Notice:
This is a derivative work.
It contains ambiguous romantic elements and sexual content. If you're not comfortable with that (for example, if you're neutral about ships or only prefer to focus on a single character), please consider carefully before reading.
This story is neither a pure comedy nor a tragedy.
It contains no fantasy elements, everything follows a realistic route.
Now then, let the story begin.
At 25 years old, Fuji Syusuke smashed the car window and pulled a blood-covered little boy out of a vehicle that was already spewing thick smoke.
The impact from moments ago had twisted the doors out of shape, and the couple inside no longer showed any visible signs of life. Saving the child cradled in the woman’s arms was the only thing Fuji could do in that split second.
Flames had already begun to spark from the car. Without looking back, Fuji ran with all his strength, trying to carry the child to safety.
It took less than ten seconds before a massive explosion erupted behind him.
That year, at 25, the person Fuji saved was a little boy with blue eyes.
25歳の不二周助は、煙を噴き出していた車の窓を叩き割り、血まみれの幼い男の子を抱えて引きずり出した。
直前の衝突で車のドアはひどく歪み、座席にいた夫婦にはもはや生きている気配すら見られなかった。
不二がとっさにできたことは、女性の腕に抱かれていたその子どもを助け出すことだけだった。
すでに車からは炎が上がり始めていた。
不二は振り返ることなく、全力で走った。幼い子どもを少しでも遠くへ、少しでも安全な場所へ。
そして十秒も経たないうちに、背後で大きな爆発音が響いた。
25歳のあの日、不二が救ったのは、青い瞳の小さな子どもだった。
25岁的不二周助，砸碎了车窗，从一辆冒出了浓烟的汽车里，抱出了一个满脸血污的小男孩。
刚才的冲撞导致车门已经严重变形，坐在车里的夫妇已经从外表上看不出来有任何生命体征，而救出妇女怀里的孩子是不二在情急之下唯一能做的事，
汽车已经出现了明火，不二没有回头，用尽全力奔跑，试图将小孩带到安全的位置，前后只有十秒钟不到的时间，身后便传来巨大的爆炸声。
25岁那年，不二救下的，是一个蓝眼睛的小男孩。
The boy had been discharged from the hospital.
He was placed in the guest room on the third floor. The entire house was unusually quiet today, and even the television hadn't been turned on.
Tezuka sat at the dining table, holding a cup of coffee in his hands.
Tezuka: When did you decide to bring him home?
Fuji: About seven days ago?
Tezuka: How long were you with him at the hospital?
Fuji: Since the day of the accident. Ten days in total.
Tezuka: ...Ten full days. I was home the entire time, and you didn't say a single word about this.
Fuji: I didn't want to put you in a difficult position.
Tezuka: So you decided not to tell me at all? Just brought him home and left me to face a child calling you “Papa” in German?
Fuji: He started calling me that on his own.
Tezuka: That's not the point.
Fuji: I knew you wouldn't agree.
Tezuka: You knew I wouldn't agree, so you chose to hide it from me? Don't you see the flaw in that logic?
Fuji: I just thought... he had nowhere else to go.
Tezuka: That's society's responsibility, not yours. You're not his guardian. You're not his relative. You could've contacted child welfare in Germany, called the police, reached out to friends of his biological parents...anything but bringing him home without saying a word.
Fuji: If I had told you, would you have agreed?
Tezuka: So you never intended to ask for my opinion? You were just looking for someone who wouldn't stop you. Too bad you still needed my signature.
Fuji: I wasn't trying to go around you...
Tezuka: Let's be honest. If you were on your own, would you have already adopted him?
Brief silence.
Fuji: Maybe.
Tezuka pressed his fingers against his forehead and stood up.
The sound of the chair scraping against the floor rang out sharply.
His voice was low, clearly holding back anger.
Tezuka: Do you realize that everything you've done wasn't because you like children, but because you don't trust me.
Fuji: Why would you say that? That's not fair. It's not that I don't trust you...
Tezuka: No. You have complete faith in how I feel about you, but you don't believe I'd share the burden of this decision with you.
Fuji: I'm sorry, but...
Tezuka: This isn't about right or wrong. It's not even about the child. It's about being shut out from the very beginning.
He turned, grabbed his coat, and walked toward the front door.
Fuji: Where are you going?
Tezuka: Out. Somewhere to cool off.
Fuji: You're going out at eleven p.m. in November to "cool off"? What are you, frozen food?
Tezuka: What else should I do? Get into a shouting match with you? Kick the kid out? Don't worry. I'm not the kind of person who'd walk away from you. I just...
The door closed.
Tezuka wasn't questioning Fuji's kindness, nor was he blaming him for doing anything wrong.
He wasn't someone who particularly liked children, but neither did he dislike them.
He wasn't unmoved by the sight of the boy covered in cuts and bruises, but he wasn't just a bystander either.
Fuji had pulled the boy out of a burning car. Tezuka admired him for that. He was worried about him, felt proud of him, and hurt for him.
Fuji had taken the boy to the hospital and stayed by his side for ten straight days, comforting him, feeding him, giving him medicine. Tezuka could easily imagine how exhausting that must have been.
Did Fuji shoulder it all alone to avoid burdening him, or had he already decided deep down that Tezuka wouldn't agree?
Everything Fuji did was right, and yet... he hadn't waited for him. That fact alone left a deep ache.
His dramatic exit today wasn't out of anger. It was an act of self-preservation.
Tezuka sat on a park bench, under the faint light of a streetlamp, gazing at the wedding ring on his finger. His Adam's apple trembled slightly.
This ring was supposed to be a promise, a vow that from now on, no life decision would ever be made alone again.
Things weren't the same as they had been ten years ago. Now, as adults, they were bound by life itself. They could no longer brush aside conflicts with a laugh. Every choice had real consequences.
In their younger days, they could sulk, tease, get jealous, or hide things and wait for the other to figure it out. But as adults, they had to face responsibility, respect, trust, and negotiation.
Living in a foreign country, if a serious conflict ever arose, there would be no family or friends nearby to mediate.
That was why Tezuka, usually so quiet, had finally exploded with a restrained yet painfully precise stream of logic.
And yet, the most painful truth was that he still believed Fuji wasn't wrong.
手塚は不二の優しさを疑ったわけでも、何かを責めたわけでもなかった。
彼は子どもが特別に好きというわけではないが、嫌いでもない。
手塚は、顔中傷だらけのあの子をまったく気にかけないほど冷淡な人間ではなかったが、自分が介入すべきことだとも思っていなかった。
燃える車から子どもを抱き出した不二の姿を、手塚は素直に感心した。
彼を心配し、誇りに思い、そして何よりもその疲労を想像して胸が締めつけられるようだった。
不二は病院に運び込んだその日から、十日間もつきっきりで看病し、食事を与え、薬を飲ませ、寄り添い続けた。
すべてを一人で抱え込んだのは、自分に負担をかけたくなかったから？
それとも最初から、手塚が賛成しないと決めつけていたのか？
不二の行動はすべて正しかった。ただ一つ、“自分を待たなかった”という事実だけが、胸に深く刺さった。
今日のあの出ていき方は、怒りからではなく、自分を守るための行動だった。
手塚は公園のベンチに腰掛け、街灯の光の下で、自分の左手にある結婚指輪を見つめた。喉仏が微かに揺れる。
この指輪は、「今後どんな人生の選択も二人で決める」という約束の証だった。
今の関係は、十年前とはまったく違う。
大人になった二人は、もう“生活共同体”なのだ。
軽口や冗談で誤魔化せるような年齢でもなく、一つの決断が現実を大きく動かす。
若い頃なら、拗ねたり、茶化したり、嫉妬したり、心の内を隠して相手に察してもらうこともできた。
だが大人になった今は、責任、尊重、信頼、そして協議が必要になる。
異国で暮らす身にとって、もし深刻な対立が生まれたとしても、仲裁してくれる親戚や友人すらいない。
だからこそ、普段は寡黙な手塚が、あそこまで冷静で正確な怒りをぶつけてしまったのだ。
だが最も矛盾しているのは――
それでも彼は、不二が間違っていたとは思っていないことだった。
手冢不是质疑不二的善良，也不是在指责不二做了什么错事，
他不是一个喜欢孩子的人，也并不算一个厌恶孩子的人，
他没有冷漠无情到完全不心疼这个满脸是伤的男孩，但他也并不认为自己有责任插手。
不二把那个男孩从燃烧的车里抱了出来，他佩服他，也心疼他，担心他，也为他感到骄傲。
不二把那个男孩带到了医院，连续十天照顾他、安慰他、喂饭、喂药，他完全能想象他有多累。
不二一个人扛下所有，是不想给手冢添麻烦？还是打从心底就认定手冢不会同意？
他做的一切都是对的，但他没有等他，这一点，真的让他感到难受。
今天的摔门出走，并不是生气，而是在自保。
手冢坐在公园的长椅上，借路灯的光，看着手上的结婚戒指，喉结微微颤动。
这枚戒指，是彼此承诺『今后任何人生选择都不再是单数』的证明。
现在的相处，跟十年前完全不一样，成年后的两人已是“生活绑定体”，再也不能用玩笑掩饰问题，每一个决定都会撬动现实。
年轻时可以赌气、调侃、吃醋、可以什么事都藏在心里，让对方来猜，成年后是责任、尊重、信任、协商。
居住在异国他乡，如果出现了严重的矛盾，连个会来劝解的亲友都没有。
因此，平时话少的手冢，在这个关键时刻才会爆发出严密、压抑却精准的逻辑控诉。
但最矛盾的是，他也始终认为不二没有错。
Fuji had always been someone both incredibly gentle and incredibly stubborn. It wasn't that he didn't care about Tezuka's feelings.
He knew he hadn't done anything wrong. He knew Tezuka was hurt. And yet, he would still have made the same choice.
That's why he didn't regret it, and that's why he wouldn't apologize.
Yes, Tezuka was right. Fuji could have sent the boy to a welfare institution or tried to contact the child's relatives or family friends.
But the real reason he didn't do that was simple: he just really loved children.
Fuji wasn't an only child. The environment he grew up in had shaped him into someone who naturally cared for others.
He was used to giving people emotional space, a born protector.
To his younger brother, to his family, his classmates, his friends, his juniors, small animals, comedians with strange jokes, even that girl who suddenly confessed to him back in elementary school, and even to his rivals,
he was always gentle.
His deep empathy and patience meant that it was inevitable. He was someone who loved children.
Ten days ago, Fuji witnessed a black car crash into a guardrail while speeding. He couldn't see how many people were inside. Acting purely on instinct, he ran over and pulled a boy back from the edge of death. It was thanks to his background as a highly athletic tennis player that he was able to carry out such a feat under extreme conditions.
Fuji had never thought about “becoming a father,” but when the boy woke up in the hospital bed, the first thing he did was grab Fuji's hand and call him “Papa” in German. Fuji even gave a wry smile at the time and said, “I don't look anything like your dad.”
Whenever Fuji wasn't at the hospital, the boy didn't say a single word. The doctor said it was a form of acute stress reaction triggered by trauma. Calling Fuji “Papa” wasn't a case of mistaken identity, but an emotional anchor. In the boy's mind, that name became synonymous with the one who saved him.
If Fuji had walked away at that moment, then whatever embers remained in that boy's heart would have gone out completely.
Yes, this time Tezuka was absolutely right, which made Fuji's choice seem all the more impulsive and reckless. It left even someone usually so articulate completely unable to argue back, forced to admit the truth. He didn't disregard Tezuka's feelings. It was precisely because he cared so much that he couldn't bring himself to say anything at all.
Fuji woke up, his hair slightly tousled, sitting up in bed as he rubbed his eyes.
Instinctively, he reached out to the other side of the bed. It was empty and cold to the touch. It was obvious that no one had been there all night.
There had been no phone calls last night, and he hadn't gone out to look for him. Since Tezuka said he needed time to cool down, of course Fuji chose to respect that.
