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Goro's mother used to tell him that on New Year's Day, everyone was born anew. On those bright cold mornings, the limited daylight filtering into whatever small apartment they lived in, she'd look out the window and tell him that somehow this year would be different. When he woke up, they'd eat their leftover soba, and he would clean the dishes and get dressed on his own while she said it again and again. A mantra to protect them before they got swallowed up by the crowds at the shrine.
She had been desperate to cling to any scrap of hope.
Goro would love to believe in new years and new starts. But, every New Year's Day, he wakes up as himself, all his losses and failures following him from one year to the next. He's been old for years longer than he's been young if he was ever young at all. But this year, when Ren unlocks the apartment door with the key Goro gave him, his mother's words might be coming true. He's finally ready for whatever newness the world sends his way.
"Hey." Ren enters the apartment, arms full of groceries and cheeks pink from the cold. He exhales, and the haze of fog over his glasses recedes, bright grey eyes shining against the fading afternoon light.
"You're finally here," Goro says, putting down his book, careful not to dog-ear the pages. He wasn't really reading it, but it had been a distraction from the thoughts piling on top of one another. And he didn't want Ren to think he'd been waiting.
"Bored?" Ren puts the bags on Goro's counter before walking to the couch. Goro grins at him, all teeth, before Ren kisses him, quick and fierce and possessive. Goro's heart is small. Most days, it only opens enough for him to love one person, rusted over and worn from lack of use. It opens for Ren, though. Every time he smiles or glances at Goro, it cracks enough to let in another beam of light.
"I got all the stuff for dinner and tomorrow too." Ren brushes his lips against Goro's forehead before going to the kitchen. He unpacks meat, eggs, and bags of fresh noodles, arranging them in a neat row on the counter.
"I should start cleaning," Goro says, eying the dust and clutter.
Their patterns synch while they work in peaceful companionship. Ren spends so much time in Goro's little studio that he knows all the quirks in the kitchen, where Goro keeps the knives, how long it takes for the burners to heat up, the right amount to twist the faucet so the water pressure remains consistent. He's here more than he's in his apartment in Koenji. Goro enjoys nothing more than waking up to Ren's head resting on his chest, dark hair curtaining between them.
Goro finishes sweeping while Ren slices konbu into strips and measures out bonito flakes. He doesn't usually keep the apartment spotless, but with the New Year about to begin and the promise of being reborn into something better, he wants to greet it properly.
Ren exudes a quiet joy when he cooks, focused and intent. He lights the burner and slips off his glasses, leaving them on the counter. After one off-handed comment from Goro about liking his intense expression, Ren stopped wearing them while cooking. Goro steals glances at him in between vacuuming and dusting. Ren whips tempura batter with those long chopsticks he brought to Goro's for cooking, saving him from a lifetime of microwave meals and instant coffee.
Last year, they didn't spend New Year's Eve together. Whatever grew between them had been so new and tenuous that Goro didn't think when Ren spent the holiday with the Sakuras before visiting the shrine with them and Morgana. No use doing something so significant if it was going to fall apart months later. And he didn't want to walk into last year tempting that kind of fate.
"That smells nice," Goro says, when he's cleared off the coffee table, made the bed and vacuumed the dirt from every crevice. "But, are you sure you didn't want to accept Niijima's invitation for later? Sae-san will be there too."
"Hm? Why?" Ren furrows his brow, before holding out a clean spoon. "Here. Try the broth."
It's delicious, full of subtle flavors that bloom against his tongue. Goro wants Ren to be happy, and usually, Ren jumps at the rare chance to see his friends. It's hard, with all of them so busy, to carve away the time. He'd be almost drunk on the happiness of having Ren to himself if his evasion wasn't so abnormal.
"Brilliant," Goro says, handing back the spoon, their fingers grazing. "I'd expect nothing less."
"Ha. You know I'd rather stay in with you." Ren wraps his arms around Goro's neck. His heart pounds. Every time Ren touches him, intimate and loving, Goro's small, closed-up heart opens, and this time is no exception. He presses their foreheads together, kissing Ren before they break apart.
"Well, Takamaki, Suzui, and Sakamoto are going to the shrine tomorrow?" Goro tilts his head and tries not to stare. He fails. "Yoshizawa invited us too."
