daikon

by getoufication

Summary:

After Osamu dies, Rintarou thinks he’ll spend his immortal life missing him, searching for him in everything.

He doesn’t expect to stumble upon him 300 years later.

Notes:

thank you for picking this up ! i haven't posted anything here in so long so a bit nervy .. but i hope you like it ! i feel like it's a more mature cousin of god in jeans . perhaps

thank you to my wonderful sen for being my beta and for cursing me out in the doc comments <3 appreciate you forever

please enjoy !

Rintarou learned early — If you can consider 300 years into his immortal life early — that living forever is less hard when you do things in moderation. 

He hears of his immortal peers indulging in the luxuries that multiple lifetimes of savings can get you, and watches as they get bored after not even a few decades. The yacht is no longer fun. They’ve traveled to every continent multiple times, by boat when it was the only option, and now by plane. They try to satiate their boredom with only temporary success. 

So Rintarou has learned to live a simple life. Live within his means as if he were a mortal. He won’t admit it out loud, but he still gets a little excited when his coffee and cake at the café look perfect for a picture. 

He’s thinking of what song to put on his Instagram story when he gets his drink and pastry, blinking a little when he notices how full his glass is as the barista hands it to him. 

“Uh.” He grabs a napkin to wipe a dribble from the lip. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” the barista chirps before looking at the next customer. Rintarou should keep his eyes up as he walks away, but with his attention on his threateningly full glass, he realizes too late just how close the person behind him is. 

He makes a noise of surprise when he rams his drink straight into the next waiting customer, spilling the contents all the way down his front. The splatter of his coffee hitting the floor and a few collective gasps fill the shocked silence. 

“Shit, I’m so—”

When Rintarou’s eyes meet the stranger’s, he freezes, and the familiarity he is met with feels like a hard punch to the gut. A centuries-old memory resurfaces of a well-worn smile and gray eyes, and it almost brings him to his knees in the middle of the coffee shop. 

“Hey, that’s okay. I’m sorry I stood so close to ya,” the man says genuinely, and even the sound of his voice has a lump forming in Rintarou’s throat. 

He knows him. He knew him — His name had been Miya Osamu. But when Rintarou knew him, he had worn traditional dress fit for a shrine keeper. His long hair was always tied back, always cut in an unruly manner and out of fashion, bringing a strange sense of comfort to Rintarou. 

But that had been hundreds of years ago. He does not know the man currently standing in front of him with coffee all over his shirt. 

For a long moment, he forgets how to speak, completely in disbelief that a face he’d lost so long ago had appeared so suddenly before him, just for Rintarou to stain his shirt with coffee. He can’t name what that horrible twisting in his chest is, but he remembers far too late that he needs to say something.

“Shit.” Rintarou curses again. He shakes his thoughts away and grabs more napkins from the cashier to hand to the stranger. “No, that’s my bad. I wasn’t paying attention.”

The man takes the napkins, but he still waves Rintarou off kindly, chuckling a little as he uselessly dabs at the stain. 

“I can run across the street and get you a new shirt,” Rintarou offers, pointing beyond the shop’s window. But the stranger just laughs politely again. At this point, the staff have come over to help clean what’s spilled on the floor. Rintarou apologizes to them, cheeks warming from embarrassment. 

“It’s really not a big deal,” he replies. “At least it was iced coffee, right?” 

Rintarou can’t tell if he’s lucky that this happened to someone so lax, or if the universe is playing a trick on him. He sighs, gesturing to the cashier with his head before saying, “At least let me pay for your drink or something.”

The man agrees, and Rintarou expects them to part ways after, wondering if he’ll truly never see that face again. He feels sad about that, unsure if he can let it go that easily. 

But the man asks if he can join him, much to Rintarou's surprise. Normally, he would’ve preferred his café time alone. It is because of his uncanny resemblance to someone Rintarou had once known that he decides to say yes.

Plus, his coffee is all ruined for presentation, so the original purpose of this outing is out the window. He’ll just go somewhere else tomorrow. 

When they slide into a booth together, Rintarou takes a second to study the stranger’s face. He knows doppelgängers exist to some extent — There are lots of lookalikes out there. Especially hundreds of years after one’s existence, it’s no surprise that somewhere in the future, someone ends up possessing the same features as you. 

But this man is no mere lookalike. Every detail about him is something Rintarou has already seen and familiarized himself with centuries ago. Portraits from the Edo period obviously don’t compare to the accuracy that a photograph today has, but Rintarou wouldn’t need one. He’s committed Miya Osamu’s face to memory and even if it may have grown foggy over so many years, he would never forget it. Or at least, how the owner made him feel.

Even his voice sounds the same, and Rintarou thinks this really would be a cruel joke if he just happened to share the exact same features as his Osamu. 

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t even introduce myself.” The stranger extends a hand. “I’m Osamu. Miya Osamu.”

The breath in Rintarou’s lungs rushes out all at once, and for the second time in only ten minutes, he’s speechless. 

This can’t just be a coincidence, but he isn’t sure what he was expecting, really. He didn’t want to be hopeful, but the thought that Osamu had reincarnated and somehow found Rintarou after all this time has him at a complete loss for words. He thinks he might actually cry.

Which he doesn’t, of course. He’s in public and the Osamu in front of him clearly has no idea what’s happening inside his head. 

“Suna Rintarou,” he replies, taking Osamu’s hand. Even the way their hands slot together unlocks a memory in his mind, and Rintarou has to choke it all back to keep it together. 

Their conversation stays very surface-level, but it’s comfortable, despite Rintarou having to hide his shaking hands. It’s a familiar rapport, even though they’re learning things about each other. Osamu can only stay for a bit before he has another commitment, and also needs to go grab a new shirt, so they really only get to chat for less than an hour. 

After they say goodbye, Rintarou sits back in his seat and closes his eyes. Despite how natural their connection felt, there wasn’t a hint of recognition in Osamu’s eyes. Not even an inkling that perhaps they knew each other in a past life. 

His heart aches, and he feels like he misses Osamu more than he did before. Knowing that he exists on this Earth again but their history is gone hurts, and seeing his face only reopens a wound that had never fully closed.

Rintarou had been born in 1390, during the Muromachi period, learning early in his life that his family’s curse of immortality had found him. The usual cuts and scrapes a child experiences would knit together right before their eyes, and he never got sick. 

When the Warring States period ended and the Tokugawa Shogunate was established, a 250 year-old Rintarou set off on some sort of pilgrimage. Really, he just needed to do something, and he realized he hadn’t visited every shrine in Japan yet. 

That’s where he met Osamu. He’d walked up a lengthy flight of stone steps, avoiding cracks as if it were a game, before he came face to face with a handsome, young man. 

“Heya.” The shrinekeeper had smiled, and before he even inquired about who Rintarou was, he asked, “Ya hungry?” 

Then his twin had come outside, waving the end of his broom at Rintarou as if he were a threat, and that’s how he met Miya Atsumu.

After convincing Atsumu, the twins were nice enough to let him stay at their family shrine for the night. The shrine was dedicated to worshipping the minor goddess of the rice paddies in their village, and because she loved the Miya family, they had been tasked with keeping the shrine clean and busy. 

Villagers came up to worship the goddess often, offering fruits and money that the twins would dutifully collect. They would also come to gawk at the boys, especially the older women in the village who would request their help in town. 

The first two days he was there, Rintarou had watched the two of them kindly greet every visitor and promise to come down to the village to help with whatever they needed. 

And Osamu would always check on him, never asking him to lift a finger, as if reading Rintarou’s mind. He’d offered, knowing it was the least he could do, but Osamu would tell him just keeping him company was enough. He made sure Rintarou was never bored and always well fed.

He didn’t end up leaving after the first night when Osamu insisted that he stay a little longer. He’d agreed because he had taken a liking to the twins, and Osamu’s cooking was just too delicious.

But on the second night, Rintarou was suddenly woken up by the smell of smoke and alarmingly hot air. When he ran out to the front of the shrine, he saw that someone had set the west side ablaze. Without another thought, he ran in and helped the boys outside before other villagers came with buckets of water.

They’d found out the next day who’d done it — A group of young men who had clashed with the twins in the past. The fire had been big, but not entirely destructive. It would still take a while to rebuild. 

So Rintarou offered to stay and help. He couldn’t just abandon them when their shrine had been burned, and he admittedly was enjoying himself for the first time in a while. What should have been one night turned into months staying with the twins. And even when everything had been completely restored, he stayed by their side as they fulfilled the villagers’ requests and maintained the shrine.

For a while, Rintarou couldn’t pinpoint why he was so tethered to this place when he could go anywhere else. Not until he’d gone to a river with Osamu a year into living with them, just for a walk. No errands. Their knuckles had kept brushing against each other, pushed closer by how narrow the trail was. 

“What if I left tomorrow?” Rintarou had suddenly asked. He kept asking himself when he’d leave, onto his next adventure because that seemed to be the cycle of immortality. One new thing after another to occupy your time. 

“Why?” Osamu’s head had whipped over, a furrow between his brow. It looked almost pained. “Do you want to?” 

Rintarou had shrugged. “No. Not really.”

Osamu stopped walking abruptly and grabbed Rintarou by the hand. It was warm and firm, and for the first time in his long life, Rintarou felt something light flutter in his stomach. 

“Then don’t. Stay with me.” 

Not with us. With me. It made him realize what Osamu meant to him. Rintarou had squeezed his hand back, an affirmative that would solidify a decades-long promise. 

“Alright. If you insist,” he’d grinned, pulling a nervous Osamu closer. “I’ll stay with you.”

And on that narrow dirt path between the tall grass, with the river flowing quietly near them, he kissed him for the first time.

❀

He calls his sister that night to tell her about what transpired that day, peeved when Yori laughs a little too hard about the coffee spill. 

“You are so lucky he’s so nice,” she chuckles, opening another can of beer from her side of the video call. “It’s gotta be fate bringing you together again.”

Rintarou takes a sip of his own, pretending like she’s in Tokyo with him. But she’s backpacking in Europe. Again.

“Yeah. I didn’t give him my number or anything, though,” he says. His sister gives him a look, furrowing her brows in confusion. 

“You see the love of your life for the first time in centuries, and you don’t do anything about it?” She clicks her tongue. “Are you serious?”

“I can’t have him a second time. Everything in moderation,” he answers casually, repeating her words, long ago spoken to him when they first met. 

Yori is not his real sister. They’d met shortly after Osamu had died, when Rintarou was wandering around, trying to find an end to his immortality. He hadn’t understood how lonely it would make him feel until his mortal companion had left the Earth. The world felt so bleak when all he could do was look for Osamu in places where he would never find him again. 

Rintarou loathed the god who had bestowed this curse on his bloodline. The family legend stated that the minor god of an isolated mountain befriended someone from their clan. He made him immortal to satiate his loneliness, and now, anyone with their blood could be born with the same infliction. 

Yori was from a branch family, distantly related and obviously without anymore immediate family. She’d understood Rintarou’s emptiness. They started to call themselves siblings. She might’ve been crass and bullied him relentlessly, but she was always insightful and willing to listen to him. He could not have found a better sister. 

The problem with this immortality curse is that it is completely random. Finding other, distant immortal relatives was difficult, and the curse likely won’t affect your own children. You would be stuck in a cycle of outliving everyone you knew. 

The minor god had not subjected them to an eternity of companionship with him. His own immortality had ended when he’d been shunned — One too many minor offenses. But in having his godhood stripped, he left them, forcing the unlucky ones into a loneliness akin to his own. 

So Rintarou was lucky to have met Yori. He’d connected with others, too, but he wasn’t keen on becoming friends forever with most of them.

Yori had told him to experience things in moderation. Falling in love with a mortal was too much for someone who still had eternity ahead of them. The world would have to end before any of them could say they were bored of living. 

Her advice was sound. For the next 300 odd years, Rintarou has learned to find joy in the smaller things. He lets himself indulge once in a while, but not in anything for too long. If he splurges on a big trip somewhere, he won’t go back for a while. When he lives in a new place, he stays there for a long time, discovering every nook and cranny before he allows himself to relocate. 

He’s done that with Osamu already, and trying to move on from him is far different than leaving a city. 

“A part of me thinks I could remind him of his past life. Jog his memory if I just told him everything,” Rintarou adds before shaking his head. “But if he remembers, would I want to put myself through losing him again?” 

His sister hums over the speaker, taking a contemplative sip of her beer. He sees the look on her face. Even she remembers well what Rintarou was like when they’d met — A shell of a man. It wasn’t just because Osamu had died, but the fact that he’d watched him grow older without him and had to accept that. 

Since then, he’s come to terms with it, mostly. He makes mortal friends, but the nice thing about the modern era is that he gets to photograph them as much as he wants. He’ll remember them in hundreds of years. He’s happy to carry the memory of them and lives well lived. 

Rintarou sighs, shaking his head and letting his thoughts simmer. As much as he wishes to see Osamu again, he thinks this is for the better. What would he even do with an Osamu that didn’t remember him?

“Also, you know how dating’s changed,” Rintarou adds. “What if he breaks up with me?”

Yori barks out a laugh and Rintarou frowns. “I’m serious.” 

“No, I’m laughing because you’re right. People have real standards these days.” 

Rintarou rolls his eyes, ignoring her snide remark. “I just wouldn’t want to ruin what I had with the past Osamu. What we had was enough.”

The next day, Rintarou goes to a new café, forcing himself to be more aware of his surroundings as he carries his latte to his table. It’s quiet on a weekday afternoon with only a few students studying or chatting. 

He takes his picture and messes around with it before posting, satisfied as he also logs the visit in an app. Today’s café is another one he can add to his list. 

Before he digs into his mango cheesecake, Rintarou briefly looks up, only to see Miya Osamu standing in front of the door. 

It’s a shock all over again seeing him here and alive, but Rintarou has to believe this is a coincidence since it isn’t that far from yesterday’s café. He watches Osamu look around for a bit, only for him to stop and smile shyly when their eyes meet.

There isn’t even time to react before Osamu walks over to him, as if he’d come here looking for Rintarou.

“Hi again,” Osamu says, his voice still rendering Rintarou speechless. He can only nod in greeting like an idiot, neck craned as he tries to make sense of Osamu’s sudden appearance. 

“Uh, I know this is gonna sound really forward, and honestly pretty creepy,” the other man starts, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. Rintarou realizes belatedly that he seems a little nervous. “But I remembered ya sayin’ you’d go to another café down the street yesterday, so I was hopin’ I’d catch ya here. I wanted to see ya again.” 

Rintarou can’t help but snort, shaking his head as he gestures to the seat across from him. Fate has to be toying with him. 

“It’s fine,” he muses, watching as Osamu takes the chair. There’s a pleased smile on his face that makes Rintarou’s heart ache from its familiarity, but he brushes it aside to properly revel in the man’s presence. He’d really gone out of his way to meet Rintarou again, as if to test his resolve. 

He knows what he’d told his sister last night. But he shouldn’t be surprised that Osamu could get him to question his decision in seconds. Nothing has changed, apparently. 

“Ya said ya keep a map of all the places you’ve been?” Osamu asks conversationally. “Have ya been to a lot?”

Rintarou feels his lips curve in a small smile, amused by Osamu’s attempt to get to know him. He decides to entertain it, content to just chat with Osamu and have him around. 

“Yeah, I pin everything in this app meant for tracking cafés and restaurants I've been to,” he explains, showing Osamu his phone. He points out all the features, stealing glimpses of Osamu’s expression to see that he’s actually still interested. He even asks questions, and Rintarou finds himself talking a lot more than he’d meant to. 

“Before I had this,” he gestures to his phone, “I would grab a map from the tourist station in whatever city I was in and just tick spots off with a pen. I didn’t write anything else about it ‘cause I was lazy.

“I kind of regret that because now when people ask me about those cities, I don’t have much to say. Now I can just write a few thoughts and upload photos. I think that’s cool.”

Osamu chuckles lightly, his fingers playing with a straw wrapper as he looks at Rintarou. He’s become more relaxed throughout the course of their conversation, and Rintarou can’t even deny that he’s openly staring at him now. It makes his heart beat a little too fast, an inexplicable uneasiness settling in his stomach. 

“Yeah. I like that.” He grins, tilting his head to the side. “I like how amazed ya sound when ya talk about it. You’re like a guy that time-traveled from the past and just discovered the mobile phone.”

Rintarou lets out a huff of a laugh, because ironically, he might as well have been. After the Edo period, development and modernization in the Meiji period were so rapid, it’s still almost unbelievable what he can do at the press of a button now. Not that this Osamu would understand. 

He didn’t really get to talk to the previous Osamu like this. In the years they’ve been apart, Rintarou has experienced so much more and found so many new interests and hobbies. A part of him wishes Osamu was an immortal, so they could talk forever. He likes this. 

But he’s also only spoken to this Osamu twice. This is really only the second day Osamu’s known of his existence. Rintarou needs to reel it in.

“You’ve been to so many places,” Osamu marvels as he scrolls through Rintarou’s list. “And in so many different countries. How have ya had the time? Ya can’t be that much older than me.”

Rintarou blinks. The thing with age is that Rintarou doesn’t actually know how old he’s supposed to be. Technically, he’s supposed to be 635, but that obviously isn’t going to fly with most people. He and Yori have theorized that they must be in their mid to late twenties — Whenever they’ve biologically peaked and before any bodily systems could deteriorate at all. But it also doesn’t seem reasonable to tell people they’re only twenty-five when they’ve done so much. 

“I’m in my late twenties,” he answers, and Osamu laughs out loud. 

“You embarrassed by your age or somethin’?” he teases. “I’m twenty-eight if that makes ya feel better.” 

“Oh.” Rintarou bites back a grin. “Yeah. I’m twenty-eight.”

They share a look, and for a moment, Rintarou really does feel twenty-eight from how weightless he feels. The afternoon sunlight streams in and hits Osamu’s profile just right, illuminating golden skin. He looks so warm and inviting, Rintarou almost leans in. 

“Well, what is a twenty-eight-year-old like you doing here in the middle of the day?” Rintarou asks, as if the question couldn’t be flipped back on him. 

“Oh! I’m in the process of openin’ another branch of my restaurant. It’s called ‘Onigiri Miya’. The first one’s in Osaka,” Osamu explains, pulling out his own phone to show Rintarou the restaurant’s social media. It looks quite professional and has quite a large following for a business. He sees the Tokyo branch announcement post a little further down. 

“So are you moving here?”

“For a good while, yep.” Osamu nods. “So I’m new to the city and don’t know a thing. My family and most of my friends are all in Hyogo or Osaka.” 

“Do you like Tokyo so far?”

They end up talking for so long that Rintarou only realizes time has passed when the light on Osamu’s face has turned orange and the employees are starting to put the signs away.

“Excuse me,” a polite barista walks over to their table. “But we’re closing soon.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.” Rintarou looks over at Osamu and they share a quiet laugh, shaking their heads over their own inattention. They exit the café together, bathed in the setting sun’s rays as people pass by them on the street. Rintarou feels weirdly at peace. 

“Hey,” Osamu calls softly. He turns to him and there’s something so strange but comforting about seeing Osamu here, wearing a hoodie instead of his yukata; standing in front of a modern Tokyo café instead of the gates in front of his family’s shrine. 

