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"Yoo-chan, you shouldn't hug someone like that..." Iyo carefully told her son, kneeling down to his level.
She had watched the entire interaction with a mixture of amusement and mild concern. While she was happy Yoichi had made a friend so quickly, she also wanted to teach him about boundaries.
Ah!
Isagi's face fell. He quickly stepped back from Hugo, creating a small distance between them.
"I'm sorry..." he murmured, his voice small.
"I was so happy to make my first ever friend here that I forgot my manners..." He clasped his hands in front of him, his fingers twiddling nervously against each other. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, showing his embarrassment.
He had just made a new friend, but he hadn't respected their personal space! His teacher back in Japan had always said that you should respect everyone's personal space so that they don't end up hating you.
"Sorry..." he said again, his head drooping, the little sprout of hair on top seeming to wilt along with his mood.
He peeked up at Hugo through his lashes, his blue eyes shimmering with the threat of tears.
"Don't hate me..." he whispered, his lower lip trembling slightly.
Hugo, who had been watching the exchange with growing discomfort, felt something twist in his chest. The sweet blue-haired child with the two sprouts on his head that had been so full of energy moments ago now looked like a wilting flower. The joy that had radiated from him had dimmed, and Hugo found that he disliked that very much.
Without thinking, he stepped forward again.
"Ça va, petit germe," he said softly, his voice gentle.
It's okay, little sprout.
He reached out and placed a hand on Isagi's head, stroking the soft black hair.
"Comment pourrais-je être en colère contre toi ?"
How could I be angry with you?
Hugo yet again pulled Isagi into his embrace, this time more deliberately. He wrapped his arms around the smaller boy, hugging him close. He continued murmuring soft French words into Isagi's ear, comforting him, while his hand stroked his hair in slow, soothing motions.
Isagi, who didn't understand a single word, felt the warmth and gentleness in Hugo's voice. The tension in his small body melted away, and he relaxed into the hug, burying his face against Hugo's shoulder.
Isagi Iyo, witnessing the scene from where she stood, couldn't help but grin.
Her maternal instincts were tingling.
It seemed her earlier suspicion was correct! This was indeed a potential son-in-law!
Isagi Iyo and her husband, Isagi Issei, were a couple who did not discriminate against same-sex love. As long as their child was happy and loved, they would support him with all their hearts. Love was love, and a good heart was what truly mattered.
Now, it was time to assess this future "son-in-law."
She mentally ticked off the qualities she observed:
· Dark red hair – striking and unique.
· Black eyes – deep and expressive.
· Super long eyelashes – like little fans framing his eyes.
· A very handsome face – even at nine, she could tell he would grow up to be quite the heartthrob.
· Very loving – the way he comforted Yoichi spoke volumes.
"Hmm..." she hummed to herself, watching the two boys still wrapped in each other's arms.
I don't see any flaw... yet...
She chuckled softly. Time would tell.
Eventually, she had to step in and gently separate them again. Hugo seemed reluctant to let go, his arms tightening for a brief moment before he allowed the separation. His dark eyes lingered on Isagi, as if making sure he was alright.
Haizz, young love burns well... Iyo thought, amused.
After they were properly separated, Hugo seemed to realize that the woman in front of him was the mother of the child he had been hugging. His cheeks flushed faintly, but he quickly composed himself and offered a polite introduction.
"Bonjour ! Je m'appelle Hugo. Vous venez d'emménager ?"
Hello! My name is Hugo. Have you just moved in?
His French was clear and well-mannered, the tone respectful.
Iyo smiled warmly at the red-haired boy's politeness. One more point to add to his charm!
"Oui, nous venons d'arriver il y a quelques minutes," she replied in French, her own accent carrying a soft Japanese lilt.
Yes, we just arrived a few minutes ago.
She shifted Isagi onto her hip, the boy still clutching his Noa doll contentedly, and asked for the child's age.
It turned out Hugo was nine years old—three years older than Isagi. Isagi was seven, but since his birthday had not yet come that year, he was technically still six. Well, six turning seven, but the age gap remained.
Hugo was also their neighbor. His house was the one right next door, separated only by a low hedge. When Iyo asked about his parents, Hugo's expression flickered slightly.
"They are often busy with work," he explained quietly. "So I am usually alone at the house."
Hearing that, Iyo felt a pang of sadness. How could they leave their son like that? He was only nine years old. At the very least, they could have hired a caretaker.
But she reminded herself not to judge too quickly. Perhaps there were circumstances she didn't know about—financial struggles, demanding jobs, or other challenges. Still, her heart ached for the boy.
"Well," she said, her tone brightening, "since we're neighbors, you're welcome to come over anytime, Hugo."