After checking that the boy in the third-floor guest room was still asleep, he came down to the living room,
and found Tezuka curled up on the couch, sleeping on his side. He hadn't even taken off his coat, nor removed his glasses, just fallen asleep like that. He looked a little worn out. God knows how long he had been outside, turning himself into frozen food.
Fuji looked at him for a moment and said nothing. He had no intention of waking him just yet.
With a small sigh, he turned to prepare some cold medicine.
If it were an ordinary couple, by the second morning after the child arrived, they might already be sitting at the breakfast table chatting away.
They would be discussing future plans for this new family, talking about where to take the kid over the weekend and what hobbies to nurture in him.
They would be enthusiastically sketching out a vivid picture of life as a family of three.
But for these two, this was the most silent breakfast they had shared in over a decade of living together.
The only sound came from the clinking of cutlery. The television remained off.
Given the current situation, that boy couldn't even be called an "adopted son."
He was just a stranger who had lost everything, temporarily staying in their home.
Conflicts don't just disappear after a night's sleep.
Finally, one of them put down his utensils.
Tezuka: I'll contact the Jugendamt this afternoon. We need to find a proper placement for the child as soon as possible.
Fuji: Wait, didn't you already come home last night?
Tezuka: That doesn't mean I agreed with your decision.
Fuji: So you still think I was wrong?
Tezuka: I told you, this isn't about right or wrong.
Fuji: Then what is it about?
Tezuka: You need to decide whether you want to adopt him, or continue living with me. You don't have to answer now. I'll wait until you've thought it through.
Fuji: Is that a threat?
Tezuka: It's not.
Fuji: Then why can't both things exist at the same time?
Tezuka: We're not his family. You have no blood ties to him. You don't even know his parents.
Fuji: That's exactly why he would be an adopted son. If he were biologically ours, wouldn't that be even worse?
Tezuka didn't respond immediately, but his silence didn't make Fuji feel like he had won the argument.
Fuji also lost his appetite and started stirring the macaroni on his plate with his fork.
Tezuka: I'm not trying to force you to choose between me and that boy. I'm asking you to think about reality. Don't forget we're in Germany, not Japan.
Fuji: Right. I was the one who chose to come to Germany to be with you.
Tezuka: That boy in the guest room is a three-year-old child with psychological trauma. That means he needs frequent, stable care, maybe even professional psychological intervention.
Fuji: Yes, I know.
Tezuka: You're doing what you think is right. But have you truly considered the practical conditions? Are you planning to quit your job to take care of him full-time? Then how do you plan to maintain legal residence in Germany?
Fuji: I never said I would quit. It's just...
Tezuka: This apartment is ours. The mortgage is ours. Your visa is tied to your company. I can't sponsor you forever. We're not EU citizens. We can't stay here just because we want to. Are you sure you can keep working while taking care of a child who needs constant attention?
Fuji: I'm not going to quit, and I won't let you bear the burden of any of my decisions.
Tezuka: Do you think adopting a child is just signing a paper and spending a little more money each month?
Fuji: I've never thought it was that simple.
After that, Fuji stood up without a word, cleaned up the dishes from both of them, and walked into the kitchen.
Tezuka, from start to finish, only ever said, "What are you going to do, Fuji?"
He never once said, "What are we going to do?"
Linguistically, Tezuka had already removed himself from the realm of shared responsibility, yet he still acted as if he had the authority to intervene.
He knew he hadn't said anything wrong. Every word he spoke was grounded in logic, in reality, and in their actual situation in this country.
It was true that Tezuka did not like children, especially not the kind who arrived uninvited and threatened to rewrite the existing structure of their relationship.
But he didn't say it aloud. He was pretending to stay rational, hiding how he really felt.
Fuji could hear it. He noticed how Tezuka's tone had changed and realized just how reluctant and insecure he had become.
He had no intention of labeling Tezuka as selfish, indifferent, or cold-hearted.
Even if he could clearly see that Tezuka had no desire to share the burden, no intention of contributing anything to this matter, and had fully taken the stance of an outsider, unwilling to compromise in the slightest.
Fuji was aware he had crossed a line. His mistake was not rooted in bad intentions, but in the fact that he brought the boy home as a settled decision without discussion. Even if the motive was kindness, the act itself still broke their mutual agreement on shared choices.
He had no ground to criticize Tezuka for being cold. It was Fuji who first broke the decision-making balance between them.
Although he claimed that Tezuka would not have to bear any of the consequences, he knew very well that as long as the boy remained in the house, Tezuka's life would be affected.
He thought briefly about easing the tension with a joke, such as calling the boy a younger brother instead of a son, and then smiling to soften the mood. But that idea did not reflect the actual situation.
Fuji could imagine what Tezuka was truly afraid of. Perhaps Tezuka had already pictured a worst-case scenario in his mind. One day, Fuji might suddenly say he wanted to have a child. Would they divorce? Would they stay together? Would Fuji find a female friend to have one through other means?
Fuji had never entertained such thoughts, but he could not control what Tezuka might be imagining. His natural affection for children had now become an unpredictable factor in Tezuka's mind.
In the eyes of society, a three-person family often symbolizes happiness. For them, however, that was not the case. The third person had no blood connection, came from a different ethnic background, and had been brought into their home without any prior discussion.
Tezuka: Are you staying home today as well?
He called out to Fuji, who had just come out of the guest room carrying some dishes.
Fuji: I used up my saved paid leave. I think I still have eighteen days left...
He paused for a moment.
Fuji: But after my boss heard about the situation, he told me I could extend it if needed.
He went downstairs.
Tezuka followed him into the kitchen.
Tezuka: How long are you planning to let that kid stay?
Fuji: I don't know.
After washing, he placed the bowl and spoon into the cabinet.
Tezuka: You don't actually think that insisting on your own will change my mind, do you?
Fuji: I don't. Because I know you well.
Tezuka finally saw Fuji smile, but it wasn't the kind of smile that lightened the mood.
Fuji didn't argue, didn't complain, and didn't blame. He simply took all the responsibility onto himself, as always, gently. Lately, though, he smiled a lot less.
Fuji: I'm not expecting your approval, but I hope you won't try to stop me.
Tezuka wanted to say something, but the words caught in his throat.
If only they could just have a proper fight.
Shout everything out, force all the feelings to the surface.
Like yelling, "What do you think our life is?" That kind of thing.
Sometimes it's nice to just scream at each other, vent it all out.
After that, it's like clearing the cache. Once everything is out, they can deal with the problem more calmly and directly.
But neither of them did that.
Two people who value principles too much. When love becomes too intense, even anger starts to feel like disrespect.
Because neither was willing to lose their temper first, all the resentment had nowhere to go but inward.
Fuji had changed his clothes and was holding the car keys in his hand.
Tezuka: Where are you going?
Fuji: The social worker called. They said I can go to the kid's place to collect his belongings.
Tezuka: Is there a lot? You're going alone?
Fuji: Probably about three boxes in total, clothes, toys, that kind of thing. Nothing too heavy. I'll be fine on my own...
He paused for a moment.
Fuji: The kid's napping. If you feel like watching him, give him a glass of milk when he wakes up. If you don't, that's fine too. Just don't scare him, okay?
Tezuka didn't respond. He simply stood there in silence. If it had been the usual him, he might've mumbled something like, "Is my face really that scary?"
Fuji put on his shoes. As he opened the door, he glanced back.
Fuji: Oh right, I'll stop by the supermarket too. Need anything?
Tezuka: No.
Fuji: Alright then. See you.
手塚：今日も家にいるのか？
客間から食器を持って出てきた不二に声をかけた。
不二：有給をまとめて使ったから、あと18日くらいは残ってると思う…
少し言葉を止める。
不二：でも、この件を知った上司が、必要なら延長してもいいって言ってくれた。
そう言って階段を降りていく。
手塚も後を追って、キッチンへと向かった。
手塚：あの子を、どのくらい家に置いておくつもりだ？
不二：分からない。
食器を洗い、棚にボウルとスプーンをしまう。
手塚：一方的にお前が突き通せば、俺の考えが変わると思ってるわけじゃないよな？
不二：思ってないよ。だって、君のことはよく知ってるから。
手塚はようやく不二の笑顔を見たが、それは場の空気を和らげるようなものではなかった。
不二は反論もしなければ、文句も言わず、誰かを責めることもしなかった。ただ、いつも通りにすべての責任を自分の肩に引き受けていた。ただ最近、その優しさの中にある笑顔が少なくなっていた。
不二：君の同意を期待してるわけじゃない。でも、止めないでほしいんだ。
手塚は何か言おうとしたが、声が喉に詰まって出てこなかった。
いっそのこと、思いきり喧嘩でもできたら、どれだけ楽だっただろう。
心の中に溜まっていることを、全部ぶちまけるような喧嘩を。
「俺たちの生活をなんだと思ってるんだ！」――そんなふうに怒鳴れたら、きっと少しは楽になる。
時には思いきりぶつかり合って、感情を発散した方が、かえってすっきりすることもある。
喧嘩が終わった後、cacheを削除するような、一緒に問題を解決していける。その方がよほど潔い。
でも、二人はそうしなかった。
お互いに筋を通す人間だからこそ、愛が深くなればなるほど、怒りすらも「無礼」になってしまう。
誰も先に感情を爆発させないから、すべてのわだかまりは胸の奥に沈んでいくだけだった。
不二は着替えを済ませ、車の鍵を手に持っていた。
手塚：どこへ行く？
不二：ソーシャルワーカーから電話があって、あの子の家に行って持ち物を引き取っていいって。
手塚：荷物は多いのか？一人で行く？
不二：衣類やおもちゃとか、合わせて三箱くらいかな。そんなに重くないし、一人で大丈夫だよ...
少し言葉を止める。
不二：あの子は今昼寝してるから、もし君が面倒を見る気があるなら、起きたときにミルクでも出してあげて。見たくないならそれでもいいけど、驚かせないようにしてね。
手塚は何も答えなかった。ただ黙って立っていた。いつもの彼なら、「俺の顔、そんなに怖いか？」くらいは嫌味っぽく言っていたかもしれない。
不二は靴を履き、ドアを開けるときに手塚の方を振り返った。
不二：あ、そうだ。ついでにスーパーにも寄るけど、何か欲しいものある？
手塚：ない。
不二：そう。じゃ、行ってくるね。
手冢：你今天还是请假在家吗？
叫住了刚从客房里面拿着餐具出来的不二。
不二：我用掉了我积攒的年假，还剩18天吧...
停顿了一下。
不二：不过老板知道这件事情之后，还跟我说如果需要延长可以告诉他。
走下了楼。
手冢跟着他来到了厨房。
手冢：你想让那个小孩住多久。
不二：我不知道。
清洗了之后，将碗和勺子放进了柜子里。
手冢：你不会认为你单方面的坚持会让我改变想法的对吧？
不二：我不会这么认为，因为我很了解你。
手冢终于看见不二笑了，但不是那种能让气氛变得轻快的笑。
不二没有反驳，没有抱怨，也没有做出指责，只是默默地把责任揽在自己肩上，一如既往地温柔，只是，最近的笑容变少了。
不二：我没有指望得到你的同意，但也希望你不要阻止我。
手冢想说什么，但声音卡在了喉咙。
要是能直接吵一架该多好，能把心里面想说的话全部都逼出来。
比如大吼一句，你到底把我们的生活当成什么了，之类的，对吧，
偶尔能够互相骂一顿对方也是挺爽快的，发泄一通，吵完了就像清空缓存，再一起来解决问题，很干脆。
但他们谁都没有这么做。
两个讲原则的人，爱对方爱得太极致时，连愤怒都成了一种不敬。
正因为谁都不肯先发脾气，反而让所有怨念只能积在心里。
不二换好了衣服，手里面拿着车钥匙。
手冢：去哪？
不二：社工打电话来说，可以去那孩子的家里取他的物品了。
手冢：东西多吗，你一个人去？
不二：衣物、玩具之类的加在一块儿应该有个3箱左右吧，不是什么很重的东西。我一个人去就行了...