“Would it be okay if I saw ya again soon?” Osamu asks.

Rintarou should say no. He should say goodbye and let this small blip in the timeline carry his memory for the rest of eternity. A little treat for all these years without Osamu. 

But he’s missed him so dearly, only made more apparent now that he’s actually here. He wants to see him again. 

“Sure," he replies, as if he hasn't longed to see Osamu again for centuries. "I’d like that.” 

❀

Osamu appears in his dream that night. The dream is more of a memory, and save for a couple of details, Rintarou’s subconscious does a decent job recalling the important things. He would have thought he’d actually gone to the past if it hadn’t been for a few strange components, like the layout of the shrine and the calligraphy hanging on the wall being all wrong. 

There’s food laid out in front of him, somehow smelling delicious despite it only being a dream. Rintarou remembers this meal and this moment. 

Osamu pours tea over his rice, and Rintarou watches the steam rise before he looks at the other man. He sees the way his eyes dance at the mere prospect of supper, always so excited about food. He’s careful with serving Rintarou, gently placing a small bowl of pickled daikon and a plate of grilled tofu in front of him. 

Osamu seals it with a kiss to the crown of his head before he moves to serve his brother. 

“I can do without the kiss, thanks,” Atsumu says bluntly. Osamu only smacks his head after putting down all his dishes. 

Something warm settles in Rintarou’s stomach before he even starts eating. The memory wraps around him, holding him tightly as it refuses to slip away even after hundreds of years. There’s nothing special about this meal or what Atsumu said. It’s only so vivid because Osamu was so consistent in how caring he was at mealtimes.

It was his favourite part of the day, and he was always so thoughtful when it came to sharing it with them. Rintarou could never forget it. 

He wakes up as soon as he brings the spoon to his mouth in his dream. His stomach growls, and embarrassingly enough, he has to wipe drool from the corner of his mouth. 

When he blinks awake, his vision is blurry, and Rintarou belatedly realizes his eyes are wet with unshed tears.

His thoughts are clouded by Osamu the whole morning, the dream and their time together at the café replaying in his head over and over. Even a shower can’t help him relax, and after thumping his forehead against the tile a few times, he decides to at least be productive about it. 

One quick search of Onigiri Miya takes him to the Osaka location and its social media, finding all the announcements for the new location in the capital. 

Rintarou finds himself smiling at the photos. He was originally surprised that a business had so many followers, but less so now when he sees multiple posts with Osamu in it. It seems that no matter what era they’re in, people will always find Miya Osamu charming. 

He isn’t sure why he’s never heard of the restaurant before, especially when he’s been to Osaka and it seems that the onigiri is popular. A lot of influencers, even foreign ones, go to make videos on Osamu’s food. 

Perhaps he’d been subconsciously avoiding it, stepping far away when he saw the name Miya. Maybe he thought it’d be disappointing when he walked in, knowing Osamu wasn’t going to be there. If only he'd found out and dared to visit sooner.

Rintarou scrolls a bit further until his eyes land on a post that makes him freeze. His thumb hovers above the thumbnail before clicking on a picture of Osamu with his twin. 

A sense of relief floods through Rintarou at the sight of Osamu’s brother. He hadn’t even realized he’d been worried that the twins did not reincarnate together. He knows how important they were to each other — To have them separated would have been wrong. 

He clicks on the tagged account, a bit astonished to see that both twins had been given the same names as their predecessors. What’s even more startling is that this Atsumu is a famous volleyball player. An Olympic athlete. And an extremely blond one at that, which Rintarou can’t help but chuckle about. 

How has Rintarou never seen him? Maybe he should have paid a little more attention to the last few Olympics, but he and Yori went glamping in Hokkaido during the Tokyo games. You can only watch so many Olympics in your lifetime and neither of them wanted to be present in the host city. 

Atsumu posts a lot, Rintarou notes. He has photos with friends, family, and random shots. There’s a picture of Atsumu posing with his billboard in Osaka and a few clips from games that Rintarou curiously goes through. 

“It’s MSBY’s Miya Atsumu’s turn to show off his impressive serve,” the commentator announces in one video. “The stadium knows it’s time to go silent.”

And right on cue, Atsumu raises his fist and silences the crowd. Rintarou bursts out laughing, pleased to see that the man hasn’t changed at all in the modern era. He finds it quite endearing to know his friend is still just as insufferable. 

For the rest of the day, he lies on his sofa watching Atsumu’s volleyball games, thoroughly entertained by his grit and dedication to pulling off ridiculous plays. 

An incoming call from Osamu has him dropping his phone, the screen landing on his nose painfully. 

Rintarou stops breathing for a moment, scrubbing a hand over his face before he stares at Osamu’s name lit up on his screen. He briefly worries that giving his number had been a mistake. 

After another moment of hesitating, he clears his throat and picks up.

“Yo.” Rintarou cringes at himself.

“Hey. Sorry it’s last minute, but would ya wanna grab dinner?”

“Oh.” Rintarou blinks. His hand clutches at the front of his shirt, strangely nervous as he considers Osamu’s invite. He figures there’s no harm in a dinner. “Yeah. I’m down.”

“Cool,” Osamu replies, and Rintarou swears he can hear his smile in his voice. “Ya have anywhere ya wanna go?”

“No,” Rintarou answers. “You can pick.” 

“Then I’ll send ya a place. Is 5 too early?”

“5 is fine.”

“Okay. I’ll see ya then.”

“See you.” 

Rintarou hangs up and stares at his phone for what feels like an eternity before he falls back onto his sofa. His heart is hammering, loud in his quiet apartment as he ruminates on their call. The sound of Osamu’s voice, so close to him, reverberates through his bones, so clear despite it having to go through a network.

He rubs at his eyes and sighs, forcing himself up to get ready and presentable. His fingers feel like they’re buzzing and his stomach is in knots. He’s hundreds of years old, but Rintarou somehow feels like a high schooler in today’s movies with the adrenaline he’s feeling from one little phone call. 

Osamu picks a seafood restaurant inside a hotel, already at the door when Rintarou arrives. Just the sight of him standing there has his face warming, that same rush he felt when he stood before the café. His existence still feels so surreal, that Rintarou has to remind himself to stay cool when Osamu starts talking. 

“Hey,” Osamu greets. “Thanks for comin’. The head chef’s an acquaintance and she invited me to eat here, but I thought it’d be better with someone else.”

Rintarou nods, throat suddenly locked up as he tries to find his words. He doesn’t think that Osamu might have asked him on a date, but when they follow the host to their table, a part of him wants to pretend he did. 

This is new for him. Sure, he’s gone on what you’d call dates. Immortals need to pass the time, and letting someone wine and dine you is just one of those activities. But Rintarou has never done this with feelings involved, because when the last Osamu was alive, fancy restaurants, movie theatres, and amusement parks didn’t exist yet.

“Thanks for asking me to come,” Rintarou says genuinely, forcing himself to maintain eye contact. He’s way too old to be acting shy. 

Osamu’s lips curve into a soft smile, and his eyes tell Rintarou he’s relieved — The fact that he can still read his face so well shocks him a bit. Was Osamu worried he wouldn’t agree?

The thing with Rintarou’s dates in the past was that they were catered carefully to fit whatever he wanted that evening. He knew he was in no position to commit to another mortal, nor did he care to. Sometimes, he just wanted company or another body in his bed. 

Other times, he just needed to hear someone talk about their life; needed to hear what someone was doing with their limited time. He didn’t have to get to know them. A warm meal and hearing the tribulations of someone who knew life was short was enough for someone who would live for eternity. 

But with Osamu, he wants to know who he is and what he’s like. It’s as if conversation never runs out, especially because this Osamu’s life is so different. From how he grew up to his current perspectives — Rintarou wonders if the Osamu who existed mostly during the Tokugawa period would have been the same had he been born in this era. 

“Did you always know you’d open Onigiri Miya?” 

Osamu chuckles, a faraway smile gracing his lips at Rintarou’s question. “No. Well, it was always at the back of my mind. I was supposed to play volleyball professionally.”

His twin brother comes to mind, and Rintarou curiously wonders if there’d been an injury that stopped Osamu. 

“Supposed to?” he asks, hoping he isn’t crossing a line. Osamu shrugs, but he doesn’t look put off. He seems to welcome any of his questions. 

“Just wasn’t what I really wanted to do. It was my twin’s dream to play together or even against each other. He thought I was givin’ up a lot by quittin’ in high school.”

That sounds like Atsumu. Rintarou tries to tamp down a smirk, far too amused by how consistent Atsumu’s reincarnation is with his past self. 

“And did you?”

Osamu shakes his head. “Nah. I’m right where I wanna be.”

There’s confidence in his words, but a lack of arrogance tells Rintarou that he’d likely struggled to gain that sureness in himself. Now, Osamu has his head resting in his palm calmly, contentedly, and it’s undeniably attractive. Rintarou can’t help but look his fill. 

“Have I told ya about my twin?”

“Atsumu?” 

Osamu cocks his head, a curious but amused look on his face. “I was just askin’ ‘cause I didn’t think I did, and most people react a little, I dunno, surprised, when I tell them I got a twin. I thought maybe ya just don’t get shocked by these things, but ya even know his name already.” 

Rintarou blinks. He has to comb through his memories, unsure if what he knows about Atsumu came from this Osamu or not. Then he remembers he only just found out Atsumu was alive this morning. He feels his face heat up, realizing he may have slipped up and exposed his online stalking. 

He could lie and just say he’d seen him playing volleyball on TV before, but lying to Osamu over something so trivial feels wrong. 

“Okay, for the record, I wasn’t stalking you,” Rintarou mumbles, picking up his drink so he can avert his eyes. “I was just looking up Onigiri Miya, and then one thing led to another.” 

Osamu laughs. “Right. Then ya know about him?”

Rintarou ducks behind his glass, earning another chuckle from the other man. “Yeah. I do.” 

He peeks over his drink at Osamu and sees that he looks more pleased than unsettled by Rintarou’s internet search. A moment of bravery has Rintarou asking another question, recalling the dream he had last night. 

“I saw your restaurant’s account,” he admits, remembering the videos of bustling lunch hours and Osamu himself as he made his onigiri. “Was it a marketing tactic to feature you so much?”

Rintarou can’t help his grin when Osamu rolls his eyes at his teasing, perhaps going a little pink from the subtle compliment he’d given. “My socials manager said it’d bring more customers in and I just do whatever she asks. But I hope customers are coming in for my food more than they are for me.” 

Rintarou chuckles, letting himself appreciate Osamu for a moment without being too obvious. His fingers itch to reach out and touch, wanting to trace along the features he thought he’d long lost. From the bridge of his nose, to his dark lashes, to the nape of his neck. He wants to memorize it all over again. 

“Would ya be down to try my cookin’ one day?” Osamu suddenly asks, snapping him out of his daze. Rintarou looks up at the question and feels a lump in his throat. 

“You’re gonna cook for me?” His voice sounds tight and he hopes Osamu doesn’t notice. It doesn’t seem that he does because that hopeful shine in his eyes remains. Rintarou clears his throat. 

“Yeah!” Osamu gets excited about the idea, unaware of the turmoil happening inside Rintarou. “I love cookin’ for my friends, but I haven’t been able to do it in a while since movin’ here. I’ll make ya whatever you’re cravin’.” 

An uneasiness settles in Rintarou’s stomach. He thinks of the past Osamu’s cooking and how vivid it had been in his dream last night — He still thinks he knows it like the back of his hand. After decades of eating the food Osamu prepared, a few centuries can’t make him forget how it tasted. But those few centuries have definitely changed how people prepare food.

So he worries that, even if they’re the same person and have the same passion for cooking, what if it doesn’t taste the way he remembers? And something about any discrepancy scares him. 

But Osamu is looking at him so earnestly, his gray eyes glowing gold from their table’s tealight. Rintarou swallows, unable to deny him because even if everything else is different, Osamu’s eyes are unchanged. They look just like that first day they’d met at the shrine, when Osamu asked if he’d eaten yet.

“Okay, sure,” he replies. Osamu brightens, and Rintarou couldn’t possibly find it in himself to say no to him. “You can cook whatever you want. I’m sure it’ll be good.” 

Osamu grins. “I’ll make sure it’s the best thing ya ever tasted.” 

For the next few days, Rintarou gets completely absorbed in researching reincarnation. He wants to know more, asking Yori what she might know and even going to the library.

He actually does find a few things — Books that explain reincarnation and mentions of different legends. Some were based in religion but others were records kept by families blessed by gods. Rintarou knew he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find any mention of the Miya twins, and honestly, the idea of reading through all these books was daunting. 

So he leaves the library and opens his laptop when he remembers that it’s a viable option. At first, it feels like a bombardment of fiction or digitized versions of the books he’d seen at the library. 

Then he stumbles upon a YouTube video titled, “Family Legends in Japan: Their Pet Dog is Inari?” 

Rintarou snorts a little at the title, but clicks on it anyway, curious about the family legends part. Many families have some kind of story involving blessings and curses from the divine — Maybe she knows something about his own. Plus, videos are so much easier to consume.

“Hi everyone, it’s Hitomi! Welcome back to my channel!” a pretty, young woman exclaims, gesturing animatedly as she speaks. There’s mellow music in the back with traditional instruments that Rintarou quite likes, and her background is nicely decorated. He lets the video play as he grabs himself a drink and some snacks. 

“If you’re new here, I hope you enjoy one of many videos about family legends in Japan, datin’ all the way back to the Nara period when the Kojiki and Nihon Shoki were compiled,” she says. “As always, I do my own research and conduct my own interviews when I can, so information may be inaccurate or incomplete at times. This is really just my own hobby that I do for fun.

“So, today I’ll be talkin’ about the Kita family, and how all their family dogs become possessed by Inari.” 

Rintarou spends a lot of time watching her videos, munching on his snacks as he falls down a rabbit hole. Some of her stories date from even before the Nara period, and those families have still been able to pass down their legend to her. 

He even gets to one about immortality, and it isn’t until she explains how the immortality curse came to be that he realizes she’s talking about his family. She doesn’t say Suna, but she does refer to the clan name that he’d come from, and that tells him just how legit she is. 

He grins to himself as he listens, amused by her dedication but also satisfied that he seems to at least have some kind of lead. And he has to admit, he’s entertained. The more he watches, the more he wonders how she’d gotten this information. Whoever told her all this is surely still roaming the Earth today. He wonders which of his distant relatives she’d been able to interview. 

Once the video is over, he sends it to Yori, and then scrolls a little further to find the woman’s first video. She introduces herself and says the kanji for her name literally has the word history in it, but it’s because her own family really values the legend that’s been passed down for generations. 

“My own interest in these stories stems from that,” she explains, pulling out a few journals and books to show to the camera. “There’s lots of writin’ on it by other members of my family. They’re big on record keepin’ to make sure it doesn’t die out. So I guess this channel is my way of keepin’ it alive.

“Some of the paintings are actually in museums,” she says, and Rintarou feels himself wake up a little, thinking of what could possibly have made this woman’s family value their divine story so much. 

“Basically, my cousins on my father’s side are twins.” She pauses, and Rintarou finds himself waiting with bated breath. “And it is said that they have been blessed to reincarnate every few generations.” 

Rintarou lets out a breathy laugh, astounded at what a coincidence this would be if it really was about the Miya twins. If it were, does that mean Osamu would know?

“The story my family has tried to preserve goes like this: A goddess regained her status when two twin boys repaired and maintained her shrine, and she loved them both so much that she gave them the blessin’ to reincarnate together. She wanted to grace the Earth with their presence again and again.

“The writin’ is mainly done by other family members because they want us to remember a goddess has blessed us, and I strongly believe them. It’s been hard to locate written records from the twins themselves, but I’ve found paintings of them in museums.”

A picture taken from what looks like her museum trip pops up, and Rintarou chuckles at the dated art style that barely showed any defining features. If he squinted his eyes and tilted his head at a certain angle, maybe he could convince himself that this was his Osamu. 

Rintarou tries to remember the time around when Osamu passed, but he’d been too heartbroken to really go through his things. He’d left everything, not wanting to linger at the shrine any longer. Not when he knew he’d spend the rest of eternity without his lover. He couldn’t carry material objects for that long. 

He tries to recall Osamu writing, but he’d only been educated briefly, and Rintarou taught him most of his reading and writing. He can’t imagine him sitting down to make a record of his life as a reincarnation, even if his family had encouraged him to. The same could be said about Atsumu.

But now he’s left wondering, if Osamu had known then, why didn’t he tell Rintarou?

He feels a little breathless as he closes his laptop, stomach slightly knotted from either his snacks or the possibility that Osamu might know he is a reincarnation. 

Rintarou could ask. But that would mean explaining why he’d been doing this research in the first place, and how he’d come to the conclusion that this video was about Osamu’s family. 

And Rintarou does not want to talk about his time with his previous life, as much as he’d like Osamu to understand why he would bring up something like that. He doesn’t want to tell him about their relationship and the love they shared, because he still isn’t sure he can handle Osamu remembering everything.

Even if his feelings reincarnated with him, things wouldn’t be the same. They wouldn’t be in the comfort of their shrine, far from everyone else. And at some point, Rintarou will have to say goodbye again. It’s for the best that Osamu doesn’t recall the past. 

Except it’s hard to keep his memory to himself when they’ve been seeing each other more and messaging each other so much. Rintarou tries to remind himself that friendship is fine for now; that at this distance, he can pretend these two Osamus are separate entities.

One morning, before he and Osamu had scheduled their next dinner plans, Rintarou gets a text from the other man. 

 

Miya Osamu: Morning!

Miya Osamu: I know we’re meeting next Saturday but I wanted to know if you’d be free today to see my shop 

Miya Osamu: It’s not totally done yet but I feel like I’m gonna explode. I need to show someone before the soft opening. It’s starting to look really good :)

 

Rintarou’s lips quirk up, feeling Osamu’s pride radiating from his message. His heart clenches, and a hopeful part of him thinks that maybe Osamu also just really wants to see him sooner. 

He texts back an affirmative, and for the rest of the day, imagines what Onigiri Miya might look like. 

When he actually gets there that evening, close to sunset, he finds Osamu standing in the middle snapping pictures of the bar.

“Suna!” He gives him a smile so arresting that it almost has Rintarou stuck at the entrance, worrying that he’s made a mistake by letting himself indulge like this. 

He only steps further into the restaurant when Osamu gestures at him, his thumbs returning to tap on his screen briefly before he pockets his phone. 

“Sorry, we’re still tryna figure out the bar chairs. I woulda liked for you to sit here,” Osamu explains, patting the counter. Rintarou studies the space, taking in the interior and how it reflects Osamu. 

It’s cozy. The perfect place to catch up with friends or to have a quiet moment to yourself. He glances at Osamu and huffs a laugh when he sees how hard he’s trying to contain his grin. 

“It looks really good so far,” Rintarou says, and Osamu unleashes that bright smile, brimming with pride. It touches Rintarou, feeling the man’s happiness spreading to him. He wants to tell him that he’s proud of him, but he isn’t sure if their friendship is there yet. 

