White Peach Summer Ch. 02

They ate dinner in the main room of the house. Aunt Yumiko had tried to get Yoshio to stay, but the old man was stubborn.

"I don't eat after the sun goes down. I've lived this long, haven't I?" the Village Head had laughed. "Let the young man have my share. Young men need to eat well, don't they?"

Takeru bowed. "Thank you again for the ride, sir."

"I'll have some work for you later. You can pay me that way," Yoshio grunted, shuffling toward the door. "Maybe you can earn a ride back home," he added, waggling an eyebrow.

Too surprised to argue, Takeru bowed again.

Yumiko emerged carrying plates and Takeru sprang to his feet to help her. She pulled away, her eyes widening as he tried to take the dishes from her hands.

"Let me help! Please, Aunt Yumiko."

She hesitated, her eyebrows narrowing, but her grasp gradually loosened. He set the dish on the table and she hurried to the kitchen for more. When they were finished, plates and bowls covered the table, every inch of it filled with food.

"Is Uncle joining us?" Takeru asked.

The girls grew silent.

"Your uncle is very busy with work," Yumiko said, inclining her head.

The lines in Hana's scowl deepened and he didn't push it any further.

Instead, he focused on the feast: Grilled fish, stir-fried pork with bell peppers, miso soup, and endless side dishes crowded the table, all begging to be eaten. The conversation fell away and Takeru leaned forward and lost himself in the food.

"So, that's why you're so big," Hana muttered

Takeru looked up, wiping the rice from his lips. He found his family ogling him, their own food entirely untouched.

He jumped up straighter, setting his chopsticks aside. "I -I'm sorry! I-"

"It's fine," Yumiko whispered, dipping her head. "Your parents were very generous. They sent extra to make sure you eat well. I promised I would see to it."

Takeru blushed. "I just haven't had much to eat today. The train ride..."

Miu's mouth was hanging open.

"How long have you been watching me?" he asked.

"She hasn't taken her eyes off you since you got here," Hana said. "You can ignore her. I always do."

Miu nodded silently.

"I'll... try to eat more slowly from now on," Takeru said. "It's very good, Aunt Yumiko. Thank you for doing all of this."

She nodded again, her face blank.

"It's really nice to be here, and to have a meal like this. I haven't eaten anything but takeout and ramen in..." He trailed off. He had a vague memory of a friend's mother making lunch for him once.

"Well, there's none of that here," Hana cut in. "The store here doesn't have anything. It's everyone for themselves."

"Mom's a great cook," Miu added.

"What about all the restaurants in town?" Takeru asked. "I remember Grandfather always took me to that eel place on the water. We went there all the time."

Yumiko nodded. "The owners passed away. He was sorry to see it go."

"And no one else moved in? What about all the other shops? All the stores?"

Miu hopped in her seat, eager to share. "Dad ran one! It was-"

"He turned it into a theme restaurant," Hana said flatly.

Yumiko nodded. "It was a very popular trend at the time."

"Not here," Hana groaned, rolling her eyes. "Even when it was the last restaurant left, no one wanted it."

Takeru sipped his tea, his eyes jumping between them as they argued. He hadn't heard about the restaurant, but he knew his uncle owned a bar now. His grandfather had built it with his friends forever ago. And, when his uncle got injured and couldn't work in the fields anymore, the bar became his. From some of the comments his father had made, Takeru gathered the business wasn't doing well.

"So, what else has changed around here?"

"The storm was quite bad last year," Yumiko replied.

It seemed an understatement. From what he'd heard, the whole port was destroyed, and a dozen homes along with it.

"The Suzukis left for the city. And the Satos, Kobayashis..."

"And the rest died," Hana added, shrugging.

Takeru laughed nervously, thinking it was a joke, but his aunt nodded along.

"Wait, really?"

"There are..." Yumiko paused, counting silently. "Forty-one of us now. Forty-two," she corrected, turning her palm toward him.

"Who's working all the fields? Or the farm?" Takeru asked, his voice growing sharper.

"Everyone who's too old to leave," Hana sighed. "And no one is working Grandpa's farm anymore."

Takeru slumped in his seat. Growing up, half his summers had been spent in Mikanagi. His parents worked on their doctorates while he and Hana had followed their grandfather around the village. His grandfather had been the Village Head in those days.

No one had anything to say after that, and they finished the meal in a heavy silence.

Takeru finished first, but he picked at the dishes while waiting for the others. When Yumiko set down her chopsticks, Takeru rose to clear the table.

He was aware of his aunt watching him. There was a crease in her forehead when he turned to look at her. She didn't seem truly startled until he turned on the faucet.

"Your mother will never forgive me!" she gasped, nudging him out of the way with her hip.

He pushed her back with his own. "My mother would never forgive me if I didn't help. I wouldn't be able to face her again."

Yumiko groaned, her fingers dancing anxiously around, likely thinking for a new way to stop him.

"I'll be very careful," Takeru assured her. "Why don't you sit down? Maybe tomorrow, you can show me how to cook too? You know, I never get a chance at home. We don't even have a proper stove."

