By the time the curry finally finishes simmering, the kitchen smells rich and warm, the kind of deep, comforting scent that settles into the air and clings to the walls like a promise that something good is about to happen. Kin moves through the last steps with a quiet sort of satisfaction, stirring the thick sauce one final time before ladling it carefully over plates of rice. The salmon rests beside it, its skin crisp and glistening, and the miso soup steams gently in smaller bowls he sets to the side.
He pauses for a moment to look at the plates.
Not critically—he isn't worried about presentation—but thoughtfully, the way someone might look at a finished painting and decide whether it captures what they meant it to.
Then he picks up the dishes and carries them to the dining table.
He sets Sute's plate down first.
"There…"
He says lightly, placing the bowl in front of him before taking the seat across the table with his own plate. He slides a spoon across the surface toward Sute.
"Careful, it's hot."
Kin begins eating without much ceremony, taking a few measured bites as the heat spreads pleasantly through him, but after the third spoonful he notices something wrong.
Sute hasn't moved. The spoon sits untouched beside his plate.
Sute is staring at the food with the kind of cautious fascination one might have for something beautiful but unfamiliar, his hands folded uncertainly in his lap.
Kin lowers his spoon.
"Sute-chan?"
He asks gently. Sute startles, looking up immediately.
"What's wrong?"
Kin continues, his tone soft but edged with concern.
"Do you not like it? I can make something else if you want. It's not a problem."
The words come easily, naturally, because the idea of Sute refusing food sits wrong in his chest. Sute needs to eat. Needs to grow stronger. Needs to fill out the fragile lines of his body that still feel too light when Kin lifts him.
But Sute's eyes widen at the suggestion.
"No…"
He says quickly, shaking his head so fast his hair shifts around his cheeks.
"No, it's not that. It smells really good."
"Then…?"
Kin prompts. Sute hesitates, embarrassed.
"I've just…"
He glances down at the plate again, voice growing quieter.
"I've never eaten at a table before. Like this. Where the food is on the plate already."
Kin blinks. The statement lands oddly in the quiet room.
"You mean…"
He begins slowly. Sute nods before he can finish.
"Usually it was just… whatever was left. Or if I got to eat, it was left on the floor. I just don't really know how you're supposed to do it."
For a moment Kin doesn't say anything. Then his expression softens.
"Well…"
He says warmly, gesturing to the spoon beside Sute's plate.
"You take the spoon and start eating. That's really all there is to it."
Sute nods eagerly, relief brightening his face for a second.
"Okay."
He reaches for the spoon. Immediately Kin realizes they may have skipped a step.
Sute grips it tightly in his fist, the handle sticking out between his fingers while his knuckles face upward, as though he's holding a hammer rather than a utensil. He leans over the plate and attempts to scoop up some curry, but the angle is completely wrong.
The spoon slides uselessly through the sauce. Nothing makes it into the bowl.
He tries again. And again.
Each attempt ends the same way, rice slipping back onto the plate while the curry drips off the edge of the spoon.
Sute leans closer then closer still.
Soon his face is hovering only inches above the plate, as if shortening the distance will somehow make the spoon behave properly. His brows knit in concentration and his shoulders tense with growing urgency.
Kin watches quietly at first, unsure whether to intervene or let him figure it out.
But Sute's breathing begins to pick up. His movements grow faster. Messier.
A smear of curry lands near the edge of the plate.
Sute freezes, panic flickers across his face.
He looks at the mess, then at Kin, and something in his expression collapses as though he's suddenly aware of how strange he must look.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry…"
He whispers under his breath.
Then, in what clearly feels like a last desperate solution, he lowers his head abruptly.
His face lands directly against the plate.
Before Kin can react, Sute opens his mouth and begins shoveling food toward it with the spoon, scraping it across the plate while pressing his face close enough that the curry smears across his cheeks and chin.
The food is still hot. Very hot but Sute doesn't stop.
To him it's only a sharp sting, the kind of manageable pain he's learned to ignore if it means finishing quickly and not causing trouble.
To anyone else, it would be unbearable.
"Sute—!"
Kin is on his feet instantly.
