AN: So, it's FloraOne's birthday, you guys, which means it's time for another installment of UglyGreenJacket Writes FloraOne a Birthday Fic. This will be a multi-chapter little piece that I think will end up being a lot of fun, so let me know what you think of this prologue, and go wish Flora a happy birthday! She's the best, I have her to thank for this, and most other things, too ;) Happy birthday, love! I hope you enjoy this, and I'm grateful you were born!
oOo
Usagi sighed in frustration, plopping down into her reserved seat aboard the Hikari 27 shinkansen, bound for Tokyo, immediately placing her head against the window, her eyes closing wearily.
It was early. Ungodly early. And she was cursing herself for waiting so long to make her reservation, leaving the 6 am train back to Tokyo as her only option.
Why did they even run trains this early, anyway? It's not as if people could truly function at a time like this.
Her compartment, car number 14, was filled with Japanese and foreigners alike as she heard at least three different languages going on around her, only one of which she actually understood, while people looked for their seats, and pushed luggage up above in the small storage spaces.
She had only managed to make the train because of Makoto's help, and the small flash of annoyance Usagi felt at being awakened at such an hour abated into a soft smile at the thought of her friend.
Sweet, motherly, wonderful Makoto had moved to Osaka two years back in order to get in on the ever-burgeoning culinary scene. She had spent time as a pastry chef in a Michelin three-star restaurant, and had finally saved, and earned enough notoriety, to realize her dream of opening her own bakery.
Of course, the second Usagi had heard about her beloved Mako-chan's bakery opening, she had dropped everything, opting to spend two weeks in Osaka helping Makoto in any possible way she could.
She had dubbed herself Official Taste-Tester, which of course, Usagi excelled at beyond even her own wildest dreams, thanks to Makoto's amazing creations, but she'd even become fairly adept at working the register by the time her two weeks were up, and she decided that, if her career as a freelance social media expert ever came to a screeching halt, that working for Makoto wouldn't be the worst idea she'd ever had.
Usagi was especially grateful for the line of work she'd ended up in, however. It was fun and exciting, and her creative side got the spotlight her mother always claimed it should have. And being freelance, she could work when she wanted or needed, and it was easy to create posts for Instagram and Facebook ahead of time, allowing her to schedule weeks of work in advance, freeing up her schedule so she could spend as much time with her loved ones as she could, or, in this case, jetting off to Osaka for two weeks in order to help one of her dearest friends open their bakery.
Plus, it didn't hurt that she was damn good at what she did, supporting a hefty portfolio of clients across Japan who all clamored for ideas and content from Tsukino Usagi.
Usagi loved her life. Loved her job, her family, her friends. She was content, and happy, and very few things could bring her down.
Except the shrill sound of an alarm at 5 am.
Of course, Makoto had been up even earlier than Usagi, preparing what was bound to be the most amazing bento ever created (if Usagi could find the strength to eat it being so tired) (who was she kidding, of course she'd eat it.) And Usagi could barely suppress grateful tears, engulfing the brunette in a giant hug, when Makoto handed it to her in a brand new, and absolutely adorable, bento box, decorated with the most adorable little bunny she'd ever seen, a thank you for helping her these past two weeks.
She was surrounded by crowds of people whizzing by her and running from one platform to the next, when she stopped to hug Makoto goodbye, and Usagi found herself being struck with that familiar sense of awe at the hustle and bustle of Japan's train stations, especially this early in the morning.
But now, she sat curled up in her seat, actually having been on time to the train for once, her head finding the most comfortable position it could against a cold, hard window, as she prepared to sleep the entire way to Shinagawa Station.
There was some rustling off to her right, as someone struggled to fit their luggage into the bins overhead, and she heard a small, but deep, 'oof,' as whomever it was pushed back from the brute force of their own pushing.
Usagi opened an eye angrily, huffing in annoyance, prepared to give the person the best stink eye she could possibly muster.
But the sight that greeted her made her breath catch.
A man was scooting towards the middle seat. The seat right next to her. But this wasn't just any man.
He was tall and slim, with inky black hair that fell softly into his face as he moved. Impeccably dressed, with form fitting black jeans and black turtleneck under a knit grey sweater, topped off with a knotted plaid scarf that hung loose around his neck. The sleeves of his sweater were pushed up slightly revealing muscled arms that looked like they were made to hold someone.
And his eyes. God, his eyes! The deepest color blue you could ever imagine!
But how was it she could see the color of his eyes so well, unless…
Usagi flushed beat red, her eyes darting to the seat back in front of her, complete embarrassment flooding her at having been caught openly staring at the most beautiful man she'd ever seen.
After a few moments, she dared a peek at him from the corner of her eye, expecting him to be blushing and flustered similarly. But instead, she was almost certain there was a satisfied smirk on his face.
The nerve of this Ridiculously Hot Train Guy was really something, she thought to herself, seething silently at the satisfaction he got from her ogling.
She felt the train jolt to life as they started to move swiftly away from Shin-Osaka.
Ah, what the hell, she thought, reaching into her bag to pull out the bento Makoto had made for her. She risked a glance in her seat partner's direction, finding him already absorbed in some boring looking article. It's not like I'm going to get any sleep now, anyway.