停顿了一下。
不二：那孩子在午睡，如果你想管他的话，一会他醒了可以给他倒杯牛奶，不想管也行，随便你，不要去吓唬他就行了。
手冢没有回应，只是默默站着。如果是平常的他，肯定会带点别扭的吐一句，我的表情有这么吓人？
不二换上鞋，拉开门的时候回头看了他一眼。
不二：哦对了，我还会去一趟超市，需要买些什么吗？
手冢：没有。
不二：是吗，那行吧。我出门了。
Tezuka sat alone on the sofa. The room was so quiet that only the ticking of the clock and faint ambient sounds could be heard.
The television remained off.
He held his phone. The screen was on the dial page, all the numbers already entered, but he hadn't pressed the call button.
He had been staring at that screen for a long time.
From the moment Fuji brought that boy home last night, Tezuka knew this wasn't something that could be resolved through discussion. Fuji was terrifyingly stubborn when it came to certain things. Once he made up his mind, he wouldn't back down.
Tezuka had tried to talk himself into it. He told himself that contacting the Jugendamt didn't necessarily mean sending the boy away.
He had already rehearsed what they would ask: the boy's name, age, whether he had any relatives, and who was currently looking after him.
He could answer fluently in German. He had prepared every line:
He is not our relative. He is temporarily staying at our home. We have no plans to raise a child...
He believed he could say all that. But in the end, he never made the call.
Tezuka set the phone down on the coffee table and shifted his posture from sitting to lying on his side, facing the backrest of the sofa.
He couldn't stop the image from replaying in his head. Fuji crouched down, gently patting the boy's head, with that rare, pure, almost translucent smile.
It had been a long time since Tezuka had seen that smile. That boy from their student days, who used to smile like the wind, now smiled less and less as an adult, his expressions becoming more subdued, more restrained.
Tezuka had imagined it, If he had been the one to discover the accident scene, he would've saved the boy too, without hesitation.
But he wouldn't have brought him home.
He would've just visited the hospital periodically, until a foster family came to take the boy away.
No, that was just a hypothetical.
He hadn't been part of the incident, he couldn't put himself in Fuji's place.
Tezuka lay there, unable to fall asleep.
After a while, he heard a key turn in the lock, followed by the door opening and footsteps entering the house.
He heard a box being placed on the floor. Then another. Then another.
Six times in total.
Then, finally, the door closed.
Fuji entered the living room, glanced around, and walked into the kitchen to pour himself a glass of water.
Fuji: Still mad at me?
No response.
Fuji: The desk in the guest room needs to be replaced. And the wallpaper should be redone.
Toys and books should be placed where he can reach them...
But the doctor said the room layout should resemble his original home. That's... not easy to manage.
He paused, seemingly checking for a reaction, then let out a soft chuckle.
Fuji: But don't worry. I'll handle the renovation. You don't have to lift a finger.
As if suddenly remembering something, he looked up at the ceiling.
Fuji: Ah. I spent too long shopping at IKEA and forgot it's already dinner time.
Whatever. Let's just order delivery today.
He picked up the phone.
Fuji: Want some Turkish pide? Or maybe pizza?
Still no response.
Fuji: Alright then, I'll decide myself.
Let's hope the wait isn't too long today.
Once Fuji had gone upstairs, Tezuka stopped pretending to sleep.
No matter how reluctant he felt, someone had to move those heavy boxes out of the entryway.
If he didn't, Fuji would end up doing it alone again.
When Tezuka returned to the bedroom after his shower, Fuji was lying on the bed with his back turned, seemingly asleep.
But just like earlier that afternoon when he had seen through Tezuka's act of feigning sleep, Tezuka immediately realized that Fuji was pretending too.
They hadn't had a proper conversation in over ten days.
Breakfast, lunch, dinner, cleaning, turning off the lights, sleeping, waking up—all the routines continued, but there was no real dialogue.
They weren't giving each other the silent treatment, it was just that Fuji spoke less.
Tezuka approached him, leaned down, and buried his face in the back of Fuji's neck.
Fuji: Are you being clingy?
Tezuka was used to this guy's teasing tone, but this time, the question was asked with his back turned—was that actually a question?
Fuji: Honestly, I'm a bit tired… so if it really doesn't work out later, let's stop there, okay?
Fuji turned over and looked Tezuka in the eyes,
his tone gentle, a faint smile resting on his lips.
He wasn't rejecting Tezuka's closeness, just reminding him not to push too far. As usual, his teasing tone came with eyes that said more than his words: I know you're trying to make peace. I appreciate it. But I'm really too tired to move. I'm not even sure my body will respond the way you want.
Tired? That was an understatement. He was clearly overloaded.
It had been twelve days since he rescued that child.
A single car accident had changed everyone's life within seconds. Fuji had personally pulled the boy out of that burning, mangled car.
Then came the hospital.
At first, he only visited after work, but eventually took a full ten-day leave to stay by the child's side.
He wasn't a relative, nor a medical professional, nor a child psychology expert, yet he quickly learned how to feed him, how to comfort him, how to respond to sudden PTSD episodes.
On the eleventh night, he brought the boy home.
That night, they had argued. The next morning, the argument wasn't even over yet, and he had already gone out to prepare the child's room.
Why the rush? Because the doctor had said it would help the child's recovery if his current living space could resemble the one he was familiar with.
From moving boxes out of the old house to carrying them into the new one, from IKEA furniture shopping to renovation planning, everything had fallen on him alone.
He knew the child depended on him. He also knew Tezuka was unhappy. But he still had to push through with the decision to adopt. First, deal with the crisis. Then, repair the relationship.
What was terrifying was that he had never lost his temper.
Just like always, he shouldered everything, then smiled, that same smile no one could ever blame him for.
Calling it "a bit tired" was putting it kindly.
Not breaking down was already a tremendous feat of self-control. And on top of all that, he still tried to care for Tezuka's emotions. That was top-tier kindness, world-class.
Tezuka's following kiss made it clear to Fuji that he wasn't planning to stop, this was their first intimate moment in over ten days.
For two people living under the same roof, that was a rare occurrence. Tezuka, once a professional athlete and now a high school P.E. teacher, had more free time at home than Fuji since retiring.
Although his breathing was hurried, Tezuka's movements were gentle, almost cautious, clearly trying to make up for something.
He wasn't good at expressing vulnerability with words, so he chose to convey his apology in the most direct, tangible way possible.
Tezuka's hand, which had been cupping Fuji's cheek, began to slide downward, past his upper arm, toward his elbow... Wait a second?
Something didn't feel right.
Fuji: Ah...
Fuji let out a soft sound, reacting as if a wound had been touched, instinctively pulling his arm away.
Tezuka grabbed the arm Fuji tried to hide behind his back with one hand, and with the other, turned on the room light.
He rolled up Fuji's pajama sleeve and found thick bandages wrapped around his right elbow, more than just a single layer.
Fuji: Uh... I got that when I smashed the car window. Couldn't find a rock or anything at the time...
Tezuka followed the motion and rolled up Fuji's left sleeve as well.
His forearm was also wrapped tightly in thick bandages.
Fuji: I wasn't trying to hide it or anything. It's just... the weather's cold, so I've been wearing long sleeves...
Was that really the point?
Tezuka's gaze continued scanning Fuji, and he noticed bruising around his left ankle.
There was also a gauze patch on his right foot, both places usually hidden under socks during the day.
Tezuka simply undid Fuji's pajama buttons.
Beneath the collarbone, a graze stretched from his left shoulder down to the edge of his chest.
Its color had already changed from crimson to a dark purplish brown.
Below the right ribcage was a large area of bruising.
On his side, a broad patch of somewhat bloodstained gauze was taped on.
There were also burn marks on his back, likely from the blast's heatwave.
His lower legs were covered with several more gauze patches, clearly from shrapnel wounds.
Fuji: …Don't stare at me like that… Hey, that expression of yours is kind of scary. It's not as bad as you're thinking! No broken bones or anything, just surface wounds! At the time, the car suddenly exploded, and there wasn't time to run. You know.. I had to hold the kid in my arms and turn my body to shield him…
Whenever his emotions fluctuated, his voice would rise without him realizing, and his breath would turn unsteady, that was a symptom of soft tissue damage around the ribs caused by blunt trauma to the chest.
Only then did Tezuka notice it. Lately, Fuji had been subtly adjusting his breathing after almost every sentence.
And yet he still carried heavy things? Was he actually an idiot? Was there anyone else in the world this idiotic? Other than in a madhouse?
Tezuka: ...So it wasn't paid leave. It was medical leave, wasn't it...
Fuji nodded.
Twelve days ago, at the scene of the accident, Fuji was remarkably composed. He could stand, walk, talk, even smile. and gesture expressively with his hands like an Italian while speaking. The paramedics' first impression was, "This guy's fine."
He refused the doctor's recommendation to be hospitalized and insisted on outpatient care, accepting only basic wound cleaning and bandages before heading home as if nothing had happened. Because once admitted, there would be no hiding it.
That night, he sat at the dinner table as usual, finished his meal, washed the dishes, took a shower, turned off the lights, all without saying a single extra word.
He was too good at masking pain and emotion. As long as his body remained hidden, no one could tell.
Tezuka didn't entirely lack suspicion.
It was more that he had accepted Fuji's silence as a sign that everything was fine.
Fuji hadn't said anything. He had seemed perfectly normal. He had simply not told him.
They had talked about so many things these past few days,
yet somehow missed the most important one.
Tezuka had been going in circles, wondering whether adopting the child was realistic,
whether he himself could accept it.
But not once had he asked, "Were you hurt that day?" or "Are you alright?"
It wasn't coldness born of malice. It simply hadn't occurred to him.
He had believed himself to be calm, rational, making level-headed judgments.
Only now did he realize he hadn't done the most basic thing: care.
Tezuka: ...To be honest, I thought the bloodied bandages in the trash were the boy's...
Fuji noticed the slight tightening in Tezuka's throat. His voice sounded off.
His breathing grew uneven, and his eyes kept blinking, darting from the wall, to the curtain, then to the floor, but never at Fuji himself.
He could practically read the ten different thoughts racing through Tezuka's mind, even if only one had made it out of his mouth.
Would Fuji blame him? Of course not. He wouldn't even show a hint of reproach.
Fuji wasn't sure what to say to make Tezuka feel any better.
So instead, he simply held him close, kissed him to keep his emotions from breaking loose,
and with the tone Tezuka knew best, made a small, gentle joke.
Fuji: It's perfectly natural you didn't notice. I'm just that good at acting.