He grabs Sute's wrist before another spoonful can be forced into his mouth, pulling him back just enough to break the frantic motion. Curry drips from Sute's chin, and his lower face is already flushing red where the heat has touched his skin.
"Sute-chan, stop!"
Kin says urgently, his voice tight with alarm.
Sute blinks up at him, confused, lips parted as though he's done something wrong again.
Kin doesn't waste time explaining.
He hurries to the sink, grabs a clean cloth, and runs it under cool water before wringing it out quickly. The moment he returns he presses the damp fabric gently against Sute's cheeks and chin, holding it there with careful hands.
The contrast makes Sute flinch slightly.
"It's hot!"
Kin exclaims, more to himself than to Sute, studying the redness spreading across the skin.
"You're going to burn yourself if you eat like that."
Sute looks bewildered.
"I thought… that's how you do it faster. I'm sorry."
He murmurs.
Kin exhales slowly, the earlier tension settling into something quieter but heavier.
"No…"
He says softly, adjusting the cloth against Sute's face.
"Not like that."
He keeps the cool fabric in place, steady and patient, waiting for the heat to ease from Sute's skin while the untouched plates of food sit quietly on the table between them.
For several long minutes Kin keeps the cool cloth pressed gently against Sute's cheeks and chin, his hand steady and patient as he waits for the angry flush of heat to calm beneath the damp fabric. Sute doesn't move during that time. He sits quietly, shoulders slightly hunched, eyes half-lidded as though afraid even the smallest motion might disrupt whatever fragile calm Kin is trying to restore.
When Kin finally lifts the cloth away, he does it carefully, peeling it back inch by inch so he can see what the damage looks like.
The skin is still red, very red, but the swelling hasn't worsened and there are no blisters forming. It doesn't look like anything permanent will come of it.
Kin exhales slowly, relieved in spite of himself.
"That's better."
He murmurs.
But relief doesn't mean he's willing to risk anything.
The first aid kit still sits open on the table beside them, its contents slightly scattered from the earlier rush to bandage his hand, so he leans over and begins rummaging through it again. A moment later he pulls out a small tube of burn ointment.
It's probably unnecessary.
The kind of over-prepared solution someone uses when they don't want to admit they're worried.
Kin doesn't hesitate.
"Hold still."
He says gently and Sute obeys immediately.
Kin squeezes a generous amount of ointment onto his fingertips and begins spreading it carefully across Sute's cheeks and along the curve of his chin. The medicine leaves a faint glossy sheen against the reddened skin, and Kin applies it with slow, deliberate strokes, making sure he hasn't missed a spot.
Sute doesn't protest, he doesn't even flinch.
He simply sits there, perfectly still, letting Kin touch his face as though this kind of attention is something he's learned to accept without question.
Kin notices because of course he does.
And as he finishes smoothing the ointment along the last edge of Sute's jaw, a quiet thought slips into the back of his mind, uninvited but impossible to ignore.
'What was his life like before?'
The way Sute yields so easily, the way he doesn't resist or question or pull away—it's not trust exactly. It's something more ingrained than that, something that feels like habit.
Kin's chest tightens faintly.
He finishes applying the ointment, perhaps a little more generously than necessary, until Sute's lower face glistens faintly in the kitchen light. Then he stands and moves back to the sink, washing his hands carefully under the running water until the excess ointment is gone.
When he turns back toward the table, drying his hands on a towel, he notices the shift immediately.
Sute's eyes have dulled again.
The gray-blue is creeping back in, that distant color Kin hates with a quiet intensity he rarely lets himself acknowledge.
Kin doesn't hesitate. Instead of returning to the chair across the table, he drags it around and sits beside Sute instead, close enough that their shoulders nearly brush.
"Hey…"
He says lightly, as though nothing is wrong.
"How do you hold a pencil?"
The question catches Sute off guard.
He looks up, confusion briefly chasing the gray from his eyes. His head tilts slightly, the motion soft and curious, and then he reaches for the spoon he had dropped earlier.
Unfortunately, he picks it up exactly the same way he had before; like a weapon.
