The automatic glass doors of the Arifukua Corporation slid shut behind him, and Taichi finally let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. The tight knot in his chest loosened as he stepped into the open air. His hands were trembling slightly—not from fear, but from the intensity of what had just happened. He had bowed. Begged. Lowered himself in a way his younger self would have spat at. But he had done it. For them.
By the time he reached their small home, the sound of giggles was already spilling through the crack of the front door. Yu's soft voice, warm and bright, wrapped around the laughter of their twin boys. The weight on Taichi's shoulders lightened the moment he stepped inside.
Yu's eyes lit up when he saw him.
"You're back! How did it go?"
His voice was expectant, full of hope.
Taichi managed a smile, hiding the truth.
"I got the job. At…a big company."
Yu's gasp of delight was immediate, his hands flying up as if he'd won the lottery.
"Taichi! That's amazing! At a big company, too! You really did it!"
He rushed forward, hugging him tight before pulling back with shining eyes.
"We should celebrate! I'll make all your favorites tonight."
Taichi's chest ached at the sight of him—this gentle man who had endured so much, still smiling, still proud.
"Yeah…"
He murmured, his throat tight.
"That sounds perfect."
While Yu bustled into the kitchen, humming happily, Taichi dropped to the tatami mat floor where Taro and Kenji were crawling toward him with clumsy determination. He scooped them up, one under each arm, and let their tiny hands tug at his hair and shirt.
'If only I had swallowed my pride years ago…'
He thought bitterly.
'Maybe Yu wouldn't have suffered like he did. Maybe those bastards wouldn't have touched him. Maybe…'
He pressed his forehead against the crown of Kenji's head, inhaling the baby's soft scent, and vowed silently.
'Never again. I won't make those mistakes again. Not with them depending on me now.'
---
The next morning, Taichi put on his suit again. His reflection in the mirror looked stiff, unnatural—like he was pretending to be someone else. But he straightened his tie anyway, kissed Yu's cheek, and promised he'd be home for dinner.
Inside the company, the glamour of the glass building didn't reach him. He was escorted by HR into the belly of the corporation—down into the rows of cubicles and storage offices that smelled faintly of dust and old paper.
"This will be your station."
The HR officer said curtly, gesturing to a small desk piled with files.
"You'll handle clerical work, data entry, and occasional deliveries. Report any issues to your supervisor."
Taichi bowed deeply, hiding the flicker of irritation.
'The lowest of the low positions, huh. Just as he planned. He's testing me. To see if I'll give up.'
His first day was filled with monotonous tasks:
Stacks of files to reorganize, numbers to input into outdated software, errands that left his shoulders aching. More than once, whispers followed him down the halls.
"That's him, the chairman's son."
"Didn't the Chairman always complain about how his son was such a delinquent?"
"I thought he was talking about the other one?"
"Bet he won't last a week."
But Taichi gritted his teeth and endured. He remembered Yu's proud smile, the tiny weight of his sons in his arms, the warmth of their home. Every cruel laugh and dismissive order only fueled his resolve.
When he finally sat alone at his desk at the end of the day, shoulders stiff and eyes burning from exhaustion, he muttered under his breath.
"I'll show you, old man. I won't quit. Not this time."
And though his body screamed in protest, his heart was steady. For Yu. For Taro and Kenji. For the family he refused to fail.
---
The first days at Arifukua Corporation had been grueling. Every menial task—hauling files from one floor to another, taking endless photocopies, staying late to correct reports that weren't even his responsibility—felt like deliberate attempts to break him. The snickers of colleagues didn't help, whispers that the "delinquent son" wouldn't last.
But Taichi endured. He forced himself into the rhythm. Arriving before sunrise, his tie already tightened neatly, his shoes polished until they gleamed. He learned the faces of the employees around him, remembered the layout of files, deadlines, even coffee orders—his photographic memory quietly serving him in ways no one expected.
Within weeks, those who mocked him began to grudgingly respect him. He was quiet, obedient, reliable. He didn't argue. He worked. He even helped others finish their workloads, not because he sought approval, but because every task he completed was one less excuse for failure.
