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He doesn’t consider himself an envious person. Probably, if he asked his friends and closest people (those who therefore know him best) they’d say exactly the same. He knows that’s not the case, but he would seriously give anything to be able to relive his life in these more liberal times.
Definitely, there would still be some crappy moments, but it would be significantly... easier.
He snaps out of his thoughts, remembering that he shouldn't regret what wasn’t, just live in the present and try to make it as fulfilling as possible. He saw that phrase in a Facebook post this morning, and it really inspired him; plus, the little yellow character in the picture was so cute.
Ah, he's getting old, isn't he? His son always teases him about that. It’s Shuichi who’s falling behind with current trends and humor, not him.
He’s an adult, a grown man. He’s not at the age where he can indulge in pity parties, especially not for a reason as silly as, "Oh, how I’d love to be a teenager today."
It’s not that he’s one of those adults who go into crisis upon realizing they’re adults. He knows it’s part of life, and that’s definitely not the reason for his thoughts. It’s just that, why couldn’t things have been like this in his time?
He could have used one of those sex ed classes his son always complains about. Fewer myths like “nothing happens the first time,” fewer conservatives and religious people talking about sacred punishments just for enjoying a bit of pleasure. At least, the choice of whether to want to carry another life for the rest of your life.
He feels bad about that thought when he looks at his son, who, as usual, is playing with his purple hair, twirling and untwirling it in his fingers. If he keeps it up, he’ll probably end up with hair just like his father. Although, definitely in a more subtle way; his son’s hair is much shorter.
His son notices that he’s been watching for a while, and with a “What’s up, Mom?” he turns his gaze away. Shuichi doesn’t try to hide the slight tremor that last word causes in him. But the conversation ends there because something interesting happens again in the movie they’re watching together.
He could never blame him for situations like this. Actually, he can’t. His son doesn’t know because he never told him. Shuichi decided that probably two or three months into the pregnancy, knowing it would be much easier for both of them. Unhappy for Shuichi, but still easier.
Even some of his not-so-close friends believe and mock him for “having a transgender phase,” calling him by a name that has long, long ceased to be his. Sometimes they also joke that “that phase left traces” or that “she was never a real woman again,” just because Shuichi really can’t conform to the stereotypes that a woman is supposed to have. And outside of the jokes, they believe “it’s just a style; that’s why she dresses like that.”
It could be better, it really could, but Shuichi won’t complain much because at least (almost) all the most important people to him know. Kaede knows, Maki knows, and although Kaito occasionally slips up, he can see that he truly sees him as his “bro.”
Being with them is like a breath of fresh air for his repressed identity. These are moments when Shuichi feels genuinely happy and complete.
Though it could still be better, those moments of feeling this good could expand, he thinks as he glances sideways at his son.
But it would be weird, right? To expect his son, who has seen him his whole life as his “mom,” to simply change the perspective of the “woman” who raised him, of the “female figure” who has been there for him since he was a baby.
Shuichi has raised him alone, always, without grandmothers, aunts or uncles, cousins, or siblings. It’s always just been the two of them. For his son, they’ve always been “mom” and him. He doesn’t want to make things uncomfortable or difficult for him.
“That guy’s acting well,” his son remarks, his voice wavering between excitement and intrigue. Shuichi regrets pulling himself out of his thoughts to be able to watch the movie and know who he was talking about, because when he realizes, his heart aches.
Kokichi looks as handsome as he remembers. Every time he sees a photo of him on social media, he can’t help but be surprised because his face looks older, more mature. Deep down, he always hoped he’d keep that same playful, childlike face as always, but actually, the roles of “serious and cool guy” they give him in movies work for Oma
Not right now, because the scene they’re watching is one where Kokichi has to look “dirty” and poorly dressed, but Shuichi has seen enough photos and interviews to know that in real life, he looks like a man who’s won in life. Like someone who has achieved his goals, someone young people today, like his son, aspire to be.
“Do you like him?” he asks his son after a few minutes of admiration. “I mean, if they asked me who my favorite actor is, I’d say his name.”
“Like... like a fan? Do you admire him?”
“Ew... no.”
Yes, he definitely does. If only he knew.
Kaito and Maki were close to telling his son that that jerk is actually his “father who abandoned him,” but Shuichi has convinced them enough times that they definitely shouldn’t do that. Maki looks at him with a disappointed expression and shakes her head, while Kaito scolds him for still defending him to this day.
Shuichi doesn’t blame them either, because well, he didn’t tell them too. He knows they’ll be even more disappointed when he explains that he actually never told Kokichi he was pregnant, simply because he knew how difficult and limiting life would be for Ouma.
They’d be very angry. After all, he voluntarily let Kokichi continue his life as usual, while Shuichi stayed behind to raise their child alone.
But he’d do it again. During the years they were together, he could see in Kokichi’s efforts how much he wanted to achieve his dreams. How much he practiced his roles just to be accepted, how much effort he put into each character he played, and the number of silent tears that soaked Shuichi's shirts when Kokichi was rejected.
He knew how hard it was for Kokichi to pursue his dreams without economic benefits or connections. He knew what it would mean for Kokichi to try it with a pregnancy and a child in the picture. Shuichi didn’t want to hold him back, because he knew how talented he was at acting and how passionate he was.
So, when Saihara found out he was pregnant at a time when being pregnant pretty much meant having the baby, he decided not to tell his boyfriend. To this day, Kokichi must think that Shuichi left him because he no longer loved him. It hurt a lot to make that decision, and it hurts even more that Kokichi still believes that was the reason.
Shuichi loves him; he still loves him so much. Sometimes he wonders what life would be like for the three of them together. He thinks Kokichi would never have let him hide from others like that, that their son would have two dads and would know. That they would have raised him together, and their son would have his last name.
But Saihara also thinks that, then, Kokichi wouldn’t have achieved what he has now. He wouldn’t have the things he has now. He wouldn’t have gotten everything he always wanted.
And Shuichi would never forgive himself for doing that to him. So he just snuggles closer on the couch next to his son and the actor’s son on the screen.