手塚がシャワーを終えて寝室に戻ると、不二はベッドに背を向けて横たわっており、一見すると眠っているようだった。
だが、昼間に手塚の「寝たふり」を一瞬で見抜いたように、手塚もまた不二が演技していることにすぐ気づいた。
二人はもう十日以上、まともに会話をしていなかった。
朝食、昼食、夕食、掃除、消灯、就寝、起床……すべてのルーティンは保たれていたが、実質的な対話はなかった。
冷戦していたわけではない。ただ、不二の言葉が減っただけだった。
手塚はそっと近づき、不二のうなじに顔をうずめた。
不二：甘えてるの？
手塚はこの男の挑発的な口調に慣れていたが、今回は背中越しに放たれた一言だった――これは本当に質問なのか？
不二：正直言うと、ちょっと疲れてるんだ……だから、もし途中で無理そうだったら、そこでやめようね
不二は寝返りを打ち、手塚と目を合わせた。
口調は穏やかで、唇には微笑が浮かんでいた。
拒絶しているわけではなかった。ただ「やりすぎないでね」と伝えたかった。いつもの冗談めいた口調の裏に、目はより多くを語っていた:
「仲直りしようとしてるの、わかってるよ。ありがたい。ただ、今は本当に体が動かなくて……応えてあげられるかわからないんだ」
少し疲れた？そんなレベルじゃない。明らかに限界を超えていた。
あの日、あの子を助けてから、もう十二日が経った。
たった数秒の事故で、すべての人の人生が変わってしまった。
不二は自らの手で、その燃えかけて変形した車から男の子を抱き上げた。
それから病院。最初は仕事帰りに見舞いに行くだけだったが、次第に仕事を休んで、十日間ずっと子どものそばにいた。親族でもないし、医療関係者でもないし、児童心理の専門家でもない。
それなのに、誰よりも丁寧に、食事の与え方、あやし方、PTSDの発作への対応方法まで学んでいた。
十一日目の夜、その子をこの家に連れて帰った。その晩、手塚と口論になった。
翌朝、その言い合いがまだ終わっていないうちに、もう不二は子どもの部屋を整えるために外へ出ていた。
なぜそんなに急いでいたのか？
医者に言われたのだ。「今住んでいる部屋を、以前の家に近づけた方が、心身の回復につながる」と。
以前の家から箱を運び出し、新しい家に運び込み、IKEAで家具を買い、部屋の改装プランを立てる。
そのすべてが彼一人にのしかかっていた。
子どもが自分に依存しているのも分かっていた。手塚が不満を抱いていることも知っていた。それでも、養子にするという決断は曲げなかった。
まずは目の前の危機を乗り越える。それから、壊れかけた関係を修復する。
そして、何より恐ろしいのは、彼が一度たりとも怒りを露わにしなかったこと。
いつも通り、すべてを背負って、それでも誰にも責められないような笑顔を見せる。
「ちょっと疲れた」なんて、優しい言い回しすぎる。本当なら、とっくに爆発してもおかしくない。
それでも感情を押し殺して、手塚の機嫌まで気遣っている――それは、世界一優しい人間の所業だった。
その後の手塚のキスで、不二は彼が止まる気がないことを悟った、これは十日以上ぶりの親密な触れ合いだった。
同じ屋根の下で暮らしている二人にとって、それはかなり珍しいことだった。
元プロ選手だった手塚は今では私立高校の体育教師で、引退後は不二よりも家にいる時間が増えていた。
ただ、手塚の呼吸は荒かったが、動きは非常に優しく、まるで何かを償おうとしているようだった。
彼は言葉で弱さを見せるのが苦手だったからこそ、一番具体的な方法で謝意を伝えようとしたのだ。
手塚が不二の頬に添えていた手は、ゆっくりと下へ滑っていった、上腕から肘のあたりへ……ん？
この感触、何かおかしい。
不二：あっ……
まるで傷口に触れられたかのように、不二は小さく呻き、本能的に腕を引っ込めた。
手塚は、不二が背後に隠そうとした腕を片手でつかみ、もう片方の手で部屋の明かりをつけた。
そして、寝巻きの袖をまくり上げると、不二の右肘には厚く巻かれた包帯があった、一重ではない、何重にも。
不二：あ……あれは、車の窓を割ったときの怪我でさ。石とか見当たらなかったから……
手塚はそのままの流れで、不二の左腕の袖もまくり上げた。すると、こちらの前腕にも厚く包帯が巻かれていた。
不二：隠すつもりはなかったんだけど……最近寒いし、ずっと長袖を着てただけで……
そこが問題なんだろうか？
手塚の視線は不二の体をさらにたどり、左足首に打撲痕を見つけた。右足にもガーゼが貼られている。昼間は靴下で隠れていて気づかなかった場所だ。
手塚はためらうことなく、不二のパジャマのボタンを外した。
鎖骨の下、左肩から胸の端まで伸びる擦り傷。
色はすでに赤から紫褐色に変わっていた。
右の肋骨下には大きな打撲痕。
腰の側面には大きなガーゼが貼られていて、うっすらと血が滲んでいる。
背中には爆発の熱風による火傷の跡もあった。
ふくらはぎにもいくつかのガーゼが貼られており、破片の衝撃による傷だと分かる。
不二：……そんなに睨まないでよ……えっと、その顔ちょっと怖いよ...君が思ってるほどひどくないってば！骨折もしてないし、全部外傷だけ！あの時、車が突然爆発して、逃げる暇がなかったんだ...だから、その子を抱えて体を捻ってかばうしかなかったんだよ……
感情が揺れると、声が無意識に大きくなり、呼吸も乱れがちになる、それは、胸部を打撲したことによる肋骨周辺の軟部組織の損傷症状だった。
ようやく手塚は気づいた。最近の不二は、話すたびにさりげなく呼吸を整えていたのだ。
なのに、重い物を運んだ？バカなのか？いや、こんなバカは他にいるか？精神病院以外に？
手塚：……つまり、お前の休みは有給じゃなくて、病休だったんだな。
不二は、静かにうなずいた。
十二日前、事故現場での不二は驚くほど冷静だった。立てるし、歩けるし、話せるし、笑えるし、ついでにイタリア人みたいな手振りまで交えて話す余裕があった。救急隊員の第一印象は「この人は無事だな」だった。
不二は医師の入院勧告を断り、外来での処置を希望した。簡単な傷の洗浄と包帯だけ済ませて、何事もなかったかのように帰宅した。入院すれば、もう隠し通せないからだ。
その夜、彼は普段通りに食卓に座り、食事を済ませ、皿を洗い、風呂に入り、電気を消した。一言も余計なことは言わなかった。
感情も表情もコントロールしすぎるほど得意な彼は、身体さえ見せなければ、誰にも気づかれることはなかった。
手塚は、まったく疑っていなかったわけではない。ただ、不二が「無事」だと、そう思い込んでしまっていた。
不二は何も言わなかったし、あまりにも普段通りだったから。言わなかっただけだった。
ここ数日、いろんな話をしてきたのに、一番大切なことだけが、すっぽりと抜け落ちていた。
手塚が考えていたのは、子どもを引き取るという選択の現実性や、自分にその覚悟があるかどうか、そんなことばかり。
けれど、一言も尋ねなかった。「お前、大丈夫だったのか」「怪我はなかったのか」。
冷たいとか、思いやりがないとか、そういうことではなかった。ただ、考えが及ばなかっただけだった。
自分は冷静に判断をしているつもりだった。理性的に物事を捉えていると思っていた。
でも今になって気づく。一番基本的な「気遣い」さえ、していなかったことに。
手塚：……正直に言うと、ゴミ箱にあった血のついた包帯、あれはあの子どものものだと思ってた……
不二は、手塚の喉がわずかに詰まり、声が少し変だと気づいた。呼吸が乱れ始め、視線は落ち着きなく動く。壁を見て、カーテンを見て、床を見て、でも自分だけは見ない。
手塚の頭の中に今、十個くらいのことが同時に浮かんでいるのが見えるようだった。口に出したのは、そのうちの一つだけ。
不二は責めるだろうか？そんなことはない。少しの非難の色すら見せることはない。
何を言えば、少しでも手塚の気持ちが楽になるのか、不二にも分からない。だから、ただ彼を抱きしめ、崩れそうな感情をキスで静め、そして手塚が一番聞き慣れた声色で、そっと冗談を口にした。
不二：気づかなくて当然だよ。僕の演技、かなりのものでしょ？
手冢洗完澡回到卧室时，不二正背对着他躺在床上，乍看之下像是睡着了。
但就像下午他一眼看穿了手冢在装睡一样，手冢也立刻察觉，不二只是在装睡。
他们已经有十多天没有好好说过话了，
早饭、午饭、晚饭、收拾餐桌、盥洗、关灯、睡觉、起床，所有流程都在维持，但并没有真正意义上的对话。
没有在冷战，只是不二的话变少了。
手冢靠近了他，俯下身子，把脸埋进了不二的后颈。
不二：你是在撒娇吗？
手冢早就习惯了这个家伙的言语挑逗了，但这次，这句话是背对着他说出来的，所以，这是问句？
不二：说实话，我有点累了...所以一会儿如果实在不行的话就点到为止吧。
不二翻过身来，和手冢对视，
语气是温和的，嘴角带着笑容，
不二没有拒绝他的靠近，只是在提醒他“别太过头”，就像平常的打趣，眼神里想传达的潜台词也比嘴上的台词更加清晰：我知道你是在和我缓和关系，我也很感激，只是我现在真的不想动弹了，我也不确定自己的身体会不会起反应来配合你。
岂止是有点累？明明是超负荷了。
从那天救下那个孩子开始，到现在，已经过去了十二天。
一场车祸，几秒钟内改变了所有人的生活。不二是亲手把那个孩子从车里抱出来的，那辆已经起火的已经变形的轿车。
之后是医院，最初只是下班赶去探望，到后来干脆请了假，整整十天，陪在那个受了重大创伤的孩子身边。不是亲属，不是医护出身，也不是儿童心理学专家，却比谁都细致地学会了怎么喂饭、怎么安抚、怎么应对突发的PTSD。
第十一天的晚上，他把男孩接回了这个家。那天晚上，他们因为这件事争执过。第二天早上，争执还没彻底结束，他就已经出门开始准备那个小孩的房间了。
为什么这么急匆匆？因为医生说过，最好是能尽快让男孩当前居住的房间能够变成他熟悉的样子，有助于他的身心恢复健康。
从曾经的旧家搬出箱子，再将那些箱子搬进新的家，从宜家采购的家具、到房间改造的规划，每一样都落在他一个人身上。
他知道孩子依赖他。他也知道手冢不高兴，但又必须硬着头皮去坚持收养决定。每件事都得先处理了眼前的危机，再去处理感情的裂痕。
最可怕的是，他从来没有发过脾气。就像一直以来一样，把一切扛下来，然后露出一个让所有人都无法责怪的笑容。
说“有点累”已经是仁至义尽，没有爆发就是巨大的自控力成果。甚至还要在这状态下照顾手冢的情绪，已经是世界第一体贴了。
手冢接下来的吻让不二意识到他并没有要停下来的意思，因为这是十几天来的第一次亲密接触，这对于同一个屋檐下朝夕相处的两个人来说这是很少见的情况，曾经是职业选手的手冢现在是私立高中的体育教练，自从退役之后，在家的空闲时间比不二多了不少。
虽然呼吸很急促，但手冢的动作很轻缓，几乎是小心翼翼的，明显是想弥补什么。
他不擅长用语言示弱，还不如选择用最具体的方式表达歉意。
手冢原本捧着不二脸颊的手开始向下滑，从上臂绕过肘部....等一下？不对，这触感不对劲，
不二：啊...
不二出现了像是伤口被碰到之后的疼痛反应，本能的把手缩了回去。
手冢一只手抓住了他试图藏在身后的胳膊，另一只手打开了房间的灯，
挽起了不二的睡衣袖子，发现了缠在右手手肘上的纱布，很厚，不止一圈，
不二：额...这个是砸车窗的时候伤的，当时没有找到石头之类的东西...
手冢顺势也挽起了他左手的袖子，小臂也有厚厚的纱布缠着，
不二：我不是有意要藏起来的，现在天气冷嘛，一直穿着长袖...
这是重点吗？
手冢的视线继续在不二身上移动，发现不二的左脚踝有淤青，右脚上也贴着一块纱布，这些是白天会被袜子遮挡的区域。
他索性直接解开了不二的睡衣扣子，
锁骨下方一道从左肩延伸至胸口边缘的擦伤，颜色已经从深红变成紫褐，
右侧肋骨下有着大片青紫的淤血，腰侧还贴着大片纱布，隐约有些渗血，
背部也有被爆炸后产生的热浪灼伤的痕迹，
小腿也贴了不少的纱布，明显是碎片冲击造成的，
不二：....别瞪着我啦...那什么..你表情有点吓人啊...其实没有你想象中的那么严重，没有骨折什么的！全都是外伤！当时，车子突然就爆炸了，来不及跑远，我只好把那小孩抱在怀里然后侧身挡了一下...
当情绪出现波动时，他的声音就会不自觉的提高，气息也开始不稳，这是胸腔受到撞击导致的肋骨软组织损伤的症状。
手冢这才察觉，他最近这段时间，似乎每句话讲完，都在不着痕迹地调整呼吸。
于是他还去搬东西？他果然是个蠢蛋吗？世界上还能在别的地方找到蠢到这种程度的人吗？除了精神病院？
手冢：...所以你不是年假，是伤假，对吧...