At the end of the day, he clocked out exactly on time, went home, and still brought stacks of papers to review in the dim lamplight while Yu sat nearby crocheting tiny socks for Taro and Kenji. When exhaustion clawed at him, he reminded himself of Yu's smile, of his sons' soft laughter. That was all the strength he needed.
By the time a month had passed, Taichi's presence had shifted the tone of his department. He wasn't flashy. He wasn't ambitious on the surface. But he was dependable. Colleagues found themselves quietly looking for him when they were stuck, relying on him the way people rely on foundations—unseen, but essential.
Even Riku Arifukua noticed. Reports made it to his desk:
Punctuality, discipline, even helpfulness.
Nothing about this resembled the hot-headed boy who once stormed out of his house swearing never to return.
One evening, as he sat in his private office overlooking the glittering skyline, Riku frowned and tapped his pen against the desk.
'What changed you, boy? What tamed that fire?'
He called Ling, his long-trusted secretary, into the room.
"Find out what happened to Taichi. He wasn't like this before. He's… different."
Ling adjusted her glasses, her tone crisp as always.
"Chairman, his records show a notable shift around the beginning of his first year of high school—coinciding with the time you and he stopped speaking."
Riku's brows knit at the reminder. Back then, their relationship was rocky at best. When Ren Mori, his wife, divorced him and took Taichi at the age of five, he only got to see Taichi during visitation. But it was after Ren had died, did Taichi—only fifteen years old—discover about the affair. Not the full details of it but it was enough for the boy to never look at him the same way again.
'That other woman. That child I couldn't abandon… and he hated me for it.'
The memory was bitter, sour in his chest.
Ling continued carefully.
"Since then, it seems Taichi met someone. A steady partner. They've been together from high school, through college, and still are to this day."
Riku blinked.
"A woman?"
His voice was skeptical but laced with curiosity.
'So a girl did what I never could?'
Ling's lips pressed into a thin line. She had more she could say—about the scandals surrounding Jezebel Suzuki, about Taichi's quiet requests for help—but she held back. It wasn't her story to tell. Instead, she inclined her head and offered.
"Perhaps it would be wiser to ask Taichi himself, sir. You may find the answers more meaningful than hearing them secondhand."
Riku sat back in his chair, staring at the city beyond the glass. He didn't answer, but his silence was heavy.
'So he's changed. But why? For who?'
After Ling left his office, the silence pressed down heavier than the glass walls around him. Riku leaned back, eyes narrowed, hands steepled.
'Taichi… when did you stop being that reckless boy? When did you find this discipline?'
But the answer eluded him, tangled in years of distance and resentment. His chest still ached when he thought of Mei Sasaki—the quiet way she had withered under cancer, a sickness he hadn't even known until it was too late. Regret was a constant companion, whispering he hadn't done enough, hadn't been there when it mattered.
Isuke was the proof of that failure, and perhaps his only chance at atonement. He had poured everything into the boy, carving out a future, promising himself he'd never neglect him the way he had with Taichi. And yet… seeing Taichi now, bent-backed under work but steady, loyal, and uncomplaining—it was unsettling.
Pride warred with guilt.
'Shouldn't I be glad my son grew up? But why without me? Why without my hand to guide him?'
He remembered the fire in Taichi's eyes when he stormed out years ago, spitting words of hatred, vowing never to forgive. That anger had seared itself into Riku's memory. Now, the same boy was quietly rising, earning respect. And worst of all—Riku didn't know how.
He pressed his palm against his temple. Ling had been right:
Secondhand whispers weren't enough. He needed to hear it from Taichi himself.
---
Meanwhile, across the city, Taichi's evening rhythm was far simpler. He stepped into their small home to be greeted by the chaos of toddler giggles and Yu's soft scolding voice as he tried to herd Taro and Kenji into their tiny crib.
The moment Taichi's shoes hit the floor, both boys squealed.
"Papa!"
