, slower this time like he was actually checking.
“…where.”
“in the details.”
“yeah, sure,” yuma muttered. “details only microscopes can see.”
jo didn’t seem bothered. if anything, he took it seriously.
“they’re not meant to be obvious.”
“yeah, i can tell.”
yuma dropped his gaze back to the page, but his focus drifted again, just enough to catch the line of jo’s sleeve, the way nothing is out of place.
and it wasn’t just that.
the faint scent hit again, subtle, expensive, doing more than enough without trying.
it was irritating.
“…you even smell like money,” yuma added under his breath, more to himself than anything.
jo paused, just slightly.
“that’s just basic hygiene.”
yuma let out a quiet huff.
“that’s not what i meant.”
“then say what you mean.”
yuma clicked his tongue, shifting in his seat.
“i’m not writing you a report on it.”
“then it has no value.”
“oh my god.”
he dragged a hand through his hair, leaning back before straightening again like he remembered he was being watched.
“you look good. there. that’s the point. you happy?"
jo studied him for a second like deciding if that mattered.
“…it’s expected,” he said.
yuma stared at him.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“you’re distracted.”
“i am not—”
“you’ve written the same line three times.”
yuma froze.
then looked down.
…he had.
“that’s not the point,” he said quickly.
“it is,” jo replied, already turning his attention back to the tablet. “if your focus breaks this easily, you won’t retain anything.”
yuma pressed his lips together, staring at the page like it had personally betrayed him.
“…this is your fault,” he muttered under his breath.
“unlikely.”
yuma glanced up again, just for a second.
jo was still composed, which only made it worse.
he forced his attention back onto the page even though it didn’t quite settle the way it had before.
“…yeah, next time i’m requesting someone over seventy,” he muttered. “minimum requirement.”
the words sat there, quiet, half-serious and half not.
yuma exhaled, flipping the page as if that alone would fix his focus but it didn't.
which honestly felt personal at this point.
-
the tailor arrived just before noon.
yuma heard it before he saw it. quiet movement along the hallway, the low murmur of voices that didn’t belong to the usual rhythm of the house. it wasn’t loud or disruptive, just different enough to catch his attention as he stepped out of his room, one hand still adjusting the cuff of his sleeve.
he paused at the top of the stairs, glancing down.
two people stood near the entrance.
one older man, posture slightly bent but deliberate in the way he carried himself, dressed in a dark, well-fitted suit that looked expensive without trying too hard. beside him stood a younger assistant, holding a structured case, fingers steady around the handle like they’d done this a hundred times before.
jo stood across from them.
already there, already in conversation, ten steps ahead like usual.
yuma leaned lightly against the railing, watching for a second longer than he needed to.
“…he really runs this place now,” he muttered under his breath.
jo’s voice carried faintly from below, calm and even, but not flat. there was a rhythm to it, measured and precise without sounding stiff, the kind of tone people actually listened to, whether they wanted to or not.
“the event is formal,” jo was saying. “evening setting. the dress code leans traditional, but there will be variation depending on affiliations.”
the tailor nodded, attentive.
“understood. and the young master’s preference?”
yuma snorted quietly.
“you’re about to hear something crazy,” he murmured.
“structure first,” jo said. “preference comes after.”
there it was.
yuma pushed himself off the railing, making his way down the stairs with unhurried steps, the sound just enough to draw attention without announcing it.
the assistant noticed first. the tailor followed a second later.
jo turned last.
his gaze landed on yuma like he had already been aware of him the entire time.
“you’re late,” jo said.
yuma glanced at the clock on the wall.
“by what, thirty seconds?”
“thirty-eight.”
“oh, that’s devastating. i’ll reflect on that deeply.”
the tailor let out a quiet, polite cough, clearly trying not to react.
jo didn’t.
“this is tanaka,” he said, gesturing toward the older man. “he’ll be handling your fitting.”
yuma stepped forward, offering a brief nod.
“yuma,” he said, casual like that wasn’t obvious.
“nakakita-sama,” the tailor corrected gently, bowing slightly. “it’s an honor.”
yuma resisted the urge to sigh.
“yeah, hi.”
jo didn’t comment on that, which almost felt worse.