不二点了点头。
十二天前，不二在事故现场时很冷静，能站，能走，能笑，还能讲话，并且还能在讲话的同时摆出意大利人手势，急救人员的第一反应是“这人没事”。
不二也拒绝了医生的留院建议，坚持走门诊模式，只接受了简单的清创与包扎，然后若无其事地回了家。因为一旦住院，就瞒不住了。
那晚他照常坐在餐桌前，吃完饭，刷碗，洗澡，关灯，没有说一句多余的话。
因为太过于擅长控制表情和情绪了，只要不露出身体，任何人都察觉不到。
手冢并不是完全没怀疑，而是，他默认了不二“没事”。
因为不二自己没有说，他看起来太正常了，他只是没有告诉手冢。
这两天说了很多事，却偏偏漏掉了最重要的，
手冢反复思考的是收养孩子是否现实，对自己来说有没有接受的余地，
但哪怕是一句：“你当时有没有事？”、“你没受伤吧？”
不是恶意的冷血，而是压根没往那方面想。
他一直以为自己很冷静，在做理性的权衡，
直到这一刻，才发现自己连最基本的“关心”都没有做到。
手冢：....说实话，我一直以为垃圾桶里面那些带血的绷带，是那个小孩的...
不二注意到，手冢的喉咙微微发紧，声音不太对劲，呼吸频率加快，眼睛不停地眨，眼神也变得飘忽不定，一会儿看墙壁，一会儿盯着窗帘，再一会儿又盯着地板，唯独没有再看向自己。
他能够读出来手冢现在脑子里面的十件事大概都是哪些，虽然嘴巴只说出了一件。
不二会怪他吗？完全不会，对吧，甚至都不会表露出一丝指责的意思。
不二也不确定这时候该说些什么才能让手冢好受一点，只能抱住他，用一个吻来抑制手冢即将崩溃的情绪，然后用手冢最熟悉的语气开了个安慰用的玩笑。
不二：你看不出来很正常啦，谁让我演技这么好呢？
The wounds had been thoroughly cleaned at the time, with no signs of infection. However, several of the bandaged areas had clearly reopened due to excessive movement, particularly the right elbow and left calf.
There was fresh bruising under the gauze, formed within the past two or three days. Judging from the points of strain, it wasn't caused by walking... but by repeatedly lifting heavy objects.
These were the doctor's exact words during the follow-up examination the next day.
With each sentence, Tezuka's knuckles tightened further. He furrowed his brows and glared at Fuji, who was trying to pretend he was admiring the scenery.
The doctor added: Luckily, there's no deeper damage to the muscle fibers, but if the strain continues, the old injuries will worsen, and recovery will take significantly longer.
Suppressing his anger, Tezuka leaned in and muttered into Fuji's ear,
Tezuka: Satisfied now, you superhero who walked away from the crash scene alive?
Fuji originally intended to laugh awkwardly, but it didn't come out. Instead, it turned into labored breathing.
The doctor noticed this and frowned as well.
Doctor: You were too close to the explosion's epicenter. There's a chance that your lungs and airways sustained minor burns from inhaling overheated air or micro-explosive particles. In the first few days, there are often no symptoms. But as time passes, mucosal swelling, airway inflammation, and microbleeding can worsen, leading to chest tightness, shortness of breath, and difficulty breathing. The highest risk period is typically between 48 hours and 5 days after the incident. What rescue workers fear most are patients like you, the ones who walk away on their own. Because they're the ones most likely to die after the 48-hour mark.
Tezuka heard every word loud and clear.
He had to admit, he was impressed by Fuji's tolerance for pain.
Even with injuries this severe, the man still managed to joke with him like nothing was wrong.
He honestly couldn't understand how Fuji pulled it off.
After leaving the hospital, Fuji finally started acting like someone who was actually injured. Perhaps it was the power of psychological suggestion, but every movement he made was slower than in the past ten days, or maybe he had simply realized he no longer needed to keep pretending to be fine.
On the way home, which was less than two kilometers away, Fuji fell asleep leaning back in the passenger seat.
Not just a nap, he was completely asleep, breathing steadily, his expression completely relaxed.
Even when the car pulled into the garage, he still hadn't woken up.
Tezuka called his name softly, but Fuji didn't respond.
Tezuka reached out and patted his shoulder, and only then did he hear a muffled, "…Ah, we're home?"
It seemed he had fully reverted from a superhero back to an ordinary human being.
Tezuka: Do you need me to carry you inside?
Fuji: No, no, it's fine.
He smiled and unbuckled his seatbelt.
As soon as they entered the house, they heard faint crying coming from the baby monitor placed in the entryway, the kind of quiet sobbing of a child who had just woken up and buried his head under the covers.
Fuji: Ah, he's awake.
After taking off his shoes, Fuji instinctively headed toward the stairs.
Tezuka reached out to stop him, his tone a little forceful.
Tezuka: Hey, the doctor said you need to rest.
Fuji: Then are you willing to go comfort him?
Tezuka didn't move, only watched as Fuji slowly made his way up the stairs, step by step.
His movements were half a beat slower than usual, like someone lagging in a bad internet connection.
Tezuka knew he couldn't stop him. Instead of wasting time with pointless words, he turned and headed to the kitchen to prepare lunch.
He'd have to make three completely different meals, one for himself, one for the injured patient, and one for the child.
Most importantly, he had to make sure the recovering patient didn't sneak in any of those ridiculously spicy dishes he loved so much.
当時、傷口はきれいに洗浄されており、感染の兆候も見られなかった。しかし、いくつかの包帯箇所が明らかに過度な動きによって再び裂けていた、特に右ひじと左ふくらはぎ。
ガーゼの下には新しい内出血があり、ここ2～3日以内にできたものだった。圧力のかかり方から判断して、単なる歩行ではなく……重い物を繰り返し運んだことが原因だろう。
これは翌日の再診時に医師が語った言葉そのままだった。一言ごとに、手塚の指がさらに強く握り込まれていった。彼は眉をひそめ、景色を眺めるふりをしている不二を睨みつけた。
医師はさらにこう付け加えた：幸い、筋繊維の深部までは損傷していませんでしたが、このまま負荷をかけ続ければ、古傷が悪化し、回復期間は大幅に延びるでしょう。
怒りを抑えながら、手塚は不二の耳元で低く囁いた。
手塚：これで満足か？事故現場から生還したスーパーヒーローさん。
不二は気まずく笑おうとしたが、笑い声は出なかった、代わりに、荒い息が漏れた。
それを見た医師も眉をひそめた。
医師：爆発の中心点に近すぎましたね。高温の空気や微量の爆発粒子を吸い込んだことで、気道や肺胞が軽度の熱傷を負っている可能性があります。最初の数日はほとんど自覚症状がありませんが、
時間が経つにつれて粘膜の腫れ、気道の炎症、微細な出血が悪化し、やがて胸の圧迫感や息苦しさ、呼吸困難といった症状が現れます。特に発症のピークは48時間から5日後が最も危険です。救助隊が最も恐れるのは、あなたのような『自力で歩ける負傷者』なんです。こういう人が、48時間後に突然亡くなることがあるので。
手塚はその一語一句をはっきりと聞いていた。不二の痛みへの耐性には、正直感服するしかなかった。これだけのケガを負っていながら、何事もなかったかのように冗談を言っていたなんて。どうやったら、そんなことができるんだ。
病院を出たあと、不二はようやく「怪我人らしい」様子を見せ始めた。たぶん心理的な暗示が効いたのだろう。この十日間とは違って、一つ一つの動作が明らかにゆっくりになった。あるいは、「無理をしなくていい」とようやく自分で認められたのかもしれない。
家までは2キロもない距離だったのに、不二は助手席の背もたれに寄りかかりながら眠ってしまった。
ただの仮眠じゃない。完全に寝入っていて、呼吸は穏やかで、表情も完全にリラックスしていた。
車がガレージに入ってもまだ目を覚まさなかった。
手塚がそっと名前を呼んでも、反応はない。
肩に軽く手を添えて揺すってみたところで、ようやくぼそりと返事が返ってきた。「……あ、もう家？」
彼は完全に「スーパーヒーロー」から「ただの人間」に戻ったようだった。
手塚：抱えて入った方がいいか？
不二：いーや、大丈夫。
そう言って微笑みながら、自分でシートベルトを外した。
家に入るとすぐに、玄関に置かれていたベビーモニターからかすかな泣き声が聞こえた。
目覚めたばかりで、布団に頭を突っ込んで小さくすすり泣いているような声だった。
不二：あ、起きちゃったみたいだね。
靴を脱いだ不二は、本能のように階段へ向かった。
手塚は止めようと手を伸ばし、少し強めの口調で言った。
手塚：おい、医者は休めって言ってたぞ。
不二：じゃあ、君が代わりに様子を見に行く？
手塚はその場から動かず、階段を一段一段上っていく不二の背中を見ていた。ただ、その動きはいつもよりほんの少し遅れていて、まるで回線の遅延がひどいネットみたいだった。
どうせ止められない。くだらない言い争いをするくらいなら、手塚はそのままキッチンへ向かい、昼食の準備に取りかかった。
しかも三人分、自分用、怪我人用、子ども用、それぞれまったく別の食事を作らなければならない。
特に注意すべきなのは、回復中の怪我人が、あの超激辛料理に手を出さないようにすることだった。
当时的伤口清创得很干净，感染迹象也没有，但这几处包扎区域明显有活动过度导致的二次拉裂，尤其是右肘和左小腿。
纱布下方有新淤血，是近两三天内形成的。根据受力点判断，不是四处走动造成的....更像是反复搬重物。
以上，是翌日在医院复查时的医生的原话，每说一句，手冢的指节就收紧一分。
他皱起眉，瞪向了尝试假装看风景的不二。
医生补充道：幸好没有造成更深层肌肉纤维的损伤，但如果再继续负荷，旧伤会加重，恢复期将被大幅拉长。
手冢压制怒火在不二耳边低语，
手冢：这下满意了吗，从事故现场活着回来的超级英雄。
不二本来想尴尬的笑一声，但没笑出来，转变成了喘粗气。
医生见状，也皱起了眉头。
医生：你当时距离爆炸的中心点太近，会因为肺部吸入过热空气或微量爆燃颗粒，导致气道和肺泡造成轻微灼伤。初期几天几乎没什么感觉，但随着时间推移，黏膜水肿、气道炎症和微出血将会加重，才逐渐出现胸闷、气短、呼吸不顺等问题。一般在48小时~5天后为高风险期。救援人员最怕的就是这种自由行动的伤者，因为这种人最容易死在48小时之后。
每一个单词，手冢都听得清清楚楚，他真是佩服不二的忍耐力，伤到这个程度还能若无其事的跟自己开玩笑，想不通他到底是怎么做到的。
从医院出来之后，不二终于表现得像个伤者了。也许是心理暗示起到了作用，他的一举一动都比前十天迟缓了不少，或者说，是他终于意识到自己可以不用再强撑了。
从医院回家，距离不到两公里，不二就靠在副驾座背上睡着了。
不是打盹，是彻底睡着，呼吸平稳，表情完全放松。
等车停进车库时，他还没醒。
手冢轻轻喊了他一声，不二没有反应。
手冢伸手拍了拍他的肩，才听到一句含糊的：...啊，到家了？
看来他从超级英雄彻底退化成了普通人类。
手冢：需要我抱你回去吗？
不二：不用不用。
笑了笑，解开了自己的安全带。
一进屋，就听见放在玄关儿童监视器里传来了微弱的哭声，是那种刚睡醒的，把头捂在被子里的低声抽泣。
不二：啊，他醒了。
脱掉鞋后，像是本能一样朝着楼梯走去。
手冢伸手想拦住他，语气却带了点强硬。
手冢：喂，医生说你得休息。
不二：那你愿意去陪他吗？
手冢站在原地没动，只看着不二的背影一阶一阶往上挪，只不过动作比平常都慢了半拍，就像网络延迟很高一样。
手冢知道管不住他，与其说一堆没用的废话，还不如直接走向厨房准备午餐，
而且还得准备三种完全不同的食物，自己的、伤员的、以及儿童的。
尤其是必需得管住这个恢复期的伤员不能去吃平常他最爱吃的那些辣得要命的东西。
Fuji: Your clothes are still a bit too big for me. I think I'll stick with my own.