And waddled clumsily into his legs. Yu gave up, laughing, and let them cling to him as Taichi dropped to the floor, scooping them up with ease. The exhaustion of office life evaporated under their warm weight.
Yu's eyes softened, watching him.
"Hard day?"
He asked.
"Hard, yeah."
Taichi admitted, pressing kisses into each boy's hair.
"But worth it. Always worth it."
Yu set down a steaming bowl of soup, the smell wrapping the room like a blanket.
"Then eat. And rest. You don't have to carry everything alone, you know."
But Taichi only smiled, pushing the guilt deeper into his chest. He couldn't tell Yu—not yet—that the man he worked for, the boss at the top of the ladder, was the father who he had abandoned. For now, all that mattered was the laughter, the soup, and the quiet peace of their shared life.
---
The next morning, Taichi arrived at work early, as usual, only to be stopped by Ling's calm, unyielding voice.
"Mr. Arifukua. The Chairman requests to see you in his office."
A ripple of tension went through him, but he forced himself to nod.
'So soon, huh?'
Riku's office was vast, polished, intimidating—every inch screaming power. His father sat behind the desk, arms crossed, eyes sharp.
"Sit."
Taichi obeyed, posture rigid. The silence stretched.
Finally, Riku's voice cut through.
"What have you been doing all these years, Taichi? Since high school? You disappear, reappear, and suddenly you're… this. Disciplined. Quiet. Responsible."
His gaze bored into him.
"What happened to you?"
Taichi swallowed. How could he say he had built a family in secret? That he had a spouse waiting at home, two children who carried his blood? That he had built something his father had never given him? Instead, he gave the safest answer.
"Not much."
His stomach betrayed him with a growl. He had left his lunch at home—too distracted by Yu's goodbye kisses that morning, kisses that had deepened into something hot and distracting until he had barely escaped on time. Now he sat before his father, trying to mask both his hunger and the memory of Yu's flushed face. Plump, luscious lips. Soft hands that wrapped around his neck…
Riku frowned, reading something unsaid in his silence, but for once, Taichi kept his secrets.
---
Yu hummed softly while putting away the last of the breakfast dishes. The clink of porcelain and the quiet weight of routine usually soothed him, but his rhythm paused when he spotted something sitting neatly by the door.
Taichi's lunchbox.
Yu's lips pressed together in a thin line.
'He must've forgotten it when we were saying goodbye…ugh, I really wanted him…but…'
He knew how hard Taichi had been working, and the thought of him going hungry tugged at Yu's chest. He turned over the idea of calling him, or maybe asking a delivery service, but neither sat right.
Behind him, Taro toddled around the living room, Kenji babbling from the safety of his playpen. Yu didn't notice when Taro, in his endless curiosity, plucked the slim plastic stick from the low living room table—a positive pregnancy test Yu had left out absentmindedly after cleaning. The boy stuffed it into his tiny overall pocket like a treasure, squealing to himself.
Yu sighed.
"Guess I don't have a choice… we'll bring it to him."
He fastened Kenji snugly against his chest in a carrier, slid Taro into the stroller, and grabbed the lunchbox.
---
The company's glass doors glared down at him like something out of another world. Yu felt small, walking in with his babies, the click of his shoes too soft for the marble floors. He tightened his hold on the lunchbox, his heart skipping.
The receptionist barely looked up at first, until Yu shyly approached.
"Um… excuse me. My husband, Taichi Arifukua… he forgot his lunch."
He raised the box like a peace offering.
The woman's gaze flicked from his delicate features to the twins. Surprise softened her face. He looked more like a nervous young wife than anything suspicious.
"I'm too busy to deliver that myself, but… fine. If he's a new hire then he should be on the upper floors. Just take the elevator down the hall and hit the first button."
Relief poured over Yu.
"Thank you."
He bowed slightly, the babies bouncing with the motion, before wheeling himself toward the elevators.
The buttons gleamed at him like riddles, and Yu, distracted by Kenji's little whines, pressed the wrong one. When the doors slid open again, the air felt different—heavier, quieter, lined with polished wood and silver plaques.
