In Lieu of Waiting
04:00 – Rebun Island – The Day of the RDC Final
"I don't want to wait any more."
Yukihira glances up at her, and for a moment she's taken by the weariness in his face, the depth of the circles beneath his eyes. They've been shouting at each other for hours now, caught in a frenzy of passionate arguing, frenzied cooking, and the occasional 'moderated' session with one of their many friends and helpers. She can't deny that a part of her – a small part, had hoped for this outcome, that it would be her at the end with Yukihira by her side, partners in battle and and in victory.
The other part of her thinks she's made a terrible mistake – that it should be Megishima by her side, or Ishiiki, or someone else. Anyone but the thick-headed son of her idol.
She's been drifting through both trains of thought all night – happy to be with him, and angry he won't see her side. So when he raises a dark red brow, all quizzical confusion and half-asleep denseness, she can't help but to respond with an irascible grunt. "Forget it," She snaps.
"Just tell me." Yukihira meanders over to her, quietly nudging a cup in her direction. Hisako had left them hours ago with over twenty choices of herbal tea, and she suspects he's been nursing one to stay awake since they'd left the competition hall. "Look, Nakiri, we're in this together whether you like it or not. Those are my friends out there too, same as you." He sits on the stool opposite her workstation, then looks up at her with a sternness she's not used to – least of all in his face. "Tell me."
The teacup warms her hands. She lets out a long sigh, and can't help but to slump forward over the cool steel, elbows and forearms at rest. She's used to looking down at Yukihira, so it surprises her a little, just how much warmer his amber eyes are when level with her own.
"I'm tired of waiting. It's exhausting. One moment I'm fired up and ready to fight my father, and the next I wonder – what if? What if I'm not ready, and what if I'm making a big mistake?" Something in her tenses up, and she has to physically bite down the torrent of emotions and memories that threaten to spill forth. Not now, Nakiri. "I want to go now, when I'm not afraid, when it seems possible that we could do this after all." She grits her teeth. "When I don't hate you and actually want to work with you."
He gives her an exasperated look. "And you think you'll hate me in the morning?"
"With you, it's a fine line."
"God, Nakiri, you really are something." Despite the severity of her words, Yukihira manages a laugh. She envies that. His ability to make light of things that could otherwise cage her for weeks. But when he smiles at her, it's soft – even a little understanding. "I don't know what you've been through, y'know – and it's terrible, I'm sure. We all have baggage. But we gotta keep on going, yeah? I promise I'll be there by your side, whether you hate me or whether you want me around. I'll be there."
She rolls her eyes. "Way to go trivialising my fears, dickhead."
He grins, and reaches out to her. For a moment, she wonders about his motives – but then he seems to think better of whatever he'd been thinking of doing, and drops his hands once more. "I'm not trivialising anything. I'm just saying you're the strongest cook in this room right now, and I have faith in you. So if anger helps – use it. Use your anger and hate to beat your father." His eyes gleam. "To beat me."
It's not much of a consolation, she knows. But, as he takes a sip of his tea, eyes never once leaving her own, she understands one thing: It'll have to be enough.