"Big crowd," Ren says, staring at the bubbling pot. He shuffles from foot to foot, one hand on his neck like he does when he's really lying. "We'd have to…you know, accommodate their schedules."
"You didn't want to see Boss or Futaba?" Goro puts his hand on his chin and bites his lip. It all seems plausible, but the excuses pile up on top of each other. Goro's spent years studying Ren Amamiya. He knows all his tells and their severity. Ren, very deliberately, looks away. "They even texted me to ask you."
"Goro." Ren reaches for a pack of mushrooms, holding a chef's knife like an instrument. "I want to be with you. I've been planning this for weeks. Besides. New Year's is for family."
"Oh." Goro flushes, so overwhelmed with the warmth in his chest that he can almost ignore Ren skillfully dancing around the question. Almost. He raises an eyebrow and starts to speak.
"Well-"
"Pass the noodles?" Ren asks before he can, pushing his glasses up so they fog his eyes.
Goro knows a closed door when it shuts in his face.
"Maybe we'll see them next year, then."
"Mmm…sure." Ren's words are nearly lost to the boiling water and bubbling oil while Goro turns away.
Ren's face lights up as he plates their dinner. In addition to soba and dashi with simmered vegetables, he's made plates of tempura and skewered chicken with a sticky soy sauce. There's a rolled omelet and slices of fishcake and lotus root. Goro bows his head at the feast before them.
On the rare occasion that the Thieves are all in the same place, Ren makes them elaborate meals. He lights up, during the planning and the prep. Sometimes, Goro goes with him to a handful of different marketplaces, where Ren examines the produce and weighs one cut of fish against another. He searches for obscure ingredients to finish off his desserts. And even though the food vanishes in twenty minutes, while the Phantom Thieves talk and joke and barely notice, Goro knows the work in every bite.
"Impressive," Goro says as they crowd his small table. He breathes it in, rich and warm and homey. Crafted with such care.
"I know." Ren ducks his head, glancing slyly over his wine glass. He gestures to the food, waiting for Goro. "Eat while it's hot."
The soba, the tempura, and the broth are all excellent, soothing and warm. Goro tastes so much more than just the food with every bite. He closes his eyes and lets the feelings flow over him. The completed meal is better than the samples Ren fed him while they worked.
"I can never let you go," Goro laughs. "I'd starve to death."
"Smart." Ren smiles and leans back, cheeks flush from the wine and the heater, while ambient music plays in the background. "I've seen you cook."
Ren nudges Goro with his foot, and while they talk he glows. It's the two of them, quiet conversation, plans for the new year, and beyond. Ren's new job, apprenticing at a coffee shop nearby, Goro's classes next semester, and the fieldwork he'll have to finish. The possibility of a trip next spring. The timing for tomorrow's shrine visit.
Goro has an errand he has to run after they visit the shrine together, but he swallows that down and focuses on dinner and the night ahead. If he's not being entirely upfront, well, neither is Ren.
But there's something about how Ren's eyes sparkle when he lifts his glass and glances at Goro that makes him want to melt. Coy. Inviting. His blood rises at the invitation, and he's warm from food, good wine, and better company.
Goro tugs Ren to his feet, lifting his chin to kiss him, hungry for more than food. Ravenous. They don't manage to clean the table before Goro has Ren in his bed. All thoughts of anything but his skin, his hair, his touch, evaporate into mist.
"That was nice," Ren says softly, drowsy and sated after they've showered. They sit in the tub, and he leans into Goro's arms, skin pink from the water heated to a degree short of scalding. Ren's so receptive to Goro's touch that even a finger down his spine makes him shudder. Two years ago, when Goro woke up without hope or a plan, only a life in ashes, a night like this was a distant dream. Unattainable as the north star. Destined to be a beacon, always followed by never attained. Waking from the dead, Goro still believes, was a lesser miracle than the quiet life they have together.
"I think it was more than nice," Goro murmurs, scraping his teeth against Ren's ear.
"Ah," Ren sighs at the touch, Goro's fingers wandering down the arc of his neck and the curve of his shoulder. There are small spots of lighter color on Ren's skin, the hint of scar tissue lacerating his shoulder blade. Goro traces it with one hand, remembering the victorious smile that spread across his face years ago. The glee he felt at a job well done.
