Chapter 2 — Mika

The first time Mika met Tatara, he'd been standing cluelessly at the cash register of the teahouse, peering past the tables into the rock gardens outside.

"Can I help you?" Mika asked, a wooden tray in her hands. Atop of it was a clay pot of tea. A tendril of steam coiled lazily out of the spout.

"I'd like somewhere to sit," he said, so quietly Mika could barely hear him.

"Well, I can seat you inside at that table over there. Or I can seat you outside on the raised porches of the garden. But you'll have to turn off your cellphone and speak quietly." Mika smiled. "You probably won't have a problem with the latter."

Tatara followed her outside, crossing an arched wooden bridge where koi fish flickered below. Closer to the garden, he heard the rustle of Go pieces and the gentle tak as they made contact with the board. Beyond that, he could see a second rock garden and individual rooms for private tea ceremonies.

Mika stopped at the only empty table and laid the menu down. "Just press this button when you're ready to order. I'll be coming back this way once I've delivered this tray. Will you be by yourself?"

"A friend agreed to meet me here to play Go."

"Then I'll set your table for two. In the meantime, please make yourself comfortable."

She took his order when she came back around. He'd wanted green tea and nothing else, so she went back to the prep station and put two tablespoons of ryokucha leaves into a clay kyushu and poured in water measured at 80 degrees Celsius.

When she went back to Tatara, the water had cooled to 70 degrees, the perfect serving temperature for sencha, although Mika doubted he'd understand the intricacies of its preparation, having said "any green tea" when asked what kind he'd like.

"The Go set is stored under the table," Mika told him. "There are drawers on each side with pieces."

When it neared closing time and Mika was cleaning the last of the tables, she saw him sitting there still, cold tea cup between his hands, staring out at the rock garden. She wanted to tell him there was a compartment in the table he could slide open to reveal a heat pad that would keep his tea warm.

Instead, she said, "I guess your friend didn't come." The cup opposite him was dry and untouched.

"He couldn't make it."

She lowered herself onto the seat across from him. "I can play a round with you if you'd like."

Tatara turned to her slowly, and Mika, really seeing him for the first time, noticed that his eyes were steel grey.

He set the pieces.

Twenty minutes into the game, it was clear who'd won. She'd expected his expression to grow more sullen. Perhaps he'd even get angry. Instead, she was surprised to see a faint smile on his lips.

"Again," he said after he'd admitted defeat.

Mika nodded okay even though she still had to wipe down the kitchen and buy groceries tonight to cook dinner for herself. There was still another pair near them anyway finishing up a round.

And besides — she glanced at him — she felt comfortable around this guy.

What did he say his name was again? Totoro? No, Tatara.

As they both cleared the board, their hands brushed over each other's. Mika felt heat rising in her cheeks and ducked her head a little. She didn't blush prettily. It came in red, uneven patches that looked similar to hives.

Mika looked up to see Tatara staring at her. He seemed puzzled by her reaction.

"Loser goes first," she said.

He placed his first piece down and looked at her again, as if trying to decide whether she was having an allergic reaction.

"Are you okay?" he finally asked.

"I'm fine. Just the pollen in the air..."

It was winter.

He made his next move, and Mika could see his lips twitch as he fought back a smile.

She defeated him soundly, mercilessly in this round, and while Tatara stared at the board, still trying to wrap his head around what'd happened, Mika rose from her seat. "It's closing time. I still have to tidy up the kitchen, so you can stay, but you'll have to settle your bill first."

The other two customers had already gone.

"I'll go back inside with you," Tatara said.

Mika moved to gather the tea ware on his table, but his hand stopped hers.

"No, let me."

She pulled away, feeling the heat rise in her face again. But he didn't seem to notice this time, perhaps too preoccupied with separating the Go pieces and sweeping them back into their drawers.

So Mika walked across the raised porch, slightly angry at herself and completely mortified that a single person had that much of an effect on her.