Tezuka: No.
The doctor had advised that, to avoid putting pressure on the bandaged areas or causing friction on surface wounds, it was best to wear extremely loose loungewear, something that could be taken off effortlessly. In that sense, the slightly oversized clothes of his housemate were the most suitable option.
In fact, the reason Fuji's bruises and abrasions had been healing slower than expected, was precisely because he had insisted on wearing his perfectly fitted clothes over the past ten days.
The constant friction between fabric and skin, combined with a lack of ventilation around the bandages, had kept some of the surface bruises from fading properly.
Tezuka knew Fuji understood all of this perfectly well, so he didn't bother arguing any further. He simply began clearing the dining table.
It was November in Cologne, Germany, and the weather was freezing. Since Fuji couldn't wear sweaters for the time being, the only option was to keep the heating turned up.
Today, the TV was on. Fuji lay on the living room sofa with a blanket over him, remote in hand, scrolling through Netflix. He landed on his favorite comedy: Prison Crush Season 3, Japanese dubbed version.
Tezuka walked out of the kitchen carrying a kettle. The moment he saw the familiar opening scene on the screen, he paused.
He placed the kettle on the dining table, then sat down beside Fuji.
Tezuka: Are you sure you want to watch this?
Fuji: Mhm. Why not?
Tezuka: The doctor said you're not supposed to laugh too hard these days.
Fuji: Really? But I won't laugh out loud. I'll hold it in.
The very first joke of the episode landed. Fuji's shoulders twitched. The next second, before he could even laugh, he started coughing.
Coughing while trying to laugh, laughing while trying not to, then gasping for air. He tried sitting up because lying down made it worse, but just as he got up, the second gag hit. Now he was laughing and coughing and wheezing all at once, looking more ridiculous than the overacting performers on the show.
Tezuka had had enough. He grabbed the remote out of Fuji's hand.
Tezuka: Let's watch a horror movie.
He backed out to the main menu.
Fuji was still catching his breath, but clearly wanted to snatch the remote back.
Fuji: Wouldn't a horror movie be even funnier?
Tezuka: ....
Fuji: Then at least let me browse YouTube for a bit.
Tezuka: Watch a documentary.
Fuji: But you like comedies too, don't you?
Tezuka: My lungs aren't injured.
They eventually settled on a show from Netflix, a documentary where shark experts and enthusiasts travel the world, trying to capture rare species of sharks on camera in close range. Fuji liked these kinds of things too, so it was a safe compromise. Still, just in case, Tezuka tucked the remote into his shirt pocket.
As expected, Fuji's hand reached out, was he trying to steal the remote?
But Tezuka quickly noticed something was off about his movement. The trajectory wasn’t quite right.
Fuji knew exactly what Tezuka was about to ask, and preemptively answered, as if buzzing in during a quiz show.
Fuji: Shall we continue?
Tezuka: Continue what?
Fuji: Last night's business. Don't play dumb now.
Taking advantage of Tezuka's lack of guard, Fuji pushed him down.
Tezuka: Don't mess around. I really didn't know you were injured last night…
Before he could finish, Fuji silenced him with a kiss, lips and tongue entwined. Tezuka wanted to push him away but was afraid of hurting his injuries. He had no choice but to wait until Fuji pulled back on his own.
Tezuka: The doctor said no intense activity. Don't pretend you didn't hear that...
Fuji: He didn't say no kissing.
Tezuka: So all you want is a kiss...?
Fuji: Ah, look, you're already reacting.
Tezuka: Not reacting would be abnormal... Still, I'm not doing anything until you're fully recovered.
Fuji: But maybe doing it would speed up recovery.
Tezuka: Don't use medical excuses to justify nonsense.
Maybe it was because he'd been lying on top of Tezuka for a while, but Fuji suddenly felt a sharp pain and shortness of breath. He sat up, leaning against the back of the couch, gasping for air.
Tezuka: See…?
Fuji pressed his right hand against the area just under his ribs, trying to ease the pain. It took him a while to finally let out a breath.
Fuji: ...It wasn't this bad a few days ago...
Before he could finish, he started coughing, so violently it resembled a full-blown asthma attack.
Tezuka stared at him, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. He didn't want to repeat the doctor's words, Fuji knew them already.
He picked up the water pitcher from the coffee table, poured a glass of warm water, and handed it to Fuji, guiding the cup with his hand as if worried Fuji might spill it.
Tezuka: Wait until the coughing settles. Don't choke again.
He got up and retrieved the medicine kit from a nearby cabinet. One by one, he took out the prescribed medications: prednisone for inflammation and lung swelling, salbutamol for easing breathing, acetaminophen for the pain, and antibiotics.
These were all medications the doctor had prescribed that very morning, which meant Fuji hadn't taken a single pill in the twelve days since the explosion.
Tezuka returned to Fuji's side, placed all the pills in his palm, and watched him swallow them one by one.
If he hadn't discovered those injuries last night, who knows how long this so-called superhero...no, this superidiot, would've kept pretending everything was fine.
Fuji's act of pretending to be fine had caused him to miss the best window for medical intervention.
If it weren't for the blood oxygen and pulmonary function tests at the hospital, he probably couldn't even pinpoint exactly when his breathing had started to feel heavier.
He hadn't been completely unaware, he'd just subconsciously mistaken "slow recovery" for "almost better". He'd chalked up the chest tightness and dull aches to fatigue or lack of rest, and the shortness of breath and light hypoxia to simply "being in a bad mood".
It wasn't until the doctor pressed for details that he realized, this wasn't "healing," it was "neglect".
Even the doctor sighed and said: Good thing you're not living alone.
Tezuka returned to the sofa and reached out to touch Fuji's forehead.
Fuji: What are you doing?
Tezuka: Checking if you have a fever.
Fuji: I'm not sick.
Tezuka: Your immune system's weak now. You have to keep an eye on your temperature to prevent infection or systemic inflammation. Doctor's orders.
Fuji: I'm not a kid, I think I'd know if I had a fever…
Tezuka: No, I think you're pretty dumb sometimes. Like, zero IQ dumb.
Fuji: Hey, what the hell is that supposed to mean...
Before he could finish protesting, Tezuka shut him up the usual way. Ten years ago, back in their student days, he never would've dared to use that move. He would've just stood there and let Fuji talk circles around him.
Fuji: …Wait, Aren't I not supposed to do anything strenuous?
Tezuka: The doctor didn't say you couldn't kiss.
Fuji: …Ah, right. He really didn't.
Tezuka lowered himself down, his head moving lower and lower, from Fuji's neck, to his chest, then down to his abdomen, and further still. Fuji instantly realized what he was trying to do.
Fuji: Hold on a second…
Tezuka: You're not injured there.
Fuji: Of course not… but I mean, this kind of thing speeds up breathing, doesn't it…
He pushed Tezuka's head away, or rather, Tezuka sat up on his own.
Tezuka: So now you know it hurts? Finally realize you're still a patient?
Fuji: …Are you scolding me?
Tezuka was just about to respond when a faint sound came from the baby monitor on the table, a child's cry, intermittent and uneasy, like he had just woken up and found himself alone.
Fuji froze for a second, then immediately got up, moving so fast it was practically a dash. As if nothing had happened just moments ago, he tossed out a single line: I'll go check on him. Can you pause the TV for me? I want to keep watching later.
Tezuka remained seated in the now-quiet living room. The man who had just been flirting and teasing him beside the couch, was already gone in the blink of an eye.
The boy, having grown more accustomed to his new environment, finally decided to come downstairs and explore. It was his fifth day in this foster home.
"Foster" -- that was the term used by the Youth Affairs Bureau. Fuji never corrected them, and Tezuka never signed that document.
As expected, the moment the boy saw Tezuka in the living room, he froze for barely a second before bolting like he'd stepped into a trap. He dashed back up to the third-floor guest room and slammed the door shut.
Tezuka thought Fuji would tease him like before, or at least jokingly scold him for scaring the child with his cold expression. He was even ready to admit it was his fault.
But Fuji said nothing. He just smiled, as if to say: This has nothing to do with you.
Then he calmly walked upstairs—without a word like "I'll go talk to him", leaving Tezuka standing there alone.
Tezuka sat back down on the sofa, eyes on the ceiling.
Was the living room really this silent just because the TV was on pause?
After all these years, it wasn't like he had never seen Fuji take care of others. He had seen that kindness many times, his extreme gentleness, his meticulous thoughtfulness…That was what had made Tezuka fall for him in the first place.
And yet, Something about it now felt different. He couldn't explain what, or why.
Fuji came back downstairs to the living room.
All the cardboard packaging had been ripped open, with wooden boards and screws scattered across the floor.
They were from the pile of new furniture he had ordered four days ago, meant to recreate the boy's old room in the guest bedroom.
Tezuka sat cross-legged on the floor, assembling a bookshelf like a seasoned craftsman.
Fuji: Wow, you're really fast. It's only been an hour, and you've almost finished one already.
He sat down on the sofa, picked an apple from the fruit plate on the coffee table.
Fuji: I was actually planning to build them myself, you know. Didn't expect you to help.
Tezuka glanced at him, clearly heard it, but didn't bother responding to the sarcasm.
Fuji: So we'll wait until the kid fully adjusts before moving the furniture into the room, right? Otherwise, it might freak him out.
He watched Tezuka for a while, then got up from the sofa and sat down beside him, apple in his right hand, arm draped around Tezuka's shoulder. It looked exactly like a boyfriend coaxing his sulking girlfriend...except the "girlfriend" in question was a grown man.
Fuji: Is it just me, or are you sulking a little?
Tezuka didn't say anything, continuing to tighten the screws. He was afraid that if he opened his mouth now, it really would make him sound like he was angry.
Suddenly, he reached toward Fuji's crotch area. Fuji instinctively flinched.
Fuji: What are you doing?
Tezuka: You're sitting on a screw. Didn't you notice?
Fuji: Oh, well, didn't realize. Guess it's because I'm wearing your pants.
He gave Tezuka a dumb grin, like he was deliberately waiting to see his reaction.
Tezuka: You're kind of in the way sitting there.
Fuji: Then let me help. This was supposed to be my job anyway.
He picked up a screwdriver, only to have Tezuka snatch it right back.
Tezuka: Who told you to touch that?
Fuji: Fine then, I'll assemble the desk instead. That way I won't be in your way.
Tezuka: How many times do I have to tell you? No heavy work while you're still recovering.
Tezuka knew Fuji was just talking. He could tell the guy had no real intention of getting up.
Which, honestly, wasn't surprising. That was just the kind of person Fuji was.
It wasn't that he couldn't handle physical work, he simply didn't want to.
But as long as Tezuka was around, Fuji always defaulted to letting him do it.
Something placed too high? "You get it". Table too heavy? "You move it". Screws too tight? "You uninstall it".
Not because he was weak or incapable. Quite the opposite, actually. Even the IKEA staff had picked up on it, this polite-looking little East Asian guy, not tall, not broad-shouldered, practically a folded-up swallow among a crowd of towering Germans, Turks, and Eastern Europeans, but strong. Really strong. Quick on his feet too, like a bear cub.
Yet as long as Tezuka was present, Fuji wouldn't lift a finger.
Not to play coy or act helpless. It was more of a "since I know you'll do it, I won't bother competing with you" kind of laziness.
And the most infuriating part was, he'd say things like that with a totally straight face and genuinely sincere eyes.
