2025-06-26: One and Undone
- Cutscene: 2025-06-26: One and Undone
- Cast: Ren Amamiya, Subaru Amamiya, Akira Amamiya, Yoshio Sato, Coach Himuro
- Where: Inaba and thereabouts
- OOC Date: 2025-06-26
- IC Date: Early 2012, prior to game start
- Summary: Ren has been arrested for a crime he didn't commit. This miscarriage of justice can't possibly play out to its logical conclusion, though--right? ...In which those closest to Ren fail and abandon him prior to his exile to Tokyo.
- Also available on AO3. Please leave kudos and a comment there if you like!
"So, what happened? Explain it to the good officer."
"...That young man suddenly attacked him... He shoved this gentleman to the ground... and this man... got injured..."
Ren stared in shock as the woman he'd just rescued from her assailant followed his instructions on what to tell the police. He stared in shock as the police officers dragged him, unresisting, into their car. And he stared in shock as they drove him, handcuffed, all the way to the station.
It was bullshit. But all the same, it was happening.
===
Ren sat, head bowed, fingers curled into his palms, as his father paced sharp, clipped footsteps in front of him. His mother sat nearby, head likewise bowed, but for different reasons. The police were waiting just outside the barren station interrogation room. They had privacy, but only because of who his parents were. It would end the moment they left.
After a moment, his father swiveled to a stop and stared icily down at him. His black hair remained neat, thanks to how short it was, but his usual suit had a new wrinkle or two. "Ren," he said, his voice straining beneath its usual controlled calm. "I cannot begin to express how deeply disappointed I am in you."
His mother brushed back her dark brown curls and only sighed. Her long, sweeping dress followed her ankles to where they crossed under her seat, and her bolero jacket creaked with her movement.
So, as usual, it was up to Ren to defend himself. He looked his father in the eye, shoulders tense, hands still on his thighs. "I didn't do anything wrong."
"Oh? I'm fascinated to know how you think you could have been arrested for assault and still assert you 'didn't do anything wrong.' Please, enlighten me."
Irritation made Ren dig his nails into his skin, but he knew from experience that raising his voice meant automatically losing the argument. His father was just like that. He kept his voice... low, at least--he couldn't keep it even, not with how he was shaking--and replied, "I didn't assault that man. He made that woman lie about what happened. He was assaulting her, and I stepped in to stop it. That's what really happened. I promise."
"Oh, Ren," his mother lamented.
His father ignored her. "I see. And the actual blood that, according to the police report, was on that man's head?"
"He fell over. He fell on his own. Because he was drunk, I think," Ren replied. "I just got between the two of them. That's all I did."
"And if you gallantly rushed to that woman's rescue like you claim, why is she reporting otherwise?"
That one made Ren bow his head again. "I'm not sure," he said slowly, thinking back to that moment. "Something about money. I think they know each other. Like I said--he forced her."
His father pinched the bridge of his nose and started pacing again.
"That's the truth," Ren added, fighting to keep calm. "I swear."
"Ren, why are you always like this?"
It became a harder fight. He managed. "Like what?"
"Why do you always do haphazard things without thinking through the consequences? Why do you insert yourself into matters that shouldn't be any of your concern?" He stopped and stared him down stonily, hands folded behind his back. "Why do you never have any consideration for those your actions might affect?"
Ren stared back, stung. "What are you talking about?"
"Do you have any idea who that gentleman you struck was?"
"I didn't strike him," Ren repeated, and made the mistake of letting a touch of heat speed his voice.
His father narrowed his eyes. As implacable as a glacier, he repeated, "Do you?"
Ren ground his teeth. "No," he muttered.
He sighed irritably. "Of course you don't. Not that it would have stopped you, I'm sure."
"Are you implying that I should've let that woman get assaulted?"
"I'm outright stating that you have a bad habit of not minding your own business."
"She asked me to help her!!"
His father stared him down again with unyielding dark eyes. Ren took a deep breath. No, he lost his temper for a second there, but he could still salvage this. "She begged me for help as I was passing by. At that point, it was my business," he explained, still shaking but at least quiet and measured. "There was no way I could ignore her."
"And that's how you're justifying your assault of a stranger."
