"You're early."
Safu's dark eyes met Shion's purplish ones. He sounded surprised, and Safu's mouth twisted into an involuntary frown. True, they hadn't spoken to or seen each other in a while, but was he really surprised at her punctuality? He knew her better than that.
Safu adjusted her grip on the plate of brownies she held. "I came straight from work."
He nodded, and for a moment they stood staring at each other.
Shion wore a short-sleeved shirt and jeans, and Safu suddenly felt self-conscious in her cobalt pantsuit. Which was ridiculous, because, 1) she knew she looked great in the suit, and 2) Shion probably couldn't care less about what she was wearing.
She had half-expected to find the haggard teen she remembered from West Block. That person had a habit of skipping meals and handing out what he did have to the less fortunate. Some nights she got to worrying about him, about whether he was taking good enough care of himself. But she shouldn't have worried. Shion wasn't a fool, and Renka would never let him grow too negligent.
Shion looked well and reasonably happy now that he wasn't staring wide-eyed at her. He had grown taller, by a few inches at least. His dark hair was shorter, too; less of an unruly mop and more befitting of the man he had grown up to be. She liked it; she could see his eyes better and it lent his face a friendly, open aspect. As if he could get any more friendly or open. Safu pressed her lips together to squash the beginnings of a smile.
He had become an attractive young man, she decided. It wasn't bias, but fact. Safu swept her eyes over his shirt and jeans again. Still thin as ever. Not in the hungry West Block way, though. Just lean. She was satisfied.
"You planning on letting me in anytime soon?" Safu arched an imperious eyebrow. "These brownies are heavier than they look."
The corner of Shion's mouth quirked up and he stepped back from the door to let her in.
Safu craned her head as they walked into the living room. She could hear Renka humming in the kitchen, and the savory scent of curry wafted through the air. Safu's stomach gave an anticipatory gurgle, which she masked by asking, "Does Renka need help?"
"No, she's almost finished. She doesn't like help in the kitchen, anyway. It stresses her out." Shion paused, thoughtful. "Or maybe it's just me."
Safu pursed her lips, but lowered herself onto the couch and set the brownies on the coffee table. Shion poked his head into the kitchen to tell Renka the guests were arriving. There was a faint smile on his lips when he plopped into the armchair across from her. Once, she would have blushed at the undivided attention, but it had been years since her heart sang when he was near.
It had been a while since she and Shion had sat down together, a while since they'd even spoken in any significant way. Restructural Committee matters took up all her time these days.
That first year after the government's collapse there was so much to do, she could hardly leave the office without someone calling about an issue or to ask her opinion on a new proposal. She used to call Shion just to complain about her lack of breathing room.
When the project to tear down the wall was put into motion, Safu didn't even have time to complain. Life became careful talks behind closed doors, press conferences, and weeklong business trips to other city-states.
It was difficult and time consuming, but Safu loved her work. The city needed a lot of improvements, and she liked being the one that proved these things could be done, well and within a reasonable timeframe. Her opinions didn't always make her the most popular woman on the Committee, but that was fine. Ruffling feathers was part of the job description. She was respected, powerful, and confident. For a former West Block resident, she was doing incredibly well for herself.
But it hit her now how much she had missed Shion.
He had grown, certainly, but in essence he hardly differed from her memories. There were the gentle eyes, the faint smile, the aura of kindness. Time had preserved the best of him.
Did she appear changed to him as well? Or did he still see the awkward, besotted girl he had spent his childhood with? It had been a long time since she had felt so unbalanced.
Shion stared at her, and there was something expectant or hesitant about it. Safu felt like she should say something, but she didn't know what.
I guess that hasn't changed.
"Your hair," Shion said at last. His eyes flitted across her face. "It's so long now."
"Oh. Yeah." She brushed her hair back behind her ears and away from the collar of her blazer.
"It looks good on you. The suit, too. Very professional."
They shared a smile, and the air in the room seemed a little less dense.
"So, how are you these days?" Safu asked.
"Good. You?"
"Fine. Busy. Things at the Committee are…" Safu's brow creased. "To tell the truth, it's a nightmare. No one can agree on anything. Despite all the progress we've made, people are still acting so—" She paused, searching for a diplomatic adjective. "Backwards," she decided.
They might've toppled the former regime and ousted the most corrupt of the No. 6 officials, but the men and women who stepped up to take their places were far from impartial. They talked about improving the conditions in West Block, they waxed romantic about unity and justice and all the changes they planned to make for a better world, but Safu saw them for what they were: liars.
They could smile and spew their paper promises all they wanted, but she caught every twitch, every careful pause, and she saw the way they looked at her and the other West Block representatives.
Safu sighed. "I really needed this dinner." She leaned back against the couch and peered at him. "I've missed you."
Shion released a quiet breath. "I've missed you, too. It's been a while."
He grinned and Safu's throat constricted. All it took was those few words to make the world feel balanced again.
"Too long," she agreed. "God, it's been terrible. I used to wish you'd join the Committee—they could use someone levelheaded, someone in addition to me, I mean. So many of the No. 6 members are egocentric pigs—but now I'm glad you never got sucked into this mess."
"You've been making a lot of progress, though. Every time I talk with someone about the changes, they praise the Restructural Committee. And I'm sure a lot of the more progressive incentives are your doing."