The CEO's floor.
Yu stepped out, clutching the lunchbox, oblivious to the ripple this small mistake would soon set into motion.
He stepped hesitantly into the hallway, his ballet flats muffled by the thick carpet. The lunchbox felt strangely heavy in his hands. He glanced around—polished walls lined with framed achievements, gold lettering on every door.
'This doesn't look right… maybe I should go back down and ask the receptionist again.'
Taro gave a little whine in his stroller, kicking his feet. Yu bent down to pat his leg.
"Shh, it's okay, Taro. Mama's just lost, that's all."
He turned toward the elevator, but Taro suddenly stiffened, tiny hands pressing against the stroller's edge as his eyes locked on a glass office door at the end of the hall. His little voice burst out, clear and insistent.
"Pa! Pa!"
Yu froze. He followed Taro's line of sight—and through the glass, he saw Taichi seated inside an office, speaking with someone older, sharper.
The instant Taichi heard that call, his head snapped toward the door. His gaze caught on Taro, then slid to Yu standing in the hallway with Kenji strapped to his chest. His entire composure cracked.
"Taro?"
Taichi's voice was sharp with alarm as he shot up from his chair and bolted out of the office, startling Ling who tried to stop him. He knelt immediately, scooping Taro out of the stroller with practiced ease. The baby's cries softened as Taichi rocked him gently, murmuring low reassurances.
Only then did he lift his eyes to Yu.
"Yu? What are you doing here?"
Yu bit his lip, cheeks warming.
"You… forgot your lunch."
He lifted the box sheepishly.
"I didn't have much to do today and the weather has been so nice lately so… I thought I'd just drop it off."
For a heartbeat, Taichi's shoulders sagged. His lips pressed into a faint smile, the stern edge of his work-face softening.
The commotion carried. Riku Arifukua, still in his office, had risen when his son sprinted out. He stepped into the doorway, and what he saw rooted him to the spot.
Taichi—his delinquent son who once defied him at every turn—was cradling a child in his arms, face unguardedly tender. And beside him stood a young woman, delicate features flushed, a second infant strapped to her chest and a lunchbox clutched in her hands.
The image stunned him.
'A wife? Children? None of this was what Ling had told me before.'
His chest twisted with disbelief, suspicion, something dangerously close to envy.
Before anyone could speak further, Riku's voice cut sharp through the hallway.
"Inside. All of you. Now."
He turned back into his office without waiting, leaving the door open in command.
Yu blinked, startled, and looked to Taichi. Taichi's jaw clenched, but he nodded, adjusting Taro in his arms as he gestured for Yu to follow.
Together, their little family stepped into the lion's den.
Inside the spacious office, silence pressed down like a weight. Riku Arifukua's gaze flicked once toward Ling, his secretary, but she stood steady, her expression cool as marble. She wasn't going to interfere. With a quiet sigh, Riku clasped his hands behind his back and fixed his sharp stare on his son.
Taichi swallowed hard.
"Dad… I—I got married. His name is Yukio Hokohayashi. He's a man."
He glanced at Yu, who shifted nervously on his feet, holding the lunchbox like a shield.
"And last year, he gave me two kids. That's… probably why I changed so much since we last spoke."
The words hung in the air like a challenge.
Riku's eyes narrowed, but instead of arguing, he simply stepped forward.
"Let me hold my grandchild."
Startled, Taichi blinked before, carefully, he shifted Taro into his father's waiting arms. For a brief moment, something softened in Riku's features as he looked down at the baby blinking curiously up at him.
Then—
Smack!
Riku's free hand came down hard on Taichi's head. Taichi stumbled forward with a hiss.
"Ow!"
"Why the hell did you keep this from me for a year!?"
Riku barked, his voice low but heated.
"Do you know how many months of spoiling I've missed?!"
Taichi rubbed the back of his head, wincing, but a small smile tugged at his lips. The smack hurt, yes—but not with malice. It was the kind of strike his father only gave when the emotions beneath were too messy for words.
"A lot happened…"
Taichi muttered.