Rage rose in his throat. He choked it down. "I didn't assault him. I barely even touched him."
"Interesting. You 'barely' touched him, which means you did, in fact, touch him."
"Well... but still--"
"You were aware he was inebriated, too, so you knew that just a light push would be enough to get him to lose his balance and hit his head on a concrete sidewalk. Falling and hitting one's head on concrete could lead to concussions, traumatic brain injury--even death, potentially." His father stared at him again, but now with a crease of frustration under his eyes. "You do realize that's what the prosecution is going to say? You may not have meant to assault that gentleman, but that is, in fact, what you did. We can only pray that the consequences won't be as severe as we fear."
For a moment, Ren was at a loss for words.
"Still, this is worth knowing. We can have our lawyer assert that it was a misunderstanding and no harm was meant," his father continued, pacing anew. "If you're penitent enough, that should at least keep you out of juvenile hall."
"'Penitent'?"
"Of course, you'll need to issue an apology. Can you manage that, Ren? Or are you going to insist on being difficult, again?"
"Why should I apologize for saving someone from getting assaulted? He should be the one apologizing."
"I don't know why I bother to ask," his father muttered, then frowned at his mother. "Can you say some words to him?"
She looked up with doleful eyes at Ren. "This is very important. This could affect your future--not just yours, but our entire family's. Please, won't you apologize?"
Ren stared at her. He was starting to get lightheaded. "For what? Stopping an evil man? Standing up for myself? How are those things I should apologize for?"
She shook her head. "Ren, please... We're just trying to look out for you. That's the best way to sweep this under the rug."
"But I'm innocent. I didn't do anything wrong. And this isn't something that should just get 'swept under the rug,' either."
For a moment, she only fixed him with a sad look. Then she sighed and averted her eyes. "I'm sorry, Subaru, dear. He won't listen to me, either."
His father had his back to him now; he had gone back to pinching the bridge of his nose. "This just had to happen in an election year."
"Are you seriously more concerned about getting re-elected, Dad?" Ren demanded, voice low. "What if that woman had been one of your precious constituents? Do you think she'd vote for a man who didn't care about her getting assaulted?"
His father narrowed his eyes at him from over his shoulder. "If she'd been one of my constituents, I would hope she'd have had more sense than to involve a random teenager in her problems, let alone my son."
"Please, Ren. Your father is just trying to look out for you," his mother insisted, soft and imploring. "I know you meant well, but arguments between adults should be settled between adults. She was wrong to try to chain you in without thinking about how it would affect you, but you were wrong to go along with it, too. You both should have had more sense."
"Mom... Do you really think that? What if it'd been you? Do you still think I should've pretended not to notice and walk away?"
She averted her eyes and said nothing.
"If you were that genuinely concerned, you should have called the police," his father cut in evenly. "They were apparently on-site within minutes. They could have settled it without you ruining your whole life for no reason."
"There was a reason. She was in trouble and she needed help."
His father turned to him, arms folded. "And did you, in fact, help her?"
Ren opened his mouth, but nothing came out.
"Or did you, in fact, make things worse for both of you out of a misguided attempt to play the hero?"
This time, he stared at the floor. He didn't have a comeback for that one.
A rare imploring note entered his father's voice. "For once in your life, listen to me, Ren. Write up an apology. We'll use it to try to settle out of court. As long as we can keep your name out of the press, we can still make things right."
He shook his head. "You think that's 'making things right'? That's bullshit."
"Ren."
"No. I refuse. I didn't do anything wrong. And if I really didn't help that woman, like you said, then making sure that man faces consequences for what he did is the way to 'make things right.' If you really want what's best, then you should be supporting me in this. This is the right thing to do: making sure he doesn't assault anyone else, not just wallpapering over the whole thing."
He and his father stared each other down. Ren's heart pounded on the bars of his rib cage. That one punctuating cuss aside, he managed to keep quiet and even. Maybe his father would listen to him for once. He had to see this wasn't right. It wasn't right! It just--wasn't--right!!
"Dear..." his mother murmured then. "We should consider what to do next very carefully. We can't let this happen to him..."
Ren shot her a quick, wide-eyed look. It almost sounded like she was trying to support him.
