Her apartment complex is huge.
A million other thoughts are racing through his mind as he's standing there, but that one dominates, and he just stands there, bags and all, wondering if he should go through with seeing her before he even moves into the temple that his father's friend runs in Azabujuban. But he's not about to lie to himself, so he makes a little prayer, and pushes the button for her apartment number.
"Yes?" he hears her voice clear through the speakers and he wonders whether his brain has filtered the usual excess sound, or nice apartment buildings just have really nice communication systems.
"It's me," he says, and he feels like an idiot. "Kanata," he adds just in case, already half-way regretting his actions.
"Kanata?" she repeats in a tone he can't quite pinpoint. At this point, he can feel his heart racing more than he would ever like to admit. There is a pause and then he hears, "I'm coming right down."
Her voice sounds kind of cheery, but he can't be sure, so he's just standing there waiting and hoping that three years is not too long, and fourteen years old is not too young. The security guard is giving him this curious look that he's doing his best to ignore, but at least, he thinks, he's not particularly suspicious.
There is the sound of footsteps not long later, and soon he is face to face with the focal point of his thoughts for the last three years. He doesn't know what to say, and he's pretty sure she doesn't know what to say either, by the way she's looking at him.
She's gotten taller, something which he should have expected. But thanks to his own growth spurt, he's almost 180cm, and she is only a little taller than his shoulders. Her once long blonde hair has been cut shoulder length, though the bangs have remained, albeit swept to the side. Her warm eyes are even greener than he has remembered them, which is just ridiculous, and she's dressed in pink plaid shorts and a plain white t-shirt. He smiles upon seeing her outfit, because at least some things don't change.
"Long time no see," he finally manages to say.
A rush of emotions seems to fly by on her face, but she doesn't flush or even move. "Kanata," she says again, before falling into silence. And then she smiles, and he wonders how he could have lived without that expression for three years.
She finally moves toward him, and he's not sure how to react, so he just stands there with what he's sure is a stupidly silly expression on his face. Then she hugs him, and he can feel her soft warmth so easily, and despite a momentary startled freeze, he manages to wrap his arms around her and for a good ten or twenty seconds, his life is perfect.
Easily the best surprise of his life ends abruptly as she releases him, and he's loathe to let her go, but reluctantly does, letting his hands fall to his sides just inches away from hers.
"Sorry," she blushes and explains, "just kind of became used to hugging in America and..."
"Don't," he says. "I was happy," and he can just feel the heat on his cheeks. Great, it's like he's thirteen all over again.
She just smiles and says, "You should come up," before walking away from him, apparently expecting him to follow.
"Your apartment is huge," he says upon being given the full tour. In addition to the overall spaciousness, ceiling to floor windows line an entire wall of the living room, allowing the weak evening light to reflect upon the polished wooden floor, and ornate looking lamps hang everywhere.
"My apartment has good security," she corrects him. "How else would my parents let me stay here by myself?"
He raises an eyebrow. "Your parents?"
She doesn't even flush. "Okay, fine, how else would I bother living on my own?"
Her common sense is still the same as usual, he thinks with more than a little relief, and he just settles onto the floor with an "ah" as a reply, leaning back against the couch and nursing the drink that she offered him earlier. His bags are in the corner, and he's trying to forget about them, because there's just something so strange about bringing them here in the first place, even if visiting her had been his first priority.
"So, how long are you staying?" she asks him, face in her hands, half lying on the new-looking polished wooden table in front of them. Her drink lies centimetres in front of her, but she has yet to touch it.
"I transferred," he says, still unsure how to tell her that he had basically followed her here.
"Where?"
"To your school," he says, and she knocks over her cup accidentally in surprise. He expects the water to spill everywhere, but thanks to Miu's reflexes, it is quickly contained and cleaned up in less than a minute. Towel still in hand, she meets his eyes and begins to open her mouth.
He's pretty sure she's going to ask why next, the answer to which he's rehearsed about a hundred times in his head.
"Oh," she says instead and he sees a familiar red flush on her cheeks that gives him so much hope it should be illegal.