“Thanks. It’s nice to have a new location. I get to add what I woulda liked at the first one.” Osamu starts a little tour of the restaurant, showing Rintarou the new gadgets and operation optimizations he’d requested for a smoother workday. Rintarou listens, trying to fully take in what Osamu’s saying. But he doesn’t really understand what it’s like to run a restaurant.

Instead, he focuses on the passion in Osamu’s voice, hearing the excitement he has over everything in the establishment. He enjoys hearing how his mind works and learning what a typical day at the restaurant looks like for him. Osamu walks him through his prep to service, cracking jokes here and there that have Rintarou’s shoulders loosening. He doesn’t even realize how hard he’s laughing until he has to wipe a tear from his eye. 

“You actually can’t be serious,” Rintarou snorts. The tour has concluded, but they haven’t left the restaurant yet. He sits across from Osamu at the table, as if they were customers themselves with no one else in the room. 

“Yep. He’s so evil, I don’t even know how he comes up with this shit. Any time someone tries to hit on him, he tells them to go to Onigiri Miya and he’ll make somethin’ nice for them.” 

Rintarou cackles at how shameless this era’s Atsumu is. 

“And do you?”

“Well, yeah, I can’t have them sayin’ bad things about the restaurant as revenge on 'Tsumu,” Osamu scoffs. “But this is how he ghosts people. And I have to be the one to tell them my asshole brother tricked them. And then I have to make them free food to console them.”

“He’s sick,” Rintarou chuckles, shaking his head. He imagines Osamu trying not to blow a fuse as he gently explains to his identical twin’s prospects that a prank had been pulled on them. 

“Speakin’ of that creature,” Osamu starts, and suddenly, his relaxed demeanour becomes a little restless. He fiddles with the hem of his shirt. “He’s comin’ to visit soon. For the soft openin’.”

“Oh.” Rintarou leans back in his chair. “When’s that?”

“About three weeks from now,” he replies. “My parents will be comin’, too. And some of my best friends.” 

Osamu pauses, a shy smile playing at his lips. “I wanted to invite ya. Maybe you could meet them.”

Rintarou’s eyes widen, his heart rate picking up when he thinks about the reason Osamu wants him to meet the people that mean so much to him.

“Really?” he ekes out, clearing his throat to sound less affected. “You want me to meet them?”

“‘Course I do. You’re like, my only friend in Tokyo,” Osamu chuckles. “They wanna know who ya are, since I’ve told them about ya.” 

So he tells them about Rintarou.

He tries not to let himself get hopeful about it, but his mind supplies him with all kinds of different scenarios in which Osamu brings him up to the people he cares about the most. What does he sound like when he talks about him? Has he only said good things?

“Sure,” Rintarou says, as coolly as possible even as his heart thumps in his chest. “I wanna know who you hung out with in Hyogo.” 

Osamu grins, his cheeks turning a little rosy. Rintarou finds himself smiling back. 

They end up having more to talk about, which should be impossible because Rintarou feels like he’s said everything that could ever be said. 

But even if conversation runs out, Rintarou has this gut feeling that the quiet would be comfortable too. Or maybe it isn’t so much a gut feeling than real experience. He remembers moments lying on the tatami beside Osamu, the sliding door open as they let the breeze in on warmer days. They wouldn’t say a word. Sometimes, they barely even looked at each other. They would do their own thing, content with simply being in the same space. 

And that’s how he feels with this Osamu, happy to even be in his orbit. But perhaps that’s because Rintarou understands how limited time is now. He knows these moments of quietude together can be fleeting. 

They settle at a busy izakaya that Osamu has on his list of places to try. 

“I was inspired by your café list,” Osamu says sheepishly, showing Rintarou his compilation. Rintarou points out the ones he’s been to and liked, continuing their conversation over skewers and pints of beer. 

“No way,” a familiar voice suddenly calls from behind him. He sees the way Osamu blinks at the newcomer, and Rintarou already knows which friend behind him has on his shit-eating grin. 

He turns to find his friends, Komori and Washio, on their way out of the izakaya. Komori had invited him out earlier to join them, but Rintarou was already at Onigiri Miya when he asked. 

The look in Komori’s eyes says he’s conjuring up his own story, likely assuming he’s run into Rintarou on a date. Even Washio is studying Osamu with some purpose. 

“Hey, man,” Komori greets, clapping Rintarou on the shoulder. He expects some teasing, but to his surprise, Komori nods at Osamu and says, “I know you. You’re Miya Osamu.”

Osamu’s eyebrows go up, also surprised that Rintarou’s friends know who he is. 

“Your brother plays on my cousin’s team. And Washio’s friend’s, too,” Komori continues, gesturing at the man beside him. 

“Who’s your cousin and his friend?” 

“Sakusa Kiyoomi’s my cousin. Bokuto’s his friend,” Komori replies. He slaps Rintarou’s shoulder. “See, you’d know this if you watched the games with us.”

“I already told you. I play. I don’t watch.” Rintarou rolls his eyes. His stomach turns at the thought of finding out in the middle of a game night that the twins, or at least Atsumu, had been reincarnated. 

“Hah. Sakusa? I never woulda guessed,” Osamu chuckles lightly. 

“I know, I know,” Komori jokes. He gives Rintarou a parting pat on the back before he withdraws, Washio quietly in tow. “I’ll leave you guys to it. It was nice meeting you, Osamu. Suna, we’ll catch you next time.” 

Rintarou lifts a hand to wave, unsurprised that he didn’t get a single word in. Osamu looks amused when he turns back to him. 

“He didn’t even introduce himself,” Rintarou sighs, shaking his head fondly. “Weird eyebrows was Komori. The quiet guy next to him was Washio.”

“Small world,” he laughs. “You guys good friends?” 

“Yeah.” Rintarou nods, finding himself grinning. “Probably my best friends.” 

He met Komori and Washio shortly after the other two graduated university and joined the neighbourhood’s volleyball club. Rintarou dropped in once in a while just to burn some energy. 

But he’d somehow become drawn to the two of them, and the three of them were unstoppable when they were on the court together. They started hanging out after scrimmages and eventually began seeing each other as friends. 

Normally, Rintarou avoided close friendships. He stayed friendly enough with people to satiate his boredom and to keep his lingo updated. He kept his distance so that drifting away was easier when his age was no longer believable. 

But Komori and Washio didn’t let him go, and Rintarou is truthfully glad that they’ve maintained their friendship. 

He even told them about his immortality, and now whenever Komori sees him, he only ever greets him in one way.

“Hello, village elder,” his friend says, handing him a soda as soon as he walks into Washio’s apartment one night later. Rintarou takes the can, rolling his eyes when Komori looks at him impishly.

“What?” he asks, though he’s pretty certain he knows what’s got Komori bouncing on his heels as he trails him further into the room. 

Washio stands behind his stove cooking, wearing the Statue of David apron Rintarou got him as a birthday gift from Italy. “Hi, Washio.”

“Hi, Suna,” his friend replies, stoic as ever. Then he gives him a small smile. “Your favourite ice cream was on sale. It’s in the freezer.”

“Oh!” Rintarou beams, giving the man a tight squeeze before poking his head into the freezer.

He’s content for all of two seconds before Komori slams the freezer door closed. It almost takes his nose off his face. 

“Hey,” Rintarou scowls. Komori gives him a serious look. 

“You walked away before I could answer you.” He crosses his arms and raises a brow, and Rintarou gets the sense he’s about to be interrogated. “What were you doing with a handsome man like Miya Osamu? How did you meet? When did you meet? Are you seeing each other?”

Rintarou gets grilled and monotonously answers every question, even as they fill bowls of rice and Washio quietly puts down the plates of food for each of them. 

“So you’ve just been hanging out?” Komori questions, before wiggling his brows suggestively. “Or could there be something more?”

Rintarou worries his bottom lip at the question, chopsticks tapping at his bowl as he mulls over it. 

“I…think there could be something. But, I don’t know.” He replies honestly, shaking his head. “I haven’t told him about the whole immortality thing. I didn’t think we’d get this close.”

“Do you like him?” Komori asks.

A knot forms in Rintarou’s chest. How could he not like Osamu? 

“Maybe,” he answers simply. His friend snorts. 

“It seems like he wants to be closer to you. He invites you to spend more time with him,” Washio jumps in, pushing more of the daikon to Rintarou since he likes it. “I think, regardless of what direction your relationship goes, you could tell him about the immortality thing.” 

Washio’s words melt like the braised daikon in his mouth, and Rintarou remembers that Osamu wanted to cook for him, too. And he knows how much that means for someone like him. He swallows, trying to get that knot to loosen.

“It’s a little more complicated than that,” he mumbles. 

“Nah, I’m sure he’ll be chill about it,” Komori says, waving his hand dismissively. “Like Washio and me. He’ll get over the initial shock. And if he doesn’t, you still have us.”

His friends grin at him so sincerely, Rintarou realizes he can’t leave out such an important part of the issue.

“Thanks, guys. But the thing is,” he starts, jabbing the back of his chopsticks into his temple, “I knew him about 400 years ago. I think the twins are reincarnations.”

He watches as Komori’s mouth falls agape and Washio’s eyebrows go up, and the two men share a look.

“So, you were friends with Osamu 400 years ago?” Washio asks. 

Rintarou looks away and mumbles, “I was in love with him 400 years ago.”

“Oh.” Komori laughs incredulously. “Oh! Wow, I would not have guessed that was what you were about to say.”

Rintarou sighs, but he sees them give their rapt attention just before Washio earnestly says, “You can tell us everything.”

So he spends the rest of dinner recounting his past with Osamu. How they met, the time they had together that just wasn’t enough, and how Rintarou felt when he lost him.

It’s over a large bowl of ice cream when he says, “I don’t know if I can go through all that again.” 

His friends are quiet after that, letting his words hang in the air. They will never understand what it’s like to spend the rest of eternity apart from a lover, and they know it. But they are nice enough to not acknowledge Rintarou’s cruel fate out loud. 

He hates this. He feels that resentment he’s held for his entire life toward that god boiling from its usual simmer. It makes him feel helpless, lonely, and exhausted, knowing mortality will rip away the person he loves again. He remembers when Osamu’s hair was turning gray, and his skin was growing leathery, leaving Rintarou behind and unchanged. He grits his teeth at the memory.

“I can tell him about my immortality,” he continues when no one says anything else. “But I don’t think I’ll try to be anything more with him. I don’t want him to remember the past. I’ll probably have to start keeping my distance soon. After he finds new friends in Tokyo.”

There’s a solemn look on both his friends’ faces, and Rintarou knows he’s said the reasonable thing. As much as he wants to keep Osamu close, he doesn’t want to say goodbye to him a second time. 

When Washio speaks, it surprises him. 

“Even after 400 years, you speak so fondly of him.”

“I—” Rintarou stammers, suddenly bashful over having his feelings so bluntly laid bare by someone else. 

“Has the pain you’ve felt all these years really compared to the love you still feel for him?”

Rintarou swallows, staring down at his ice cream melting in his bowl. He knows, if he had to do it all over again, he would. He would go back and lose Osamu a thousand times over rather than have never met him at all. 

“Oh,” is all he can muster out. Washio gives him a soft smile.

“If Osamu can find you again after dying and being reborn, then let time be the only thing that keeps you apart later.” Washio scoops a bit of the ice cream from his bowl into his. “Love him now while he’s here and alive.”

❀

Rintarou sits with Washio’s words for a few days, letting them sink in. He could. He wants to. But would Osamu?

He goes to Osamu’s apartment one afternoon to hang out, with the promise of a home-cooked meal later — Courtesy of the chef. When Rintarou arrives, Osamu looks excited, his eyes sparkling as he opens the door. He can already smell something delicious cooking.

“I haven’t been able to cook for anyone in a while and I almost feel like I’m goin’ crazy,” he jokes. 

Rintarou chuckles, but he feels Osamu’s loneliness. He knows he misses home, his family, and his friends. Rintarou reconsiders telling Osamu about his immortality. He just wants to be here for him without any complications. 

“Honestly, I’m always down for a meal,” Rintarou says, following Osamu further into the apartment. “My own culinary skills are lacking.”

Osamu laughs. “Then if ya like what I make tonight, I’ll keep cookin’ for ya.”

Rintarou smiles, feeling a warmth spreading through his chest even as a part of him aches. 

They put on a movie and sit a normal distance from each other on the couch. But it still feels like torture to Rintarou. He’s so aware of Osamu’s body beside his, tempting in the worst way. He just wants to lean on his solid figure and burrow himself into Osamu’s side. 

Even a touch of his hand or a leg thrown over a lap. Would he remember who they were to each other from a simple touch? 

Rintarou would take anything at this point. It feels cruel that the man he’d been in love with has returned almost 400 years later and Rintarou can’t even ask to touch him. He keeps to his end of the couch and takes a sip of tea. 

The movie is interesting. Something neither of them have seen yet. But he can barely focus when his mind keeps wandering to Osamu, and it’s never been more apparent to him that they are not lovers in this life. 

Later, when the movie ends, Rintarou finds himself sitting on the counter top as Osamu cooks. He watches him move with a practiced ease. He already knows his kitchen so well, despite only having moved here a few months prior. 

He cooks like it’s a second language that he’s grown fluent in. Rintarou feels mesmerized. He hasn’t seen Osamu cook in hundreds of years, but it’s so different this time. 

“What are you making?” he asks, sitting on his hands so he doesn’t try to reach out. 

“Pork belly. I already had the meat and daikon steaming for the past three hours,” Osamu explains, cutting the now tender meat. Rintarou inhales, mouth watering just before his stomach growls. 

Osamu laughs as he drops the cubes of pork into a pot. A sweet aroma wafts over to Rintarou and he can’t help but groan. 

“I’m gonna start drooling,” he says, pretending to grab at the pot’s contents. Osamu grins at him, a little smug in knowing how skilled he is. It’s cute, and so very Osamu. Rintarou puts his hand down and has to sit on it again. 

He helps set the table, and when they’re finally sitting down with the food, Rintarou’s heart suddenly starts to race. Despite how delicious dinner looks, his appetite gets replaced by nerves. 

He tries to hide it, keeping a straight face as they say thanks for the meal, but Osamu doesn’t start eating. Instead, he watches Rintarou with a hopeful, almost bashful smile. 

“Let me know if ya want me to add anythin’.”

Rintarou nods, picking up some of his rice and the pork with his chopsticks, willing himself to calm down as he eats his first bite. 

The meat is so tender it practically melts in his mouth. The daikon is slow cooked to perfection, slightly sweet and drenched in the marinade. The flavour is gentle but far from bland, and it feels like a warmth is wrapping around him when he swallows.

“Hey,” Osamu calls softly, interrupting his thoughts, and Rintarou belatedly realizes he’s crying. 

He’s mortified to find his cheeks wet with a trail of tears, and he’s ready to disappear when Osamu gets up and kneels in front of him. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know why—”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Osamu shushes him, handing him a tissue. Rintarou buries his face in it, letting it absorb his tears and hopefully his embarrassment. 

“It tastes really good,” he whispers, chuckling wetly. He hears Osamu’s quiet laughter as well, and lets himself peek from behind his tissue. 

“So good it moved ya to tears?” he pokes lightly.

Rintarou scoffs, but he still feels choked up. He was right. Cooking is entirely different from what it was hundreds of years ago. Flavours are stronger and the quality of meat has changed. 

But the care and love he felt in Osamu’s cooking has remained the same, and he can’t believe he gets to taste it again after so long. 

“Osamu,” he starts, and he takes Osamu’s hand for some reason. It feels like that kind of conversation. And Osamu doesn’t seem fazed at all, sliding his own palm into Rintarou’s. 

“I have to tell you something. You might not believe me, and that’s fine,” he says. “But I think you need to know. Otherwise, I’m just a freak that cried over dinner.” 

Osamu chuckles, a hint of nervousness in it, but he listens even when Rintarou tells him they should continue to eat while he talks. 

He tells him about his immortality, giving him every detail from how it came to be and how long he’s lived so far. Osamu only stops him to ask questions like how it works and what was his favourite era.

Rintarou smiles down at his half empty bowl of rice. “I actually like this one. I like my phone.”

Osamu grins, and Rintarou knows he needs to push on and just tell him. 

“But I also liked the Tokugawa period,” he says. “Because that’s when I met you.”

Osamu blinks, but his confusion is quickly replaced by understanding, and that answers one of the questions Rintarou had himself. 

“Ah.” He nods. “The me before me?” 

Rintarou smiles, shrugging. “Yeah.”

“Wow.” Osamu leans back in his chair, thinking to himself for a moment. Rintarou lets him, using the silence to regain his own composure. Osamu doesn’t seem to linger on why Rintarou had kept the secret for so long, and for that, he is grateful.

“Not that I didn’t, but I have to believe ya ‘cause y’know about my family legend without me even havin’ to tell ya about it,” Osamu marvels, still shaking his head in disbelief. “And were ya close?”

“We were.” Rintarou bites his bottom lip as he nods, holding the real truth at bay. He still doesn’t think Osamu needs to know it. “You love cooking just as much as you did before. And eating your food just reminded me of that.”

Osamu smiles, but it’s tinged with sadness.

“Ya miss him? Or me.” His brow furrows.

Rintarou chuckles, shaking his head. “I do. We were best friends.” 

There’s a tender look in Osamu’s eye, and this moment does make Rintarou consider them two completely separate entities. It’s like talking to someone else about his past life, his past love. For a split second, his Osamu and the one sitting in front of him now feel very different.

“Ya still seem to remember him so well after this long,” Osamu says softly. Rintarou tries to swallow down his emotions, unsure of how he’s making this current Osamu feel. But then he smiles kindly and adds, “He must’ve been a great guy.”

It catches Rintarou off guard when he hears himself laugh, the heaviness in his chest lifting as Osamu joins him. He hadn’t realized how much this had weighed on him, worrying that this Osamu would be hurt or confused by his past.

“So, what about you?” Rintarou volleys the conversation to Osamu. “To be honest, I also wanted to ask if you had a cousin that made YouTube videos. About history and stuff.”

It takes a second for Osamu to rack his brain before he barks a laugh. “Oh, Hitomi-chan! That kid’s so interestin’. Ya watched some of her videos?”

“Yeah,” Rintarou admits. “I was trying to find out more about reincarnation, and when she talked about her family, it sounded like it could be yours.” 

Osamu smiles fondly, shaking his head. “She thinks ‘Tsumu and I are super interestin’, and I can’t blame her. Our whole family has always been crazy about the legend, and now that we’ve been reborn in this era, our birthday is like, a huge deal.” 

Rintarou grins, imagining extravagant family banquets and gatherings. He hasn’t had that in so long, but picturing the entire Miya clan in it, celebrating what is essentially the coincidence that they were alive when the twins were reborn, is very sweet. 

“How do you guys keep the legend going?” Rintarou wonders, heart twisting a bit when he thinks of them knowing the past Osamu and talking about him to this day. 

“There are records of the last Miya twins, and some of the ones before them,” Osamu says. Rintarou knows this, remembering what Hitomi said about the paintings and journals. He wasn’t aware there’d been multiple before his Osamu. He doesn’t even realize he’s clenching his fists until the bite of his nails starts to sting. 