His father breathed a frustrated sigh. "Ren... Listen to me very carefully. Ideals and justice are all well and good, but if we go to court, and you're found guilty--and I already detailed to you how that would happen--you will be convicted of a serious crime. You'll be expelled from school without a doubt. You may well be sent to juvenile hall with actual child criminals, ones who are actually violent and will actually hurt you. When you're released, no other school will admit you; no job will give your resume a second glance. Your entire future will be ruined--and for what? Some couple's drunken argument on the street? Be sensible, Ren. Don't do this to yourself. Please. Your mother and I want to help you, but you have to help us help you first."
"This isn't right."
His eyes hardened. "...Fine. If you insist that much, you should become acquainted with the consequences of your action. Akira, let's go."
His mother shot him a final glance and hurried up to join his father as they left the interrogation room. Ren stood up.
"Dad?"
But his father ignored him, instead tapping on the door. The officer outside opened it up and gave him a respectful salute.
"Mr. Mayor," he said.
"Good work," his father replied, clipped. "I'm afraid this young man is being a bit... needlessly willful, so we'll return in the morning for him. No need to give him any special treatment. Any cell will do."
"Dad!"
His father peered at him from over his shoulder. "We'll discuss this again in the morning, after you've had time to cool your head and reflect. At that time, I will expect two apologies."
And so Ren could once again only stare at his parents abandoned him; as he was then escorted into a cold jail cell to spend the night.
===
The proceedings happened in a blur. His country hometown was too small for its own courthouse, so the trial was set to happen in the next town over. His parents tried to keep anyone from finding out it was even happening, but again, it was a small town. After his initial absences, his high school's principal summoned him and his parents. They were busy with work and preparing for the trial, so he ended up going alone, dropped off by his mother who begged him to keep things quiet while she stayed in the car and continued to make calls.
He at least didn't have to keep her waiting long. The principal had only a few words for him: that it was unacceptable for any student there to commit violent crimes, therefore he was suspended, and if found guilty, expelled. Ren tried to explain he was innocent, but the principal only handed him a letter in an unsealed envelope stating the same and grimly told him that he couldn't make an exception for him just because he was the mayor's son. Ren stopped bothering with explanations. No one was listening anyway.
He stared at the envelope as he trudged out of the school. The last bell rang as he did, and the halls swarmed with his classmates. Most of them paid him no mind, but he got out of their way anyway.
A welcome face greeted him at the school lockers in the foyer: his best friend since elementary school, Yoshio Sato. He was a few inches shorter than him, with a plain freckled face and wide-set eyes and a flat-cut haircut, but he looked beautiful to Ren. Their eyes met just as he was opening his locker, and both of them froze.
"Ren," he said with an unhappy grimace.
Ren hurried over, smiling back despite it all. Just seeing him was reassuring. When he was close enough, he murmured, "Hey. I'm glad I caught you, Yoshio. I wanted to let you know, I'm going to be out of class for a little while. There's some stuff going on, but hopefully I'll be back soon. I think the teachers are probably already read in, but could you let everybody else know?"
Yoshio still didn't smile. He looked away as he busied himself with trading his school slippers for his street shoes.
"...Everything okay? I know I didn't call you before now," Ren hazarded. "I'm sorry, I, uh--I can't use it right now." His parents had confiscated it after his arrest, in other words.
He still didn't look at him. He only murmured, "What're you out of school for?"
"Some... personal stuff."
Now he looked at him again, eyes narrowed. "What kind of personal stuff?"
Alarm bells rang in Ren's head. As much as he loved him, Yoshio could get... weird sometimes. Oddly jealous. Like the time a girl confessed to him in their last year of elementary; he'd complained that only someone like him could get a girlfriend before even hitting middle school. That had led to its own whole thing, not that Ren had minded at the time. Or like the time when his parents gifted him his smartphone for his birthday last year, a luxury almost no one else in their small town could afford; when he showed it off afterwards, Yoshio, whose parents had dropped him off at his grandmother's place in town ten years ago while going through a messy divorce and never came back for him, had congratulated Ren but given the phone an ugly glare. He'd felt bad and made a point to only use it when he was alone from then on. Was Yoshio feeling left out, not knowing what was going on?