Yumiko stepped away cautiously, biting her lips, hardly seeming to hear him. Takeru washed carefully, sensing her eyes on him for every moment of it. He moved on to drying the dishes, glancing over at the other room as he worked. His cousins were each deep in a book on the couch.

"Is there still... a school?" he whispered to his aunt.

Yumiko blinked at him, seeming confused. "Of course there's a school. Mrs. Gima is the teacher. She used to work in the city, too. Miu goes to her home now for lessons. Miu wants to be a teacher herself now, too."

"And how old is Mrs. Gima?"

"Ninety-two," Yumiko replied. She reached for the dishes once more and Takeru gently brushed her aside. "But she's very good," his aunt went on. "She says the girls are very smart for their age."

"But Hana isn't..."

His aunt sighed, shaking her head.

For as long as he could remember, Hana had been determined to go to school in Tokyo. She had talked about it endlessly: getting a room in the city, making Takeru promise to show her all the sites and restaurants. It was the dream she had lived for. She was counting down the days.

But when the time had come, Hana changed her mind. She wasn't going to college. And then she cut everyone out, including him. No one would tell him why, or what she planned to do instead. Everyone took it for granted that she was done with school forever.

But now here she was, sitting quietly beside her sister, her nose buried in a college-level textbook.

"What else can I help with?" Takeru asked, finishing off the last of the plates.

"Nothing!" His aunt said, tugging him away from the sink.

She tried to push him out toward the hall. "Go take a bath! You're exhausted!" When she couldn't budge him, she grabbed for his ear instead. He flinched out of her grip and she chased him toward the back of the house, into the laundry room, and through the door behind it. A large bath was waiting inside. She had herded him right into it.

To his surprise, and a bit of horror, she leaned in and turned the faucet on, her long hair falling free as she stretched for the tap.

"There are towels-"

As she leaned over the tub to plug the drain, the white fabric of her skirt pulled up around the curves of her. It stretched sheer enough to make out the brighter white panties underneath. Her hips drifted smoothly back and forth before him as she worked to plug the hole.

Whatever else she said was lost. Takeru's mouth went dry. He was too shocked to look away.

She turned and her eyelashes flickered at him, "Aren't you?"

He leaped back a step, his hands dropping to cover his lap. "Yes. I can get it from here. Thank you!"

Her eyes narrowed. She turned and adjusted the temperature. Her thighs parted as she moved. A heavy curve emerged between them.

"Men forget," his aunt went on. "They go to bed dirty and they get in their sheets. Then they're dirty every night after that. You should be washing off while it fills. Now the water will get cold by the time you're done." She clicked her tongue in annoyance.

Takeru held his breath as she turned. It seemed she might leap up and scrub him down herself.

Sighing, she swept to her feet. But she didn't leave, and the room felt far too cramped with her standing there beside him.

"I'll manage, I promise," he pleaded.

"And you'll scrub properly hard?"

He nodded. He nostrils flared, but she handed him the brush, and stepped out of the room.

Takeru breathed out a slow, silent breath. He was alone, finally. Alone with the sound of the running water. He turned away from the door, stripping as quickly as he could, his erection jutting against his shorts. He grabbed the shower hose in a panic, blasting himself with an icy spray as the bath filled beside him. Little by little, the pressure died to a dull throb and his his head began to clear.

He slipped into the water, his skin now glowing pink. It was a small tub, and his legs and shoulders stuck halfway out of it. He melted into it all the same. As he reached for the faucet, to turn it off, his cock was there, swollen and red again, bobbing along the surface.

Another noise grew in the silence, the murmur of his cousins' voices, arguing over some song. He could hear his aunt humming from the other room beside them. The hum of the warming rice maker.

At home, his parents were rarely around in the evening. There was a lock on every door, and thick walls. Privacy was never something he had to struggle over. He had never needed to delay his... gratification.

His cock lurched beneath the water impatiently. The sound of his family's voices seemed to grow louder. The walls were thin enough, he could almost hear them breathing.

Takeru shook his head, trying to clear it. Sighing, he closed his eyes, willing his body to relax.

They flashed open again. It wasn't working. The air was too humid. It was too stuffy in here to breathe. Glancing around, he found a small window near the ceiling. He stood and pulled, but the latch didn't budge.

Putting a foot on the ledge, he gripped the handle with both hands and twisted hard. It creaked, the handle bending slightly, but didn't open.

He braced himself and pulled hard, the muscles of his arms swelling taut. With a grunt, he yanked again. Movement in the corner of his eye drew his attention away just as it began to open. Hana stood in the doorway, holding more towels. Her gaze flashed along his body. His hands instinctively shot out, pulling a washcloth over his lap.

"Mom thought you might want these," she said impassively, setting the pile beside the door.

Before he could speak, she turned to leave.

And she stopped again, her hand against the door.

"And I think you need a bigger washcloth, cousin."

A flicker of a smile crossed her face. She pulled the door open and slipped right through it.