“Do you—” Rintarou clears his throat. “Do you know if anything the last twins wrote is out there? Or if there are other artifacts?”

He knows his voice sounds more eager than it should, and he hopes it doesn’t offend this Osamu. But he needs to know a piece of the past is still somewhere here. Somewhere he can find. 

“I’m sure there are,” Osamu says, his gentle tone a relief. Rintarou feels his shoulders loosen a bit. “I mean, there’s gotta be somethin’ from the last ‘Tsumu and I. I can’t imagine them not wantin’ to leave their own accounts.”

For a moment, Rintarou doesn’t know what to say. He feels guilty pushing it, reminding himself this Osamu doesn’t remember his past. He’s practically a completely different person, and Rintarou’s not doing a very good job of hiding the true nature of their past relationship.

Before he can swallow the lump in his throat and shove everything aside, Osamu reaches for the fist Rintarou has made on the table, lightly touching the back of his hand. 

“I can ask my family,” Osamu offers. “I’ll see if there’s anythin’ else they can tell ya.”

A swell of emotion runs through Rintarou, and he fears he might cry a second time tonight. He hasn’t really cried in years, but lately it feels like a dam has broken. He nods, grateful for how understanding Osamu is. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, inhaling until his chest feels less tight. He looks at Osamu’s fingers on his knuckles still, trying to decide what to make of it. He considers flipping his hand over, but instead he asks, “Wait, why’s your brother ‘Tsumu? Do you have a nickname?”

“Oh.” Osamu retracts his hand, rubbing his eyes in exasperation and maybe a little embarrassment. Rintarou mourns the loss of his touch, but he listens to Osamu explain how he and his twin decided to butcher the names the family gave them. 

It gnaws at him, wondering how this Osamu really feels. Nothing seems different, but Rintarou can’t imagine this is something to just brush off and move on from so easily. 

He tries to relax, hoping Osamu isn’t hiding his true thoughts, because Rintarou cares about him. It’s new in a way — Somehow different than how he cares about the past version of him. It doesn’t fill that hole in his heart, but it takes up its own space, and Rintarou wonders why that is and if he should allow it. 

❀

“He’s not replying?” Yori asks during their next video call. It’s been a week since that night at Osamu’s, and just when Rintarou thought they were going somewhere with their relationship, Osamu’s been responding to his messages less and less. 

“Not really. Or it’s pretty short texts back,” he sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “It freaked him out, didn’t it?”

“The immortality?” Yori gives him an apologetic smile. “Maybe. Can you blame the guy?”

Rintarou frowns, picking at a loose thread in his pants. He can’t blame Osamu. Who would want to take a chance with someone you can’t grow old with? Sure, the last Osamu did, but he spent most of his time in a shrine away from other people. Rintarou was the only person who became close to him. This era’s Osamu has a far larger dating pool. 

“No,” he says quietly in defeat. “I can’t.”

His sister stares at him for a moment before she says, “Well, it’s his loss.”

Rintarou laughs mirthlessly. “I mean, isn’t it good that we didn’t get more involved? You won’t have to deal with me after he inevitably dies again.” 

Yori’s eyes widen a fraction at his tone. He knows he’s being cold, and it’s obviously not Osamu’s fault that he’s mortal while Rintarou isn’t, but he can’t help his bitterness. Even after all these years, it chokes him when he thinks of how long he’s been alive without Osamu, living a life where he will always be missing by his side. 

“Hey,” Yori calls gently. Rintarou closes his eyes.

“Sorry,” he murmurs. 

She waves him off, telling him he has nothing to be sorry about, but he does feel bad for snapping. They quietly watch each other on their screens until Yori speaks again. 

“We’re always gonna feel lonely, Rin,” she starts softly. “That’s why it’s a curse.”

“Yeah,” he replies, letting the harsh reality wash over him. It doesn’t get easier no matter how many times he’s heard it or reminded himself of it. 

“But that doesn’t mean you aren’t allowed to love,” Yori continues. “You’re right. Osamu won’t live forever. But he’s found you after all these centuries, and who knows if or when he’ll show up again after this lifetime?”

Rintarou blinks. 

“Wait. What are you saying?”

“Will you regret being with him again more, or letting him slip away when you’ve missed him so much?” Yori asks, and it sounds a lot like what Washio said. But to hear it from Yori, his sister who understands his pain better than anyone, is entirely different. 

“Are you being serious?” Rintarou breathes, letting out an incredulous huff of laughter. “You don’t think this is a terrible idea?”

“No. This isn’t some indulgence like buying a few mansions to feel something.” She bats at the air dismissively. “This is Osamu. You aren’t going to be any happier letting this pass you by, and I really doubt you’re going to feel any less love for him.” 

Her words feel like the reason Rintarou has been trying to grasp at with no success, only this time, he does believe it. He ruminates on what she said, realizing that she’s right — All he’s going to feel is another hole in his chest, knowing that Osamu is on this Earth but not with him. 

“And plus,” Yori adds, an almost shy smile on her face. “You have me. Always. You won’t be completely alone this time.”

Rintarou smiles back, his gratitude for his sister only communicable through a light tap on the camera. He hopes she feels it, though. 

“Yeah,” he replies. “I know.”

Despite everything, he still feels a bit hesitant to message Osamu. Maybe he really isn’t interested, and Rintarou can’t force him to change how he feels. But a part of him doesn’t want to give up so easily, especially when Osamu never gave the impression that he’d been freaked out. 

He’s lying in bed and staring at his phone, deciding what he should say when a text from Osamu suddenly comes through, asking if he has time to call. Rintarou almost drops the device as he responds with a quick affirmative.

“Hi,” Osamu says when he picks up. He sounds almost winded. “Hey. I am so sorry I’ve been so bad at replyin’. Especially after that night.”

Rintarou swallows, trying to calm his heart rate. “No. No, it’s fine.” 

“Well, I didn’t want ya to think I was avoidin’ ya or anythin’. But with the soft openin’ happenin’ soon, I didn’t have a lot of free time.”

Rintarou quietly slaps his palm against his face. He’d completely forgotten that Osamu told him he’d be busy with his restaurant opening in a few weeks. 

“Right. That’s super soon,” Rintarou says stupidly. “Osamu, you don’t have to worry about me. I should’ve remembered. Don’t stress yourself about something as dumb as texting me back.” 

Osamu makes an almost offended noise that manages to draw a small grin out of Rintarou. “Nah, I’m gonna try my best. But I wanted to tell ya I’ve been thinkin’ about what ya told me. And, well, you.” 

Rintarou feels his face heat up. 

“Oh,” he mutters. He thinks of other ways he could interpret Osamu’s words, but there’s a fluttering in his stomach he hasn't felt in hundreds of years.

“I mean, it couldn’t have been easy trustin’ me with that,” Osamu clears his throat nervously. “So, thank you.”

Rintarou finds himself nodding before he realizes Osamu can’t see him. “Yeah. Uh. Yeah.”

“It’s cool that we’re both living a family legend,” Osamu chuckles. “And ya knew me in my past life. How crazy is that?”

Rintarou chews at his lip, a little guilty that he’s withholding the truth from Osamu. 

“Super crazy,” he agrees. “And that we managed to meet each other.”

“Yeah,” Osamu says softly. He’s quiet for a moment, and Rintarou wonders if that’s it until Osamu clears his throat again. “Um. By the way, I wanted to ask if ya still wanted to come to the soft openin’. I can send the details.”

Rintarou smiles to himself, his pulse thrumming again. “I’ll be there for sure.”

“Then I’ll send ya the date and time,” Osamu replies excitedly. “I gotta go now, but I’ll try to text ya back when I can, so don’t feel like you can’t message me. Okay?”

“Okay,” Rintarou answers. They say their goodbyes and once they hang up, Rintarou curls into himself, trying to calm his racing heart. He smothers his face into his pillow, trying not to smile. 

He feels less like he wants to tell Osamu the truth about their past, because it’s starting to feel like he’s already coming back to him. 

A few days later, Rintarou approaches Onigiri Miya, seeing the line extending down the street. He blinks at it, but he doesn’t feel that surprised to see the traction the restaurant has gotten. There’s a special deal for the soft opening, and he’d seen the promo video on Instagram. He saw the comments and the amount of shares.

Osamu had warned him about there being a crowd and told him to just walk in when he got to the door. Rintarou awkwardly shuffles past the first person in line, mumbling an apology as he opens the door.

He’s hit with the delicious smell of warm food and the sounds of lively chatter, vibrant and welcoming as he steps further inside. He sees Osamu behind the counter serving a customer, beaming with a bright flush in his cheeks. 

Rintarou doesn’t realize he’s staring until Osamu spots him, and his smile grows impossibly larger. 

Osamu told him to find his family and friends if he showed up while it was busy, but Rintarou had secretly hoped to arrive during a lull. His pulse races and his palms get a little sweaty knowing Osamu won’t have a moment to introduce him to his people.

He waves before gesturing to the back where the conversation is flowing from, and Osamu shoots him a thumbs up. Rintarou leaves him to his work, a bit uneasy as he approaches the full table.

When he gets there, the talking dies down and the man at the centre of the group looks Rintarou in the eye. It makes his heart clench. 

He feels speechless seeing Atsumu after all these years. He thought he was ready, telling himself that this wouldn’t be the same shock as it was when he first bumped into Osamu. 

But he missed his friend. When Atsumu left the shrine, it felt too quiet. Too still. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to say Osamu and Rintarou took at least a year to really get used to Atsumu’s absence, especially because he’d visit often. And when he died shortly after Osamu, smiling because he knew he’d given all the love he could in this life, Rintarou learned what it felt like to lose a brother. 

“Suna?” Atsumu asks. For a split second, Rintarou thinks the man recognizes him from his past life until he adds, “Right?” 

“Yes,” he says after a beat, nodding his head politely at the other people at the table. “Nice to meet you all.” 

Everyone studies him quietly, leaving Rintarou unsure about his presence here. They don’t know him. He’s just some guy Osamu met in Tokyo. He wouldn’t blame them if they were wary of him, of a stranger showing up and interrupting. 

He’s debating on making an excuse to leave when Atsumu suddenly stands up and walks over to him, grinning as he claps him on the back. 

“Dude, we all owe ya big time,” he says, gesturing to the rest of the table. Everyone nods in agreement, smiling at Rintarou warmly.

“Me?” Rintarou frowns. “For what?”

“We thought ‘Samu was gonna die out here alone,” Atsumu sighs dramatically. “Goin’ to live by himself in Tokyo when he’s never lived anywhere far from home? My dumb brother?”

“Atsumu,” a woman chides, most likely the twins’ mother. “Don’t say that about him.”

“Ma, ya agree. He’s got rocks for brains,” Atsumu argues, knocking on his own skull for emphasis. “I know you were worried he’d accidentally get recruited into a cult or somethin’.” 

Their mother sighs, but Rintarou smirks a little when he notices that she doesn’t say anything, either because she knows Atsumu won’t change his mind or because she agrees to some degree.

“Anyway, all that to say we were worried about Osamu leavin’ home,” another man with a goatee says, clapping his hands together. “And we’re glad he’s made a friend like you.”

“Oh,” Rintarou murmurs, waving his hand. “He doesn’t need taking care of. I’d say it’s the opposite, actually.”

“But we were worried he’d be lonely,” an older man says — Their father, Rintarou assumes. He looks around the full table of concerned loved ones and quickly understands why Osamu is the way he is. “So we’re very happy and grateful when he talks about ya.” 

A warm feeling spreads through Rintarou as the rest of the table agrees, and the chatter begins again, this time pulling him in with welcome arms. Atsumu leads him to the seat beside his, their friends shuffling down to make room for him as they try to learn about Rintarou from the source. 

He doesn’t find them intrusive, but he hears how much they care about Osamu in the questions they ask him. And he learns more about the man, too, and the people who have shaped him throughout the course of his life. 

His friends are mainly from their high school volleyball team, save for the man with the goatee — Aran — who the twins met as kids. 

Aran was like their older brother, teasing them as much as he tried to keep them in check. Kita was their former captain, who they still all admire, and slightly fear, to this day. Ginjima was the friend who Osamu once complained sided with Atsumu too much, but was always there when he needed him. Kosaku was the one who initiated the after-school hangouts at karaoke and bowling that made them all closer. Akagi and Oomimi were his reliable seniors who always gave him reassurance on and off the court. And Riseki was his favourite junior because he always brought snacks for him. 

They eat the food that Osamu’s staff brings them, going through jugs and jugs of tea and water, and clearing every plate delivered to the table. Despite how busy with customers he is, Osamu doesn’t fail to keep his friends and family fed.

Rintarou already feels like a part of the family, listening to the stories they have of Osamu from childhood to recent years, but mostly high school. Rintarou laughs and shakes his head through it all, feeling like he’s unlocked another important part of Osamu’s life. 

He doesn’t realize how much time has passed until the man himself shows up, startling him a bit with a hand on his shoulder. He notices how everyone stares at it, but their giddy smiles don’t leave their faces. 

“Hey,” Osamu says, a tired but satisfied grin on his face. Rintarou looks to the front of the restaurant to find that the line is gone, the open sign facing inwards instead of outside.

“Hi,” he replies. He’s about to offer his seat to him when someone else pulls up a chair for Osamu. “How are you feeling?” 

“Great,” Osamu beams, squeezing himself between Rintarou and Atsumu — Another action that doesn’t go unnoticed by the rest of the table. “I think we’re ready for the grand openin’. My staff are quick learners and everythin’ went pretty smoothly today.”

“Hey, that’s really good to hear,” Rintarou says. He realizes belatedly how close they are, almost like they’re speaking in their own bubble. They’re so close, they’d barely have to move any more before their noses would bump against each other and their lips might brush.

“I’m sorry I threw ya to the wolves,” Osamu whispers. “Were you okay?”

“Yeah, everyone’s really nice,” Rintarou answers. “They told me funny stories about you.”

“Oh.” Osamu’s expression is unreadable for a moment, his cheeks dusting pink suddenly. Rintarou isn’t sure if it’s embarrassment, but he feels his own cheeks warm when Atsumu clears his throat. Osamu rolls his eyes, smiling apologetically at Rintarou before he turns to his brother.

“Did y’all eat enough?” he asks Atsumu before turning to the rest of the table. “Sorry I couldn’t be here. I didn’t think it’d get that crazy.” 

“We ate plenty,” his mother waves him off. “It was amazin’. We’re all very proud of ya.” 

The rest of the table makes noises of agreement, and they start cheering and whooping, ruffling Osamu’s hair and reaching over to pat his cheek affectionately. 

“Okay, okay, I’m gonna help with closin’ up, and then we’re gonna go celebrate,” he announces, standing up. He places his hand on Rintarou’s shoulder again and squeezes. “Drinks are on me.”

The table cheers, and Osamu gives Rintarou a wink. “You’re comin’ too.”

He leaves before Rintarou can answer, a little dumbfounded by how fast his own heart is racing. He already misses Osamu’s hand, solid and steady on his shoulder. 

They all crowd into a booth at the izakaya later, ordering all sorts of things as if they hadn’t just gorged on Osamu’s entire menu earlier. But with all the talking and laughing, Rintarou finds that he has more than enough room to eat and drink more.

“Oh, right,” Osamu says, giving Rintarou a look before turning to his parents. “This is random, but do we know anythin’ else about the reincarnation legend?” 

“Ugh, it’s so cool that you guys have that,” Akagi sighs. “I wonder if I have past lives.”

Atsumu snorts, furrowing his brow at his brother. “Why d’ya ask?” 

Osamu shrugs. “Suna and I were talkin’ about it. We got a shared interest in that kinda stuff and I thought I’d try to find out more for him.” 

Rintarou suddenly realizes what Osamu is doing, taking a pull from his beer so his face doesn’t show how affected he is. But his ears are open when Atsumu speaks. 

“We got a great-grandma who might know more stuff. She’s like a billion years old.”

“She’s 103,” their father corrects.

“Right, and she really cares about all this stuff,” Atsumu continues. “She had Osamu and I pose for oil paintings a couple years ago. Said she wanted our portraits to be more accurate than the last set of twins.”

Their friends laugh, amused by this. Ginjima says, “Wait, that’s awesome. You guys seriously have oil paintings? That’s some royal family shit.” 

“Why didn’t she just get photographs?” Riseki asks, genuinely curious. Atsumu shrugs before he smirks.

“Don’t know. Just know that she wanted to immortalize my beautiful face.”

Aran rolls his eyes. “And your brother’s.”

Atsumu’s lip curls. “She was just bein’ fair.” 

“Osamu, you can ask your great-grandmother if you’re curious,” their mother says, jumping in before her sons can have an argument. “Would be nice if ya paid her a visit.” 

Osamu nods, but unfortunately, his mother’s words are not enough to deter him from picking a fight with Atsumu. His brother is saved when Osamu’s phone rings. 

“It’s the manager from the other branch,” Osamu mutters, sliding out of the booth. “Sorry. Gonna take this in case something’s up. I’ll be right back.” 

Rintarou nods, watching him walk outside. When he turns back, he’s surprised to find the whole table looking at him. 

“So,” Aran stretches the vowel playfully, “Whaddya think of our Osamu?” 

“What do I think?” Rintarou echoes, blinking at all their stares. Their eyes are practically sparkling, waiting for his response. 

“Yeah. Isn’t he nice?” Ginjima asks. 

“He was real popular in high school,” Kosaku chimes in.

“Still is,” Oomimi chuckles.

“Well, he’s a good cook,” Akagi adds. “And a reliable guy.”

“He’s proven to be responsible,” Kita smiles with a soft shrug. 

“This is stupid.” Atsumu rolls his eyes. “Do ya like my brother? ‘Cause he’s obsessed with ya. Won’t shut up. It’s always, ‘Suna this’ or ‘Suna that’ when we call.” 

Atsumu shudders, but Rintarou can’t even find it in himself to be offended. He’s too focused on what this all means. 

He looks at the expectant eyes on him, everyone too curious to scold Atsumu for his bluntness. Rintarou is worried he won’t know what to say, still somewhat confused about their whole situation. But he wants to be honest about something, at least. And how he feels about Osamu comes out more easily than he thought it would. 

“He’s caring and considerate, and I think he’s funny. He makes me laugh,” Rintarou says, smiling to himself when he thinks about the past few months he’s known this Osamu. “And when I’m not with him, I start to think about him. I wonder what he’s doing and if I can go to him, because I miss him when he isn’t around.”

Like now, as everyone studies him for a breathless moment, Rintarou wonders what’s keeping Osamu from coming back. His embarrassment grows, wishing he’d simply said yes without elaborating. 

But then everyone seems to relax, smiling and nodding at his answer, and Rintarou realizes they feel relief. He lets out his own exhale, loosening his shoulders as if he’d passed a test.

Then he feels a hand on his arm, and he looks to see Osamu’s mother beaming at him, her eyes dancing under the yellow overhead light. She may be younger than Rintarou, but he feels the touch of a mother, already full of love for him on their first day of meeting. 

It’s different than when he met the twins’ previous mother. She was kind and full of love, but Rintarou doesn’t remember her being as welcoming and accepting of him as this one has been.

“Please take care of our son,” she says. “And I promise he will take good care of you.” 