"It's complicated. I'll tell you, but not here," he thus said. "I have to get going. My mom's waiting for me."
"Your mom?"
He nodded. "She's in the car outside."
Sometimes Yoshio would glare at him or look irritated with him. Right now, he looked outright disgusted. "Your mom is driving you around? Are you kidding?"
Something was very wrong. "Uh, sorry, I really need to go. Talk to you later," he said, and tried to move past him.
But he grabbed his arm. "Why is your mom driving you around? If you're getting chauffeured around at all, shouldn't it be by the police? You know, after you were arrested?"
Ren's heart seized in his chest as he gawked at him. "Wha--h-how did you--?"
That was apparently the worst thing he could have said, because Yoshio's face turned mottled red. "What're you so surprised for?! EVERYONE knows you got arrested!!"
The locker foyer went dead silent. No one moved, save to turn and stare at them. Ren felt his own face heat as he shot a glance back and forth. There was no point in shushing him; if there was anyone who hadn't heard, they sure as hell did just now.
"I need to go," he murmured instead, trying to remove his arm from Yoshio's hand.
But he didn't let go. His grip only tightened as he yanked him back a little. "You know, normal people would be in jail right now. But not you, Ren! You just waltz into school like you own the place and try to pass it all off like nothing's going on! I've always thought you were arrogant, but that takes some nerve!"
The personal attack hit him like a sledgehammer. Ren stilled and stared.
Apparently, that only egged him on. "You think you can do whatever you want with no consequences, just because you're the mayor's son. You think you're so special, that you're totally above the rules--just because you're the mayor's son!" He finally let him go, only to push him away. "Well, I'm not taking your side this time, Ren. You're getting what you deserve, and you know what?! I'm GLAD! You pretend you're soooo cool and soooo mature, but I know you're ALWAYS looking down on everyone else! But you're no better than any of us. It's high time that finally sank into that stupid frizzy head of yours!!"
Ren staggered back a couple of steps, though he managed to stay upright and not bump into anyone else. He gripped the top of the lockers, trying to regain his bearings.
Yoshio turned away and slammed his locker door shut. "Get lost," he muttered, kicking his shoes on. "I'm sick of looking at you."
Silence crowded the foyer so thickly Ren couldn't breathe. Refusing to meet the oppressive weight of everyone's stares, he turned and hurried out of the building.
His mom was still on the phone and looking frazzled when he got in the car. To her credit, she told whoever she was talking to she'd call them back.
"How did it go?" she murmured.
Words clawed at the cage of his throat, but couldn't make it past the lump that blocked it. Ren simply handed over the envelope. As she opened it up and read the letter, he brought himself to look back at the school.
In the windows and at the doors, there were still students staring at him. Not just students, but teachers, too. He spotted his homeroom teacher in one window; their eyes met for a second before she averted hers. As he dared to meet others' eyes, they looked away too.
So. Yoshio hadn't been lying. Everyone already knew. How? That probably didn't matter. This was a small town; it was never long before everyone knew everyone's business. Probably someone had overheard something at the jail or one of the police officers had gabbed to their spouse or child, and it had spread from there.
His mother groaned in despair then. He stared down at his lap. For a moment, neither said anything. Then:
"Ren, please put on your seat belt," she pleaded.
He stared up at her fretful gaze. He stared back down. He had, in fact, forgotten to put on his seat belt. But the way she said it, it sounded like she thought he was doing it on purpose.
It was fine that she thought that. Fine-ish. She was his mom; she saw firsthand how he was constantly butting heads with her husband. But both his parents tried to keep family matters to the family. They cared so much about how everyone else saw them.
His own best friend thought he was guilty. That he'd assaulted someone for no reason. But it wasn't just that, was it? This was resentment. This was just an expression of something he'd been carrying for a long time.
And though it had rammed into Ren with the force of a semi, he wasn't shocked. He remembered that time after his first girlfriend had moved away at the end of their last year of elementary school--had insisted on his first kiss to remember him by. He'd accepted the feelings in her love letter that previous Valentine's Day because he'd been genuinely flattered, and because he felt sorry that she was moving across the country in another couple of months, and also because he'd been too surprised to do otherwise. On the day she moved, he gave her her first kiss as she'd requested, then waved her off as her parents drove her and all their belongings away. She'd cried. He had not.