Goro brushes his lips against Ren's shoulder, marveling as he responds to the touch with a soft gasp. Steam rises around them, and Goro buries his head in Ren's neck, the supple skin smelling of soap and musk. He's warm and beautiful and alive.
Sometimes, he wonders if it's too early to ask Ren if he'd want a two-bedroom or if one would suffice. Goro's spent the past two years slowly filling his life with well-made things. The plates, his table, the pans he bought so Ren would cook for him. The two of them together every day, would be the sturdiest of all. A new year invites this kind of thinking. Invites new ways to be reborn. He doesn't know if it's too soon or if their whole lives have prepared them for this moment. But Goro has always taken what he wanted, and he'll hold onto this with both hands.
"Here, you still have some soap in your hair." Goro runs a hand across Ren's scalp, feeling his locks are heavy and unruly even when wet. The warm water drips across his fingers, down his wrists, and onto Ren's shoulders, obscuring the suggestion of scars before streaming into the bathwater.
"I love this," Ren says, untangling Goro's hand from his hair before kissing his wrist. He relaxes against Goro for so long the water gets cold. Even then, it's hard to move, but cold air breezes in from the living room, and it's time to go.
"Come on," Goro says, and they climb out of the bath. Ren's hair dries quickly, back into its unmanageable fluff. The steam dissipates, and the fog on the mirror fades away. It's them, reflected back, a hazy reflection growing clearer with every breath. Ren blinks before following him out of the bathroom. The TV drones in the background as they settle on Goro's couch, Ren draped over him.
"Let's just do this forever," Ren says, leaning against Goro, head on his collarbone.
"Mmm. Sounds agreeable." Usually, he'd be delighted at the idea of Ren all to himself, but it feels empty. Ren chose him, despite everything that happened between the two of them. He chose Goro years ago, on another snowy night like this. Despite the scars scattered like starlight across his back and shoulders. Despite the chaos and bad blood, the cruelty and hatred. Despite it all, he's here. But the hollowed-out distance in Ren's eyes remains as he glances away from Goro.
Tonight isn't for pushing on weak spots until they bend or break.
Instead, they sit together on the couch, Ren's legs curling over Goro's hip. The TV plays something in the background, but it's a low static hum. There's a bubble around them that nothing will penetrate. Ren's breath holds its steady cadence, chest rising and falling. He's a night owl, Goro knows, and they murmur conversation. The minutes tick away. Outside, the temperature plummets. The old year dies, and a new one rises from the dust. The temple bells ring in the distance, clanging and vibrating through Tokyo's streets.
"Another year," Ren says. "We made it."
"I can't imagine anyone better to spend tonight with," Goro says. He wraps his fingers around Ren's shoulder. Another chance for them to be born anew.
"Every year," Ren sighs, tangling his fingers in Goro's hair and kissing his collar bone. Goro's flooded with warmth. "Me and you."
They make it to Goro's bed, falling asleep tangled around one another. He's almost able to forget the hollow in Ren's eyes as his rhythmic breathing lulls them to sleep.
Ren usually sleeps deeply and wakes up late. Most mornings, Goro gets up before him and goes biking or studies at the table while eating toast and waiting for coffee. On some mornings, though, when the dreams are too bad, Goro presses his hand against Ren's chest to confirm he's breathing. Other times, he brushes his fingers against Ren's forehead, lingering on the place where his third eye would be. He always expects blood to stain his hands, but they always come away clean. And Ren blinks and sighs and kisses Goro, awake and alive.
Today, with all their neighbors piling outside, he gives in to the luxury of staying in bed. The city's closed down, leaving Tokyo in quiet harmony. The world rests. He joins them in repose.
Ren's breath speeds up, and he shuffles against Goro before tracing his waist, his chest, and his stomach with his elegant, capable hands. Goro arcs into it, as he always does, breath speeding up.
"Morning?" Ren mumbles. "Early?"
"We slept in," Goro says, tracing a finger over Ren's collarbone.
"'kay. Coffee?" Ren sits up and rubs his eyes before blinking slowly like a cat.
"Coffee would be nice," Goro says. Ren pads into the little kitchen, full of the coffee supplies he'd moved over one at a time until Goro's kitchen was a barista's dream. A french press, an aero press, a moka pot he'd imported from Italy, somehow. Goro spent a year before returning to Tokyo, traveling wherever he could. One day, they'll make it to Italy together. They'll go a lot of places, open the world beyond Tokyo. And he wants to see all those new places with Ren. For now, happiness is a studio in Nakameguro, where the quiet sounds of people in the streets wake them and put them to sleep. They both know the world is bigger and Goro wants to see it with Ren at his side.