Hesitantly, Rintarou places his own hand over hers, but he means it when he nods.

He sees her glance up before retracting her hand, signaling Osamu’s return to the table. Rintarou turns to the man, making room on the bench again as he steps in.

“What’d I miss?” Osamu asks, looking a little puzzled. His friends pull him back into the conversation without missing a beat, steering him away from what he’d actually missed. 

Rintarou leans back, content to just watch as longtime friends debate and laugh heartily. His eyes keep wandering to Osamu, his profile lit golden by the dim lighting in the izakaya. He thinks about his own words, and a part of him aches, knowing he still misses the old Osamu and the time he had with him. It disappoints him to know that this Osamu likely won’t remember their past.

But he also truly does miss this Osamu when he isn’t around, and lately, his mind goes to him when they aren’t together. He feels less concerned that they don’t share those memories from centuries ago.

Before, every passing face, every unshared meal, and every lonely night in his bed would make him think of the last Osamu. And sometimes they still do, and it would weigh on him for days. 

But now, delicious food, beautiful dutch ovens, and good movies make him think of this Osamu, and Rintarou finds that his heart feels lighter. It feels like he can fall in love with not just a person, but with life again. 

Something changes between them after that, or at least Rintarou feels that way at first. Really, it must be because he’s seeing everything so differently. His chest feels less heavy when Osamu makes him laugh. The ache leaves him less hollow when he eats the food he cooks. They see each other a lot more, even if it’s only briefly. 

Maybe it’s because he’s loved before, but he can tell his heart is opening up to this Osamu. He feels that comfort you only really develop around a person after years of knowing each other. It’s easy to be himself around Osamu, and he can tell the other man is also more settled around him. 

Especially after seeing how he acted around friends and family, Rintarou thought he’d feel a bit of distance when realizing he didn’t know Osamu as well as they did. But he doesn’t feel any further. It’s more like he’s jumped over that final hurdle of understanding Osamu and who he is. He’s been filled in on the parts of Osamu’s life that he’d missed, and it’s only brought them closer.

They’re sitting on Osamu’s couch one evening, feeling lazy after an afternoon of doing nothing but lounging. Osamu did some work while Rintarou watched YouTube, saying whatever came to mind and simply enjoying each other’s presence. The sun’s gone down, leaving them in the yellow of Osamu’s refurbished lamp.

They were supposed to go get dinner, but Rintarou feels comfortable like this, with Osamu’s legs draped over his lap as he takes a break from his computer. Rintarou looks at the other man lying on the sofa with his arm slung over his eyes, trying but failing to avert his gaze. 

He’s so warm and inviting like this, his hair uncombed and sleep clothes rumpled. A sliver of skin shows where his shirt has risen, and Rintarou’s fingers itch to reach out. Just to prove that he’s real because Rintarou still marvels over his existence every day. 

He’s still staring when Osamu peeks from behind his arm, smirking when he knows he’s caught Rintarou. Neither of them shy away, though, quietly looking — Admiring. Rintarou thinks of leaning down, imagining how Osamu’s lips would feel against his.

Instead, he says, “Should we just order in?”

Osamu chuckles softly. “You really get me.”

Rintarou snorts, putting a hand on Osamu’s knee and squeezing. He freezes when he realizes how casual the touch is, but he doesn’t want to move. He’s been so desperate to have that sense of ease he’d had with the past Osamu, chasing after that tranquility they used to share. 

When this Osamu doesn’t seem put off, Rintarou feels his shoulders loosen. He grins, tracing circles on Osamu’s knee cap with his thumb. 

“Your hair’s a mess and we’ve been in sweats all day,” Rintarou teases. “Anyone would hate the idea of going out now.”

Osamu laughs before he sits up, his face suddenly only inches away from Rintarou’s. This close, the temptation to lean in grows even stronger, and Rintarou’s heartbeat feels thunderous in his ears. 

“Seriously, though,” Osamu murmurs. “You do. I really feel like I was meant to meet ya, Suna.”

Rintarou swallows, his gaze flickering between Osamu’s earnest eyes and the curve of his lips. 

“That’s only because I told you I knew you in your past life,” he whispers back, because it feels like a delicate moment. Especially when Osamu lays his hand on top of his, full of a surety that surprises Rintarou. 

“I felt that way when I first met ya. When your coffee got all over my shirt. You looked so shocked and I wanted to know why.” Osamu smiles at the memory, and Rintarou swears he’s drawing closer. Or maybe they both are. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about ya after. The next day, when I found ya in the first café I tried, I thought it had to be fate.” 

“You believe in that?” Rintarou asks. 

“You don’t?” Osamu’s nose brushes against his, the warmth of his words grazing Rintarou’s lips. “You said we knew each other and that we were best friends hundreds of years ago. Ya think it’s just a coincidence that we found each other?”

Rintarou lets out a chuckle. “I guess so.”

He doesn’t care right now if it was fate or a coincidence that brought Osamu back to him. Not when he’s closer to Rintarou than he has been in centuries. He bridges the gap and kisses Osamu, and it feels like the years without him have been nothing and an eternity all at once. 

They pull away for a moment, but not too far. Osamu cups his cheek with his other hand tenderly, and he looks at Rintarou as if he were the one who had waited hundreds of years to kiss him.

“In case it wasn’t obvious already,” Osamu says. “I really like you.”

Rintarou laughs, smiling as he leans into the palm against his cheek. 

This is nothing like that first time by the river. Osamu is confident but still gentle, unlike in the past when he learned what a kiss was and what it meant from a book Rintarou read to him. 

But he feels no less affection, even if the differences are a bit jarring. Here he is, being held by Osamu in his Tokyo apartment, rather than in a shrine in Settsu Province. 

He parts his lips for Osamu, finally feeling like he can let him in, despite what he’s forgotten. It doesn’t change that Rintarou still loves him, and wants him all the same. Osamu’s tongue sweeps over his bottom lip, a brush that is gentle but lets Rintarou know he wants more. 

It’s this coaxing that has Rintarou opening up, allowing himself to meet Osamu’s kiss with the same ardency. He wants and wants, accepting Osamu’s feelings through the press of his lips against his. 

Something slots into place inside of him, settling and creating its own space in his heart. His heart feels lighter despite this new addition, smiling as that lonely feeling he’s had for all these years finally leaves him. 

He basks in it, letting Osamu pull him in for another kiss. Right now, Osamu’s mortality is forgotten. That there is an end date Rintarou will suffer alone, again, does not cross his mind as he winds his arms around Osamu’s neck. He’s here now, returning to him after centuries of being apart, and that’s enough to drown out Rintarou’s resentment and grief. At least for the moment. 

❀

It’s strange to be dating. Rintarou realizes this after the first few weeks. Not in a bad way, but it hits him after Osamu suggests they do something before the restaurant officially opens that he never had this with the previous Osamu. 

Dating did not exist in the Edo period. What they had was companionship and Osamu telling him he’d write him poetry like the romantics did at court if he was better at it. They didn’t need to do anything special together to solidify how they felt about each other. It was enough to just be side by side, simply sharing a glance or touch to reaffirm that their feelings were unchanging. 

But Rintarou has to admit that he really enjoys the time he gets to spend with the present Osamu. He’s fallen in love with the evenings at the movie theatre where they get to share a large bucket of popcorn and whatever candy Osamu sneaks in. He appreciates when Osamu invites him over for dinner, serving him with a bit more flourish because “He has to impress his boyfriend when he’s over.” But he also likes going to the restaurants and cafés they have on their lists, making it a joint mission to cross off these Tokyo establishments together. 

“I’m gonna get a lot busier once the shop is running,” Osamu says the Friday before Onigiri Miya is set to officially open its doors. They’re eating breakfast in Osamu’s apartment, which has become quite routine since this started. Rintarou can’t remember the last time he slept in his own apartment, already making himself at home at Osamu’s.

He absently kicks at Osamu’s foot lightly, making a game out of taking his slipper off. Osamu snorts when he realizes what Rintarou is doing, and he starts to fight back. They’re giggling like children as they duel, jostling each other’s slippers until Osamu is victorious. 

“Am I going to have to get used to losing now that we’re together?” Rintarou jokes, laughing when Osamu shrugs. 

“Ya can’t survive bein’ a Miya if ya have no fightin’ spirit,” Osamu replies, puffing out his chest. Rintarou bites back a grin as he shakes his head. 

“I have fighting spirit,” he says coolly, reaching over to Osamu with his chopsticks and hovering over his dishes threateningly. “Hm. What should I take?”

Osamu frowns, pushing his hand away gently. “This ain’t fightin’ spirit. Y’know I’d give anythin’ to ya if you asked. You’re not ‘Tsumu.”

Rintarou clicks his tongue. “Whatever,” he mumbles, trying to hide his warm cheeks. But Osamu’s smile tells him he’s hiding nothing. 

“Anyway, do ya have anythin’ ya wanna do today?” he asks. 

Rintarou hums. “Don’t you wanna just rest up before you start working? I don’t mind chilling out and doing nothing.”

Osamu chuckles. “We can do that if ya want, but I don’t need to rest. I’d rather just hang out with ya. It’ll be a while before I get a full day to myself.”

It isn’t that Rintarou doesn’t want to do anything. He’s secretly very happy that Osamu feels this way. But nothing comes to mind when he considers things they could do together on Osamu’s last day off before his demanding chef hours take him away. 

“What about an amusement park?” Rintarou suggests. He’s seen people on dates the few times he’s been with Komori and Washio. He likes the rollercoasters and it’s fun to go with his friends. Especially Komori, who finds great joy in screaming his head off, and Washio, who acts as a great support for them to grab onto at the drops.

But he’s never been there for a date, let alone with Osamu. He imagines them holding hands as their rollercoaster gets to the top, or buying cotton candy to share. His stomach flutters a little just thinking about it, and he suddenly really wants to go.

But when he looks at Osamu, the other man looks a bit bewildered. 

“What?” he asks. “Not a fan of the amusement park?”

It takes a second for Osamu to blink out of his stupor. “Oh, no, no, s’not that,” he stammers before he chuckles. “Just didn’t think you would be.”

He says it lightheartedly. Rintarou supposes it’s not the usual environment they’d find themselves in, preferring to stay in or do something more comfortable. 

“I guess not,” Rintarou agrees. “I just haven’t been in a while. Komori and Washio sort of outgrew it.”

Rintarou realizes how ridiculous that sounds just as Osamu lets out a full belly laugh this time. “Oh, and we haven’t?” 

“Well, maybe you have,” Rintarou teases, holding his own laughter back. “But I’m definitely still young enough for the amusement park.”

“Rin, you’re too old for Lego,” Osamu jokes back. Rintarou gawks.

“Hey.” He reaches over, playfully pinching Osamu’s cheek. “That’s a sensitive topic and you know it.”

“Alright! Alright! I yield!” Osamu snorts, putting his hands up in surrender. He grabs Rintarou’s hand, flipping it over to kiss his knuckles. “Let’s go to the amusement park.”

It’s not as busy as they’d expected it to be when they arrive, joining the small crowd of tourists and young adults; some students who are skipping class. Rintarou paid their entrance fee, much to Osamu’s chagrin. But there’s something thrilling about this date that has Rintarou wanting to do everything he’s never been able to do before with someone he actually likes. 

He shares a look with Osamu once they’ve passed security, and he feels something he’s almost forgotten how to feel.

His excitement is childlike as he looks around the park, ears perking up at the loud rumble of rollercoasters passing by and the ecstatic shouts of the riders. He smells something savoury and he knows Osamu does too when he feels a tug on his sleeve, guiding him to whatever stand the scent is emanating from.

They wander the park with their steamed chicken buns as they try to locate short lines and other things to snack on. Despite the other visitors passing by, Rintarou feels like they’re in their own world, shoulders pressed together as they stroll. 

They take sips from each other’s drinks and hold hands beneath the safety rails on the rides. He makes sure to snap a few photos, posting one of Osamu on his story, but keeping the rest to himself. It feels exactly how Rintarou imagined it would but he wasn’t anticipating just how giddy he’d feel. It’s hard to gauge how stimulating things can really be when you’re over 600 years old and you’ve experienced every emotion possible multiple times. 

Maybe he’s hopped up on sugar, but he doesn’t think he’s ever been this elated.

“Ya look really happy,” Osamu observes near the end of their day. They’re sitting side by side on the ferris wheel because closing out an amusement park with anything else didn’t seem right, according to Osamu. Rintarou has to admit it’s a nice way to tie up their visit, however cheesy it may be. 

The sun is starting to feel less intense and flecks of pink are starting to stretch across the sky. Rintarou sighs contentedly as his eyes sweep over the park. 

“Is it that obvious?” he jokes. Osamu snorts, and when Rintarou turns to glance at him, he can’t help but be endeared by the silly fox headband Osamu has on. Osamu gazes back at him, undeniably fond, and Rintarou suddenly doesn’t know what to do with himself.

“Every time I looked at ya today, ya had on this smile,” Osamu says, tapping on his own cheek. “Like you were seein’ the park for the first time ever. It was cute.”

Rintarou scowls and Osamu laughs. 

“Should we come more often?” he continues, leaning his head on Rintarou’s shoulder. Rintarou hums noncommittally, taking Osamu’s hand in his as he thinks. 

“I mean, I had fun,” Rintarou replies. “But I’m not sure if it’s just because of the amusement park.”

“Oh yeah? I thought ya really liked the rollercoasters or somethin’.”

Rintarou hums again. “I think it was more that it was a date. I’ve never been on one like this before.”

Osamu abruptly sits up, brows furrowing when he looks at Rintarou. “No one’s ever taken ya to the amusement park?”

“I mean, in general. I’ve never really gone on real dates before you,” Rintarou shrugs. “Dating is a relatively new concept and I guess I did the odd meal or drink with a stranger, but nothing like this.”

He lifts their joined hands for emphasis, and when he sees the way Osamu’s eyes have widened, he wonders if he’s said too much. 

“Ya never been with anyone else before me?”

Rintarou blinks at the question, confused until he suddenly remembers that this Osamu still doesn’t know about the previous one. It almost sounds like Rintarou’s never been in love all this time. 

Which isn’t right, but Rintarou keeps quiet about that. What is true is that this is the first time Rintarou has felt this novelty in romance. He never got to experience this with Osamu in his past life, and he realizes he’s become extremely taken by modern dating, especially when it’s with someone he loves. Osamu didn’t have the chance to make him feel this way hundreds of years ago, but he has the opportunity to now. 

“I’ve never been with anyone who makes me feel the way you do,” he settles on. It’s close enough to the truth. 

Osamu seems a bit gobsmacked, staring at Rintarou like he’d grown another head. Rintarou starts to really worry that he’s said too much — He hears about men getting scared off easily these days. He supposes it’s quite jarring when your immortal boyfriend tells you he’s never met someone like you in all his hundred years of living. 

But then Osamu’s arms are wrapping around his shoulders, pulling him in close and so tight that Rintarou gasps a little when he squeezes. 

“Hello?” he huffs, “Osamu?”

“We’re gonna do everythin’ ya want,” Osamu murmurs. “And I’m gonna try my hardest to give ya everythin’ ya want.”

Rintarou pauses, but then he smiles and hugs Osamu back, chuckling in amusement. 

“What you already do is enough, idiot. I don’t need you to try to make up for my last 600 years — I’ve got lots of time left. You may be a reincarnation, but you really only have one life. Right?”

“But so do you,” Osamu says. 

For a moment, Rintarou is rendered speechless, astonished that this man can undo all that fear and dread he usually can’t shake off with such a simple sentence. Of course, he still constantly thinks about it — What will he do when Osamu dies again? Will he really be strong enough to go through that loss again, especially when he knows he can wait for him to return?

But then he’s reminded that it’s worth it for these short moments, when Osamu shows him time and time again just how much he loves him and cares about him.

Rintarou presses his cheek against Osamu’s, feeling the warmth of his skin and how alive he is. 

“Thank you,” he says. Osamu doesn’t even know just how much he’s grateful for. 

The evening is quiet as the two of them wind down from their eventful day, exchanging glances that are almost shy as they eat dinner with little conversation. Rintarou looks over his bowl of udon and meets Osamu’s eye, chewing his food as he returns Rintarou’s small grin.

Sometimes they have nights like these where they can just enjoy each other’s company without having to say much. It’s enough to just be together to share a relaxing meal. 

But something is different today. With every look comes a brush of Osamu’s leg against his under the table, sending a thrill down Rintarou’s spine. The first couple of times, it’s accidental, likely because of how cramped the booth is and how tall they are. Eventually, Osamu remedies this by simply sandwiching Rintarou’s leg between his, keeping them intertwined throughout the rest of the night. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. It isn’t. But Rintarou is suddenly hyper aware of it. 

He finishes his noodles and takes his last few sips of tea, wondering why he feels like there’s an electric current inside of him. He feels a thrumming beneath his skin, growing as he watches Osamu swipe his napkin over his mouth. His eyes wander from his hands, to his lips, to his hair, his own fingers itching to reach out and touch.

It takes a moment for Rintarou to realize why he feels this way. He just ate, but now a different kind of hunger is taking over him.

Osamu smiles at him almost knowingly, his lips slightly crooked and devastatingly handsome. Rintarou feels his cheeks flush but refuses to acknowledge it, pretending he isn’t affected by Osamu’s every movement. When he says, “Let’s go home,” Rintarou merely nods and follows him outside of the restaurant. 

He feels a bit dazed as they make their way to Osamu’s apartment. The hand placed on the small of his back as they walk up the stairs is welcome, but it just makes him crave more. 

They’re barely through the door when Rintarou turns to Osamu and kisses him, hands slipping beneath his unzipped jacket to rest on his rib cage. Osamu doesn’t miss a beat, meeting him halfway and tugging off his jacket as they stumble through the entrance. 

Their shoes are kicked off haphazardly, but it’s hard to move any further into the apartment when it’s dark and they can’t get away from each other.

They have to break apart for air at some point, staring at one another as they catch their breaths. Rintarou can hear his heart beating in his own ears. His gaze dips down to Osamu’s mouth, slightly parted and shining in the bit of moonlight that reaches them. 

When he looks back up at Osamu, they share a secretive smile before they dissolve into quiet laughter. Rintarou feels it beneath his palm where it still sits on Osamu’s torso, warm and buzzing from the touch. He leans in again, a little less urgent but just as eager. 

He likes kissing Osamu. It’s as if he knows just what to do to make Rintarou feel a certain way. Like now, when he brushes his lips against Rintarou’s almost teasingly before he kisses him so deeply, he thinks his knees will buckle. 

“Bed,” Osamu mumbles, kicking their shoes to the side before leading Rintarou to the bedroom. 

Suddenly, what they’re about to do sinks in, and the thrill inside of him wanes just enough for doubt to creep in. Rintarou swallows the lump in his throat, hoping the feeling was just a flash, but it doesn’t go down. He follows Osamu to the bed, but he starts to feel like he’s moving on autopilot as he takes off his own jacket and drops it on the floor. 

He knows what this is leading up to. They’ve kissed before, but they haven’t progressed this far. He figures Osamu has been considerate of him all this time, getting the sense that Rintarou needed to go at his own pace before they could go any further. 

