Chapter Text
The snow falls in slow, heavy flakes, each one illuminated by the yellow glow of the streetlight above Tobirama’s Lexus. The world outside looks quiet, peaceful — like a painting. Inside the car, it’s anything but. The heater hums softly, fogging the edges of the windshield, but it doesn’t reach the cold settling deep in his chest.
He stares at his phone, thumb hovering above the screen, eyes fixed on the message that just appeared a few minutes ago.
Sorry, Tobirama. I’ve been thinking about it, and I just… can’t do this. Pretending to date you, I mean. It feels wrong. I know I said I’d help, but I don’t want to get mixed up in your family drama. You’ll figure something out. You always do. Happy holidays.
No apology that means anything. No real explanation.
Tobirama reads it again, and again, until the screen locks itself. He pockets the phone down, exhaling through his nose. The air fogs in the cold despite the heater. His reflection in the window looks calm, as always, but he feels the tremor beneath the surface — a dull pulse of betrayal, frustration, and something smaller and sadder he doesn’t want to name.
Not that he should be surprised. People leave. People always do. And friends… he’s never had many of those. And now he has one friend less.
He checks the clock on the dashboard. He’s supposed to be at his parents’ house for dinner in an hour to suffer intrusive questions about his personal life. The one topic his family never gets tired of: When are you settling down, Tobirama? When will you bring someone home?
He grits his teeth. No date means his father will bring it up again. And this time, his father has someone in mind — Shimura Rio. The thought of her makes his skin crawl.
He’d come up with the fake relationship to avoid exactly this. To keep his father satisfied long enough to make it through the holidays without being cornered into a marriage he doesn’t want.
And now… he’s alone again.
He drums his fingers on the steering wheel, thinking. He can’t show up without a partner. He can’t fake an illness, either. That would cause chaos and within the hour, Tobirama would have his older brother on the doorstep, stethoscope in hand.
There is no way he can convincingly fake being sick. Hashirama would find out within minutes. And, considering his brother can’t lie to save his life, he’d immediately announce it to the whole family.
He needs someone. Fast.
He glances at the clock again. 5:05 PM. Friday before Christmas. The city’s half frozen and every normal person is already home wrapping presents. Where does someone even find a fake partner at this hour?
He starts the car, the soft purr of the engine grounding him, and pulls out of the parking lot. He needs people, crowds. Somewhere he can think, maybe find someone willing to play along.
The train station. That’s his best bet.
The roads are slick, lined with slush and the orange glow of traffic lights. He turns on the radio, lets the low murmur of music fill the silence, but his mind keeps circling back to the message. The casual cruelty of it.
He shouldn’t care. But he does.
Halfway to the station, traffic grinds to a halt. A tangle of flashing lights and twisted metal blocks the main street — two cars, one spun halfway onto the sidewalk. Steam rises from a crushed hood, mingling with the snowfall. People already gather around; someone is calling for help moving the cars off the road. Everyone looks shaken, but alive.
He slows, assesses the scene, and decides there’s nothing useful he can do. His help isn’t needed here. Not tonight.
He turns the Lexus around, heading into the backstreets — narrow lanes barely cleared of snow, where neon signs flicker weakly through the cold.
That’s when he sees them.
A line of figures under a dim streetlight — women in short skirts and cheap fake fur coats, teetering on high heels, calling out to passing cars with painted smiles. The kind of place he normally avoids. He keeps his gaze straight ahead, but something in him hesitates.
He’s desperate. He hates that word, but it’s true.
These people sell their company, their time. Maybe one of them would be willing to sell their time a little differently — for the right price.
His hands tighten on the steering wheel. The thought disgusts him. Not because of them — but because this is what he’s come to. Begging for company. Paying for lies.
Still, the clock keeps ticking. 5:20. He’s running out of time.
His eyes flick briefly across the row until they stop on a young man at the far end.
He stands a little apart from the rest, arms crossed against the cold. His hair is long and black, spilling over his shoulders like ink. No heavy makeup, no gaudy jewelry. Just dark eyes, pale skin, and a quiet, almost defiant beauty that hits Tobirama harder than he expects. He is not wearing a jacket.
Before he can think it through, Tobirama pulls the Lexus over.
The young man glances up, meets his gaze, and smiles. Slow, deliberate, suggestive.
Tobirama gestures him to come closer to the car. The man approaches, cautious but confident, heels crunching on the thin crust of ice. Up close, he’s even more striking — and trembling from the cold.
Tobirama unlocks the passenger door.
The man slides in with practiced grace, shutting the door behind him. The scent of smoke and faint cologne fills the warm air. He turns his head, lips curving into something between curiosity and charm.
“So,” the stranger purrs, voice low and smooth, “what can I do for you tonight?”
Tobirama exhales slowly. “How much do you charge for an hour?”
The man blinks, clearly not expecting that kind of bluntness, then recovers with a faint smirk. “Depends on what you want. If it’s nothing extra… twelve hundred.”
Tobirama does the math automatically. thousand two hundred ryo an hour for about two weeks would be a lot of money. But he’s out of time.
