Title: Passive Aggressive

Author: sllebswap

Characters/Pairing: Kinokuni Nene and Kuga Terunori

Type: OneShot/Drabble Collection (InComplete)

Genre: Romance/General/Humor

Word Count: 5317

Rating: T (Contains content not suitable for children)

Disclaimer: Shokugeki no Souma belongs to Tsukuda-san.

Summary: She's a classic A-type; perfectionist, overly fastidious and anal-retentive. He's the O-type; cocky, devil-may-care and somewhat irresponsible. She thinks he's a vertically challenged delinquent who needs to grow up in all meanings of the word. He thinks she's a nag with a perpetual chip on her shoulder and zero sense of humor. They clearly rub each other up in all the wrong ways…so who decided that this would be a good idea, again?

Verse: Canon Divergent AU

Chapter Last Revised on: 03/03/18

You, again

For him, it was out of a sense of jaded boredom.

He was usually the life of the party (self-proclaimed), the one who never suffered from any lack of company, the one always taking center stage no matter where he went, confidence exuding in his cocky saunter, a faintly, taunting devil-may-care smirk sitting on his sharp features. Maybe it was the fact that he was the only child – the only son – of a considerably well to do family that had very much rejoiced over and doted on his very existence, but he had practically been spoilt rotten from the moment he was born, and other than for a few unexpected speedbumps heading his way every now and then, he was more or less quite successful in his endeavors, and he led a charmed, privileged life generally doing whatever he wanted and going wherever he pleased.

Though constantly winning at life could be burdensome too, it seemed. Taking over the family business managing the successful chain of restaurants, planning ambitious expansions both locally and overseas while also constantly making sure that the standards of all the establishments remained of impeccable quality and under stringent control – now that was work that had no end. He still did well enough – working hard and playing even harder was his basic approach to dealing with his responsibilities, and for the most parts, it worked out.

In fact, sometimes they worked out too well. These days, the faces of a string of girlfriends that had come and gone were starting to blur together, rousing, post work socializing in the evenings followed by intense hangovers in the mornings had become an acceptable routine, and he also couldn't quite remember the last time he saw his parents.

Nevermind.

So maybe he needed to work on managing his life better.

Riding on an abrupt wave of revelation, he was determined to do just that, at least until his whims changed again, whenever it happened. That evening was the first in a long series of evenings where he had declined an invitation to a wild night out. That was not to say that he was quitting cold turkey, however. He still had a taste for that sharp bite of alcohol after a hard day's work. He still could not abide complete solitude in the evenings and preferred to avoid it if possible.

So he found himself driving aimlessly around until he found a random hole in the wall place, nowhere near his preferred hangouts, and out of the way enough that it was unlikely that he would run into any of his usual acquaintances. It was also a lot quieter than the clubs, but not enough that he could not be distracted from his ennui by the other patrons around him.

Lately, he had developed a newfound appreciation for Korean alcohol; soju and makgeolli went surprisingly well with Chinese spicy dishes as well as Sze Chuan snack foods like congyoubing and dandanmian. There he was at the bar counter minding his own business; nursing his poison of choice and musing on the possibility of infusing Korean spirits with sino-fusion dishes, when his wandering gaze fell upon an unlikely ghost of his past.

Huh.

For her, it was out of an empowering, desperate sense of rebellion.

Born to a prestigious and ancient, established clan of Japan, she had practically been raised and groomed from birth to be the perfect child befitting of her station and bloodline.

There was a special term used to describe women like her.

Yamato nadeshiko.

The delicate carnation. The traditional daughter. The ideal Japanese noble lady.

Dutiful. Dignified. Dedicated.

Loyal. Humble. Well-behaved.

There was nothing that she could not do. Chado. Ikebana. Shodo. Kyomai. Even the ethnic defensive arts native to Japan, such as judo, as well as the naginatajutsu, she was well versed in them all. Her seemingly effortless accomplishments had long since been paid for by a toll of pain, sweat and tears in her younger years, but such was only the least expected of her.

To be able to endure with grace is the virtue of a lady.

…She had been enduring for a very long time, however.

It was no wonder that now, at the age of twenty-five, all the layers of painstaking, flawless achievements that she had carefully cultivated one by one over herself like pieces of armor were crumbling, lying in shattered remnants at her feet, herself an exposed, ugly mess. A fraud.