She smiled and gestured toward her new home. "Now, why don't you both come inside while I sort out the house?"
She carried Isagi with one arm and led Hugo toward the front door, the red-haired boy following with a small, hopeful smile.
The house was spacious and filled with afternoon light streaming through large windows. Boxes were stacked in the living room, waiting to be unpacked, but the kitchen and main areas were already furnished.
Iyo set Isagi down and began checking various things around the house—the water heater, the gas, the electrical outlets. She realized she needed to buy some groceries and essential supplies.
She grabbed her purse and turned to the two boys.
"Yoo-chan, I'm going out to buy some groceries. It'll only take a short while."
She then looked at Hugo, switching to French so he would understand.
"Hugo, can you remind Isagi to prepare his room? His things are in those boxes. He should start decorating while I'm gone."
Hugo's eyes brightened with undisguised joy.
A chance to get to know Isagi more!
"D'accord, Madame! I'll help him," he replied eagerly, his earlier reserve melting away.
Iyo smiled, ruffled Isagi's hair, and headed out the door.
Hugo turned to Isagi, who was looking up at him curiously. He pointed toward a box labeled "YOO-CHAN'S ROOM" in Japanese, then mimed putting things on a shelf and making a room pretty.
Isagi tilted his head, not quite understanding.
Hugo tried again. He opened the box to reveal its contents: posters, a small trophy, a collection of football magazines, and several Noel Noah memorabilia items.
"Ah!" Isagi's face lit up. He understood now.
"Room! Decorate!" he said in broken English, clapping his hands.
Hugo smiled and nodded. "Yes. Let's go."
Isagi's room was on the second floor, a cozy space with a single window overlooking the garden. A bed frame stood against one wall, and shelves and a small desk awaited personal touches.
Isagi immediately began directing Hugo with enthusiastic gestures.
He pointed to a poster of Noel Noah mid-kick, the German striker's image frozen in a moment of glory. Hugo helped him tape it to the wall above the bed.
Next came a smaller poster showing the Bastard Munchen team celebrating a championship. Isagi insisted it go beside the first one.
Then there were magazine cutouts of goals, action shots, and a large map of the world with pins marking stadiums Isagi dreamed of visiting.
Throughout the process, Isagi chattered happily in Japanese, occasionally mixing in English words he knew.
"Noel Noah! Number one striker!" he declared, holding up the worn Noa doll.
He showed the doll to Hugo with such pride, his eyes sparkling.
"He scores the best goals! He wins everything! When I grow up, I want to be just like him!"
He continued talking about Noel Noah's records, his playing style, his famous goals—even though Hugo understood none of the Japanese words, the enthusiasm was unmistakable.
Hugo helped hang a small shelf on which Isagi placed his collection of football cards, all featuring Noel Noah at the top.
Hugo watched Isagi's animated face, listened to the excited pitch of his voice, and felt something strange settle in his chest.
Noel Noah, Noel Noah, always Noel Noah.
The name echoed in his mind. It was clear that Isagi idolized this footballer, a man Hugo had heard of but never paid much attention to. But seeing the way Isagi's whole face transformed when he spoke about him—the joy, the admiration, the devotion—made Hugo's stomach twist uncomfortably.
He found himself thinking, almost without meaning to: I wish he would look at me like that.
I wish I was the one he admired.
The thought startled him so much that he nearly dropped the football card he was holding.
What? He blinked rapidly, his cheeks warming.
Why would I think that? That's... weird. I just met him. He's just a kid. This is strange.
He shook his head, trying to dispel the thought, but it lingered at the edges of his mind.
Isagi, oblivious to Hugo's internal turmoil, placed the Noa doll carefully on his pillow.
"There! Now Noa can watch over me while I sleep," he said happily.
He turned to Hugo with a beaming smile.
"Thank you, Hugo!"
The simple, genuine gratitude made Hugo's heart flutter again. He forced a smile in return, pushing down the strange thoughts.
"You're welcome," he said softly.
A while later, Iyo returned from the grocery store, her arms laden with bags filled with fresh vegetables, meat, rice, and various Japanese ingredients she had been pleased to find in a nearby international market.
She called out as she entered the house, but there was no response.
Curious, she set the bags down in the kitchen and went upstairs to check on the boys.
She peeked into Isagi's room and found a sight that made her heart melt.
The room was partially decorated, posters on the walls and boxes half-emptied. But the two boys had abandoned their task at some point.
Hugo was leaning against the headboard of the bed, his head tilted back against the wall, his eyes closed. Isagi was curled up beside him, his head resting on Hugo's lap, the Noa doll clutched to his chest. Both were fast asleep, their breathing synchronized in the quiet afternoon.