"I was focused on school, and Yu… then the kids came, and Yu almost died—"
His voice faltered as memories rose, too raw to recount fully. Yu's fingers tightened on the lunchbox strap, his lips pressing together as though to stop them trembling.
Then Taro, curious, reached up and tugged at Riku's suit pocket. With a tiny, triumphant squeak, he pulled out something and shoved it into his grandfather's hand.
Riku frowned, glancing down at the small plastic stick.
"…What's this?"
Yu's face went crimson.
"Ah—that… I, um, took that this morning…"
His voice trembled, but he forced himself to look at Taichi.
"I'd been feeling sick again for about a month, just like before. So I tested, and… well—surprise. I'm pregnant again."
Taichi froze. His eyes went wide, then flooded with joy so fierce it almost looked painful.
"Another—? Yu!"
He all but launched forward, reaching to snatch Taro back out of Riku's arms just so he could hug him and Yu both at once.
But Riku smoothly shifted the baby against his shoulder, dodging the grab with surprising agility for his age. His lips quirked, just slightly.
"Sit."
He ordered, motioning toward the couch.
"Both of you. We're having a serious discussion about this family's future."
Taichi's shoulders straightened at the gravity in his father's voice. Yu lowered himself gently onto the couch, adjusting the strap holding Kenji close as his cheeks still burned. For the first time, the three generations of Arifukua sat in the same room—awkward, tense, but undeniably bound together.
Yu sat stiffly on the couch, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted Kenji in his lap. The baby cooed softly, blissfully unaware of the tension thickening the air. Next to him, Taichi sat straight-backed, his jaw set, while Riku Arifukua leaned forward in his chair across from the couple and baby, studying them with the sharp, assessing look of a man used to commanding entire boardrooms.
Yu's heart thudded. He wasn't sure if he should speak—every glance from Riku felt like it cut straight through him. But when Taichi hesitated, Yu swallowed his nerves and whispered.
"Taichi… he's a very hard worker. He graduated top of his class in both high school and college."
Taichi's head snapped toward him, eyes wide.
"Yu…"
Yu flushed, shifting under Riku's gaze but refusing to look away.
"It's true. He deserves more than the position he has now. If you're going to give him a chance, it should be one that matches his worth."
For a long moment, Riku said nothing. His eyes flicked from Yu's trembling resolve to his son's tight shoulders. Then he arched a brow.
"Is that so?"
Taichi exhaled slowly, his voice rough but steady.
"It's only because Yu was beside me every step of the way. He helped me to study and push myself. He believed in me when I didn't believe in myself."
Yu's grip tightened around Kenji. He could feel the sincerity in Taichi's words like a warm pulse, but Riku's sharp silence kept his nerves taut.
Finally, Riku leaned back, his voice sharp but measured.
"Where are you living?"
Yu startled slightly at being addressed so directly.
"A small home near the company."
He admitted.
"We've been renting it for about a year. It's enough for now, but… with another baby on the way, it might get tight. Actually…last time, the doctor said the twin gene runs strong in my family, and I'm sure it will happen again. I'm—I was a twin, and my mom and aunt were twins…so…"
His lips trembled as he tried to smile, though his voice was shaky.
"We may have to move."
That did it. Riku's hands slammed down on the armrests of his chair, his expression fierce.
"Absolutely not."
Yu flinched—his breath caught, panic rising in his chest—but Riku wasn't finished. His voice was sharp with a mix of authority and something more vulnerable beneath it.
"I missed one pregnancy. I won't miss another. You're moving into my home. That's final."
Yu froze. Kenji let out a small whimper at the shift in his mother's body, and Yu immediately soothed him with gentle rocking. His mind spun. Riku's declaration sounded less like an offer and more like a command, but behind the steel there was something else—a glimpse of a grandfather's desperate longing.
Taichi's fists clenched on his knees. He was torn between standing his ground and seizing the unexpected opening. Yu, meanwhile, sat in silence, the fragile calm of Kenji in his arms the only thing keeping his nerves from spilling over entirely.