It had taken her a long time to get around to finally admitting it even just to herself, but her life was a disaster. She was a disgrace, a failure.

An unfilial daughter. An unwanted wife.

What yamato nadeshiko?

In her single-minded pursuit for a respectable existence, she had chosen to turn a blind eye to many things over the years, passively forsaking them all without protests. Her husband had never quite gotten around to forgiving her for not being strong enough back then, for capitulating to the combined pressures of their families that had eventually led to this sorry outcome. She could not entirely fault his resentment – seven years of their lives that they would never get back again, gone down the drain and wasted on an empty marital union that had been in-name only, forced into reality by the ambitions of their clans. Her family was bitterly disappointed in her for besmirching their reputation, for not being good enough to hold onto the husband that had never even been hers to have in the first place, for not being able to even contribute to the longevity and bloodline of her clan by way of mothering offspring.

It felt like she was never enough, no matter what she did, no matter how much she tried.

The recent rumors had turned her into the latest tantalizing topic for gossip and ridicule amongst her peers, and truthfully, her pride had smarted more than her heart. Her estranged spouse and her shared a…conflicted relationship that was not exactly hatred…but it also wasn't love. At least, not the kind of love that could reasonably sustain a marriage, at any rate. The frigid, derisive reception from her family members had made her ache more, to be honest, but at this point, she was just tired. What had she even been striving so hard for, when all those who were supposed to be central to her life were also so quick to abandon her?

So be it, then. If they didn't want her, then she did not need them, either. She should not be restricted or restrained by them anymore; she should be free to do whatever she wanted, whatever made her happy.

Only that there was a problem.

She could no longer identify what made her happy.

The realization was disconcerting. The implications downright terrifying.

For how long had she been this unhappy…?

…Well. Not anymore. She wasn't content to be passive anymore, she concluded logically. At this point, it didn't feel like she had anything more to lose…so why not just…try? And once that idea took root, like a lighted match that was suddenly flaring brightly with flame, she was abruptly resolved to committing to her new way of life. It was a strangely pleasing, empowering decision. Even though common sense and natural reservations cautioned against such uncharacteristic recklessness, she was drunk off of this renewed sense of purpose. She had no idea what she was doing either, but that was okay. Still better than drifting around forlornly in a lost, shameful limbo.

What's the worst that could possibly happen?

In the aftermath, their reactions were quite…anticlimactic, all things considering.

He woke up in his bed the next morning.

She woke up in his bed the next morning.

He was vaguely hungover and disgruntled.

She was already second guessing her new life choices and trying not to look like she was immensely bothered by the fact that she had woken up in a bed that was not her own, complete with a sleeping companion that was most assuredly not a member of her family.

They were both still fully clothed. Obviously nothing untoward had happened. That still hadn't stopped her from instinctively, automatically, kicking him out of bed the moment he rolled over and finally remembered that he hadn't exactly gone home alone last night.

His reaction was almost funny on his way flailing down, limbs tangled in sheets as he went over the edge with a loud thump; how his cognac eyes abruptly widened with the understanding that his fuzzy recollections from last night had been no figment of imagination.

"What the hell? Kinokuni!"

The insufferable woman had not only booted him out of his own bed (much to his disbelief) but she had also unceremoniously ejected him out of his own bedroom. He was still a bit bewildered as to how that had happened but attempting to figure it out had not improved his sour mood any. This woman was clearly still every bit as disagreeable and as difficult as back when they were still students in Tootsuki those many years ago, he could not help but conclude. And to think that he had actually gone out of his way to help her out last evening, too.

Being a Good Samaritan no longer paid off, he thought disgruntledly, at the same time running agitated fingers through his sleep tousled hair. Slouching on the couch in his living room, he waited for the woman to come out. He had some questions for her; it had been a few years since their paths last crossed, not to mention he had every right to be curious after finding her in a less than impeccable state last night.

Kuga Terunori was very curious, indeed.

It didn't take long for her to emerge from the barricaded bedroom. She had done her best to wash up and recompose herself, and even though her shirt and slacks were hopelessly creased and rumpled from sleeping in it, she still carried herself with an air of reserved dignity as if she was draped in the flawless silk of the most exquisite kimono ever made. It was a demeanor most fitting for a member of the Kinokuni clan, Terunori silently observed in a decidedly unimpressed manner. Before he could offer any scathing commentary, however, she spoke first.