“we’ll begin with measurements,” he said instead.
the assistant stepped forward immediately, setting the case down on a nearby table and opening it with practiced ease. tools were arranged inside with careful precision, each one placed exactly where it should be, clean and orderly in a way that felt very on-brand for everything happening today.
yuma eyed it for a second.
“…why does that look more organized than my life.”
“because it is,” jo replied.
“you’re enjoying this too much.”
“stand still.”
yuma did as he was told, stepping onto the marked area without further argument.
the tailor moved closer, tape already in hand, his expression focused but calm.
“if you would raise your arms slightly.”
yuma did, slow and unenthusiastic.
the tape brushed along his shoulders, his chest, his waist, each measurement called out quietly for the assistant to note down. the process was efficient, smooth, practiced enough that it didn’t feel awkward.
until it did.
because jo was still there.
yuma’s gaze flicked toward him briefly.
his expression didn’t give much away, but there was something observant and precise that made it feel like nothing here was going unnoticed.
yuma looked away first.
“…you’re staring,” he muttered.
“i’m assessing.”
“that’s worse.”
the tailor paused just slightly before continuing, professionalism holding steady despite the conversation.
“shoulder width is balanced,” he noted. “posture could be improved slightly for a cleaner line.”
“it will be,” jo said.
yuma glanced at him.
“wow, i love that for me.”
the tape moved again, lower this time, measuring along his waist, the assistant writing everything down with quick, neat strokes.
“for the gala,” jo continued, shifting his attention back to the tailor, “the theme is winter formal. darker tones will be standard, but we don’t want him to blend in.”
yuma blinked.
“oh, so now i’m a statement piece.”
“you’re a representative.”
“wow. i did not know that." yuma answered sarcastically.
the tailor allowed himself a faint smile this time.
“perhaps a deep charcoal,” he suggested. “with a subtle texture. something that catches light without being too bold.”
jo considered it for a second.
“not too reflective,” he said. “the lighting will already be strong.”
“understood.”
yuma looked between them.
“you two sound like you’re designing a building.”
“presentation matters,” jo said.
“i’m aware. i just didn’t think it came with this much… engineering.”
the measurements continued, more detailed now. sleeve length, wrist, back, each one taken with careful attention.
“he moves too much,” jo added, almost as an afterthought.
yuma turned his head.
“excuse me?”
“adjust for that.”
“i do not—”
“you fidget,” jo said, glancing at him briefly. “it affects how the fabric sits.”
yuma stared at him.
“you’ve been watching me way too closely.”
“that’s my role.”
“i hate your role.”
the assistant coughed again, quieter this time.
the tailor finished the last measurement, stepping back slightly.
“everything is noted,” he said. “we’ll prepare an initial set for fitting.”
“today,” jo said.
“of course.”
yuma blinked.
“today?”
“we don’t have time to delay,” jo replied.
“it’s a suit, not a life-saving procedure.”
“for you, the difference is minimal.”
yuma exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through his hair.
“unbelievable.”
the tailor closed his case with a soft click, the assistant already gathering the notes.
“we’ll have the garments ready shortly,” he said with another polite bow.
jo nodded once.
“we’ll proceed to the fitting room when they arrive.”
yuma watched them move, efficient and quiet as they stepped away to prepare whatever came next.
“…you could’ve just taken me to a store,” he said.
“this is more efficient.”
“for who.”
“for the outcome.”
yuma huffed under his breath, looking away.
“…yeah, well. if this ends with me looking like you, i’m filing a complaint.”
jo’s gaze flicked toward him, brief and unreadable.
“you won’t.”
“…wow. confidence.”
“that's called accuracy.”
yuma stared at him for a second then looked away first.
“you’re so annoying,” he muttered.
“stand by,” jo said, already turning slightly toward the hallway. “we’ll move when it’s ready.”
yuma watched him go, just for a second longer than necessary.
then exhaled, quieter this time.
“…this is going to be a problem.”
-
the wait dragged longer than it should have.
when the tailor returned, it was quick. quiet exchange, a few words with jo, then they were gone again.
jo didn’t waste time.
he went to the fitting room.
yuma was already there. he’d been told to stay so he stayed.
yuma let out a heavy sigh when he heard jo’s footsteps approaching. he glanced at the neatly arranged bags.