It isn’t that he’s afraid of it, but Rintarou never sleeps with strangers, despite avoiding romantic relationships. He wants to be touched every so often, but doesn’t find himself wanting it so badly that he’ll randomly find someone to hook up with immediately. He likes to to get comfortable enough with someone first over dinner or drinks before he can have sex with them. 

He can easily keep things casual, but he would rather get to know the person on a base level first, even if they don’t really find out much about him. It works out because the other person has no attachment to him and Rintarou doesn’t care for anything more meaningful. 

But Osamu is very, very different. 

He feels confused as he sits on the bed, tugging Osamu closer to him almost robotically. He doesn’t even know if he’s really kissing back anymore, too in his head to pull himself out. 

In the past, his first time with Osamu had involved a lot of stumbles which they giggled quietly about, lost in a world that involved just the two of them. Rintarou had been his first and only, made obvious by the fact that Osamu had no clue what he was doing and how red his cheeks were when Rintarou undid his yukata. It was endearing, and Rintarou thought that would be the only time he’d ever get to experience something like that with Osamu. 

But now, this Osamu knows exactly what he’s doing. He holds Rintarou’s waist gently but not timidly. He does everything with a confidence he didn’t possess in his previous life, and something about that makes Rintarou’s head spin. 

He’s practically kissing him into the mattress, his fingers hot where they slip past the hem of his shirt to touch skin. Rintarou can’t help the hitch of his breath when Osamu slots his thigh between his legs. 

And he so badly wants to melt into it — To beg Osamu to take him apart completely, because he hasn’t been with someone like this in so long. He hasn’t been this vulnerable with a person in centuries and he doesn’t even know if he’s ever felt this kind of desire in his life. It’s almost carnal. He wants this Osamu to show him what he knows.

Shame and pleasure do not mix well together. A sick feeling wedges itself inside of him until he can’t feel that exciting rush anymore. He desperately wants to claw himself out so he can enjoy this, but he just can’t bring himself to. Not when he feels like he’s leaving something important behind. 

“Rin.” Osamu suddenly pulls away, a serious look on his face when Rintarou opens his eyes. He can feel his chest heaving for all the wrong reasons, and he can’t move. He feels frozen as he stares at Osamu, and he hates himself more when he sees the concern in his eyes. 

“Why’d you stop?” he croaks out. He clears his throat, but his voice is still tight. “Are you okay?”

Osamu frowns. “Are you? Ya seem a little out of it.”

Rintarou forces himself to relax, fighting the urge to swallow again and schooling his features to hide what he’s thinking. 

“Hey, we don’t hafta do this,” Osamu continues softly. Something about the suggestion crushes Rintarou. And when Osamu smiles tenderly, it kills him. “I want ya to want this. If ya don’t right now, that’s okay. If ya never do, that’s totally fine, too.”

He presses a kiss to Rintarou’s forehead before he starts to move away, and without thinking, Rintarou grabs the front of his shirt to keep him still. 

“Osamu, wait.” The other man pauses, impossibly patient as Rintarou tries to collect himself. 

He doesn’t think he can tell Osamu the truth — That he can’t help but feel like he shouldn’t desire this first time with him so much when he’s already gotten one that was so innocent and pure. 

Rintarou sighs, inhaling deeply as he loosens his grip on Osamu’s front. He slides his fingers up and into his hair in an attempt to ground himself.

“You know how I said I’ve never been with anyone who makes me feel the way you do?”

It takes a few moments before understanding seems to strike Osamu. His eyes widen a fraction and his mouth parts a little in surprise.

“Oh,” he breathes. “Ever?”

“Well,” Rintarou huffs a laugh, “I’ve had sex. Just not like this.”

“Is it scarin’ ya?” Osamu asks gently, caring as ever. His thumb starts tracing circles into his skin and Rintarou can’t help but feel comforted by it. 

“Sort of,” Rintarou replies, hesitatingly. He closes his eyes, trying to shove his endless thoughts away. “I think I’m afraid of how much I want this.”

There are a few seconds of silence that have Rintarou opening his eyes. He isn’t sure what to make of Osamu’s expression when he sees it. It looks like he’s thinking of something or trying to figure something out. 

“Rin, it’s just me,” Osamu reassures. He pauses for a moment, then says, “You’re allowed to feel good. I don’t think anyone’s stoppin’ ya except yourself.”

Rintarou stills. 

He stares at Osamu and his earnest gray eyes, wondering if he’s figured Rintarou out. How else could he have said something so simple yet so detrimental to the guilt Rintarou harbours? 

Osamu places his own hand on Rintarou’s where it’s tangled in his hair. “You really wanna keep goin’?”

Rintarou stares up at the beautiful man above him, heart racing again as that weight on his chest lifts. It’s not completely gone, but he knows he should believe Osamu. 

It’s just him. The love of his long, immortal life. He should be allowed to want him. Just like his food and the way he kisses, it’s bound to be different in this era. But it’s still been Osamu all this time. 

“Yes,” Rintarou says, “I wanna keep going.”

He brings Osamu close and kisses him, assuring him with a sweep of his tongue across his bottom lip that his words made it to Rintarou.

And slowly but surely, Rintarou can feel himself finally melt into Osamu’s touch. He bites his lip when Osamu kisses and nips gently at his ear and down his neck. He lets his clothes get taken off and revels in the way their bodies press flush against each other. He releases his lip from between his teeth as Osamu coaxes more sounds out of him, and at some point, Rintarou lets himself slip into his pleasure. 

All his focus is on the Osamu in front of him. He can’t think of anything else when he’s here, doing everything he can to make sure Rintarou feels good. How could he have been afraid of this? 

He goes to sleep after, blissfully and without his thoughts buzzing around his mind. A calm has washed over him, and it’s still there when he wakes up in the middle of the night.

Osamu is here. Rintarou tells himself that’s all he needs, because despite the differences and the fact that he doesn’t remember the past, Rintarou does. And he knows Osamu loves him just as much now as he did then. 

He scoots a little closer to Osamu and watches him sleep for a few moments until his own eyelids are drooping again. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Rintarou whispers, and he knows he means it for the Osamu who found him hundreds of years later.

❀

Rintarou stares at his toiletry bag as he tries to stuff it in his bag. He probably could’ve put everything into smaller bottles for an overnight trip, but he was too lazy. And now there isn’t enough time to reconfigure. 

He blows at his bangs in frustration, ready to try shoving again when a pair of arms wrap around his waist.

“Ya gotta bring everythin’ in there?” Osamu asks, hooking his chin over Rintarou’s shoulder. His presence already has an immediate effect on him, and he feels his irritation go down. He leans his head against Osamu’s and sighs in defeat.

“Guess not,” he says, humming when Osamu kisses his cheek.

“Just put some stuff in my bag,” he mutters. “I got room.” 

Rintarou smiles to himself, patting Osamu’s arm in gratitude before he turns to face him for a kiss. 

They’ve been together for almost a year now, but with Onigiri Miya properly opening, Osamu’s been busier than Rintarou expected him to be. He’s never been more grateful to be unemployed, spending his afternoons ogling Osamu from the counter or helping out at the register when they need more hands. He’s even started packing take-out orders. 

He thought it would dwindle at some point, as is the natural progression of things that start off on a high, but whenever he wakes up next to Osamu, he still feels suspended in disbelief. He’ll stare at him as he slumbers, memorizing his features all over again because they’d lost their clarity over the years. 

Rintarou thinks it should be perfect, knowing that he has a second chance with Osamu, but sometimes he can’t help but forget that he’d known him before. He’s finding out that Osamu and his past self can be so unalike, the minute details throwing Rintarou off a bit. It gives him that same feeling as when this Osamu cooked for him the first time, but he shrugs it off, chalking it up to the new era. Things are bound to be slightly different. 

“Okay, if ya keep kissin’ me like that, we’re never gonna make it outta here,” Osamu chuckles, gently pulling away and grabbing Rintarou’s toiletry bag. 

Every month, Osamu visits the family shrine. His duty is far less strict than it was in his previous life, but Rintarou gathers that this goddess is far more forgiving towards the twins she loves so much. She’s satisfied with a monthly visit, so long as someone in the family keeps her place of worship orderly. 

An invitation has been extended to Rintarou before, but he’s always refused. He isn’t sure what he’d do if he saw that shrine again. When Osamu died, he left as soon as one of their relatives moved in to take over his duties. Seeing someone that wasn’t Osamu sweeping and occupying the space was unbearable. 

But this time, Osamu is also visiting the great-grandmother who supposedly knows much more about the family legend — And has the oil portraits that Atsumu mentioned. Rintarou is simply too curious to pass up the trip this time. 

He starts to regret it a little when they get off the train and approach the shrine, his stomach in knots when he sees those familiar steps. He looks up, the structure not visible yet. But he knows it’s there, the place he’d called home for so long.

Rintarou swallows, but the lump forming in his throat won’t go away. He tries to not let his feelings show, but his body begs to leave — Turn around because he doesn’t know if he can see the new life that’s taken over their home. 

Osamu’s hand suddenly slips into his, startling him out of his thoughts. Rintarou inhales, schooling his expression before he looks at Osamu, but it’s all for nothing because the other man sees right through him. He brushes his bangs away from his forehead, gently sweeping his fingers down his cheek. 

“You don’t have to go up,” Osamu says. “I can just quickly greet my cousin and say a prayer before comin’ back down.”

Rintarou averts his eyes, unsure of how to answer. Despite how much he knows it’ll hurt, he still wants to visit the place he’d last been with the previous Osamu. 

He looks back at the Osamu he is with now, his expression full of understanding. Rintarou can’t help but smile, appreciating how well he knows him.

“It’s okay,” he responds, giving his hand a squeeze. “Let’s go.”

He finds every step agonizing, but he doesn’t let it show on his face, keeping his grip on Osamu’s hand relatively loose despite wanting to clasp it tightly. He fights it all down when Osamu’s cousin, Chōei, greets them, smiling warmly as he strides towards them, a baby in his arms. 

“Osamu! It’s good to see ya again,” he says. He lifts the baby’s hand and the infant babbles happily as Osamu takes her from her father. 

“Hey, thank you as always for your hard work,” he replies, making faces with the baby. Rintarou tries to focus on that instead of the inside of the shrine when he looks past the door. 

“Nah, y’know this is what I was born for,” his cousin smiles, looking towards Rintarou. “Are you the boyfriend?”

“Oh.” Rintarou blinks before bowing his head. “Yes, I am. Thank you for taking care of this shrine.” 

He means it wholeheartedly, but Osamu’s cousin just chuckles, barely concealing his puzzlement at a newcomer’s gratitude. 

“Don’t worry ‘bout it. Juri-chan isn’t home from work yet, but she wanted to meet ya. Maybe next time,” he says. Then he looks between the two of them and asks, “Hey, are ya hungry?”

A wave of nausea hits Rintarou upon hearing those words, an Osamu from the past suddenly enters his vision. He’s blurry, but undeniably the beautiful man who he’d met that first day he climbed to the shrine. Rintarou blinks him away before looking at the real Osamu, nodding his head subtly when his eyes seem to ask, “Are you okay?” 

“We’re good,” Osamu answers for the two of them, handing the baby back to Chōei. “Lemme just pay my respects and we’ll be on our way to hii-obaasan’s.”

“No problem,” his cousin says, waving Osamu in as is routine. “Go do your thing. Suna-kun, do ya wanna come inside?” 

Osamu shoots Rintarou a look that says he doesn’t have to, and perhaps he shouldn’t, but a part of him feels like it’s wrong to refuse. A part of him needs to see the shrine. 

“Sure.”

He instantly regrets it when he walks in. Everything is different. The furniture has changed and nothing looks like it does in his memory. All he sees are the ghosts of many shared dinners and nights with the twins, blurring together with what currently fills the rooms. He looks around, as if he’ll find the Osamu from the past again, waiting for him. 

His chest hurts. Chōei’s voice is distant as he tries to give Rintarou a tour of the place he once called home, as if Rintarou doesn’t already know every nook and cranny. He thinks he’s going to faint until a sturdy hand clamps down on his shoulder. 

Osamu clears his throat awkwardly, interrupting Chōei apologetically. 

“Sorry, man, but we gotta go if we wanna make it to hii-obaasan’s before sunset.” Rintarou feels Osamu’s thumb rubbing between his shoulder blades soothingly and tries to relax into it. “Tell Juri-san we said hi and we’ll catch her next time.” 

“Oh! Of course,” his cousin says, nodding at Rintarou politely, completely unaware of the turmoil going on inside him at this moment. “No worries. It was nice meetin’ ya, Suna-kun. Come back soon!”

The descent down the stairs is quiet, but Rintarou’s heart still pounds loudly in his ears. He looks down at his feet, noticing Osamu’s silence. He isn’t sure what to make of it, since he still slid his hand into his palm before they left, but an unexplainable feeling roils in his stomach. 

A bit of resentment worms its way into his thoughts, and he wonders if things would be different if Osamu would just remember his past. But he quickly quashes it because Rintarou couldn’t care less about that anymore, grateful that Osamu is here with him at all. Something else is gnawing at him, but he can’t put a name to it. 

When they get to the bottom of the steps, Rintarou still hasn’t shaken out of his stupor. He doesn’t expect it when Osamu stops in front of him, concern etched in his brow when he takes Rintarou’s face in his hands. 

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, waiting for a beat before he wraps Rintarou into a hug. It takes him by surprise, but he’s quick to relax into Osamu’s arms, some of his distress draining out of him. 

“I should be the one saying that,” he says, burrowing his face into Osamu’s neck. “I didn’t think it’d be so hard to go inside. It was just so different from what it used to be.”

Osamu doesn’t say anything, but continues to hold him. Rintarou is grateful, unsure if Osamu could really say anything to comfort him right now. He finds himself glad that Osamu doesn’t pretend to understand, though it also just means not even a latent part of him knows what Rintarou feels. 

Even after these months together as lovers, Osamu has shown no indication that he remembers his past life or that they had once been more than friends. Rintarou is starting to lose hope that he ever will, but the more time they spend together, the less it matters. He thought it would feel lonelier, mourning the chance that Osamu would remember everything and they could start from where they left off, but he hasn’t felt that way since he and this current Osamu started dating. He takes care of him and is kind to him all the same. 

The sky is turning orange when they arrive at Osamu’s great-grandmother’s home, a large, traditional style house with a shoji door that slides open as soon as their taxi arrives. 

“No way,” Osamu laughs when he steps out. Rintarou isn’t sure what he’s in disbelief about until he follows, seeing a familiar young woman at the door. 

“Hi, Osamu-kun.” Hitomi grins, ushering them to enter the house. Rintarou’s still shocked to see the woman from the YouTube videos in person, and he immediately thinks of the questions he has for her. 

“I didn’t know you’d be here,” Osamu chuckles, giving his cousin a hug. “Aren’t ya in school?” 

“On break, so I came to visit hii-obaasan,” Hitomi explains before her eyes shift to Rintarou. “She said you were bringin’ a friend. Is this him?” 

Osamu nods, placing a gentle hand on Rintarou’s back. “Yeah. This is my boyfriend, Rintarou.”

He winks at Rintarou before he adds, “He’s a fan.”

Rintarou gives Osamu a smack on the shoulder as he laughs mischievously, all while Hitomi looks at him with bright eyes. 

“Really?” she asks, her smile wider than it already was. Rintarou sighs, giving Osamu one last reprimanding look before he turns to her. 

“I’ve…watched a lot of your videos,” he admits, and he finds himself less embarrassed when Hitomi claps her hands joyfully. 

“That’s so cool! I’ve always wondered who watches my videos.” She waves them further into the house excitedly. “Come, come. Hii-obaasan has been waitin’ for ya. She’ll love talkin’ to ya.”

They shuffle further inside, walking down the halls past many doors until Hitomi opens one that’s slightly ajar. 

“Hii-obaasan, Osamu and his friend are here,” she calls as the shoji door slides open. When Rintarou enters, he’s surprised to see such a small woman sitting at the low table.

“Oh, yes,” she says, tucking away the book she’d been reading before they interrupted. “Is this Rintarou-kun?”

“Hello.” Rintarou bows his head politely. “Thank you for allowing me to stay here.”

He feels a hand on his shoulder before Osamu moves closer to him. “Sorry it’s been a while. Ya look good, hii-obaasan!”

As the other man makes small talk with his great-grandmother about his move to Tokyo and new restaurant, Rintarou takes in the size of the room. He’s wondering if she lives in this big house alone when she suddenly says, “My grandson brought his father along on a family trip since the kids are on a school break, and Hitomi-chan is here to keep me company.”

Rintarou doesn’t realize she’s speaking to both of them until he looks at her, surprised that the woman practically read his thoughts. She smiles at him amusedly, as if sensing his astonishment, and Rintarou thinks it’s unlikely that it was a coincidence. He wonders if she could have her own blessing. 

“Welcome, Rintarou-kun. Come here, let me get a closer look at ya.” She gestures to him, and with an encouraging nod from Osamu, he walks towards her and kneels beside the old woman. 

She studies him for a moment before her eyes, foggy with cataracts, widen, a hand hesitantly reaching for his cheek. 

“Oh, goodness,” she murmurs to herself. 

Her reaction is unexpected. Rintarou freezes, glancing at Osamu who looks just as confused as he feels. He turns back to the great-grandmother as she analyzes him, her mouth parted in astonishment. 

“What is it, hii-obaasan?” Hitomi asks, breaking the silence that’s filled the room. Rintarou feels himself holding his breath under her scrutiny, unsure of what the old woman can see just from examining his face. 

“I don’t know,” she mutters, “you can’t be much older than Osamu-kun.” Her gaze bores into him. “But it looks like you’ve seen so much more than even I have. Why is that, young man?”

Rintarou blinks, turning to Osamu to see what he thinks. The man shrugs, the amusement in his smile gives Rintarou the push to be honest. 

“Um,” he starts, meeting the old woman’s eyes again before he timidly says, “I am over 600 years old.”

It’s a little embarrassing. There’s no other way to say it without launching into a story. 

Osamu’s great-grandmother’s eyebrows shoot up before her expression dissolves into a smile. He can practically feel Hitomi’s shock as she stares a hole into his head.

“Ah,” the old woman chuckles. She gently takes Rintarou’s hand in hers and cradles it softly, an understanding passing through them without another word. “I see.” 

They eat the dinner Osamu helps Hitomi prepare and the great-grandmother shows Rintarou the oil portraits she has stowed away when he asks. He can’t help but laugh at how absurdly regal the twins look, posing so rigidly for the painting. 

He notices how quiet Hitomi is, but he doesn’t pay much mind to it until later in the night after their great-grandmother has retired to bed. It was Osamu’s turn to bathe, leaving the two of them alone. Rintarou takes a sip from his tea, pretending to be deeply interested in whatever’s on his phone screen. 

At first, he expects to sit in awkward silence until Osamu comes back, but then Hitomi suddenly clears her throat.

“I, uh.” Rintarou looks over at her as her eyes dart around the room, trying to find her words. “Rintarou-san, would ya mind talkin’ about your immortality a little more? Oh, sorry, if it even is immortality.”