It chafed her something fierce to have to run into Kuga now of all people, when she had hit rock bottom in life and everything was such an unsightly mess, but she also could not ignore his role in lending her assistance last night, when he could have just as easily looked away from her personal meltdown and pretended that he had never seen her moment of private distress. She still could not decide which she would have preferred.

Her hands were clasped before her, fingers clenching into each other out of his sight, her shoulders squared, her gaze meeting his with straightforward resolution to do the proper thing.

"Thank you for intervening with my indiscretion last night," she began stiltedly, schooling her features so much they might as well as have been set in stone. Despite her best effort at composure, however, that smug expression that filtered across his face at being thanked by her immediately stirred to life an old but not unfamiliar feeling of juvenile, competitive irritation that she had not experienced for years. Of course, back then it was also this same aggravating male that had annoyed her so; why would it be any different now even when they were both adults with years of non-communication standing between them?

Her ruby eyes narrowed slightly, pink lips pursing with the faintest show of displeasure. "That said, should there be another repeat of this morning's scenario, I will not be held liable for your physical wellbeing or lack thereof."

Terunori snorted. So ridiculously prim and proper as always, he wasn't surprised at all that she was still the same after all this time.

"Tch. Don't flatter yourself. You're not my type and it was a complete pain in the ass wrestling you back here, FYI. And who the hell passes out after only a few cups of sake; are you a kid?"

She drank all weird too, sitting at a bar table all by herself, spine ramrod straight like she was observing a formal tea ceremony in a traditional teahouse in Gion, her posture unyieldingly stiff, exuding visible discomfort and inexperience with her noisy, raucous surroundings. He wondered who in their right mind had let her go off on a night out alone when she clearly wasn't inclined for it. Actually, come to think of it…

"Is your husband aware of your proclivity towards visiting random bars and getting shitfaced there, or is this a sudden midlife crisis sorta thing? We're kinda too young still for you to randomly go off the deep end, ya know." Even he could tell that this sort of exhibited recklessness was unbecoming of her…unless her personality had changed so much over the last seven years or so that she had become an entirely different person. Though he doubted that likelihood. Anal retentive people never changed their deep-rooted behaviors and routines…not unless they suddenly encountered a serious, life shattering event or something.

"Why are you in Tokyo, anyway?"

The Kinokuni clan was based in the old capital of Japan – Kyoto – and Terunori had heard in passing sometime back that Kinokuni had settled there after her marriage, which made sense since her husband's family held deep ties to Kyoto as well. He had not personally attended the wedding, supposedly some high society, fancy schmancy traditional event that he was quite relieved to have missed in due to the fact that he had not been in the country at the time it was being held. But he remembered that she was a married woman, mainly because she had been the first person amongst his Tootsuki peers to be wedded at the young age of eighteen, and also because the groom had also been another fellow Tootsuki alumnus, Isshiki Satoshi.

At his purely innocuous query, the air around them suddenly grew heavier. Her expression grew even blanker, if possible. The frost in her demeanor faded. She was silent for a long while, but when she finally spoke, her voice was so quiet he almost missed the words that left her lips.

"I'm here to settle my divorce."

Oh.

What.

Terunori looked at the woman standing before him, briefly flabbergasted. Of all the things he had expected to hear, this was certainly not it.

Suddenly, her uncharacteristic presence in a bar last night was no longer that surprising. Terunori had nothing whatsoever to do with any of her problems but already he felt like drinking, too. He also felt very put out by the whole situation that he had unwittingly stuck his nose into. This whole morning scene could have been avoided if he had just abandoned that stupid ass resolution of his to live a bit more responsibly and party less. If he had just hit the clubs last night like he usually did, then he wouldn't be dealing with this headache now. Of course, he would have been inundated with an entirely different kind of headache altogether, but at least he would have rightfully deserved that hangover -though that was not the point.

And Kinokuni- Judging by that stubborn lift of her chin and the proud set of her shoulders, she was obviously not looking for any sympathy or pity from him. In fact, he had a niggling feeling that he would be risking another mule kick from her dare he offer any such sentiments.

Hell. Now what?

Before he could figure out something better to say other than the instinctive 'that sucks,' she drifted silently towards the open kitchen of his penthouse studio, obviously about as interested in hearing inane platitudes as he was in giving them. He swiveled his head and watched her over the sleek, gleaming marble counters as she started to open the cupboards and rummage about, though not before uttering a customarily polite expression to excuse her intrusion.