"that's a lot for one night." yuma said.
“you need options. appearance matters.” jo replied, opening the bags one by one, revealing well tailored and expensive clothing. there were shirts, coats, garments, accessories, basically everything he needs to shine that night but somehow not overly done.
"change."
"excuse me?" yuma said too fast as soon as he heard it.
"now."
"what— have you lost your mind? at least get out, man." yuma complained, covering his chest like that would help.
jo didn’t respond. he stepped forward. yuma stepped back.
“do you want me to do it?”
that made yuma panic. he grabbed the shirt out of jo's hands and started unbuttoning his.
he turned away too fast. jo stayed quiet, like none of it mattered.
while doing it, yuma’s heartbeat sped up. he could feel heat rising from his neck to his face. the thought of being watched while changing twisted something uncomfortable in his chest.
“you’re just going to stay?” yuma asked one more time to make sure this isn't some crazy shit happening.
"just change." that's all jo said.
yuma gave up and took off his shirt, revealing his pale skin.
heat crept up his body, and jo’s tone left no room to argue.
he began to put on the new shirt, buttoning it with shaky hands, missing a few, fixing them, messing it up again.
"... shit." he groaned as he heard steps walking closer towards him. he saw the shadow on the floor, it was jo.
"is it that hard to button your shirt properly?" jo grabbed his arm and turned him around. he covered his chest again.
"i can do it on my own."
"you’re wasting time." jo said as he took over yuma's job, buttoning his shirt with precise and controlled movement.
he then stepped away from yuma, leaving him flushed and stunned.
"crazy fucker..." yuma murmured then picked up the trousers with a faint crease between his brows, already unimpressed before even putting them on.
the fabric felt different in his hands. it was heavier, smoother and structured in a way that didn’t bend easily. he turned it slightly, checking the seams without really knowing what he was looking for, then stepped into them anyway.
one foot, then the other.
he pulled them up in a single motion, the material sliding clean along his legs before settling higher, the waistband fitting closer than he was used to. it sat firm, structured, holding its shape.
“it's so fucking tight,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting it at the hips.
“it's correct,” jo said from somewhere behind him.
yuma ignored that.
he smoothed his hands down the front, pressing out wrinkles that weren’t really there, more out of habit than necessity. the fabric responded differently than anything he owned, holding its line instead of shifting under his touch.
he shifted his weight slightly, testing it.
then again.
the cut forced his posture into something straighter, cleaner, whether he wanted it or not. even the slightest slouch showed, forcing him upright.
“this feels illegal,” he muttered.
“it’s tailored,” jo replied.
“yeah, i can feel that.”
yuma adjusted the waistband again, a little more deliberately this time, then ran his hand along the side seam, following the line down his leg.
he glanced at himself in the mirror.
the difference was immediate.
irritatingly effective.
“i don’t like that this works,” he said.
yuma clicked his tongue softly, looking away from his reflection like that would somehow undo it.
he took a step forward, testing it then another.
but the second one didn’t land clean.
the hem caught just slightly against his heel, subtle enough that he didn’t notice it until his balance tipped forward, his weight moving ahead faster than he could correct it.
“wait—”
his foot slid against the polished floor, the traction gone for just a second too long, and that was all it took.
his center shifted.
his body followed.
and before he could stop it, he went forward.
he didn’t hit the floor. something caught him.
a firm grip caught his side, steady and immediate. the momentum carried through anyway, pulling him in instead of down, his balance collapsing into something far messier.
his knee hit first, a dull, grounding impact against the floor, but the rest of him followed right after, weight tipping forward—
into jo.
his hands came down instinctively, bracing against him, catching on fabric instead of the ground, his breath stuttering as everything stopped at once instead of finishing the fall.
for a second, neither of them moved.
their faces were too close.
yuma’s weight hovered awkwardly, caught between pushing himself up and realizing where he actually landed, his balance still off, his body angled in a way that made the situation worse the longer it lasted.
his grip tightened on instinct.
“…shit,” he muttered under his breath.
this was worse than hitting the floor.
- tbc.