She stumbles over her request, and the earnestness in her voice is enough to make Rintarou want to humour her. 

“Yeah, it is immortality,” he replies, thumbing at the lip of his drink. “Actually, uh, you’ve done a video on my family before. The one with the curse that affects the bloodline at random.”

Hitomi’s mouth makes a small ‘O’ and she says nothing else. Rintarou can almost see how hard she’s trying to come up with her next words, so he decides to do her a favour and tell her it was a good video. Her shoulders slouch in relief. 

“I don’t mind answering questions or talking about it,” Rintarou starts. “But I don’t really want it talked about online.”

Hitomi nods enthusiastically in understanding. “Don’t worry. This is more for my own curiosity. I don’t always turn things into content unless asked. Some of the people I interview find me for the sake of keepin’ a record of their lives.” Then, she pulls a notebook seemingly out of nowhere, bashful when she asks, “Do ya mind if I make notes? I won’t write your name.”

Rintarou chuckles, endeared by this young woman’s passion for her hobby. “Sure. Go ahead.”

He starts by telling her the main points of his life, like where and when he’d been born and what it had been like discovering his immortality, but Hitomi is a skilled interviewer. She pulls the nitty-gritty details out of him that Rintarou hadn’t even realized held any significance.

Eventually, he gets to the part where he tells her he knew Osamu in his past life. He watches her eyes widen and dance as he tells her the story of their meeting, smiling to himself when he sees how much she’s eating it up. Her pencil flies across her notebook as he speaks, and it takes a few anecdotes before Rintarou considers being honest. 

“Hey.” Hitomi’s pencil finally pauses as she looks at him. He feels a little nervous for some reason. “Can you keep a secret? Seriously. Not even Osamu can know.”

The last part seems to catch her off guard but she nods, putting down her pencil and closing the notebook to make her point.

Rintarou stops to listen for approaching footsteps before he leans in. Hitomi follows suit, her gaze even sharper than it had been earlier. 

“Osamu and I, we were together before too. In the past.” He furrows his brow when Hitomi looks at him blankly. “Y’know. In love.”

He cringes at his wording but Hitomi gasps excitedly, covering her mouth with her hands when she realizes how loud she’s being. She briefly removes them and asks in a hushed voice, “Really?”

Rintarou nods and she looks like she’s trying to hold back another gasp, clapping her hands quietly. 

“Wait.” She deflates a bit. “Osamu-kun doesn’t know?”

This time, Rintarou shakes his head. “When we met — In the present day, I mean — I didn’t want to influence his feelings. I wanted him to remember on his own, if he ever did.”

“Remember…” Hitomi echoes, tapping at her lip. “Rintarou-san, do ya see the past Osamu and Osamu-kun as the same person?”

“Yes?” He shrinks back, feeling less confident in his answer, especially with the way her eyebrows scrunch. “You don’t think so?”

Hitomi picks up her pencil again, drumming it against the table as she hums. “Honestly, not really. And I’m assumin’ he isn’t gonna remember anythin’ if he still doesn’t know you’d been lovers in the past.”

A lump starts to inexplicably form in Rintarou’s throat as Hitomi opens her notebook again. “What are you saying?”

“His soul has been reincarnated. But it’s only ‘cause of the goddess that he and Atsumu-kun have reincarnated into copies of their past bodies.” She draws a circle and labels it Soul before drawing two lines diverging from it. Then she draws a circle attached to each line and labels them Osamu 1 and Osamu 2. “The soul is the same, and I guess appearance, too. You’ll see similar behaviours and mannerisms. But they don’t share memories and have lived completely different lives.

“Ya wouldn’t say they’re the same person if Osamu-kun’s soul reincarnated into, like, a bug’s body, wouldja?”

Rintarou stares at his hands where they rest on the table, trying to shake off that sinking feeling that’s made its way into his stomach.

Deep down, he knows he’s been considering it — The fact that these Osamus are not the same person. They’re not even from the same era. 

Rintarou had truly hoped this Osamu and the one he’d known in the past were the same, but he’d been looking for something more akin to a resurrection. Not a reincarnation. Hitomi is right. They’re two separate people with their own lives despite sharing a soul and a face. One doesn’t even know about their past together, let alone remember it. 

He doesn’t notice Osamu’s return until the shoji door opens with a clatter, startling him from his thoughts. He looks at Hitomi as she shuts her notebook. Osamu joins them, and the kiss he plants on his head barely registers as Rintarou starts to spiral. The smell of his bath-warmed skin doesn’t comfort him like it usually does. It only makes Rintarou more aware of him as an individual — His own being in his own body. 

He isn’t sure what Hitomi sees on his face, but she shoots him an apologetic look that Osamu doesn’t catch. It doesn’t make Rintarou feel better at all.

For days, the thought keeps him up at night, even as he shares a bed with Osamu. It’s past midnight as he stares at his slumbering face, bracing himself for another sleepless night. 

He sees the differences for what they are more clearly now. He notices how this Osamu’s nose is slightly crooked from high school sports, the healing process messed up by his twin throwing a punch too soon after.

The past Osamu didn’t have a crooked nose, but a scar beneath his chin from taking a bad fall as a kid. They both have small scars on their hands but in entirely different places and for different reasons.

Their cooking isn’t the same. They maintain relationships in their own way. Their memories are made up of moments in their separate lives. 

Rintarou understands his guilt now. He knows why it burrows in his heart and digs a deeper pit in his stomach, reigniting the grief that had never truly subsided. 

He feels like he’s betraying the past Osamu, thinking he was reliving the memory of him, but really, he was letting himself move on. He wanted to love him forever, even after he was gone, because that is what he’d promised. Rintarou had never wanted anyone to replace him. 

He thought meeting Osamu again in the present day was his second chance to be with him. But not considering him as his own person, and more like a replacement, is horrible of Rintarou. Knowing he's been doing that for the past year makes him the worst. This Osamu, who has been nothing but loving and caring towards him, has no idea that Rintarou was chasing after the memory of someone else by being with him. 

He sighs to himself and closes his eyes. Perhaps he should just sleep in his own apartment again. There’s no way Osamu hasn’t noticed how distant he’s become since returning from their trip.

A sudden hand on his hip has him jolting, his eyes flying open to see Osamu awake and concerned. A knot forms in his stomach and his skin prickles where Osamu is trying to rub circles into his side soothingly. Rintarou feels like he should run away from it, when all he really wants is to lean into his touch.

“Hey,” Osamu whispers. “Is everythin’ alright?”

Rintarou swallows, forcing himself to smile. “Yeah, just can’t sleep.”

They both know there’s something Rintarou isn’t saying, judging by the way the furrow in Osamu’s brow deepens. His hand moves from Rintarou’s hip to his face, holding him so tenderly it hurts. Rintarou feels his guilt choking him, wishing he’d never made this mistake. 

“Rin. You can talk to me,” Osamu says softly. “You don’t have to, but if something’s botherin’ ya and gettin’ it off your chest will make ya feel better, I’ll listen.” He sweeps his thumb over Rintarou’s cheekbone gently before he smiles sadly at him, and Rintarou feels it tug at his heart. “I just feel like you’ve been a little distant lately.”

Rintarou closes his eyes. He should push Osamu’s hand away, but it feels so good to be loved like this again. He lets himself indulge, even though he knows he doesn’t deserve Osamu’s kindness. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, and it’s so much worse when Osamu hushes him, because he doesn’t even know what Rintarou’s done.

“Don’t be. I get it,” he reassures. “I just want ya to know I’m here when ya need me. Even if ya need to push me away for a bit, Rin, I’ll always be here when you’re ready.” 

Rintarou opens his eyes and forces himself to keep a straight face. He stops his wobbling lip, chewing on it as he stews on Osamu’s words. He thinks he owes him at least some kind of explanation. 

He inhales, anchoring himself with the warmth of Osamu’s palm on his cheek before he speaks. 

“Does it ever feel weird to you knowing I remember things that you don’t?” he asks. “That I have memories of your past?”

Osamu looks a bit surprised by the question. He considers it before he answers. 

“No. I know I’m a reincarnation, but I don’t think I was ever meant to share memories with my past self. Those belong to him.” He gives Rintarou a small smile. “And my time with you belongs to me. My feelings for you are all mine.”

Rintarou’s heart squeezes, almost painful as he looks into Osamu’s earnest gray eyes. He cannot believe that, in two different lifetimes and as two different people, he’s gotten Osamu to fall in love with him twice. 

And Rintarou feels like nothing but a traitor to both Osamus.

“Rin?” Osamu calls quietly, his hand moving to brush through Rintarou’s hair. “Can I ask ya somethin’?”

Rintarou nods, though unsure if he knows what Osamu might want to know. 

“Were we really just best friends in the past?” Rintarou feels himself still. He wasn’t expecting this to be Osamu’s question. “Or were we more?”

Something like ice forms in Rintarou’s veins. He goes cold as his chest feels like it’s frosting over. He slides his hand up to Osamu’s and holds it, knowing he owes him his honesty. 

“You were—” Rintarou sighs, correcting himself. “He was everything to me then. Just like you are becoming to me now.”

“Oh.” Osamu swallows, clearly caught off guard by the confession. He chuckles nervously. “Ya don’t look so happy about that.” 

“I feel like I’m abandoning him,” he mutters, his gaze moving away from Osamu. He can’t look him in the eye when he says this. “I feel like I’ll lose him completely if I move on like this.”

He wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. The first Osamu gave him so much. To leave him in the past for new love, when Rintarou has as much of an eternity to forget him as he has to remember him, feels cruel.

It hits him that the first Osamu is really gone. He’d believed it for hundreds of years, and yet, this disillusion that he had come back as the same person with the same memories somehow gave him hope that he wasn’t lost forever. 

And here he is, chasing after a ghost in the form of a man who has been nothing but wonderful and understanding of him. This Osamu deserves so much better than that, and Rintarou realizes this won’t work. Not when Osamu’s life is too short and precious to bear the brunt of an immortal’s centuries-old baggage. 

“I don’t want to forget the first time,” Rintarou says, and this time, he does remove Osamu’s hand from his hair, gently prying himself away. “But that’s so unfair to you, Osamu.”

He doesn’t mention what a bad person he’s been, thinking of them as one and the same. All those moments they had together where Osamu must have believed he was the only person Rintarou ever loved that way. He must think Rintarou has been lying to him this whole time. He doesn’t need to hurt Osamu even more. He starts to get up from the bed, feeling Osamu grab at his wrist when he realizes what Rintarou is doing. 

“Wait, Rin.” He gets up, too, trying to follow without a second thought.

Rintarou looks at him and smiles sadly, his chest aching when he realizes it’s already too late and this Osamu has made a home in his heart. He supposes there’s nothing he can do about that now, but staying will only make it worse. When the first Osamu died, Rintarou hadn’t understood just how long eternity was when you were missing someone. He knows better now. 

“It’s actually really hard being an immortal, believe it or not.” His smile wobbles the harder he tries to keep it up and his voice wavers, holding Osamu’s cheek in his palm one last time. “Everyone’s always leaving you. They leave you to keep trying to find them, knowing you never truly will.” 

Osamu’s eyes are wet, searching Rintarou’s face for a way to change his mind. But Rintarou knows he can’t stay. 

“So I’m leaving first,” he says, hating the way his voice cracks. He presses a kiss to Osamu’s lips — An apology, a thank you, and a goodbye all at once — and he leaves before Osamu can find the words to convince him otherwise. 

The air is cold when he walks out, making him feel even lonelier than he already does. He just wants to crawl back into bed with Osamu and be held close. Despite how much this whole ordeal has reminded him of his immortality, this past year has also made him feel more human than he has in centuries. 

He wishes he could know for certain if Osamu’s soul recognized him, at least. But he doesn’t want to pretend it does, using it as an excuse to leave the first Osamu behind. 

He starts walking back to his apartment, taking the riverbank route he usually did with this Osamu in the mornings when he didn’t have work. They’d walk quietly, linking pinkies and only speaking when something came to mind. His chest aches when he realizes he will no longer have that. Will Osamu keep taking morning walks alone? How long would he miss Rintarou for?

A car crosses the short bridge every now and then, reminding Rintarou that life will continue on and on no matter what. He wonders why it’s so hard to accept even after all this time.

A shuffling in the grass grabs his attention, and he stops when he sees a small frog watching him. Its round eyes stare at him for a moment before it croaks loudly, and Rintarou can’t help but crouch in front of the creature, crying silently over all the love he has to mourn. 

❀

Yori comes to stay with him for a few days, both because she’s planning to stay in Tokyo for a bit and because seeing her brother on FaceTime looking more haggard than ever set off warning bells. 

This time is different. He doesn’t need to set off on some life-altering journey after the love of his life died. This time, Rintarou has his sister, tubs of ice cream, and his very comfy couch. 

“I know I can’t stay here like this,” Rintarou murmurs, placing down another empty carton. “But it kind of feels good to wallow.”

Yori snorts, eyes staying glued to the TV. She’s still catching up on the shows she missed while backpacking, taking advantage of the sedentary lifestyle Rintarou’s adopted these past few weeks. 

Perhaps staying like this for weeks is excessive, but he thinks it’s nothing compared to what he’s facing for the rest of his unending life. And it doesn’t hurt any less when he thinks about Osamu — The present one — and how much he misses him. Without fail, he falls back into the spiral of grief that keeps him up at night, wishing things were different. That he could just let himself pretend the first one never existed or that the present one was the same person. Then he feels terribly guilty again because he knows how disrespectful that is to both Osamus. 

Komori and Washio have come to visit — The biggest reason why Rintarou has so much ice cream in his freezer. But as grateful as he is to his mortal friends, they are not equipped to understand Rintarou’s turmoil. Sometimes, seeing them is a painful reminder that they, too, will leave one day. 

Yori kicks him a little, pulling him back from his thoughts like a tether. “You’re thinking again. Don’t do that. It’s bad for you.”

Rintarou snorts, trying to focus on the show again, but he knows he’s in for another sleepless night. 

“Do you regret it?” Yori suddenly asks. It takes him a while to register that she’s even spoken. 

“What?”

“Osamu. Both of them. Everything,” she clarifies. “I know I told you to pursue him, but I guess I forgot just how much it killed you. Honestly, I would never put myself through that if I could help it.”

She doesn’t say it meanly or like she’s trying to make a point out of Rintarou’s situation. She’s merely stating it as a fact. Rintarou has allowed himself to get hurt by his reality more than once. 

Despite it all, Rintarou does not regret it. Maybe in another scenario, Rintarou would have left the shrine when he planned to. The first Osamu would have just been a passing face. 

Or maybe he did love the previous Osamu, but refused to spend more time with his reincarnation after he spilled his coffee on him. There could be another universe where he does not know either Osamu, or he could know one but not the other. 

But in this life, he does. As much as he wants to think that perhaps he should have ignored this era’s Osamu, he can’t find it in himself to regret letting him into his life. He has been loved and cared for by two different people and left with the memories, and as painful as they are now, he remembers how he felt in the moment. How it enveloped him with warmth to be smiling and talking to someone who loved him just as much as he loved them. 

“And I can’t help it.” Rintarou chuckles softly despite himself. “And you know what? I’d rather remember it all than have nothing. It’ll hurt less in a hundred years. Speaking from experience.”

He grins at his sister, albeit weakly, but he means it. You don’t need to live as long as he has to know time will do its part in softening the sharp edges of grief. 

His phone rings, startling them both. Rintarou expects it to be Komori, so he picks up without looking, turning down the TV volume a bit just as he answers.

“What’s up?”

“Rintarou-san?” 

Rintarou blinks at the sound of a woman, pulling the screen away to find an unknown number. But the smaller text beneath it says Miya Hitomi.

“Oh. Hitomi-san.” He clears his throat, glancing at his sister. Yori has her head tilted curiously. “Sorry. I didn’t realize it was you.”

“It’s okay,” she chuckles nervously. “I’m sorry to be callin’ ya out of the blue. I, uh, heard about you and Osamu-kun. I can’t help but feel like it’s ‘cause of what I said.”

Rintarou huffs a chuckle, shaking his head before realizing she can’t see him. “No, no. You gave me a wake up call that I needed. I should be thanking you.”

“Oh, no. No one should be thankin’ me. Apparently Osamu-kun’s been a wreck—” She pauses. “Probably shouldn’t be sayin’ that. Uh. Anyway, I found some stuff about the past Osamu I thought ya might be interested in.”

Rintarou abruptly straightens much to Yori’s bewilderment. He looks at her silently, knowing his eyes must be bugging out. She simply looks back at him, confused and a little afraid as Rintarou gets up and starts to pace the apartment. 

“Stuff?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

“A guest speaker was visitin’ my school, so I went to chat with her after her talk,” Hitomi explains. “I ended up talkin’ to her about my family and it actually reminded her of somethin’. She contacted a colleague and then that colleague found a long lost friend…”

Rintarou feels his palms getting sweatier the more she rambles, heart pounding in his chest as he waits for her to tell him what she found. 

“…There’s a book.”

Rintarou stops breathing. Silence hangs between them as Rintarou prepares himself for what could be disappointment, but hope threatens to spill everywhere and make a mess of his already shaky composure. 

“A book,” he repeats.

“A pillow book. His diary, essentially,” Hitomi clarifies. “A diary belongin’ to a Miya Osamu from the Edo period is currently in Iga.”

He swallows, bringing his hand up to his throat, feeling for his erratic pulse. He squeezes gently, needing to confirm that he’s awake and he’s really hearing these words. 

“You’re serious?” he croaks. “Like, you’re saying that’s his writing in it?”

“They emailed me a few entries to read. Everything lines up and—” She cuts herself off to chuckle lightly. “A ‘Rin’ was mentioned. That sounds like it would be you.”

Rintarou lets out an incredulous laugh. He can’t believe it. Somewhere out there, something that belonged to the past Osamu — Something he’d held hundreds of years ago — is being kept safely. 

“Can I go see it?” he asks quietly, suddenly afraid that it’s out there but inaccessible to him. 

“Oh, of course!” Hitomi exclaims. “It’s at a museum. I’ll send you the details and the name of the museum’s curator.”

Rintarou breathes out in relief, thanking Hitomi for telling him all of this before he hangs up. 

“What was that?” Yori asks. Rintarou can’t help but laugh again, completely in shock as he sees Hitomi’s messages come through. A location and even a link to the gallery in which Osamu’s journal is housed pop up, real and so easy for him to visit. A piece of his past life waits for him only hours away. 

“I’m going to Iga,” Rintarou murmurs. Then more certainly, “Tomorrow. I’m going to Iga.”

He fills Yori in on the phone call, telling her who Hitomi is and how she found the diary. He reads out her messages, and the more he learns about the pillow book, the more his chest feels like it’s going to explode. 

The diary itself has been preserved at the museum, donated to them when a member of the Miya family found it in their home. The museum is small and dedicated to these heritage items or records for families with extraordinary stories, especially if they don’t have the means for preservation themselves. 

Rintarou thinks of the people who have passed by Osamu’s diary. The pages have apparently been transcribed digitally, allowing visitors to read through it, and Rintarou almost has to laugh, picturing the face Osamu would have made if he knew his private thoughts were out in the open. 