Ren hums when he makes coffee, soft enough to be imperceptible unless you care enough to hear. It's atonal, but it buzzes. But it fills the apartment with harmony, the sounds of Ren humming and grinding the beans, over the soft shush of the water boiling. He turns, and his eyes shine, looking at Goro.
"Here. It's the way you like it." Ren spent hours over the first few months of their relationship quizzing him on flavor profiles and giving him different blends to try, before they settled on this one, rich and deep. Goro usually lies and says he can taste the cherry notes, but today he can taste a hint of berries and chocolate blooming on his tongue.
"Would you want to see what the others are doing tonight?" Goro asks, idly, scrolling through his phone. "They've been texting. I'm sure you've seen."
"Oh…yeah." Ren focuses on the boiling water and the long-necked kettle. He lies again, so subtly Goro wants to believe he's seeing things. "I saw those."
Goro's on the main group chat again added begrudgingly months ago, and he sees all the plans they're making. Though the Phantom Thieves swore their bonds would never break, they've bent and frayed with the passing of the years. They've scattered like sparks to burn their way to bright futures, occasionally alighting into Ren's life to start small fires before scattering again
Today, they're reminding each other and convincing themselves that they should see each other during this family holiday.
The Phantom Thief chat might be pinging every minute, but Goro knows Ren's parents haven't called or bothered to text. They never do.
We're not that close, he'd explained once. I found better people here.
People he's made every excuse to not see today, on a day meant for family. Meant for the bonds between the people you've chosen. Goro will have to go up to Kabukicho at some point during the day. Maybe while Ren's cooking. Maybe he can slip away after they visit the shrine. Or if they see the Thieves, he can drop Ren off or leave early, returning without anyone suspecting.
"Tomorrow," Ren says, passing him a steaming mug. "Today's for us."
"To the shrine, then?" Goro says after they've eaten. Ren's gaze keeps glancing off him. The two of them together should feel good, but there's a lingering wrongness he can't unravel. And it's working its way under his skin, buzzing with concern.
"It is a tradition," Ren says. "Sojiro and Futaba are going later, maybe we'll see them." Then he ducks his head, in the practiced way he lies. Goro was a detective once, and he sees the mystery Ren conceals from him. It's hard because he's not the only one not completely honest today. "But I want to get back early to cook."
They dress in their street clothes. Ren's never been one for formal wear, and Goro has too many memories of his mother unable to dress him traditionally. She used to watch him with sad eyes while he gripped her hand and bowed and clapped. His winter jacket and blazer are respectful enough.
When they go outside, the streets overflow with people greeting the New Year. There are several shrines in Nakameguro, but most of his neighbors walk toward the metro in formal kimono or nicer everyday clothes. Families cluster together, chattering and gesturing. And he and Ren stand close together in the bracing winter air.
"Want to walk?" Goro asks before, by habit, he fixes Ren's scarf, always slightly askew.
"Sure." Ren glances at his phone before tucking it back into his pocket. "I don't mind the cold."
Ren doesn't mind much. He stays placid and ever-flowing like water, around and through all the obstacles in his path. His rough currents hide behind a flat stare and mulish tightness on his lips. Ren, upset, always retreats into a place Goro can barely enter, but today, he will coax the door open.
Goro's the one to breach the distance between them. He grips Ren's bare hand, squeezing hard and not letting go. It's an hour to the Meiji shrine on foot, through the winding streets of Nakameguro, north along the canal before avoiding the worst of Shibuya. He's the one who can draw Ren out and get him to talk back, but today, they walk in mostly silence.
Yoyogi Park opens around them. The Meiji Shrine is an oasis of nature in Tokyo's vast sprawl. They join the swell of the crowd, sweeping them up. When he was younger, his mother liked to come here. Easier to be invisible with thousands, than stay close to home where everyone knew her business. Where they watched her with judgmental eyes. There are probably thousands of people here, and like when he was a child, they are two strangers swallowed by the crowd.