"What are you doing?" he asked at last, vaguely baffled by her random actions. She wasn't planning to commit hara kiri in his kitchen, was she?

She slanted him a glance, just as she filled the electric kettle with water and set it to boil. "I'm making tea."

He was nonplussed by her oddly nonchalant behavior. Tea?

"…You want to make tea, now?"

She turned briefly to him, deadpan. "Tea is a customary beverage in Japan," she intoned in that annoyingly dull, blasé way that instantly made him feel irritated with her all over again. So much for sympathy; this woman always rubbed him up the wrong way. "I'll prepare breakfast too; consider it repayment for your hospitality." Since he did not turn down her offer, she pulled open the fridge and started to sort through the stuff in there. The compartments were actually quite bare since he usually took his meals either outside or at one of his restaurants, but there were still enough ingredients sitting around for her to improvise and rustle up a simple meal. Most importantly, it provided her something productive to do, at least for a little while.

Terunori didn't understand women…and he most especially had never understood this very strange one currently taking over his kitchen. He scratched his head, and then he shrugged mentally. Whatever floats her boat; at least she wasn't hysterical or falling apart…though he had a hard time picturing her losing her composure to that extent in the first place. She had always reminded him of a rock. A rock that was very annoying sometimes, but that was not the main point right now.

Oh well. With any luck, this strange reunion would be over very shortly and they would both go back to their own lives minding their own businesses.

Despite his wishful thinking, the strange reunion did not end very shortly…nor did it seem like it would be ending anytime soon, much to his eventual displeasure. While she was holding his kitchen hostage, he had wandered off to wash up and by the time he returned, she had somehow managed to pull off a proper breakfast; fragrant, fluffy short grained rice, a gently steaming bowl of miso soup, salmon steak grilled to perfection and plated with a simple, subtle elegance. There were even a couple of side dishes like pickled vegetables (he hadn't even realized that he had pickled vegetables stashed somewhere in his kitchen) and a beautifully rendered serving of tamagoyaki, complimented with a warm cup of ocha and a small saucer of cut mandarins for dessert.

He wasn't entirely surprised by her speed and apparent ease in whipping up a harmonious, kaiseki-class meal; she hailed from an incredibly old, established clan that was well known for their intricate hospitality as well as a source of traditional heritage and national pride for Japan. He wasn't too sure why she was pulling out all the stops right now to display her skills, but then perhaps she was really attempting to demonstrate her gratitude to him. So he kept his opinions to himself, ate silently and savored the delicate, well-balanced flavors that spread over his palate with each bite of food, and sitting across the table from him, she partook in the meal too.

The almost amicable silence did not last long though, because Nene had been silently trying to figure out how to say what she had to say next. Mustering her resolve and swallowing her pride in order to do so was almost enough to send a grimace crawling over her flat expression – so reluctant was she – but it wasn't as if she had many options left to consider at this point.

Whether she wished to admit it or not, running into Kuga Terunori last evening had been an unexpected stroke of good luck on her end, and one that she could ill afford to let slip.

She had no appetite at the moment, but still she made herself swallow every bite of food on her tray, too well bred to do otherwise. It was only when the last grain of rice had been consumed that she set her chopstick down on their ceramic placeholder, and there was a graceful, almost bird-like delicacy in the turn of her slender wrist, her movement precise yet wistfully elegant. She folded her hands over her lap and gave him her full attention. She looked very, very serious, and he glanced blankly back at her, wondering what she was up to now.

"I need help," she uttered abruptly, because to do so any other way would feel too much like losing control…and she was tired of not having any handle over her own life. At least in this, she had a choice. A limited one, per se. But it was still a start.

She did not look away or cut her gaze away from his surprised ones.

"I need a place to stay while I'm dealing with my…obligations," she continued as steadily as she could, even when she was a mass of nerves inside.

"Let me impose on you for a while."

She had to be kidding.

"Are you kidding?" he blurted out after gawking at her in surprise for a few seconds, but much to his dismay, she was as serious as a heart attack.

She took her cup of tea and sipped serenely from it. The way her fingers tightly grasped the glazed clayware belied her tranquil demeanor. But Nene made herself slowly savor and swallow the fragrant brew, taking comfort in the familiar, soothing warmth of the drink before she allowed herself to speak again. Her tone was flat, dull as she responded, no hint of pleading whatsoever, just emotionlessly factual, as if she was reciting words from a textbook or something to that effect, rather than earnestly imploring for help.