"You're the only guy I know who'd get a girlfriend and a kiss before middle school," Yoshio had said afterwards, agitated. "What was it like? Hey, what was it like?"
"Nothing, really," Ren had replied, not wanting to make a big deal of something he wasn't sure he didn't regret. She'd been nice enough, but that had been his first kiss, too.
He'd glared at him and fumed.
A few days of sulking and complaining and grousing later, one late afternoon at the playground as they'd been swinging together, Yoshio had dragged his feet on the ground to stop himself and finally given him a plaintive look.
"Ren, d'you think I'll get a girlfriend when we're in middle school?" he'd asked. A pressing concern; they'd start attending the same middle school in only a few weeks.
Ren had slowed but not stopped swinging. "Yeah, of course you will. You're a great guy," he'd reassured him.
But he looked unconvinced. "I'm not anything special, though. And I'm not that good-looking. Would girls even look at me?"
"The right girl will."
And he'd given him a relieved smile at that, but only for a few seconds. "But what if I'm not good enough to keep her? I'm not sporty. My grades are only okay. I don't have any special talents. I'm just a face in the crowd." And, bitterly: "Not like you."
I'm not that special, Ren had thought at the time, but he had a gut feeling that was the wrong thing to say. He dropped his feet and dragged himself to a stop. "Maybe I can help you?" he'd offered instead.
Yoshio had fixed hopeful eyes on him. "Really?"
"Yeah." He'd meant help him figure out a talent, or a sport, or something he could study. Something he could be passionate about that would draw others to him like he had Ren. "Just let me know what you wanna do."
Yoshio had shot a glance around the playground. The equipment was lit in deepening reds and purples due to the coming sunset, and no one else was around. Once he confirmed that, he leaned in towards Ren and lowered his voice.
"How about... k-kissing practice?"
"What?"
"Don't play dumb! You've kissed a girl before," he hissed. "S-show me how to do it too!"
"O-only once..."
"That's still experience! Experience no one else at school's gonna have! If I have it too, th-that'll definitely impress the girls!"
Ren wasn't so sure about that, but looking at Yoshio's pleading face and feeling the pound of his own heart, he couldn't bring himself to say no. "W-well... okay. If you're really sure."
And they'd gone to a shadier part of the playground, out of easy sight from anyone on the street, and... kissed. And kissed, and kissed, and kissed, hands held tight, until it didn't feel weird or awkward anymore. When they decided they were done, they went to the top of the jungle gym slide together and sat close as they watched the stars come out.
"Thanks, Ren," Yoshio had murmured, leaning on him. "I feel a lot better now."
"I'm glad," he'd said, leaning back.
"B-but you won't tell anyone about this, right? Kissing between boys doesn't count anyway, but I don't want people to get the wrong idea!"
He again wasn't so sure about that, but still: "I won't. Promise."
"Great," he'd said, relieved. And then, with a surge of new confidence, he added, "I'll get a girlfriend for sure now. Someone really sweet and gorgeous, who sees how special I am on the inside! Then I'll grow up, and I'll be a big success, and everyone will see how amazing I am!"
And he'd smiled and agreed and encouraged him, and soon after they left the playground, waving to each other before each running home, where Ren's parents and Yoshio's grandmom would respectively scold them for staying out past dark.
And they never spoke of that night again--not even when they started middle school and, every so often, boys would come to Ren on the sly with oddly similar requests to help them learn how to kiss so they could get a good girlfriend. He only asked once why they were asking, and dropped it when they got flustered and refused to give a direct answer; he never confronted Yoshio about how this rumor got around. He liked kissing, and he found he liked kissing boys, and so he let them tell themselves it "didn't count" right before swearing him to secrecy.
And he never told those secrets, but... after a while, it started feeling lonely. It started feeling like he was being used. So after a while, he stopped entirely, and no one said anything further--at least, where he could hear. Ironically, most of them, including Yoshio, did not go on to get girlfriends of their own afterwards. Hard to advertise you're good at kissing when you've sworn the one person who can corroborate to silence, he supposed.