Ren grips Goro's hand, working into the fabric. But when Goro tries to squeeze back, he lets go and steps to the side. That thousand-yard stare returns as they wind through the broad paths, shadowed by leafless trees.
They wait with the crowd, the line moving quickly. Ren stays tight at Goro's side, as they peel off their gloves and wash their hands. He likes to imagine the bad parts of the old year washing away with every splash.
Ren closes his eyes when he bows, his long lashes fluttering down. Goro glances over, he can't help himself. He should be focusing on the task, but Ren's so tense that Goro wants to climb inside his head and root through all his secrets. The moment passes. Ren opens his eyes. And the crowd throngs around them, choking out all the air.
"Should we go?" Goro asks.
He hasn't made any headway in uncovering what is wrong with Ren. He won't let this go, of course, but he doesn't know how to wear away at this wall. They could go home, he could go out, maybe then…
"Sure." Ren shakes his head, voice bitter. "I don't need another New Year's wish."
They wind past the people writing their wishes on plaques and food vendors selling takoyaki and yakisoba. They're through the crowd and back out on the broad path, whatever Ren might say lost to the din."
Ren?" Someone's voice calls out, clear and excited.
"Oh no," Ren murmurs under his breath, and Goro narrows his eyes. But then Ann Takamaki bounds toward them, and Ren's all smiles and shadows in his eyes.
Takamaki is wearing a red kimono, her hair done up with adornments. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, while she vibrates with excitement. She runs through the crowd, smiling bright enough to warm the day.
"Oh, hey, Ann," Ren says, his tone lighter. He looks at her outfit, gaze alighting on the red fabric, before strangely his lips quirk down in disappointment. Goro files it away with the rest of his strange behavior. The clues refuse to add up, no matter what angle he tries.
"It is you," she flings her arms around him. Goro stands back, the forgotten observer here. He looks at her with a long-practiced disinterest before continuing to observe the scenario. "Oh my god, I missed you so much."
"You've been away," Ren says, putting his hands in his pockets and leaning away from her. "Glad you're back."
"Yeah, for like a whole month," She lets him go, before smiling at Goro, who waves back wanly.
"I like your kimono," Ren says. "You always wear this one, right? Every year."
"Ren." Ann laughs, twirling to show off the bright red fabric rippling around her in waves. "I'm almost afraid of how good your memory is."
"Yeah, well." Ren's lips twist down before he smiles. His glasses hide how it doesn't reach his eyes, but Goro sees. He always does. "Kept us alive."
"Did you want to get together soon?" Takamaki asks, bubbly and bright. She's not attuned to every shift in Ren's moods. She probably can't tell there was one. "I've missed you so much. We can double date." She says the last in a sing-song tone, and Ren smiles.
"Yeah, let's get the gang together." Only Goro notices the slight tightness to his smile. He keeps his head slightly down, not looking at Takamaki, and stands an extra step away from her.
"We should be going," Goro gestures to the crowds. "We already made our offering. And I don't want to be in the way."
"Ok, yeah." Takamaki hugs Ren one more time before gesturing with her hand. "Call me."
"Will do. Maybe tomorrow?"
"Can't wait!" Takamaki turns, before waving at them. "See you soon." Her voice carries, but she's swallowed up, another strip of patterned silk in an ocean of bright fabric.
Ren exhales like he'd held back a storm before sagging against Goro. They don't say anything for a few minutes. Ren eyes a meat skewer - chicken thigh with sweet sauce - and Goro buys a few to share. They wander away from the shrine, fingers touching, until they're on the broad path, massive branches arcing overhead. A few crows caw and circle around them as they sit on a bench. And Ren leans his head on Goro's shoulder as the crowds rush past.
"They're my friends." Ren twists his lips, maybe trying to satisfy Goro with crumbs.
"Yes, I've known that for years. Love and friendship." Goro looks at him sideways, not wanting to give Ren the chance to shut down.
Ren warms his hands, rubbing them together and breathing ghosts onto them. He's chewing on some thought before he swallows it down.
Goro doesn't say, 'What is bothering you?' or 'Can we please talk about it?'. Ren hates that kind of openness as much as he does. Instead, he's careful with his choice of words. Once, a lifetime ago, he’d woven tapestries with fewer threads.
"Takamaki's kimono? I wouldn't think you'd care."
