Three’s a Crowd and One’s a Clown

By the time Akio emerged in a fresh T-shirt and the softest sweatpants he owned, the sushi had been ordered, and Amaya had clearly been running her mouth at full speed.

“…so then Akio comes running in like some kind of knight in shining business suit, except he looked absolutely horrified! And the poor convenience store clerk was just standing there like, ‘do I call the cops or animal control?’” Amaya was saying, giggling. She cut herself off when she noticed Akio in the hallway, giving him a wide impish smile. “Speak of the devil! I was just telling Declan about the time Juliya asked me to take care of Soba-chan.”

“Oh no, no, no. Do not corrupt our guest with that story.”

But Declan’s eyes lit up with interest.

“Amaya said something about you wrestling a python in a convenience store?” he said, eyebrows raised. “That can’t be real.”

He looked between them, clearly dying to hear the story.

Akio levelled a deadpan look at his roommate. “Amaya, I swear to every god that lives—”

She raised her hands innocently. “What? It has a happy ending!”

“I lived,” Akio muttered.

Declan clasped his hands turning to Akio with a pleading face that made it very difficult to say no. “Mate, come on. You can’t just drop ‘convenience store python’ and leave me hanging. Illegal moves.”

Akio pinched the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache coming on at the memory. “It was one time. And I didn’t wrestle the snake. I… strongly negotiated with it.”

Amaya burst out laughing, nearly toppling over. “He had Soba-chan wrapped around his head like a turban—mmph!” she shrieked, wheezing as she tried to catch her breath. “And he kept yelling ‘ma’am, please step back, I have the situation under control!'”

She dissolved into helpless giggles.

Akio groaned, but a reluctant smile tugged at his lips. “In my defence, no one told me you were carrying a 2-meter python in your backpack when I offered to help carry your stuff.” He shot a pointed look at Amaya.

Declan wheezed with laughter. “Oh man, I wish I’d been there for that! Jules told me your new roommate was an interesting one; now I see what she meant.”

Akio arched a brow at that, but before he could comment, the doorbell buzzed.

“Food’s here!” Amaya sing-songed, already halfway to the intercom, her braid bouncing behind her.

A few minutes later, the small dining table was crowded with plastic trays of sushi, boxes of gyoza, and drinks. 

They didn’t have three chairs (only two came with the apartment), so Amaya volunteered to sit on her yoga ball at the end of the table. It was a tight fit, more chaotic than cozy, but it worked.

“So, Declan,” he began, aiming for casual but maybe landing somewhere closer to interview panel, “Amaya said you’re here for a training program? Is that with Tsukiji Circus School too?”

It was a fair question. He was genuinely curious. And also, if Declan happened to casually reveal he was leaving Japan tomorrow, Akio wouldn’t mind.

Declan nodded, pausing to finish a bite of salmon nigiri. He was more competent with chopsticks than Amaya, who was still proudly using the pink panda kids’ set Akio had gotten her.

“Yeah. The school here invited a few of us from different troupes for a month-long intensive. I specialize in aerial catch and cradle acts—kind of like trapeze, but I’m usually the catcher. They wanted me to do some guest instruction and also cross-train with their coaches. I’m very excited. Tokyo’s circus community is amazing.”

Akio listened. “You’re an instructor then?”

“A bit of both. Performer first, but as I get older, I’ve started doing some coaching. Keeps me sharp and it’s fun to mentor the younger ones,” Declan grinned. His eyes slid to Amaya with a fondness that did not go unnoticed by Akio. “This one included, though she hardly needs coaching in talent, mostly just in not breaking her neck.” He winked.

Amaya, who had been busy dunking a gyoza, stuck out her tongue. “Hey! I only nearly died that one time.”

“Nearly died?” Akio spluttered, nearly choking on his green tea. He set the cup down hastily. “How many times have you ‘nearly died,’ exactly?”

He knew about the trapeze fall of course, the fractured ribs. But the way she’d tossed it out now, like it was just another funny circus anecdote, annoyed him.

Amaya waved a hand. “Figure of speech, ‘Kiokio. I’m fine.” She chomped the gyoza decisively, clearly not wanting to elaborate right now.

Declan chuckled, though it sounded a tad forced. “She’s a tough one, your Amaya,” he said to Akio.

Your Amaya.

The words landed soft, almost like a compliment… but not without weight.

Akio heard them, felt them, and he didn’t hate the way it sounded.

“Takes hits and bounces back this one. Not much can scare her.”

He noticed Declan’s tone and the way his gaze lingered on Amaya for an extra second. There was an unspoken except... at the end of that sentence. Akio glanced at Amaya, who was suddenly very interested in rearranging sushi on her plate. A subtle tension flickered across the table.