What was it about him anyway that made her react like this? If that was the way he played Go, then he was dumb as a rock.

Mika stopped herself. Actually, he was quite good. She was just better, having played since childhood. Her father, who loved the game more than he loved life itself, was a national campion himself and taught her everything he knew.

Or maybe it was because he was tall.

Being five-eight and slightly stocky (the "athlete build," her father called it), Mika had a hard time finding a guy who could come to terms with her height when it was all about chibi and kawaii things now. But someone like Tatara with broad shoulders, and who stood an entire head taller than her, probably wouldn't mind she was "too tall" or too... atheletic.

While she was wiping down the counters inside, he came in bearing a wooden tray of his things. He set it down at the table nearest her and drank the rest of his tea, glancing over a copy of the newspaper someone had left behind.

When she'd finished cleaning, Mika called out from behind the register. "Um... I do have to get back home at some point..."

It was ten at night, an hour after closing time.

"Sorry for making you stay late."

"That's okay. I only live three blocks away."

"I'll walk you home," Tatara volunteered.

"That's okay," Mika wanted to say again, but he was already leading the way outside.

A blast of cold air hit them, and she quickly threw on her scarf. In contrast, Tatara was in the same T-shirt and jeans he'd walked in with. It was ten degrees outside and unlike the teahouse garden, there were no stoves and heat lamps warming up the place.

"Aren't you cold?"

"No, my body runs hot."

Mika glanced down at his flip flops.

They settled into a comfortable pace, and Mika, who'd been ill-prepared for the sudden dip in temperature, gathered her thin jacket tightly around herself. At the same time, she huddled closer and closer to Tatara, who did indeed seemed to be able to keep warm even as wave after wave of icy wind washed over them.

"How did you get so good at Go?"

"My father is crazy about the game. When I took my very first step, he celebrated by putting a Go piece in my hand. I've been playing since."

"Care to give me a few pointers next time I come by?"

"Sure. You can sure use them," Mika said, chuckling.

"I'd be offended, but you did beat me pretty badly."

"Twice."

"Oh, so we're keeping score now?"

Mika had been on her feet all day. The teahouse opened at five AM. Her feet had been hurting, but walking and talking with him, the pain had mysteriously passed, as though he possessed some kind of healing aura that cured anyone within his personal space.

By the time they were on block number three, she was pressed close against him, shivering.

"This is me," Mika said at the foot of her apartment complex, and turned to look up at him. "Thanks for walking me home."

Against a dark backdrop, she saw the first snow of the season fall in puffs of white. Some of it landed on top of his head, disappearing into his white hair.

He leaned down and kissed her.

Around them, the snowfall grew heavier, illuminated by the streetlights overhead.

When he broke away, he said, "There's no pollen in the winter."

She stared at him, wide-eyed. The heat from his lips had been searing against her ice cold ones.

People like Tatara were the kind Mika envied. They were able to do things without over-thinking it, and that was a talent in itself. Because life, she suddenly realized standing before him, wasn't a turn-based strategy game, and unlike in Go, opponents and opportunities would never give her enough time to make the "right" move.

She leaned into his second kiss.

So maybe it was okay sometimes to let go and just do what felt right, 'Even,' she thought amusedly, 'If it was with a stranger who sucked at Go.'

A/N: I just had a horrible thought: what if underneath that mask, Tatara has fish lips or a huge overbite? Would you guys continue reading this fic? I sure wouldn't haha... (Ishida-sama, please don't screw me over by drawing Tatara disfigured -_- I'd lose the few readers I have).

Anyway, hope you liked this chapter! Next one, we'll see this incident from Tatara's point of view.

Chapter 3 preview: She'd smelled delicious, the aroma of her flesh wafting into his nose in delicate tendrils. It was why he'd stayed past closing time. It was why he'd offered to walk her home. All so he'd have a chance to drag her into a dark corner, snap her spine in two, and feast upon her spasming corpse.