Ren did, though. An older girl who worked part-time at the ice rink where he practiced his sport. They'd flirted for a while before he asked her out and she said yes. It must have been galling to those who came to him for help with practice.
Galling enough to come to hate him? To see him as getting whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted? To see him as contrary just for the sake of being contrary?
"Ren," his mother breathed, heavy with desperation.
Slowly, he stared up at her. Then down at himself. Then he reached over and buckled himself in like he'd intended to all along, but had been too checked out to do right away.
Maybe the better question was: was there anyone who didn't see him that way?
He stared back out the window as the car began to roll down the street. Yoshio had emerged from the school to glower at him. Their eyes lingered on each other for a brief instant; then his ex-best friend slouched away.
So Ren kept his eyes to himself the rest of the way home.
===
The announcer called his name; the lights dimmed; the spotlight shone on the ice. Butterflies of anticipation in his stomach, Ren skated out to glitter under everyone's gaze just for a moment before the music started and the lights changed colors. A smile blooming naturally on his lips, he burst into backwards motion and began his competition routine.
He'd never done better. The hours upon hours he'd poured into his routine paid off: he nailed the timing, the jumps, the speed, the turns... When he almost stumbled once, he turned it into a low spin, drawing the oohs and aahs of the audience. The spotlights followed him, and the sequins on his dark blue skating suit sparkled like starlight.
For the finale, he spiraled inward, still backwards, always backwards--that was his gimmick, to always do his ice skating backwards, different from how everyone expected. As the bubbly lights followed him in blues and reds and purples, his circle grew tighter and tighter until he reached a central spin, body stretched out to make it slow at first, then pulling himself in tall and tight to speed up faster and faster and faster and faster until he cinched one blade to scrape to a stop, arms outstretched to the audience as he grinned, sweat sparkling on his skin and in his hair to match his costume.
The thunderous applause poured down on him like the ambrosia of the gods.
It had been the best moment of his life, Ren remembered. The video ended there, on a close-up of his exulted smile. It felt like a far cry from his haunted stare now. Afterwards, once he was off the ice, his coach had come to give him warm congratulations. His mom and even his dad had congratulated him too--that had been one of the rare occasions when both of them had showed up to watch him--but only after he'd won first place. His coach... Coach Himuro was the one person who believed in him from the start.
"Ren-kun!"
He looked up sharply, and relief flooded him as he saw Coach Himuro weaving through the crowd to approach. He was a tall, handsome man, with chiseled cheekbones, brown hair cut short and spiky, and bright, compassionate eyes. As a professional ice skater who was always on that grind, he normally wore a sports jersey, and he wore one now too. He must've come in a hurry from practice.
"Coach," he croaked, rising from the bench on which he sat. A grunt from the bailiff looming nearby kept him from doing more than that.
Coach Himuro's eyes were strained now, underscored by lines of stress that normally didn't exist, even in the most competitive seasons. He gave him a tight, awkward little smile and shot the bailiff a nervous glance; then the two of them sat back down together.
"Coach, I don't know what to do," Ren continued quietly, folding his hands as he hunched over himself.
He leaned in to murmur, "Where are your parents?"
"Mom's inside," Ren replied, jerking his head towards the oak doors to their right. "Talking to the judge about my sentence. Dad's working, but she probably has him on the phone." He paused; then he gave him a plaintive look. "Coach, they found me guilty."
Coach Himuro said nothing; only gave him a long, unsmiling look that told him he already knew.
"I'm innocent," he insisted for what felt like the hundredth time to the hundredth person. "You know that, right?"
"I do know that," he replied quietly. "You're not the kind of person who'd knock someone to the ground for no reason."
Ren gave him a tremulous, relieved smile that he didn't return. Because of that, it soon faded. For a moment, they sat in silence, Ren's hands pressed to the bench, his coach's clasped in front of himself.
"Dad thought they'd find me guilty for sure if we didn't try to settle out of court," he said quietly, staring at his knees. "But I didn't want to do that. I thought that was as good as saying I was at fault, and I wasn't. I... I didn't seriously think he'd be right. I-I thought, if I just explained what happened..."