"I've got nowhere else to turn to. My family is emphatically against the divorce and will have nothing to do with me. If you refuse to aid me, I shall have to resort to living in the streets until I figure out another alternative."

His eyelid twitched at her bland and completely unsubtle attempt at guilt tripping. This woman; she wasn't even pretending to hide what she was doing.

"You're exaggerating."

She leveled a flat look at him. "I've been frozen out of my accounts by the family attorneys. I have no funds and no place to stay. I would not impose on you thusly if I had any other choice." She had already hit rock bottom as far as she was concerned- there was no reason not to be honest now.

"What about Isshiki? Can't you impose on him instead?"

Her sober, pokerfaced expression did not change, but there was something in the way she was looking at him that wordlessly indicated that she thought him dull witted. He narrowed his eyes at her.

"I won't have anything to do with him until all the proceedings have been finalized."

Terunori just stared at her for the longest time. Those two had always had some tension between them even way back when they were still in Tootsuki. Granted, the marriage seemed to be largely political in nature, but Isshiki was a decent (if not just downright eccentric) guy. Kinokuni could have done a lot worse when it came to choice of spouse.

"You hate the guy that much?"

It seemed that Kuga wasn't going to commit to any decision until she had satisfied his curiosity. A part of her bristled at his almost rude and intrusive inquisitiveness for how they chafed against the rawness of her turbulent emotions right now, but the rest of her settled reluctantly in resignation. At least he wasn't derisive or inquiring for the sake of belittling her, or to deliberately rub her failures in her face.

Strange, but even after so many years of non-communication, she found it oddly easy to open up to this old schoolmate of hers, much more so than even to her own family members or those people whom she met on a more frequent basis. Perhaps it was because Terunori was so far removed from her life that he could almost be considered a stranger by now, and so it was easier to treat him as such and speak to him without that pressing anxiety of having to bear his silent judgment…because at this point, she really did not care too much what he thought, anyway.

He had already seen her at her worst last night – this was nothing.

Besides, Kuga was known for being forthright and openly vocal about his opinions and impressions…to the point of being brashly annoying because he had always been so noisy for as far as she had known him. Stranger still, but that trait of his was effectively easing her usual wariness now.

"…No." Her voice was very quiet. And once again her tone hinted strongly that she did not wish to talk about this any more than she had to.

This time, he heeded her unspoken request and backed off.

"Don't you have other friends? No one else you can turn to?" He was grasping at straws here and they both knew it. Her gaze shuttered.

"My family has a considerably large influence over my life. It's not right to put my friends in the direct path of their displeasure."

"But it's perfectly acceptable if I get caught in the crosshairs instead," Terunori pointed out dryly.

She continued to gaze at him, no flicker of guilt or embarrassment in her eyes.

"You'll survive."

Her confidence was flattering but not unfounded. The realm that the Kinokuni and Isshiki clans presided over was not one that Kuga was directly involved in. He would be largely unaffected by any repercussions should there be any, because he was out of the influence of her family and Satoshi's.

Terunori continued to scrutinize Nene. Then he huffed loudly and ran his fingers through his bicolored hair in agitation.

"Unbelievable," he muttered at last, visibly exasperated. "We haven't seen each other in years and the moment you do, you hit me in the face with this kind of ridiculous request?"

She steeled her spine and made herself maintain eye contact, even when she was fighting mortification and overt embarrassment at his pointed words. She was imposing on him to a near unreasonable degree, she knew. But unyielding pride was the only thing she had left now, and she carefully gathered the tattered remains of her dignity and draped it around her exhausted, weary countenance like it was nothing less than a priceless, exquisite shawl.

"I'll be in your debt," she stated, sounding cool and serene as if she was doing nothing more than commenting on the weather. Yet, there was a tangible weight behind her lofty promise, and he groaned internally at how she was effectively tying his hands behind his back with her passive insistence…just as much as she was tying herself down to abide by her pledge. She was invoking his honor, leaving him no other choice but to answer her thinly veiled demand…and he hated that shit.

He glowered silently at her. What an unreasonable woman.

"I see that you're still doing that thing again where you're just pretending to be humbly seeking permission but getting your way all the same," he accused peevishly.

She stared calmly at him across the table, not denying his words. Terunori was growing increasingly tempted to kick her out of his place just for that alone – people like her from high society were always underhanded and manipulative as hell – but her white-knuckled grip on her cup (that she still hadn't let go off, he could not help but notice) belied her actual state of mind…and desperation.