He meets the man’s eyes. “Four hundred thousand ryo,” he says evenly, “if you come to my parents’ house with me until January first as my boyfriend.”
The man’s smile falters. His eyes widen — a flicker of disbelief, then suspicion, then something Tobirama can’t quite read.
The car falls silent except for the soft whisper of snow hitting the windshield and the radio playing a Christmas song at a low volume.
Tobirama forces himself to speak, aware that every second slipping by brings him closer to disaster. “My fake date just cancelled,” he says quickly, voice rougher than intended. “I’m supposed to be at my parents’ house for dinner in—” he glances at the dashboard clock, “—less than an hour. I can’t show up alone.”
The young man blinks, processing, then looks down at his hands. He’s quiet for a moment, the faint hum of the car filling the silence between them. “You mean…” He trails off, eyes flicking toward Tobirama’s face, curious but wary. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend?”
“Yes,” Tobirama says. There’s no point denying it.
The young man exhales slowly, leaning back against the leather seat. “You’re serious.”
Tobirama nods. “Completely.”
He hesitates, then adds, trying to make it sound less absurd, “You don’t have to do anything inappropriate. We don’t even have to have sex. Just… share a bed — a king-sized one. My family will assume it’s normal. Some hand-holding, leaning against each other when they’re looking.” He pauses, then adds under his breath, “I’m not one for public affection anyway. No one will think it strange if they don’t see us kiss or make out.”
The young man’s brows furrow. His expression softens — not yet agreement, but not rejection either. There’s something fragile in the way he’s looking at Tobirama, as if he can’t decide whether to laugh or pity him.
Tobirama feels the pressure of time gnawing at him. He can almost see his father’s frown already, hear his mother’s disappointed sigh, see Rio’s smug little smirk. The thought sends a pulse of anger through him.
“Five hundred thousand ryo,” Tobirama says suddenly, before he can talk himself out of it. “And you can keep any presents you get during the time you’re with me. From me, from my family — all yours.”
The young man’s eyes go wide. For a second, he looks stunned — then he blurts out, voice breaking with something between regret and disbelief, “I can’t.”
Tobirama stiffens. “Why not?”
“I’d love to,” the man admits, shaking his head, “but I can’t leave my little brother alone for almost two weeks. He’s only eight.”
For a moment, Tobirama doesn’t speak. He glances at the clock again. 5:25 PM.
Thirty-five minutes left.
He draws a breath, forcing his voice to remain calm. “Your brother is the only reason you can’t come?”
The man hesitates, then nods. “Yeah. It’s just us. I can’t leave him.”
Tobirama drums his fingers once against the steering wheel, weighing his options. He’s not a man who makes impulsive decisions, but tonight feels like an exception. “Then bring him,” he says simply.
The young man’s head snaps up. “What?”
“Bring him along,” Tobirama repeats. “My brother’s bringing his son — he’s nine. They’ll have a playmate. Think of it as… a holiday for him.”
The man stares at him, lips parted slightly, as if he’s waiting for the punchline. But Tobirama just meets his gaze steadily, every inch the pragmatic man he’s always been.
Slowly, something changes in the young man’s expression. The suspicion fades. What replaces it is quieter — hope, maybe, or relief. His shoulders ease, and after a long pause, he lets out a small, almost disbelieving laugh. “Alright,” he says softly. “Deal.”
He clicks the seatbelt into place.
Tobirama exhales, the tension in his chest loosening for the first time that evening. He glances over, allowing himself a small nod. “Where am I picking your brother up from?”
The young man tilts his head toward the window. “We live just down the road. I’ll tell you when to stop.”
Tobirama is relieved he won’t have to drive far — every minute counts. The tires crunch over frozen slush as they move through the dimly lit street. He keeps his eyes on the road, but curiosity gets the better of him.
“What’s your name?” he asks.
The young man looks over, a hint of a smile tugging at his mouth. “Izuna,” he says. “My brother’s Kagami, by the way. Yours?”
“Tobirama.”
The way Izuna repeats it — slow, testing the sound — does something strange to him. There’s warmth in the way it rolls off Izuna’s tongue, like he’s tasting it.
They drive in silence for another minute before Izuna points ahead. “There. The one next to the broken street light.”
Tobirama slows to a stop in front of a narrow, run-down building. The exterior is cracked, the paint peeling. The windows are covered in frost from the inside. Izuna unbuckles his seatbelt.
“I’ll go get Kagami and pack our things,” he says, hand already on the door handle.
Tobirama glances at the clock. “Please hurry. My family’s expecting me in less than thirty minutes. And…” he adds, eyeing the revealing clothes Izuna wears, “put on something decent.”
For the first time, Izuna laughs — a bright, genuine sound that cuts through the cold air like sunlight. “Got it,” he says, flashing a grin over his shoulder. “We’ll be fast.”
The door shuts with a soft thud, leaving Tobirama alone in the car.
He leans back against the seat, staring at the door Izuna disappeared through, and exhales slowly.
This is insane. Absolutely insane.