So there he was now, sitting to the side, munching on an apple like a foreman supervising a job.
And Tezuka's "I'm not even going to acknowledge you" attitude was just their usual way of flirting.
Of course Tezuka knew it, this laziness was shown only to him.
It was a private privilege. He didn't show it outwardly, but inside, it made him secretly happy.
Well, that might all be true, but the foreman's left hand was starting to get a little too bold.
Tezuka: Can you go sit properly on the sofa and just watch TV?
Fuji: Ehh~ I get the feeling you want me to bother you. Hmm?
Tezuka didn't reply.He turned around, picked up a wooden board and two screws, and continued assembling in silence.
But Fuji's hand had already slipped under his shirt and was moving lower, eventually starting to rub him through his pants.
Tezuka: I told you... not until you're fully healed...
Fuji: You looked like you were suffering so much, so I thought I'd help you out. Just using my hand should be fine, right? You just focus on your work.
His left hand unzipped Tezuka's pants, while his right still held an apple he casually munched on, eyes fixed on the television screen.
Tezuka: But why now, of all times...
The movement of Fuji's hand grew stronger and faster. Tezuka couldn't concentrate on the screws he was tightening, his hands slowed, fumbled.
Sure, hand service between married couples was entirely legitimate, you know.
But the dilemma Tezuka currently faced was that he had to suppress every single impulse, because there was absolutely nothing he could do to this damned injured man sitting beside him,
...Like pinning him down, licking every inch of his body, stripping off his pants, suck his genitals, lifting his legs, pushing into him from behind, feeling him clench tight around him, pounding into him with full force, hearing his cute cries as he writhed from pain and pleasure, watching him cry while moaning, then finishing deep inside him, fill him up with semen, or maybe on his face…
Tezuka, whose mind was filled with the images above, kept a straight face and desperately clung to his last shred of composure. Rather than imagination, it was more like memory.
So the fun for Fuji now lay in watching Tezuka struggle to hold back his sexual desire.
Just as Tezuka was about to voice another symbolic protest, Fuji shoved the remaining quarter of his apple into Tezuka’s mouth. It was an entirely new way to shut him up, and an effective one at that.
Fuji said nothing, keeping his eyes on the TV as if truly watching the program. But of course, His right hand started to help himself, you know. Naturally, if both bodies were reacting, it had to be satisfying for both.
Suddenly, a small voice came from behind.
Startled, Tezuka dropped his tools, Fuji instantly froze, both hands coming to an abrupt halt, and the two of them hurried to pull up their pants and sit upright as if nothing had happened.
Fuji gave a sheepish smile and went over to ask the boy what was wrong (Was ist los?). The boy said he's hungry. Only then did they realize it was already dinnertime.
As Fuji headed to the kitchen, he tossed the tissue box from the coffee table toward Tezuka, who hadn't fully recovered yet.
Catching the tissue box with one hand and still chewing on the half-eaten apple, Tezuka muttered unclearly: Wash your hands before opening the fridge.
Today's TV remote was still firmly in Tezuka's grasp.
During this recovery period, he had banned Fuji from watching anything remotely exciting, comedies, crime dramas, horror movies, disaster flicks, action films, sports events, variety shows, and even YouTube and TikTok.
Fuji had once grumbled like a child under strict parental control: Is it really that serious? You might as well make me watch parenting channels and start prepping for class.
He picked up his phone: I'm gonna voice call Eiji and rant, my soul has been imprisoned.
Tezuka snatched the phone right out of his hand, mostly to prevent him from falling into the usual endless loop of dumb giggles with his best friend.
After a round of fussing, peace was finally restored.
Mainly because they found a new topic.
Fuji: In a few months it'll be spring. That kid will have to go to kindergarten, right? I heard spots in German public kindergartens are super tight, So, I have to reserve way in advance.
Tezuka: You're already thinking about that?
Fuji: What, come on, are you planning to seal him on the third floor until we retire?
Fuji had already sneakily retrieved his phone from behind Tezuka, and opened the front-facing camera, checking his reflection like a mirror.
Fuji: Do I… look like one of those dying old men in dramas?
He even made a cartoonish choking gesture, both hands on his neck like a dying character.
Tezuka: Don't joke about that.
Fuji's breathing problems hadn't improved much over the past few days. In fact, his coughing had gotten worse.
At the follow-up on day seven, after checking the CT scan and listening to his lungs, the doctor gave them the verdict: The external injuries are healing decently. But the inflammation in his lungs is still there. Just taking oral meds isn't enough anymore.
So now Fuji had to start nebulizer treatments and humidified oxygen therapy. If not, the recovery could drag on for a long time, especially since he tends to underreport his condition, is good at enduring pain but terrible at suppressing laughter, talks a lot, a lot, and just can't sit still.
Patients like him are the type most likely to end up with chronic bronchitis or even pneumonia.
The doctor basically saw him as one of those "headstrong idiots who don't take their own health seriously"...a nightmare patient.
Fortunately, the oxygen and nebulizer treatments could be done at home.
Which brings us to the current scene: Fuji lying on the couch with a nasal oxygen tube in his nose, happily watching TV, sipping warm coffee, and reaching for cookies from the table every now and then.
Tezuka sat beside him, dying to say "You brought this on yourself", but somehow couldn't bring himself to laugh.
Fuji suddenly shifted positions and, very rarely, rested his head on Tezuka's shoulder.
It was a gesture of surrender, quiet, intimate.
Men aren't naturally fond of showing weakness. And Fuji? He was never the type to lean on others. Even when flirting, he'd stick to teasing with words or actions. Even in bed, he always insisted on staying in control. But now, for once, he showed this calm, peaceful, and completely non-aggressive side of himself.
He figured it didn't really matter anyway, he wasn't that tall to begin with, and being a bit shorter than Tezuka made this kind of posture look just right.
If they'd been the same height, he wouldn't have done it. That would've just felt awkward and cheesy.
But this? This was perfect.
This small act from Fuji meant complete trust.
And to Tezuka, it came as a quiet surprise, one of those rare but deeply cherished moments in their relationship. He wouldn't say it out loud, but he clearly felt it: He really sees me as someone he can rely on.
Fuji: Honestly... if it weren't for you, I probably would've just died at home.
In that moment, Tezuka suddenly regretted watching that London emergency care documentary on Netflix today.
Something about the atmosphere and the flow of conversation just felt like they were drifting off in a weird direction.
But he couldn't just grab the remote and switch channels now, technically, the content of the show had nothing to do with what they were talking about.
Fuji: But, you know… if it weren't for you, I wouldn't have come to Germany, wouldn't have witnessed that accident, wouldn't have been injured in the explosion, and none of this would've happened. So in the end, it's all your fault.
Tezuka: Then you probably would've died somewhere else.
Fuji: Wow, you're really holding your ground here.
Then he chuckled softly.
Tezuka: What are you laughing at?
Fuji: Just thinking, if my dad saw me like this right now, he'd probably charge in here and beat you to death. He'd blame you for not taking good care of me.
Tezuka: Just don't let him kill me.
Fuji: Well, he's 65 this year. Technically, you could win that fight. But if you fight back, I'll punch you too. Hmm… I wonder how a German court would judge that. Domestic violence?
Tezuka: Can you stop using that dead-serious tone to talk about these completely hypothetical situations?
With an annoyed look, he grabbed the nebulizer, switched off the oxygen concentrator, pulled the nasal cannula off Fuji's face, and placed the mask over his mouth.
Fuji: Mmph…
Tezuka: Shut up. You're doing nebulizer treatment now. Fifteen minutes of silence.
But a muffled voice still came through the mask,
Fuji: Let's go back to Japan before New Year's. We can return after the holidays.
Tezuka stared at him, this idiot actually trying to bargain with an oxygen mask on.
He gently patted Fuji's baby face like he was playing with a toddler.
Tezuka: …Do you seriously not understand human language? Are you gonna suffocate if you don't plan things right now?
Fuji: I'm just organizing the schedule ahead of time.
He coughed lightly.
Tezuka said nothing and adjusted the mask on his face again.
Fuji, still grinning under the mask, leaned back into the sofa and tried to use the TV remote, stolen earlier from Tezuka—to change the channel. In a flash, Tezuka snatched it back.
Tezuka: I told you. While I'm your nurse, I control the remote.
Muted Fuji threw up a series of complex Naruto's hand signs in protest, finishing with an old-school Showa's Ultraman light-beam pose. That finally cracked Tezuka up with a "pfft" laugh.
Fuji started laughing too, and then, immediately, a violent coughing fit.
Tezuka's smile vanished. He rushed to stop the nebulizer and took off the mask, patting Fuji on the back until his breathing calmed down.
See? He never learns.