Terunori's eye twitched. He didn't want to get involved in this mess at all, but she had nowhere else to go. Obviously something had to give. He glowered harder at his cup. At last, he jerked his sharp tawny gaze up to meet her ruby one.

"Damn right you owe me hella lot, woman. And don't think I won't come back around to collect my pound of flesh when all this is over," he barked at last, inwardly grumbling at his own stupid gullibility and general inability to ignore an acquaintance in need. He was no staunch crusader for public justice (he had better things to do, thank you very much) but apparently putting the gently-bred Kinokuni out to wander on the streets of Tokyo was too harsh even for his standards. If last night had been an enlightening example of her level of experience and self-restraint when set loose in the world, she obviously would not survive even one night out on the streets.

The relief that flooded her at his reluctant admission was almost crippling, and Nene slowly let out the breath that she had not even known that she had been holding in her lungs all this while. Keeping a rigid, icy grip on her fraying composure, she gracefully inclined her head at him. She would rather break than let him see how brittle and on edge she was right now.

"Thank you."

He still really wanted to be cross some more, but she had directed those rare, genuine words of quiet gratitude to him, so now he was just going to look petty if he kept at it. That was a perfectly good sulk down the drain, thanks to her.

"Why can't you get a divorce one month later? At least then Rindou or Tsukassan would be back in Tokyo and you can be their problem instead," he grumbled aloud instead, and her porcelain expression flickered with interest at those nostalgically familiar names, pointedly ignoring his disgruntlement.

"You're still in contact with Rindou-senpai and Tsukasa-senpai?"

He rolled his eyes.

"Yes, though not entirely out of choice because the ridiculous one out of that pair is always spamming me with messages regarding the going ons in their crazy household."

It was unfortunate that the couple in question had just taken off to South Africa, of all places. With how fond Rindou had once been of Kinokuni, Terunori was very sure that she would have been all too happy to take up the younger woman's cause. The bicolored haired male thought that maybe he could still try to foist her off on Rindou when the Tsukasa family returned from their trip. Maybe he should fire off a message later and test out his idea…

Nene's gaze flickered at the mention of her Tootsuki senpai. Returning to Kyoto to become the dutiful daughter-in-law of the Isshiki clan had not afforded her much freedom and time to cultivate other platonic relationships beyond those which directly benefitted her family. Just as with Kuga, it had been quite some time since she had seen Rindou-senpai…or even Tsukasa-senpai.

Yet another relatively simple, normal thing that she had failed at in her long list of failures…but she willfully ignored that for now. Being confronted with all of her inadequacies for the past few months had made her feel tired and upset with herself, but the stages for denial and self-pity had long since come and gone. In their place, a simmering sensation was starting to smother and burn in the pit of her stomach, and it was a quietly ferocious feeling that she recognized as fury. Fury not at other people, but mostly at herself for letting her life fall into such a deplorable state. This was no one else's fault but her own.

She stared unseeingly at the rim of her cup for the longest time, at least until Kuga spoke up again, this time sounding extremely displeased and unenthusiastic.

"Aw hell. I'm gonna be sleeping on the couch for the foreseeable future now, aren't I?"

::tsuzuku::

Questions That I Would Like To Answer Before You Ask:

…Once again, I've consigned myself to crack!ship hell. I've got one or two people I have to thank for this (haha), but I've largely resigned myself to this fate by now. So welcome to my latest act of idiocy, I hope you enjoy!

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Passive Aggressive is something of a Peerless!spinoff, so yes, it occurs within the Peerless!verse and timeline. However, this series can also be regarded as a standalone as its plot is unrelated from that of Peerless. That said, you may expect some random cameo appearances from the various Peerless!characters and pairings, though I can't promise when and where. :)

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This is a pilot/test chapter, and I'm still slowly making my way into the characters' headspaces, haha. There's something about Nene and Terunori's passive-aggressive/semi-antagonistic canon relationship that I find really amusing and would like to explore more of, and that which had basically spawned this whole circus, actually.

And what do you guys think? Like, dislike? Do let me know!

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Characters' ages in this installment:

Kuga Terunori: 25 y.o.
Kinokuni Nene: 25 y.o.

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Your reviews make me update faster; so please leave a comment if you like this fic!

-sllebswap