Hugo's hand had fallen across Isagi's back, as if he had been patting him to sleep before drifting off himself.
Iyo stood in the doorway for a long moment, a soft smile on her face.
So precious, she thought.
She quietly retreated, leaving the door slightly ajar, and went downstairs to start preparing dinner.
About an hour later, the smell of cooking filled the house—miso soup, simmering vegetables, and the gentle sizzle of fish.
Iyo went back upstairs and gently woke the boys.
"Yoo-chan, Hugo... dinner is ready."
Isagi stirred first, his eyes fluttering open. He blinked sleepily, then realized he was using Hugo's lap as a pillow. He sat up, rubbing his eyes.
"Hungry..." he mumbled.
Hugo woke next, his dark eyes slowly focusing. He felt the warmth where Isagi had been resting against him, and a strange sense of loss washed over him before he pushed it aside.
They both went downstairs, and Hugo's eyes widened when he saw the table.
It was a traditional Japanese meal—rice, miso soup, grilled fish, pickled vegetables, and a small dish of simmered tofu. The presentation was simple but inviting, and the aromas were unlike anything Hugo had ever encountered.
"Sit, sit," Iyo said warmly, gesturing to the chairs.
Isagi eagerly climbed onto his chair, picking up his chopsticks with practiced ease.
Hugo hesitated for a moment, then sat down. He had never used chopsticks before, and he fumbled with them awkwardly.
Isagi noticed and giggled softly.
"Like this," he said, showing Hugo how to hold them.
It took a few tries, but with Isagi's patient (if slightly messy) guidance, Hugo managed to pick up a piece of fish and bring it to his mouth.
He chewed slowly, his eyes widening.
"It's... delicious," he said, genuinely surprised.
Iyo beamed. "I'm glad you like it! This is Japanese home cooking. Please, eat as much as you want."
Hugo ate with growing enthusiasm, tasting each dish with curiosity. The miso soup was savory and warm, the pickled vegetables tangy and crisp. It was completely different from the French food he was used to, but he found himself loving it.
As they ate, Iyo glanced at Hugo thoughtfully.
"Hugo," she said, switching to French so he would understand fully, "I've noticed that Isagi responds very well to you."
Hugo paused, chopsticks halfway to his mouth.
She smiled. "At home, we call him 'Yoo-chan.' It's a nickname, an intimate name. Would you like to call him that as well? I think he would like it."
Hugo felt heat rush to his cheeks.
An intimate name?
He glanced at Isagi, who was happily eating his rice, unaware of the conversation.
"I... yes," Hugo said, his voice a little thick. "I would like that."
Iyo's smile widened. Another point.
From across the table, Isagi looked up, catching Hugo's eye. He smiled, a grain of rice stuck to his cheek.
Hugo's heart did a strange little flip.
Later that evening, Hugo's parents returned home.
They were a handsome couple—his father, with the same dark red hair, and his mother, elegant with chestnut waves. They had been surprised to find their son not at home, but a quick knock on the neighbor's door revealed where he had been.
Iyo greeted them warmly, introducing herself and explaining that Hugo had helped her son settle in.
"He was wonderful," she said sincerely. "A very polite and kind boy. You've raised him well."
Hugo's parents exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and pride on their faces. They thanked Iyo profusely and invited her and Isagi over for a proper dinner soon.
As Hugo was leaving, he paused at the door and looked back at Isagi, who was standing beside his mother, holding his Noa doll.
"Goodnight, Yoo-chan," Hugo said softly, the nickname feeling both strange and wonderful on his tongue.
Isagi's face lit up. He didn't understand the words, but he recognized the sound of his nickname.
"Goodnight, Hugo!" he replied, waving enthusiastically.
That night, Hugo lay in his bed, staring at the ceiling.
His room felt quieter than usual, emptier. He kept replaying the events of the day in his mind—the sudden appearance of the energetic blue-haired boy, the warm hug, the way Isagi had clung to him, the excited chatter about Noel Noah, the gentle weight of Isagi's head on his lap as they fell asleep.
He thought about the strange, fleeting wish he had had earlier—the desire to be admired by Isagi the way Isagi admired Noel Noah.
It was a silly thought, he told himself. They had only just met.
But still...
He closed his eyes, and behind his lids, he saw Isagi's bright smile, the little sprouts of hair bouncing, the blue eyes full of trust and affection.
I hope this is not a dream, he thought.
I hope he stays.
A small smile curved his lips as sleep finally claimed him, and in his dreams, he was running through a field with Isagi, the two of them chasing a ball under a clear blue sky, laughing without a care in the world.
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