Fist wrapped around the handle, knuckles up, the spoon angled awkwardly toward the plate.
Kin's eyebrows draw together just slightly but his tone stays cheerful.
"Ah…"
He says with a soft chuckle, as though this is the most natural mistake in the world.
"Let's fix that."
He reaches over and gently rearranges Sute's fingers, guiding them one by one into the proper position. His touch is careful, patient, the way someone might guide a very young child learning to write their name for the first time.
"Like this…"
Kin explains quietly.
"You hold it between your fingers. Not your whole hand."
Sute watches intently, absorbing every instruction as though it matters enormously.
When Kin lets go, Sute attempts the motion again. This time the spoon dips smoothly into the curry.
He scoops up a small portion—rice, sauce, and a soft piece of carrot—and manages to lift it without spilling.
His eyes widen. The excitement blooms instantly, bright and unfiltered, and the blue in them shimmers back to life.
Kin sees it happen and the sight sends a quiet thrill through him.
Just before Sute can bring the spoon to his mouth, Kin gently touches his wrist.
"Wait."
Sute freezes.
Kin gestures toward the steaming spoonful.
"Blow on it first. It's still hot."
Sute nods quickly, eager to follow the instructions exactly.
He raises the spoon again and blows carefully across the surface, once, twice, three times, watching the thin curls of steam fade away before finally taking the bite.
The curry still tastes good. Muted slightly by the lingering burn on his tongue, but warm and rich and comforting all the same.
Sute's expression lights up immediately.
"This is really good!"
He says around the next careful bite, his voice carrying a soft, bubbling excitement he can't quite contain.
And there it is again. That brilliant, glistening icy-blue.
Kin can't help himself. He lifts a hand and gently tucks Sute's long black hair behind his ears so it won't fall forward and hide his face.
So he can see those eyes clearly.
So he can watch them shine as Sute eats, one careful spoonful after another, the color Kin has spent so long searching for finally glowing right there beside him at the table.
Sute finishes the last careful spoonful of miso soup with a quiet sense of accomplishment, lowering the spoon slowly as if he's still half-afraid the food might vanish if he moves too quickly. For a moment he simply sits there, tasting the lingering warmth and spice, pleased in a way that feels almost new to him. Then he glances across the table.
Kin's plate is still nearly full. The rice and miso has begun to cool and the curry has thickened slightly, the salmon turns a darker pink then before, untouched except for the few bites Kin had taken earlier. Sute blinks in confusion.
"Kin-san…?"
He says softly.
"You didn't eat."
Kin looks up from where he had been watching Sute the entire time without really realizing it. The concern in Sute's voice catches him off guard, and he glances down at his own plate as if seeing it for the first time.
"Oh…"
He says lightly, waving it off with an easy smile.
"I'm not that hungry."
It isn't even a lie.
Somewhere during the meal, while Sute had been concentrating so hard on each careful bite, Kin had found himself oddly satisfied just sitting there and watching. The way Sute's eyes had brightened with every successful scoop of food had filled him with a strange, quiet contentment that made hunger feel distant and unimportant.
Just watching him eat had been enough.
Sute accepts the explanation immediately, nodding with the simple trust that makes Kin's chest tighten in a way he doesn't examine too closely.
Kin gathers the plates then, stacking them neatly before carrying them back into the kitchen. As he rinses them quickly under warm water, he glances over his shoulder and notices the state of Sute's shirt.
Curry stains speckle the front from earlier attempts at eating, and the faint, dried mark of his own blood still darkens the fabric near the back where his injured hand had pressed during the panic. Kin sighs softly.
"Well…"
He mutters to himself.
"I think that means bath time."
He finishes washing the plates, stores the leftovers in the refrigerator, and leaves the pots soaking in the sink for later. Then he returns to the dining table where Sute still sits patiently.
Without much ceremony he scoops him up again.
Sute gives a small startled sound, but he's becoming used to this by now—the sudden lifting, the effortless way Kin carries him as though his weight barely exists. His arms instinctively loop around Kin's neck.
Kin carries him down the hallway and into the bathroom.
"Alright..."
He says gently as he sets Sute down on the bath mat.