Akio cleared his throat, sensing the need to change the subject. “So,” he said, shifting the tone with a precision honed by years of avoiding awkward small talk, “how are you finding Tokyo outside of circus stuff? Do you plan on doing any sightseeing while you’re here?”

That did the trick. Declan’s face brightened. “A bit, yeah! I’m planning to hit Asakusa tomorrow—check out the big lantern, the temple. Definitely keen on trying the street food.”

“Ohh, melon pan! You have to try them, they’re huge and fluffy and basically taste like happiness.” Amaya chimed in, enthusiasm restored. Soon, she and Declan were off again, comparing favourite foods and places so far.

Amaya had apparently made it her part-time mission to explore Tokyo’s backstreets and bakeries since moving here, she rattled off recommendations like a local tour guide.

Akio mostly listened, chopsticks idly poking at a piece of tuna. He chimed in occasionally; correcting a street name, explaining a train line shortcut, or muttering, “I can take you there. It’s near my office,” when Declan mentioned wanting to see Shibuya Crossing.

It wasn’t that he minded the conversation, not really.

It was just that Declan’s easy enthusiasm paired a little too well with Amaya’s chaotic energy. They were perfectly in sync. It wasn’t hard to picture them balancing on opposite ends of a trapeze rig, laughing mid-air while he… filed tax forms.

Still, the evening moved forward in a warm, pleasant blur of sushi trays and stories.

Declan’s presence was easy and affable, and he fit into their quirky household dynamic with surprising ease, like a big friendly St. Bernard plopped into a room of kittens, careful not to step on any tails. 

He came armed with stories: tour mishaps, rigging fails, an unfortunate incident involving a poodle and a bucket of paint, each one more ridiculous than the last.

Amaya rose to the challenge like it was a competitive sport. For every one of Declan’s tales, she volleyed back with something even more outrageous, often dragging Akio into the crossfire with a gleeful, “Tell him about that time—!”

Akio would always groan, protest, attempt a strategic retreat, and then, against all odds and common sense, he’d cave, retelling things like the haunted apartment incident from his first night (where he’d walked in to find Amaya dangling upside down from her aerial silks like a cursed spirit and nearly called a priest). 

The teasing was relentless and mostly aimed at Akio, which he handled with the kind of deadpan grumbling that only encouraged them even more.

But… he never actually left the room.

And he never really stopped smiling, either.

Declan joked, “You’re a brave man, Akio, putting up with this troublemaker daily,” to which Akio deadpanned, “She keeps life… interesting. It’s like having my own pet clown.” Understatement of the century, but he couldn’t completely hide a small smile that came with the words.

Maybe there were parts of her life Akio could only ever glimpse through glass: stages, spotlights, circus tents strung across foreign skies, but that didn’t make what he had with her any less real.

Amaya caught that smile instantly and her eyes sparkled mischievously. “Aww, did everyone hear that?” she gasped, pressing both hands to her cheeks in mock amazement. “Mr. Grumpypants actually admits life with me is interesting!”

Akio rolled his eyes, cheeks warming. “Finish your sushi, clown,” he muttered, flicking a stray grain of rice in her direction. She gasped and retaliated by kicking his shin under the table. He retaliated by threatening to eat the last tuna roll she’d been eyeing.

“You wouldn’t dare!” she hissed.

“Watch me,” he replied.

Declan looked between them, laughing into his drink. “You two are something else,” he said, grinning broadly. “Like an old comedy duo.”

“More like a boke and tsukkomi act,” Amaya agreed sagely, referring to the classic Japanese comedy double-act roles. She pointed to Akio. “He’s the tsukkomi, serious, scowly, allergic to fun,” then to herself, “and I’m the boke, obviously. The adorable, hilarious one.” She fluttered her eyelashes.

Akio gave her a flat look. “If by adorable you mean completely unhinged, then yeah. Spot on.”

Declan chuckled, clearly enjoying their banter.

By the time the last gyoza disappeared and the trays were picked clean, the table was quiet in that warm, full-belly kind of way.

Amaya stretched her arms over her head like a cat and groaned happily. “Mouuuu… I’m stuffed. I might literally turn into a sushi roll.”

“Please don’t, we don’t have fridge space for you,” Akio retorted, gathering the empty trays.

She stuck out her tongue at him.

Declan laughed as he helped stack the empty containers, he was surprisingly meticulous. “Guess I’ll earn my keep by handling cleanup detail.”

Amaya beamed. “See? He’s useful and polite.”

Akio shot her a look. “We’re not keeping him.”

She grinned wider, bouncing on her squeaky yoga ball. “That’s what you said about me, remember?”

Akio paused, tray in hand. Then sighed. “Yeah. Look how that turned out.”