"Yeah," he says unintelligently, and he can feel his own face warm to exactly match the colour on hers.
He thinks they are done with all the questions, when she suddenly blurts out "Are you serious?" and he's not sure how to respond.
"You left Oji-san at the temple?" she asks incredulously when he doesn't say anything.
He can feel his irritation prick up at the words. "I didn't leave him. He told me to go."
"And you just did?" she asks, as if this is something extremely out of character. Which he supposes, is, but he's not about to admit that she has this much effect on him.
"Why are you saying it like I did something wrong?"
"I'm not-"
"I know I'm a terrible son for leaving my father-"
She immediately softens. "You're a good son," she asserts.
"Then why aren't you accepting the fact that I'm here?!" he exclaims.
"Because you never said anything! You never told me anything! You've never even ever done anything like this!" she almost screams at him, and now he's just angry. Maybe he shouldn't have come here first.
"So it's my fault that we haven't seen each other for years?!"
"After we confessed, you didn't say anything! You didn't do anything! I might have well just imagined it!" she yells at him.
"I responded to everything!" he replies indignantly. "What more could you have wanted?!"
She just deflates then, and he's not quite sure what he's done wrong, but he's positive he's done something, but he's too terrified to touch her. "Miyu..."
"I just feel like I'm more invested in this than you are," she says, smoothing the towel out on her lap, and he can see the tears in her eyes.
"That's not-" he tries to interrupt.
"I always send you letters first. Always email first. Always call first, except for on my birthday. You never video call me or send me pictures either. It's not like I expect you to go around saying 'I love you' or anything, but I need a little more than "yeah, I'm doing fine" as a response," she blurts out. There is a brief silence before she mumbles,"Maybe we're just not going to work out."
At those words, his entire body freezes, and before he can even think, his mouth is saying, "You're being an idiot."
She's basically crying now, and while they both know he's weak to these sort of things, it's far more genuine than he would like to admit, though he still hears the biting response of, "that's reassuring" clearly.
At this point, he's screwing his pride and just taking the honest route. "I missed you, okay?!" he exclaims loudly.
She's looking at him with those huge sad green eyes of hers like she doesn't believe him, and that, more than anything grates at him.
"It's like I've become a zombie or something. Nothing's really fun or interesting anymore, and I can't stand anyone except for you and the guys to touch me. Which is stupid right? But even Hanakomachi doesn't scare me anymore. Oyaji sent me here because I was too stubborn to come after you myself, and I just..." he doesn't really know how to end this long confession, but he feels more tired than embarrassed, and he finds himself just staring at her, because he doesn't have the energy to do much else, not after a day of traveling.
"Kanata," she says softly, and it feels like it's been ages since anyone but his father has said just his name, and on her voice it's somehow beautiful. He's obviously becoming delusional to get to the point where he's willing to admit this.
She's approaching his side of the table, and he's too tired to move and tells her so. "I understand," she says with a gentle smile, "but I think we should get you to bed." Then she basically hoists him up, and he wonders whether she was always this strong, and she half-guides, half-drags him to her bedroom despite his claim to the couch.
"We'll talk in the morning," is all he hears before his consciousness fades completely.
He awakens in a huge bed that is not his own, and certainly doesn't look like it belongs in any temple in any time period. It takes him a full minute to realise that this is Miyu's bed that he is resting in, and she's not in it.
His steps to the living room are quiet, but once he gets there, he finds the couch empty and remembers with more than a tinge of embarrassment that she has a guest bedroom. He wonders how strange it would be to check in on her (watch her sleep), but ultimately decides against it, deciding instead to make breakfast instead after changing his clothes with a set in his bags.
So another hour later, after breakfast has been made and all the dishes washed, and she's still not up, he sighs and makes his way over to the guest bedroom again. He knocks twice, though his knowledge of her sleeping habits tells him he's going to do have to do this manually if he doesn't want to scream at her. They're no longer at a temple in the countryside after all, and he somehow doubts that these walls are entirely soundproof. Quietly, he opens the door and makes his way over to her bedside, kneeling on the floor and just watching her sleep for a few long moments before shaking her gently, and then more roughly as she fails to respond.