今日もテレビのリモコンは手塚がしっかりと握っていた。
この療養期間中、手塚は不二にあらゆる刺激的な映像作品を禁止した。コメディー、犯罪ドラマ、ホラー、ディザスター映画、アクション、スポーツ中継、バラエティ番組、さらにYouTubeやTikTokまでもがアウト。
不二は、まるで親に厳しく監視されている子どもみたいに文句を言った：そんなにダメなの？いっそ育児番組でも見せてよ、ついでに授業準備でもするから。
そう言ってスマホを手に取る：英二に電話して愚痴るわ、魂が牢屋に入れられたって。
手塚はすかさずそのスマホを取り上げた。理由は簡単、不二が菊丸と話し始めると、延々とバカ笑いが止まらなくなるからだ。
ひとしきり騒いだあと、ようやく落ち着いた。
きっかけは、新しい話題だった。
不二：数ヶ月後には春だよね。あの子、そろそろ幼稚園に行かせなきゃでしょ？ドイツの公立幼稚園って予約がすごく大変らしいよ。早めに動かないと。
手塚：もうそんなこと考えてるのか。
不二：じゃあ何？君は彼を三階に封印したまま、僕らが定年するまで過ごすつもり？
すでに不二は手塚の背後からスマホを取り戻しており、前面カメラをオンにして、自分の顔を鏡のようにチェックしていた。
不二：この顔って……番組に出てくる死にかけのおじいさんみたいじゃない？
そう言いながら、アニメのキャラみたいに両手で首を押さえて"瀕死ポーズ"まで披露する。
手塚：そんなことでふざけるな。
不二の呼吸困難はここ数日でほとんど改善しておらず、むしろ咳がひどくなっていた。
7日目の再診で、CT画像と聴診結果を見た医者ははっきりこう言った：外傷の回復はまあ順調です。でも肺の炎症はまだ残っていて、口服薬だけでは足りません。
だから不二は、ネブライザー治療と湿潤酸素吸入を始めなければならなかった。そうでなければ回復期間がかなり長引く可能性がある。特に彼は自分の体の状態を正直に報告しないし、痛みには強いくせに笑いには弱く、しゃべるのも好きで、しかもとにかくよく喋るし、じっとしていられない性格だから、こういうタイプは慢性気管支炎や肺炎に移行しやすい。
医者からすれば、こういう「自分の体をまったく大事にしないタイプのバカ」は本当にやっかいなのだ。
幸い、酸素吸入と吸入治療は自宅でも行える。
というわけで、現在の光景：ソファに寝そべって、鼻に酸素チューブを差し込んだ不二が、テレビをニコニコ見ながら、温かいコーヒーを飲み、たまに手を伸ばしてテーブルのビスケットをつまんでいる。
その隣に座る手塚は、「自業自得だろ……」と心の中で思いながらも、なぜか全然笑えないでいた。
不二が突然体勢を変えて、めったに見せない仕草で手塚の肩に頭を預けた。
それはまるで"降参"のような、静かな親密さだった。
そもそも男というのは弱さを見せるのが得意ではない。ましてや不二は、人に寄りかかるようなタイプではなかった。イチャつく時だって、あくまで言葉や行動で挑発するスタイル。ベッドの中ですら、主導権は絶対に渡さない。
それが今は、攻撃性の一切ない、落ち着いた優しさを見せている。
もっとも、不二自身も今回は何も気にしていなかった。自分は元々そんなに背が高くないし、手塚より一回り小さいから、こうして寄りかかっても見た目にちょうどいい。
もし二人の身長が同じくらいだったら、こういう体勢はきっと気持ち悪いだけで、絶対にしなかったはず。
でも今は、このバランスがちょうど良い。
この仕草は、不二からの"完全な信頼"の証だった。
手塚にとっても、それはちょっとした驚きであり、付き合ってからの中でもあまり見られない、でもとても大切にしたくなる瞬間だった。
きっと口には出さないが、心の中では確かに思っただろう：「こいつは本当に、俺を頼れる存在だと思ってくれてるんだな」と。
不二：マジでさ……君がいなかったら、たぶん僕、家で死んでたよね
その瞬間、手塚は「今日Netflixでロンドンの救急救命ドキュメンタリーなんて観るんじゃなかった」と急に後悔し始めた。
どうも空気と会話の流れが、変な方向に引っ張られている気がしてならない。
でも今さらリモコンを取ってチャンネル変えるわけにもいかない。だって、一応会話の内容とテレビの内容は、直接関係ないわけだし。
不二：でもさ、君がいなかったら、僕もドイツに来てなかったし、あの事故にも遭遇してないし、爆発に巻き込まれることもなかったわけで……つまり、全部君のせいだ。
手塚：じゃあ、お前は別の場所で死んでたかもな。
不二：え〜、そこまで強気に来る？
そう言って、ふっと笑った。
手塚：何を笑ってるんだ。
不二：いやさ、もし今の僕の姿をお父さんが見たら、間違いなく君のことをボコボコにしに来るなって思ってさ。『ちゃんと世話してなかったんだろ』とか言いながら。
手塚：殺さなければいい。
不二：うちの父、もう今年で65歳だし、正直君には勝てないと思う。だから絶対に手を出しちゃダメだよ？反撃なんてしたら、僕が代わりに殴るから。…その時、ドイツの裁判所ってどう判断するのかな。家庭内暴力ってことになる？
手塚：頼むから、そんなありえない仮定を真顔で語るのやめてくれ。
苛立ち気味にネブライザーを手に取り、酸素濃縮器のスイッチを切り、不二の鼻からカニューレを外して、ネブライザーマスクを顔に装着した。
不二：んんっ…
手塚：黙れ。今からネブライザーだ。15分静かにしろ。
だが、マスク越しに小さな声が漏れてきた、
不二：じゃあ、年越す前に一回日本帰ろう？お正月明けたら戻ってくればいいし。
手塚は黙って、不二の"酸素マスク越しに交渉を挑んでくる"姿を見つめた。
そしてまるで子どもにするように、その丸い頬をポンと軽く叩いた。
手塚：……本当に人の言葉通じないよな？今それ言ったら窒息するぞ。
不二：事前にスケジュール立てるのは大事じゃん？
小さく咳き込む。
手塚は黙って、マスクの位置を直してあげた。
不二はそのまま、口元にマスクをつけた状態でニヤニヤしながら、さっき手塚から盗んだテレビのリモコンでチャンネルを変えようとする。だが、次の瞬間、手塚にあっさり奪い返された。
手塚：言ったよな。今は俺が看病してる。リモコンの権利は俺にある。
声を封じられた不二は、ナルトの"印"を連続で組み始めた。そして最後は、昭和のウルトラマンの光線ポーズで締めた。それを見た手塚は「ぷっ」と吹き出してしまった。
つられて不二も笑い出し、直後、激しい咳に襲われた。
手塚の笑みは一瞬で消え、慌ててネブライザーを止め、マスクを外して背中をさすった。
だから言ったじゃないか、全然反省してないって。
今天的电视遥控器依然被手冢拿在了手里，
这段时间内，他禁止不二观看的影视类型有喜剧片、犯罪片、恐怖片、灾难片、动作片、体育比赛、综艺节目等等，也禁掉了Youtube和TikTok啥的。
不二也像一个被家长管教过度的小孩一样抱怨过：有那么严重吗，你干脆让我看育儿频道算了，顺便备课。
不二拿起了手机：我要跟英二开语音发牢骚，说我的灵魂被抓去坐牢了。
手冢抢走了他的手机，主要是为了防止他聊着聊着就进入了好朋友之间的无止尽傻笑模式。
一阵闹腾之后，总算安静了下来。
主要因为是找到了一个话题，
不二：几个月之后就是春天了，那孩子到时候肯定得上幼儿园的对吧？听说德国公立幼儿园的名额很紧张，必须得很早就开始预订。
手冢：你现在就开始考虑这个了？
不二：不然呢？你打算把他一直封印在三楼等我们退休？
不二已经从手冢的身后偷回了自己的手机，开启了前置摄像头，像照镜子一样照了照自己，
不二：我这个样子....是不是看起来特别像电视里那个病危的老头？
说完还朝手冢做了一个卡通片里面那样的双手掐自己脖子的假装濒死的表情，
手冢：别拿这种事开玩笑。
不二最近几天的呼吸困难并没有明显减轻，咳嗽反而还加重了，
在第七天的再次复查时，医生看了CT片和听诊结果后，告诉他和手冢：身体上的外伤恢复速率还算理想。但肺部的炎症还在，恢复得慢，继续吃药是没错，但光吃口服的不够了。
所以不二必须得开始雾化治疗和湿化吸氧，不然恢复期可能会拉得很长，尤其他又不老实，又爱谎报身体状况，擅长忍痛却不擅长忍笑，还经常讲话，话还多得很，还动来动去，这样很容易拖成慢性支气管炎甚至是肺炎。
在医生眼里，最麻烦就是这种不拿自己身体当一回事的猪头型病人。
所幸吸氧和雾化都可以在家进行。
所以现在的画面就是，鼻子插着输氧管的不二躺在沙发上，乐呵呵的看着电视，喝着温热的咖啡，还时不时从茶几上伸手拿饼干吃，
而手冢坐在他旁边，很想嘲笑他搞成这样纯属活该，不过完全笑不出来倒是咯。
不二突然改变了姿势，很难得的，把头靠在了手冢身上，
这是一种投降式的亲密动作。
男人天生就不喜欢示弱，更何况，不二从来就不是一个会主动倚靠别人的人，就算是调情，他也只会用语言或行动撩拨，哪怕在床上，也会坚持掌握主动权，但很少表现出这样安静、平静、没有攻击性的一面。
他这次倒觉得也没什么好顾虑的，反正自己本来也没多高，个头也比手冢小一截，靠上去怎么看都顺眼得很，
要是两人身高五五开，他肯定不会采用这个姿势，怎么看都别扭又肉麻，
所以现在这样刚刚好。
不二的这个举动意味着是绝对的信任，
对手冢来说，也算是一种惊喜，这是和不二在一起之后的生活中不那么常见但极其珍贵的瞬间。他可能不会说出口，但心理会明显觉得：他好像真的把我当成可以依赖的存在了。
不二：说真的，要不是有你在的话，我早就死在家里了吧。
手冢在这一瞬间忽然觉得今天不应该在Netflix上看这部伦敦重症急救实录的，
总感觉气氛和话题要被带偏到奇怪的地方去了，
但他又不能马上拿起遥控器切换掉节目，毕竟电视里的内容和现在聊天的内容并没有什么强关联。
不二：不过要是没有你的话，我也不会来到德国，也就不会见到那个车祸，也就不会被炸伤，也就不会有这些麻烦事了呢，所以归根结底还是怪你。
手冢：那你大概率还是会死在别的地方。
不二：欸，你还较上劲了。
然后，轻声笑了起来，
手冢：突然笑什么。
不二：我在想，要是我爸爸看到我现在这个样子，肯定会冲过来把你往死里揍，他会觉得是你没有把我照顾好之类的。
手冢：别杀了我就行。
不二：他今年都65岁了，严格来说肯定打不过你了，因此，你绝对不能还手噢，不然我也要揍你的，嗯.....到时候德国法庭会怎么判呢，这算家庭暴力吗。
手冢：你能别用这种一本正经的语气讨论这些不成立的假设吗。
一脸不爽的把雾化器拿了过来，关闭了制氧机，取下了不二挂在鼻子上的输氧管，然后将雾化面罩戴在了他脸上，
不二：唔....
手冢：闭嘴，开始做雾化了，给我安静十五分钟。
结果传出了闷闷的人声，
不二：那，元旦之前回一趟日本吧。过完年再回来？
手冢沉默了一秒，看向他那副戴着吸氧面罩还要讲条件的样子，
伸手轻轻拍了拍他的娃娃脸，力道轻得跟逗小孩一样，
手冢：....你是真的听不懂人话对吧？等下再说这些会憋死你？
不二：我只是提前安排行程嘛。
轻咳了几下，
手冢没有再说话，只是帮他调整了一下面罩的位置。
不二靠着沙发，在脸上戴着吸氧面罩的情况下，仍然嬉皮笑脸地打算用刚刚从手冢身上偷来的遥控器去切换节目，结果转眼之间又被手冢无情的抢走了。
手冢：我说了，你现在被我护理，遥控器归我管。
被禁言的不二先是用火影忍者里的结印表达了一系列无声抗议，还冲手冢摆了一个昭和时代的奥特曼发射光波的姿势进行收尾，把手冢都给“噗嗤”一声逗笑了。
结果不二自己也完全没有忍住，开始笑了起来，然后就是一串剧烈的咳嗽。
手冢的笑容立刻收回，手忙脚乱地去关掉雾化器，摘下了不二脸上的面罩，
轻拍着他的背，只能等他呼吸平稳后再继续了。
你看吧他就是不长记性。
附言 | 为什么这篇作品不是漫画
HI，我是PARATRO，你知道的，这是我第一次写小说，
虽然之前除了画画以外也都写过不少东西，
其实我也不具备任何文学功底，我只是会编剧，然后就写台本一样，把脑子里面的画面直接陈述出来而已。
一开始确实是打算画成漫画的，
是的，这篇小说里的文字，最初的形式其实就是漫画的台本。
于是我在第一天就开始画分镜草稿（仙人掌法庭篇都还没有画完的时候），结果很快意识到：
剧情流程实在是太长了！！
画着画着，几天下来草稿都快攒到200页了，故事却还没讲完！
哪怕不画彩色漫画的，画黑白的也需要很多时间，
再加上我这个边玩边画的效率，这个故事怕不是要连载3年多吧（笑），
甚至都不能保证“第一页的不二”和“第五十页的不二”看起来还是同一个人（笑）。
所以我干脆把它改成了小说，顺便补上了大量的细节，
然后我发现，果然漫画更适合演出一些搞笑的、爽快的东西，
而那些细腻的情感、重逻辑的心理演绎只能靠文字表现，没错，这也就是人们为什么喜欢看书的原因，
不过有机会的话我肯定是会将其中的一些情景和小片段再“漫画化”什么的，这个倒是没有难度。
漫画的话，如果不加旁白或者心声，很难表达出压抑的情绪。但非常适合演出手冢无意中跑到了侏罗纪公园的剧情，然后他还发现不二在这里打工。
漫画的分镜可以画出精准的表情，但文字却能精准的表达出角色内心的自我解释。当然，漫画倒是特别适合出现手冢那种被骑着恐龙来救他的不二整得无语到抓狂的样子。
漫画需要靠大量分镜来推出时间感，小说只要一段话就可以迅速铺陈完整的心理轨迹。啊当然并不是因为作者想偷懒不画恐龙，其实我很喜欢画恐龙，但目前没有机会让我画骑着恐龙的不二啊，没错，这就是攻击力4500守备力3000的龙骑士。
漫画可以表达“行为与表情”，比如牵着迅猛龙帅气登场的不二，小说可以表达“潜台词与复杂心理”，比如看见了牵着迅猛龙的不二的手冢。
也就是说，如果是“纯喜剧”，那我就会直接画成漫画，如果不是，那就写成小说。
在此，还是要感谢中文翻译老师：Gooose2。
以上，感谢喜欢，祝你有美好的一天。