"Oh. She wore that…" Ren's lost in some thought. He's next to Goro. He's a thousand miles away. "A couple of years ago. I can't forget."
"Ren?" Goro touches his arm. A couple of years ago, it could be when the Phantom Thieves were together. But Ren always lights up when he talks about those days; the metaverse and his friends and their adventures. "Kept track of what?"
"Oh." Ren blinks, eyelashes fluttering open and closed. "Nothing."
"Nothing?" Goro keeps his tone light, but now he watches Ren, the hundred subtle emotions flicking across his face.
"I don't.." Ren hunches over and stares at his hands, gritting his teeth to force out his next words. "I don't like New Year's Day. Ok? Happy?"
"No? Ren." Goro wraps an arm around his shoulder. Ren stares at him, his normally studiously unexpressive face downcast and irritated. "I didn't…"
It makes sense now that he has it all laid out in front of him. Goro had seen the after-effects of that strange New Year, the first hint of Maruki's tentacles burrowing into reality to hollow out existence. The way the Phantom Thieves and everyone in the world sank into that disgusting falsehood. Lulled to sleeping by a god who was anything benevolent. Ren had never talked about what happened in the hours before Goro barged into Leblanc, before he saw the dead among the living, and the living with the dead-eyed stares of the lost.
"It's silly." Ren turns his head away, before crossing his arms. They might both be back in that cold year end, unreality spreading like a sickness through the city, without anyone else to trust. Everyone but them so happy. "That was… after that, everything changed."
"No, it's not. It never was."
Ren huffs a breath. "I should be over it. I am. Mostly."
For years, Goro dreamt of wrapping his hands around Maruki's neck and squeezing the life from him. Sowing his own capable chaos. Watching as his pathetic face turned red and he stopped breathing. But as he traveled and saw more of the world, he came around to the Phantom Thief way of thinking. After all, what better punishment than a long life full of failure. He thought he'd made peace with it.
But today, with Ren refusing to look at him, that violent fantasy flares back to life. Making the man face the consequences of what he's done. Having Goro's face, alight with a composed yet burning fury be the last thing he sees. Maruki hearing Goro's cruel laugh be the symphony playing him into oblivion. He just wants to break the man in bloody vengeance and leave him a stain on the floor.
Idle thoughts and ineffective. Ren's soft breathing snaps him back to the present.
"Those were terrible days." Goro knows the trick to keep a suspect talking. Soft, encouraging sentences, ones that keep them on track.
"I had Mona, like with me all the time. I thought… But he changed too. Didn't want to follow me around, I guess. " Ren shakes his head like he's clearing the cobwebs from a forgotten room. "Even him. They all wanted… Not important."
"It is important." Goro puts an arm around Ren's shoulders. He'd been with Sae on Christmas Eve and then he'd blinked and days had passed. He'd woken up in his old apartment with no memory of the time in between. Ren had been a homing beacon, calling to him across Tokyo, the only solution to the utter bullshit Maruki tried to mire them in. He'd known Ren, needed Ren in that transactional way they'd operated. But he'd needed him on a deeper level. Needed to know the only person he respected was still worthy of it.
And he'd had no small measure of satisfaction knowing his friends had been too weak and spineless to even try to break free from their bonds.
Sadly, that cruel glee tastes metallic when he tries to swallow it today. Ren stays one step away from him, his posture hunched as always, as he looks straight ahead. The glint from his glasses keeps his expression hidden. Ren Amamiya's still got pieces that remain an enigma to Goro. None of his other friends have really seen this part of him.
"It was just easy for them. That's all." Ren looks at him sideways. "After everything, I was forgettable. It sucked. I dunno."
"Oh." For once, Goro's at a loss for words.
"It wasn't their fault," Ren says at last, voice soft. But Goro's always known how to hear him. "Maruki brainwashed them. What else could they do?
Goro could wipe this away with a flick of his wrist and a quick word. Agree that Maruki was all of it. But that's not them. They don't deal in platitudes or easy answers. He can't smooth this over, and Ren wouldn't want him to.
"It's easy to be angry at Maruki, isn't it?" he asks at last, taking Ren by the chin and tilting his head, so gently, so they look at each other.
"Yeah." Ren shakes his head and breaks free. "I just…they were my team. And they gave in."