"Let's get you cleaned up."
He begins helping him out of the stained shirt, working carefully so the fabric doesn't catch on the bandage around his own hand. Once Sute is undressed, Kin turns toward the tub and reaches down to start the water, adjusting the faucet until the temperature settles into a warm, comfortable stream.
The bathroom fills slowly with the sound of running water.
Sute steps closer to the tub, kneeling down to peer in with open fascination as the water begins to pool along the bottom. His hands braced the tub's wall, the cold material against his palms grounded him as he stared in wide-eyed disbelief.
Kin watches him for a moment—and then his gaze drifts.
Now that the clothes are gone, the full reality of Sute's body is impossible to ignore.
He is painfully thin.
Not just slim, but fragile in a way that makes Kin's stomach twist. His ribs are faintly visible beneath pale skin that seems almost translucent under the bathroom light. And that skin… it isn't unmarked.
Old bruises linger in faded yellows and purples along his back and sides, places no one would see unless they looked for them. There are thin, long scars that look suspiciously like lash marks. Small round burns that could only have come from something hot pressed deliberately against skin, like cigarettes.
Kin's hands curl slowly into fists.
'Someone had done this.'
'Someone had looked at Sute—looked at those clear blue eyes and quiet manner—and decided hurting him was acceptable.'
Kin's jaw tightens.
'They had damaged something precious without even realizing what it was.'
His mind begins working automatically, already thinking of ways to help Sute recover—better food, proper rest, maybe vitamins, careful exercise once he's stronger.
'The body heals if you treat it properly.'
Kin will make sure of that.
Meanwhile Sute is still staring at the tub with quiet excitement.
'Two baths in one day.'
The thought alone fills him with a kind of giddy disbelief. For most of his life bathing had meant sneaking out late at night to the cold river beyond town, shivering in the dark and hoping no one saw him. The water had been icy and the current frightening. Once he had slipped on the rocks and nearly been pulled under.
After that he had been too scared to return for a long time.
But when his parents had beaten him badly after a teacher called home about his hygiene, the choice had become simple:
Face the river, or face them.
The river had at least offered respite.
Now, standing here in a warm bathroom with a real tub filling steadily, Sute feels a small, bright happiness blooming in his chest.
'I don't have to go outside anymore. I don't have to be cold. I don't have to be afraid of drowning. Kin is letting me use the tub again.'
The thought feels almost miraculous.
His attention is so focused on the water that he doesn't notice Kin step closer until a hand brushes lightly against one of the fading bruises on his side.
The touch makes him flinch. He recoils instinctively, shoulders tightening as he steps away.
"I—I'm sorry!"
Sute blurts immediately, lowering his gaze as he curls in on himself. He holds himself, as if to both comfort and hide his body.
"I didn't mean to show you something so ugly."
Kin freezes. That was not the reaction he expected. For a second he simply stares at him, confused by the apology then realization sinks in.
'Sute thinks he's being judged.'
Kin exhales slowly and shakes his head.
"No…"
He says quietly.
"You don't need to apologize."
If anything, the apology should have been his. He shouldn't have touched him without asking.
"I'm sorry…"
Kin adds after a moment, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.
"I shouldn't have done that without asking."
The words feel unfamiliar in his mouth. Before Sute can respond, Kin takes Sute's dirty clothes and turns toward the door.
"I'll get you something clean to sleep in…"
He says, already stepping out into the hallway.
"I'll leave it by the door."
He closes the door gently behind him. Sute watches it for a moment after it shuts.
Part of him wonders if Kin is only being kind because that's the sort of person he is. A good person. Someone who helped him when no one else did.
Sute lowers his gaze thoughtfully.
'I don't want to disappoint someone like that.'
If he behaves well—if he learns quickly, helps with cooking, doesn't make messes or cause trouble—then maybe Kin will keep him.
'Maybe I won't be thrown away again.'
The thought settles into something firm inside his chest.
Determined now, Sute steps carefully into the tub and sinks down into the warm water with a soft sigh of relief.
The heat soaks into his aching muscles, loosening tension he didn't realize he was carrying.
For the first time in a long while, he simply rests without worry.