He trailed off. It wasn't really entirely true. He'd had a gut feeling that his dad was right, but had been too stubborn to admit it. If that guy had been able to control how that woman testified to the police, and had been able to not even show up to goddamn court for his own trial, just send a lawyer and keep his name out of all the proceedings, then of course it would all go his way. When the judge had declared their verdict, Ren had been shocked but not surprised.
Even so, he fixed Coach Himuro with a plaintive look. His insides clenched when he didn't meet it.
"What do I do now?" he asked all the same.
His coach had always guided him ever since they'd met by chance three years ago at the ice rink in the town over from his. Back then, he'd habitually skated backwards too, for fun and for the challenge of it, and did so with grace. Coach Himuro had seen that talent and approached him and his parents to nurture it. He'd privately intuited he enjoyed kissing boys and girls alike for a reason and commiserated as someone else hiding his queerness from society at large, helping Ren figure out his own relation to gender and sexuality. He'd always had a thoughtful, understanding answer.
But right now, he still wouldn't look him in the eye. He grimaced and took a deep breath. "Ren-kun... This is difficult for me to say. It's going to sound inherently unfair to you, because it is. But it doesn't matter if you're innocent or not. You look guilty, and you were found guilty, and to a lot of people, that's all that will matter. Your record will speak for itself."
"That's... that's ridiculous, though. That's not the truth."
"I know. But we live in a society where image is everything." He finally met his eye. "I really hate to say so, but your father was right. You should have settled out of court."
Ren stared.
"I wish... I'd said something about it sooner. But I heard from your parents how stubborn you were being about it. They asked me to 'talk some sense into you,' actually," he continued, averting his eyes. "But I figured if I tried that, it'd have the opposite effect."
A lump formed in Ren's throat; he couldn't swallow it away. "Is that... why you didn't show up to testify?"
"All I'd be able to testify about was your character, anyway," his coach said, still looking away. "I wouldn't have been able to do anything useful."
Ren said nothing.
"I know. You're disappointed," he murmured. "I'm disappointed, too. Your school... You got a notice from them saying you'd be expelled if you were proven guilty, didn't you?"
"I..." But that lump hardened, and he couldn't manage anything more than that.
"It's... going to be hard for you going forward. I..." Coach Himuro heaved a sigh and rubbed the side of his neck. "I really had high hopes for you, Ren-kun. Your skating is beautiful. I really thought we could take you as far as the Olympics. But..."
"Wh-what are you saying?"
He grimaced again. "I think you already know."
"Say it," he insisted, shaking.
Pained, he shut his eyes. "Ren-kun... I can't... You understand that Japan isn't going to choose a convicted criminal to represent it on the international stage, don't you?"
"But what about you? You know I'm innocent! A-aren't you going to keep coaching me?"
Himuro said nothing. That was answer in and of itself. A premonition of tears stung the corners of Ren's eyes, but nothing fell. He'd always had trouble with crying.
"I'm really, truly sorry," his ex-coach added miserably. "It's not fair, and you don't deserve this."
"Then why is it happening anyway?" he whispered.
"Because image is everything," he repeated. "For all of us."
Ren said nothing.
So neither did he. They sat together in silence before someone emerged from the courtroom doors and called Ren in to hear his sentence. He gave Himuro one last pleading look, but he looked at him with eyes just as helpless.
As if he weren't an adult who couldn't stand up to speak out against something wrong if he really wanted to.
Numbly, he went inside. The judge and his mother were there. The judge informed him that he had decided Ren would be sent on parole to Tokyo, of all places, and that this had been discussed with his parents, who had consented. He nodded once. It was pointless to argue anymore. There were more details, but he tuned out for them. It didn't matter. No one cared what he thought anyway.
His school confirmed his expulsion the next day. There was only a short amount of time left in the third semester, so he was allowed to at least take finals by himself to finish up the year. Some of the "special treatment" for being the mayor's son that hadn't kept him enrolled. He bombed them, but somehow managed to squeak out a pass anyway; just enough for the teachers to justify shoving him on to the next grade. Out of sight, out of mind.