Those bonds, all that love and friendship that Goro's never cared about, are vital to Ren. But Goro's heart really is small, cracking open for one person. There's not an easy answer. Tomorrow, Ren will call Takamaki and he'll act like nothing happened years ago. He'll blame the brainwashing done by a madman. They'll continue on because that's who he is, selfless at his core. It's why Goro loves him so much.
The past is immutable. Unchangeable. Life is always moving forward, in an unceasing current.
"Just sucks to know I was at the edge of all their dreams," Ren says.
Goro looks at his hands. They don't do platitudes. And he doesn't open up easily. His voice is quiet, and he looks at the floor. He hates having his vulnerable spots exposed, but Ren needs him.
Ren's friends all have grand plans. Ambitions. Goro was like them once, but he'd lived a hundred years in three. He still carries that weight, a millstone around his neck. It drags him down if he's not careful. Now, all he wants is enough to get by, with quiet days and Ren beside him every night. Ren, his beacon.
"Not mine." Goro rests his hand on Ren's knee. "Never mine."
"That's why I'm with you today." Ren shakes his head before blowing hot air on his hands. There's a finality in the gesture, breathy steam fogging his glasses and obscuring his eyes. "I love them. Just not today."
Goro's drained all the blood he'll get from that stone. Ren shifts and stands and stares at a point far away from them. Past the Meiji Shrine and Yoyogi Park, off into some indecipherable distance. He'll probably never talk about it again, but Goro will remember. He always does.
Next year, because Goro now thinks in years, he'll book a room in a Ryokan with a private onsen up north for New Year's Eve. It will be pricey but it'll be worth it. They'll escape the demons from the past haunting their present together. Spend the day warm and safe, making a new tradition for the future. It's the least he can do.
They linger in Yoyogi Park or another few minutes, blending in with the crowds. Ren grabs a hot can of coffee from a nearby vending machine and they trade sips. Takamaki leaves but she doesn't see them and Ren doesn't try to catch up with her. They take a different path, heading slowly north. A part of Goro would like to linger. But it's getting late, and he has to go.
It would be unkind to keep her waiting.
Goro could ask Ren to go home and start cooking dinner. It's why he has the spare key. Ren would do it, he's gotten used to Goro's mood swings and quick exits. The request sits on his tongue, but he swallows down the impulse.
Ren is, after all, his only living family. Today, on a day of rebirth and possibility, Goro will crack open his ribs and expose another sliver of his heart to the sun. Give them a chance to keep being reborn together.
"I have another thing to do." Goro stares at his hands. They're shaking a little, even with the gloves and the ambient heat. His mouth dries but he continues. "Will you come with me?"
"Huh?" Ren glances at him, knowledge in those eyes. "Of course."
They take the train, this time. The sun starts to sink, and the temperature drops, and he wants this last, difficult thing over. Goro can't force Ren to open up and he's not going to patch up this sore spot. Ren won't let him. He is that unstoppable force, stubborn and clever and unwilling to give. Ren presses up against him. They'll be fine. He'll be fine.
Kabukicho has changed in recent years, becoming more and more a place for tourists, but to the north, it remains unsavory. Goro grew up here in a childhood defined by loss and violence. And then one day it was no longer here and all that's left are twice-yearly pilgrimage to the outskirts. Alone. Always.
He doesn't want to be alone anymore. Nothing will change the past, but he wants to help Ren hold his burdens, he wants Ren to do the same for him. When they get home, he and Ren will cook together, the first real feast of the new year. Ren will be good and patient with him, while Goro chops vegetables and tastes the sauces and broths. Goro's not superstitious, he merely likes to inform the year of how it will go for him. Why tempt fate. They'll retreat back into the little sanctuary Goro built.
A vendor sells incense outside the little cemetery. In a familiar ritual, Goro pays 500 yen for a small bundle and pulls out a matchbook. She deserves that much. No matter how far he's traveled, Goro always winds his way back to this lonely grave. It's a marker in the ground, nothing grand, they never had the money for that. Even the grave is an act of charity by some second cousin Goro never knew. Ren stiffens before leaning against his shoulder, one step behind Goro. They hold hands so tightly, Goro hopes they never let go. Then they break apart, and Goro lights the incense so it smolders before kneeling, his coat draping along the ground. Ren follows. Goro hopes he always does.
"Hi Mom," Goro says. "This is Ren."