It’s suddenly overwhelming to think that, after all these years, he’s going to find something new about an Osamu who has been long gone. He’ll get to know thoughts that Osamu never got to tell him hundreds of years later, even after he’d completely lost the man himself. 

Rintarou sinks down on the couch and takes a shaky breath. He feels Yori’s hand on his back, coaxing him to relax, grateful that she is here with him to anchor him. He almost wants to cry but he keeps it in, rubbing his hands over his face before he sits up and looks at her definitively. 

He messages Hitomi back, telling her he’s going to Iga tomorrow. He’s going to read the words Osamu left unspoken for centuries. 

Despite all his gusto the day before, Rintarou grows increasingly nervous on the train to Iga. He can’t help but pick at a loose thread on his jacket the entire ride, unable to distract himself with his music or the shows he’d downloaded for the ride. He’s worried he’ll have a repeat of his visit at the shrine.

Yori had offered to join him, and it was probably a good idea, but Rintarou still isn’t sure what he wants out of this trip. He knows it’s more than just seeing a diary. But he has no idea what he’ll learn from Osamu’s words and what he’ll do with himself after. This could be the closest he’ll get to reading his mind. 

A part of him thinks that perhaps it really will be simply recounts of his days gone by, mentioning Rintarou only because he’d been his partner for so long. Maybe there won’t be anything of significance in the journal and Rintarou can carry on without knowing what Osamu was really thinking. 

By the time he switches to a bus in Nagoya, the reality of the situation still hasn’t hit him. All his body knows is to be anxious, but his mind still hasn’t accepted the fact that he’ll be seeing that journal soon.

How are you supposed to feel when they find your late lover’s diary that you didn’t even know existed? Rintarou has been debating if he should even read the transcriptions, or if he should just look at the book to prove to himself that it’s real. He knows it’s an invasion of privacy, even though it’s been a hundred years and Osamu can’t really stop him. And other strangers have probably read it. 

But it’s different for Rintarou. He knew Osamu, inside and out. He’ll know how to interpret his words better than any passing visitor. He’ll be able to put a face to the writing. He can picture exactly how Osamu must have looked when he brushed ink onto paper. He can hear his voice narrating the words. 

He feels like he’s floating, running on autopilot as he checks into his hotel. He ends up sitting on the bed for at least an hour, staring into space and scrolling on his phone before he realizes he should go before the museum closes. His heart races and his stomach flips, but he tries not to think too much about it, forcing himself to watch the scenery from his cab. 

He takes a video as they pass the Ueno Castle and posts it to his Instagram story. Komori told him to at least try and enjoy his time in Iga despite all his nerves. He’s seen Ueno Castle a handful of times, and he’s visited the Ninja Museum nearby, but he supposes acting like a tourist will make this whole ordeal less daunting. 

He will see the diary, and maybe he will read it, and then he will go about his life because what else can he do?

He freezes with his hand halfway to the museum’s door when the thought crosses his mind. 

What can he do? What good will reading Osamu’s diary do? 

Whether or not he reads Osamu’s diary, he will still be gone and Rintarou will continue to feel that loss just as much as he had before. He already can’t move on. What good will this do other than weigh more heavily on him?

Before he can decide to turn around, the museum doors fly open, giving him a start. 

“Oh! So sorry,” an older woman says, pushing her bright red glasses up the bridge of her nose. She looks up and down at Rintarou, furrowing her brow as she studies him. 

“Are ya by any chance Suna-san?” she asks.

Rintarou nods, surprised that he’s been expected. He can’t turn around now. 

“My God, Miya-chan said you’d be tall, but,” she cuts herself off with a chuckle before beckoning him inside. “Come, come. I wasn’t expectin’ ya to visit so soon but I’m glad you’re here. I’m Isago Sui, by the way. This was all so crazy! Real nice to hear from old colleagues and friends…”

She talks rapidly as she shows Rintarou around the gallery, but he doesn’t really listen. He can’t, knowing how close he is to Osamu’s diary, somewhere in this room among all the artifacts. No one else is here on a weekday this close to closing. 

There are many things on display — Printed photographs and shigajiku hanging on the walls, books in display cases, and miscellaneous items that must mean a lot to their owners. Each time they pass a book or tablet that could hold Osamu’s writing, Rintarou feels his pulse race, waiting for Isago to show him what he’s here for. 

“Well, anyway, this all started ‘cause it turns out one of Miya-chan’s family relics ended up here,” she says, finally returning to the original point of Rintarou’s appearance. She tilts her head, a friendly smile on her face when she asks, “Are ya also part of the family?”

The question catches Rintarou off guard. There’s no reason for her to believe he’s a Miya. They don’t share a family name. But he can’t help but think of how he did feel like family. Osamu was essentially his spouse, Atsumu his brother, their parents and family treating Rintarou as part of the Miyas when they saw each other. It was the first family he had since his own had died. 

Then he thinks of the present Osamu and how he had also started to feel that same belonging. Even in the short time they’d spent together, Rintarou already felt like Osamu wanted him by his side at family events and with his friends as his other half. 

He pushes the thought out of his head — Thinking of the present Osamu still feels like a fresh wound. He suddenly misses him so much, the feeling is almost tangible. Like he’s missing an arm or a chunk of his heart. He wishes he were here for some reason, which is mortifying because who would want to watch their partner uncover their late lover’s belongings? 

But a part of him wonders if Osamu would have been okay with that. He was always so amiable when it came to Rintarou, more understanding than he could have ever asked for. 

Rintarou wishes he could be more selfish, but he knows he can’t put Osamu through this. Especially when Rintarou nods at Isago and mumbles quietly, “Yes. I am.”

His life will always be a complicated tangle of memories and feelings from the past, and Osamu can’t help but step in the middle of them. There’s nothing Osamu can do about it, and the least Rintarou can do is to keep him out so he doesn’t get caught up in the mess. 

“We keep the old books in here.” She guides him to another part of the gallery, sectioned off to be darker and a bit cooler. Display cases line the walls, holding books open and sandwiched between slabs of glass. A tablet is mounted beneath each showcase. 

Isago points to a book and ushers him over.

“This one belongs to Miya Osamu.”

Suddenly, all Rintarou can hear is his own heartbeat. All he can focus on is the open diary in front of him, the edges of the pages slightly torn and the binding loose. The pages are browned but the calligraphy is still legible despite a few smudges. When he steps closer, he sees his name. Isago is chatting about how they keep the books preserved but he can’t bring himself to listen. Not when the sight of Osamu’s handwriting floods him with emotion. Without thinking, his hand comes up to the glass, just ghosting over the barrier between him and the paper Osamu once touched. 

“This pillow book is pretty popular. Lots of foot traffic,” she chuckles. This, he tunes back in to hear. “I think it may be ‘cause of the content. We believe Osamu’s lover might have been immortal. Isn’t that interestin’? He brings up this ‘Rin’ a few times…”

Rintarou glances at her when she trails off, meeting her thoughtful gaze. Isago stares at him for a while before her eyes soften and she takes a step away. 

“Well, Suna Rintarou, I’ll let ya have your moment,” she says gently. “Take your time. Don’t worry about closin’ time, alright?”

He nods, silently grateful as he turns back to the journal in front of him and is met with another swell of emotion. He tries not to get his fingerprints on the glass, but he desperately wants to reach through and touch the paper. 

He wants to feel Osamu’s messy handwriting beneath his fingertips. He hasn’t seen it in so long, and the familiarity even after all these years makes his heart twist. It’s like hearing Osamu’s footsteps and knowing it’s him without even looking. It’s like turning on their futon and knowing Osamu only just woke up because his warmth still lingers. 

He wishes he could flip through the journal. He recognizes it despite how weathered it’s become. The pages at the front should be filled with his, Osamu’s, and Atsumu’s names as he practiced writing them over and over. 

The diary starts to blur in front of him. Rintarou quickly takes a deep breath, willing himself to calm down so he can actually read the contents of the page. He forces himself to, now that he’s come all this way. 

 

Shōhō, year one — 1645

I think my writing has improved, which is good because I was told to keep a record of things by my family. They would like my descendants and future incarnates to know what I was up to. 

I want them to know about Rin. That’s mostly why I asked him to teach me how to read and write a few years ago. I want my descendants to know he could still be out there, especially if they could meet him. Even if it’s hundreds of years later. I want them to know there was someone I loved who could still be roaming this Earth, whenever they read this.

 

Rintarou feels his fingers go cold, his heart beating so quickly he worries he might pass out. 

Osamu knew. The whole time, he knew about his family’s blessing and that he could reincarnate, and he never told Rintarou. 

He feels confused, unsure what to make of the entry. He takes a step back, realizing the diary holds much more than he’d anticipated, and he doesn’t know if he can handle it.

The tablet glares at him. He could turn away now. Or he could read more and understand why Osamu kept this secret from him, even if that means unearthing more than what he was ready for. 

He taps the screen and starts flipping through the pages from the beginning. 

The writing is very simple at first. Beginner sentences and entries like, “Went down to village today,” and “Mad at Atsumu. Again.” Rintarou surprises himself when the chuckle he lets out sounds wet. He clears his throat, nodding to himself when he starts to see the improvement in Osamu’s writing. He starts to explain what he did at the village and why he’s mad at Atsumu again in more detail.

Every few days, Osamu writes only about Rintarou and how much he loves him, and it makes him smile even as he feels his lip trembling. 

 

Kan’ei, year twenty — 1643

I know a lot of people write poetry, but I think it’s for the best that I don’t try. I can just picture the way Rin will laugh and laugh because it will be very bad. I just know it. I don’t want to embarrass myself. 

But I would like to tell him how much I care about him and how glad I am that he’s still here. Him staying here with me, when he could go anywhere else, tells me how much he loves me. How do I show him how I feel? Maybe I will make his favourite food for dinner. Atsumu wronged me earlier, so I will give Rintarou his portion of the daikon.  

 

Rintarou laughs quietly to himself. He can’t help but find Osamu writing this entry and contemplating poetry funny, picturing the image so clearly. He can see exactly where in the shrine Osamu was writing, away from Rintarou’s sight, hunched over his little desk. 

He stops writing very often, likely trying to preserve the journal he has and its limited pages. He starts to write only periodically, presumably when he has something he can’t talk to Rintarou about. 

 

Keian, year three — 1650

I am getting visibly older than Rin, I think. He probably sees it too. When he arrived, I was twenty years old and he was two hundred and fifty. I am turning thirty this year and noticing small changes. He hasn’t aged a day. He is still this beautiful boy I met at the top of the shrine steps, like a deity paying us a visit. He’d like it if I said that to him. Maybe I should finally try poetry. 

 

Rintarou snorts, but it kind of sounds like a sob. He’s glad no one’s around to hear him. 

 

Keian, year four — 1651

Atsumu left today. The shrine feels too quiet. I don’t think I have to tell him that I will miss him, and I can tell that he had a hard time leaving. It will be good for us though. To live our own lives.

Rin didn’t say much to me. I think he is just trying to be considerate. He must think I am sad about Atsumu leaving, which I am, but no offense to my brother, I look forward to this new beginning with just me and Rin. I wonder what our days will look like when it is just the two of us. Atsumu said he will be the happier twin because he gets to set out and do whatever it is he wants to do, but when I look over at Rin, I think I’ve already had that title for a long time.

 

Jōō, year two — 1653

Rintarou asked me what I was writing about. I told him it was a secret, which he didn’t push. He said to tell me when I was ready, or he’d just unearth it after I died. It was funny at the time, but I'm worried he will find this and learn about my reincarnation. I don't want him to think he needs to wait for me. Who knows how long it will be before Atsumu and I are reincarnated? It could be a millennia. To think of him, lonely and waiting for me when there is so much to experience in an immortal life, is too much to bear. If he ever finds out, it can’t be too soon.

 

Rintarou stops reading. Understanding comes to him at the same time a new wave of sadness washes over him. Osamu had kept his reincarnation a secret so Rintarou wouldn’t spend his time waiting and searching for him. And yet Rintarou had unconsciously done just that even without knowing Osamu’s soul could come back. 

 

Jōō, year four — 1655

I found a frog by the river today as we were strolling, and when I picked it up, Rintarou made a horrible face that I laugh at just recalling. I'd asked him if he would still love me if I turned into a frog like that. He gave me a displeased look and said, “What an idiotic question.” I suppose it is. He did not look happy about the frog. I wouldn't blame him if I turned into a frog and he refused to kiss me. Although I would be sad. I am a little sad now because what if I do become a frog?

 

Jōō, year four — 1655

I should have had more faith in Rintarou. Last night, before we went to bed, he turned to me and said he would love me no matter what form I took. He said he loved my soul, and has never met anyone like me in his long life. He wouldn’t let me go just because I turned into a frog. Although maybe no kissing. Then he turned away and pretended to sleep. But I saw how his cheeks turned red in the dark. He is so amusing. 

I understand why he said it was an idiotic question now. I hope this means that, no matter what form my soul takes in the future, Rintarou could find me and love me just the same. Even if I look different and the Earth isn’t the same as it is today, I hope that Rintarou will know my soul and I may recognize his as well. 

 

Rintarou blinks. He kind of remembers this conversation, but he obviously had not understood its weight until now. He feels a tear suddenly fall, rolling down his cheek before it hits the tablet. He can’t believe he’s reading Osamu’s thoughts from that night now, hundreds of years later. 

Osamu had to know his reincarnation would not remember his past if he himself had no recollection of his previous life. He had to know that even if Rintarou found him, Osamu’s reincarnation wouldn’t necessarily notice him in a crowd. 

But he had. Osamu had found him, even without remembering who he was. It is because he still possesses the same kind soul that Rintarou could fall in love with again, even as a new and different person. 

He looks down at the scroll bar and realizes he’s on the last entry. A sense of dread comes over him. He should be ready to say goodbye, but something feels unfinished. As if he hasn’t gotten what he should have out of the entries. He inhales slowly, preparing himself as he swipes to the last page. It was written five years later, when Osamu was forty and about to die.

 

Manji, year three — 1660

The medicine brings relief, but I know well enough that my life is coming to an end. I need to get rid of this journal before Rintarou gets a hold of it. I could bring it to Atsumu, but that would mean explaining to him why I need him to keep it for me. He'll know that I'm leaving first.

I am admittedly afraid of dying. When I look at Rintarou, he seems so young, even though he is far older than I am. But he has so much life ahead of him. It stretches into eons, and it saddens me to think I am really only a moment in his long, immortal existence. I think perhaps we were too naïve. Eternity feels unfathomable even now, but I've realized that Rintarou will be alive for as long as I am dead. It's a bit horrifying to think about. It feels lonely, for both of us. 

I am grateful to have known him for most of my life and to have him by my side to the end. I'm sorry that I can't do the same for him, but I hope that someone will, in some way. Because the thought of him being alone is what terrifies me most. If love finds him, no matter when or how, let him accept it. All I ask is that he forgives me for leaving him, and that he remembers how much I loved him. 

And if we are lucky, perhaps my soul will find him. Maybe it will call out for him, and somehow I will be able to remind him just how much he will always mean to me. 

 

“Rin.”

He hears footsteps, more timid than usual, but there’s no mistaking who they belong to. He feels more tears fall, more than he’s felt in years, and he tries to stop but they don’t. They slip freely and silently as he turns to find Osamu standing at the edge of the room.

It’s only been a few weeks, but Rintarou suddenly realizes just how hollow he’d felt without him. Knowing he was there but not with him hurt more than he’d expected. So when Osamu walks over, he can’t help but pull him close.

He melts into the embrace, getting Osamu’s shoulder wet but he doesn’t seem to mind. Rintarou feels fingers gently lace through his hair, offering him the comfort he’s desperately craved. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts, but Osamu immediately shushes him, shaking his head. 

“Don’t be.” Rintarou leans back, letting Osamu take his face in his hands. He smiles softly at him as he sweeps his thumbs across his wet cheeks, cradling him. 

“How did you know I’d be here?” Rintarou asks, belatedly becoming aware of how sudden Osamu’s appearance is. 

Osamu chuckles bashfully. “Hitomi-chan told me to come find ya. That the diary might make ya change your mind.” Then he laughs again. “And then I saw your Instagram story. So I knew you were on your way to the museum.”

A laugh bubbles out of Rintarou’s chest, a bit dazed now that Osamu’s here. The present one. He thinks of the journal behind him carrying his past, and wonders if the Osamu in front of him would be willing to read it if it meant understanding him. 

“Do you want to read it?” Rintarou murmurs. “The diary? I’ll tell you about him.”

He waits for Osamu to hesitate. He wouldn’t blame him for being reluctant to learn about the man before him, even if it had been his previous life. 

But Osamu nods without missing a beat, his eyes even lighting up in interest. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’d really like that, actually.”

Rintarou chews on his lip, but his heart ultimately gives in. He lets it open up, and this time, he doesn’t feel like he needs to close it. 

He flips through the diary again, elaborating and filling in blanks as Osamu quietly reads, their hands joined the entire time as they huddle around the tablet. Rintarou gives him additional anecdotes and answers any questions he has, finally giving him the details he’d been too afraid to share before. He doesn’t hold back when he talks about how much he’d loved the previous Osamu. 

And somehow, in being honest, it gives him peace of mind. It assuages the guilt he’s been carrying, and when they get to the final few entries, Rintarou truly believes that the past Osamu would have wanted him to accept this relief. 

It’s quiet when the two of them finish reading. Rintarou leans his head on Osamu’s shoulder, feeling a steadiness he doesn’t think he’s felt before. Maybe it’s because he’s here right now, but Rintarou thinks that even after this Osamu leaves the Earth, he won’t have to feel as lonely as he did before. 

“I know we aren’t the same person, and whoever comes after me won’t be either,” Osamu suddenly says, breaking the silence. “But my soul knows it loves ya. I know I’m in love with you.” He turns to look at him, his eyes almost pleading when he asks, “Are you okay with that?”

Rintarou smiles. He doesn’t need them to be the same person, and he doesn’t want a replacement. What he misses is connection, and there is someone offering it to him, because he knows in his soul to reach out to Rintarou. And Rintarou knows now that he should allow it. 

He takes Osamu’s cheek in his palm, warm and precious in his hands. “I want you. And all the goodness you’ve come with.”

He kisses Osamu gently at first, but they both know immediately that it isn’t enough. Osamu kisses him deeply, and just like the first time in his apartment, it’s like he’s missed him for a hundred years. And a centuries-old ache in Rintarou disappears. 

He doesn’t even care if it could take another millenia to spend a few decades with Osamu. He would wait again and again, and he knows Osamu will find him each time.

“I’m glad my soul found ya,” Osamu says after breaking apart, grinning. Rintarou chuckles, bumping their noses together as he lets himself smile back. 

“Thank you for finding me.” 

Notes:

thank you for reading !

i did question whether or not the ending was a bit too bittersweet, considering the fact that osamu is still mortal, but i thought this was the kind of story that needed to be a bit unsatisfying in the long run.. they just need each other Now.. #openending but in my head osamu calls in a favour from the goddess and they live happily ever after. why is the author acting like she knows so much lmfao

anyway, here is the fic graphic ! feel free to yell at me on twt i love talking abt the pitfalls of ossn

take care and until next time !