Meanwhile, his parents set him up with a new school and a place to stay in the city. He expressed his acquiescence with one- or two-word responses where needed and nods where not. His father praised him bitterly for finally learning some obedience, then lamented that this was what it had taken for him to learn it. His mother apologized for failing him--not in his defense in court, but in teaching him obedience before his future was dashed to dust.
They did give him back his smartphone. It made no difference. No one reached out to him. Not his friends. Not his classmates. Not his teachers. Once the preparations were set, his parents barely spoke to him. Even his girlfriend only sent him a couple of texts, first to tell him she'd heard about what happened, next that she didn't think they should see each other anymore. He didn't bother responding. Just blocked her in a fury that drained into a yawning void.
He felt so completely, utterly alone.
However, the day before he was to be exiled to the big city, his ex-coach came by his house to see him.
Ren let him in. He was under house arrest until he left, so his only other option was the shut the door in Himuro's face, and despite everything, he didn't want to do that. They shared a quiet, somber greeting before he led him to the living room. There, they sat opposite each other on couches separated by a coffee table.
"I wanted to apologize again, Ren-kun," Himuro said. "I'm sorry I can't do anything for you."
Ren said nothing. There was nothing to say.
"Well... that's not entirely true," he amended. "It's not very much, but there is one thing I figured out I could do for you."
He sat up a little straighter, a match of hope kindling in his heart.
Himuro reached into his jersey pocket and handed him an eyeglasses case. Ren accepted it and opened it up; sure enough, there was a pair of glasses inside. Non-prescription, if the flat lenses were any indication. Ren looked back at his ex-coach, confused.
"I did a little research," he explained, hands folded. "It seems like a lot of convicts like you have a habit of wearing glasses, even if they don't need them, to help them look innocent in public. You're moving to a new place where no one knows you for a fresh start. I thought this would help you, well... make sure it's a good one."
His gaze sank back down to the glasses. They had thick, black frames. However they changed the look of his face, he wouldn't stand out. In its own way, it was a thoughtful gift.
He felt sick.
"I told you before that we live in a society where image is everything. That goes the other way too," Himuro was saying. "If you can present the right image, people will think well of you. You'll--you can make new friends, and they never have to know about why you transferred there in the first place. Just... do what you do already: give vague answers and let them come to their own conclusions. As long as you look harmless, they won't press past that. Trust me, I know.
"It's okay, Ren-kun. As long as you never let anyone know, it'll be all right," he concluded with the desperate air of a lie.
Ren didn't contradict him. Whether he was lying or just trying to convince himself made no difference. Neither of them were out to anyone except each other and, in his ex-coach's case, a select few other people. He understood.
He understood, and he hated it.
"...But if you'd rather not accept a gift from me, I understand," he added.
"No... no," Ren mumbled. "Thank you, Himuro-san."
He felt sick, but it was still the kindest gesture anyone had made to him in weeks. He set the case on his lap and unfolded the glasses. For a moment, he simply held them and took them in.
Then he turned them around and put them on.
The world didn't look any different when he looked up at Himuro. At least, not until he noticed the slight lens glare and the rim of the frames at the very edge of his field of view. It was like he'd gained a barrier between himself and everyone else.
He gave him a relieved smile. "You look good," he said, though Ren hadn't asked for his opinion. "It gives you a sweet air. I knew those frames would be perfect for you."
I've been framed, Ren thought, and might have chuckled at his own stupid joke if it weren't so direly personal.
"I know I can't be your coach anymore, but you still have my contact information. If you ever need to... you can reach out."
"Thank you," Ren repeated with no intention of doing so. He'd said you can reach out; he never said you can ask for help.
"Well then... I ought to get going." He rubbed the back of his neck as he ducked his head. "I have competitions of my own coming up, so..."
Ren nodded and got up. He escorted Himuro out of the house. He forced a smile and waved good-bye as he watched him drive off. Then he locked the door and went to the bathroom.
Coach was right, he reflected at his reflection. They do make me look sweet.
He removed the glasses. His normal face was right there underneath, tight with stress, tired and sullen. He put the glasses back on. Still tense and weary, but somehow melancholy instead of simmering with anger. Resigned. Like he'd already given up.
He hung his head and left them on.