"Miyu," he says. On his third try, she stirs and rolls over and grabs his sleeve. He's all content to just watch and keep shaking, but a few moments later she yanks his sleeve toward her, the unexpected action catapulting his upper half almost on top of her, though he manages to catch himself by the elbows on the mattress. He lets out a long sigh of relief with his catch until she chooses this moment to wake up, long and thick blonde lashes fluttering at him before reality sinks in for both of them, and she backs up toward the wall behind her, face red, as he throws himself back toward the floor. This cannot go well, he thinks, blush barely fading from his cheeks.
Before she can say anything to him (yell at him), he tells her, "I made breakfast," and escapes out the door back to the kitchen. He can still feel his heart pounding five minutes later as she showers and gets ready, and he can only marvel at the quick 180 his life has made.
Another ten minutes later, Miyu emerges, hair still wet from the shower, dressed in nice-ish looking blouse and a skirt, and his heart, which had managed to slow down just moments earlier, resumes a quicker pace. This girl is clearly going to be the death of him, and yet, he's comfortable, back loosened as he sits at a low table taking small gulps a cup of tea.
"Tea?" he pours another cup and stands to offer it out, and she takes his offer, taking the steaming mug into her two hands and walking back toward the table he had been sitting at and sitting down.
After a few quiet sips, she says, "Sorry about that."
He raises an eyebrow in surprise, having expected to have to defend himself. She catches his reaction and blushes, "I know I can be hard to wake sometimes."
He can't resist teasing her. "Only sometimes?"
"Oh shut up," she replies good-naturedly, before asking, "What's for breakfast?"
"Miso soup, fish, vegetables, and rice," he says, and she claps her hands in delight.
"I haven't had someone make me a Japanese breakfast in a while," she remarks absently. As if she's anticipating his smirk, she adds, "Haven't cooked one either, Kanata."
He's not entirely too surprised, but he's glad they're settling into a rhythm, even if this is really bizarre because it's like they're living together again, when they obviously aren't, even if he forgot to phone Oyaji's friend to tell him he would be by later today.
Halfway through the meal though, she brings up last night's conversation. "I thought about what you said," she says.
He's pretty sure he's said enough to disqualify himself from being indifferent in any way whatsoever, so he just sits there and stares at her in expectation.
"I still need you to communicate more."
Any confidence that he had before falters at her words, and he wonders why he never bothered to respond to her emails with more than-
"Look, I think I can understand you pretty well in person, and you can understand me, but you suck at expressing yourself through other means," she tells him bluntly, and he can't even bother to deny it.
"But I still like you," the admission comes out of nowhere, but at this point it feels like his only defence. He takes consolation in the fact that even though she's heard these words from him before, she still blushes.
"I get it," she says. "But I still think you should have video called me at least once."
"No," he says before thinking.
"Why?" she demands, and he gets this odd feeling that all the things he does that don't make sense all have to do with the blonde that sits in front of him.
He takes a quick breath before looking her directly in the eyes. "I can't stand looking at you and not being there."
She's looking at him like she's never quite seen him before when they both hear a loud hiss and crash, and suddenly they're both staring at what he's pretty sure is an escape pod from a space shuttle.
But this time, instead of a baby, there is a blond little boy in it, and he's holding out what appears to be some sort of mini-projector with an adorable smile that he can barely trust.
"R-uu?" they stutter out in unison.
A/N: And now our cast is here. A warning for the following chapters: since the original series didn't even attempt realism, this fic is also not going to to showcase the most realistic of lives (event-wise).
Also, just in case anyone asks, yes, they had to fight eventually. I quite like the fact that they're not a bickering couple and generally seem to be on the same wavelength, but there was no way that after not seeing each for that long, everything would be perfect.
As much as I'm trying on the fluff end of this, I also want to depict their relationship with some depth, especially since they're one of the few couples that has really stuck with me despite the general lack of on-screen romantic development.
But I will be completely honest with you and admit that I despise this chapter. Cheers!