Five years later, they meet in a bar.
Inari doesn't even act surprised, but Shuu notices the way her fingers whiten around her glass. She's virtually the same, but there are subtle changes. The color of her suit is navy blue instead of flashy purple, her hair is caught in a casual bun instead of draping around her neck, and her eyes are clear of eye shadow instead of being surrounded by it. Were he a lesser man, he would have let his eyes linger, but he's not. He's strict and in control, and he's fine. He's fine.
"Koibuchi-san," Inari says, bringing her glass up in recognition. She licks her lips after she swallows.
"Inari-san," Shuu replies, and repeats the gesture.
"I heard about your brother's engagement." Her voice is quiet, soft, as not to disturb him. The jazz almost drowns it out, but Shuu catches it. "I'm sorry."
"For what?" Like it's not obvious. Like he didn't go down in flames after his baby brother and the girl he still loves hit it off. The press is calling it the marriage of the decade – model and designer find inspiration on each other, read about it in page two! He takes a sip of his drink. Inari ignores him and moves onto another topic. Shuu doesn't know why she bothers.
"I never did apologize." He pushes his glasses up his nose and feels the back of his neck heat. His tongue is swollen; he can't speak. "So – I'm sorry," she adds, in a whisper, and downs her whole glass. It's something dark, no ice. Shuu already knows Inari holds her booze better than any woman he's met. Not that there are many, of course, but still.
"I forgive you," Shuu says, and is surprised to say that he means it.
Eventually, she leaves – she's got work to do tomorrow morning, she says; she shouldn't even be out drinking – and leaves her phone number instead of her room's (an upgrade, a show-and-tell of someone who's grown, of a woman who's not the same she used to be). And Shuu slips the napkin inside his breast pocket, tells himself it's just so that she thinks he cares.
But when he gets home, he stores it inside the first drawer of his desk; he doesn't want to risk getting it in the wash.