"Yes, I know. It's just getting from point A to point B that's the headache. It's… People are still thinking like the wall's up. Just yesterday I saw a woman tell her daughter not to talk to kids from 'outside.' " Safu rolled her eyes. "It's things like that. The wall's been gone for two years, why are we still differentiating between 'insiders' and 'outsiders?' "
Shion smiled sympathetically. Comparatively speaking, No. 6 was better, but any citizen who was looking could see there was still work to be done. The wall might've been torn down, but the chasm between No. 6 and the West Block had not been leveled entirely. The citizens of No. 6 had done much with their freedom, but they were not so willing to relinquish their relative wealth or sense of superiority, and the West Block residents resented them for it.
But despite the tenuous relations there was more integration and exchange between the two areas than ever before. No. 6 had taken control of the medical and educational aspects of life, while the West Block had grown into its own as the arts and agricultural district. The Hiro Theater was renowned for its performances of long-forgotten classics; people from every city-state came to see them.
"Renka has a lot of friends here in Lost Town," Shion said. "They all shop in the West Block markets, and they agree the produce tastes much better than what's in town."
Safu shrugged a shoulder, but she was pleased. At least some people were willing to go beyond their prejudices.
"Still a work in progress," she said, her voice carrying the chipper note of a conversation closer. "So, what have you been up to?"
"Nothing as important as you. Gardening, mostly."
"Gardening?"
Shion's eyes flashed and Safu realized she was about to get an earful.
"There's this greenhouse in The Forest Park. It's full of all these different types of flowers and plants, and some insect life, too, to keep the flowers properly. The gardeners have been showing me around, helping me learn the names, and I've been reading up on some of their medicinal properties. Did you know you can use marigolds to treat skin problems, like insect stings and even muscle sprains?"
"I didn't. I guess plants are good for more than just tea, huh?"
"They are. A lot more. I'm thinking about going to university to study pharmacognosy."
Safu furrowed her brow. "Pharmacognosy?"
"The study of plants to make medicines."
"Interesting. And here we all thought you'd go to medical school."
Shion's smile faltered. "Oh… No… I don't want to be a doctor. I still want to help people, but I can't do that."
He lowered his eyes, and suddenly he was a boy again. It was as if the young man was mirage, and now that she peered closer, she could see that the pain had never left, that four-year-old wounds and insecurities still bled behind the illusion.
That day in the Correctional Facility still haunted her. The flames, the gunfire, Shion's hatred and her powerlessness—violence so complete leaves scars, and if she still experienced the echoes of shame and regret, Shion must suffer them tenfold.
"I think my mom would understand," Shion said carefully. "I'd still be helping people, just… from a distance."
"I think it's a great idea, Shion. Karan would be proud of you."
Shion nodded and ran a hand through his hair. It was still long enough that the mussing turned the top into a dark, spiky mess.
He flicked his eyes to her a moment later. "So. How's Dennis?"
The temperature in the room spiked.
"Dennis?"
"He's here, isn't he? In the city? I saw you two the other day."
Safu's face burned. "You… did?"
A slow smile dawned on Shion's face. "At the Committee meeting. On TV?"
"Oh! Right. Yes. He's here to discuss trade agreements as No. 5's representative." She smiled at Shion, trying to look and sound professional.
It is professional, she reminded herself.
"Oh, I see." Shion's eyes narrowed, and Safu didn't like the playful spark in them. "It's just a business relationship."
"Yes, of course. What else would it be?"
"So he didn't ask you out?"
Safu's eyes widened before she had a chance to check herself.
Shion laughed. "Your face is completely red."
She shrunk down in her seat. "How did you hear about that?"
"Well, actually… I didn't. I was just guessing. But I could tell that there was something when I saw you two." Shion smiled slightly. "I know what it looks like."
Safu looked away. Since when did he become so perceptive when it came to her feelings? If he can see it, how many other people have noticed? Her stomach twinged, but she told herself it was from hunger. Shion smiled wider when she looked back at him.
"It was just dinner," she mumbled. "I'm not sure how I feel about him yet."
"Either way, I'm happy for you, Safu. He seems like a nice person."
She huffed. "You're a lot more conniving than I remember. Where's the innocent Shion I knew?"
He smirked and shrugged a shoulder.
"Shion?" Renka's voice drifted out from the kitchen. "Dinner's ready. Has anyone else arrived?"
Shion opened his mouth to call back, and the doorbell rang.
"Good timing," he said under his breath, and pushed up from the chair.
Safu followed him to the front door. Renka had told her whom she invited, but Safu was curious to see if they would actually come.
Shion opened the door to Kaoru elbowing Rikiga off the stoop.
Kaoru speared Shion with a dark look and jabbed a finger at the older man behind them. "He says he's invited. Tell me he's not invited."
Kaoru's hair fell to their waist in a dark, wavy sheet—longer than it had been when Safu last saw them. And they had certainly grown taller. Safu felt a stab of vanity when she realized Kaoru was at least an inch or two taller than her, making her the shortest member of the group. But other than that, Kaoru was not much changed. Their features were still tanned and fine and handsome in the oldest sense of the word, only now they had a more mature set to them.
However, Kaoru still looked young to Safu. Perhaps because their mouth was twisted in contempt most of the time, or maybe because there was always a piece of hair that managed to find its way into their face.
"Shion called me himself," Rikiga protested, rubbing his sternum where Kaoru had prodded him.
Shion looked sheepish. "He's right. I did."
Kaoru grit their teeth. "Why would you do a stupid thing like that? He spends practically every day trying to make Safu look like a dictator. You shouldn't even like him, let alone invite him to dinner."
Safu couldn't help but smile at the accusation. If that's how Rikiga meant to paint her in the news, he wasn't doing a good job of it.
"Hey! I deserve to be at this dinner," Rikiga barked. "I'll have you know I was very close to Shion's mother. He's practically a son to me!"
"Hah! Some stepdad you are. You didn't even remember his birthday. You were too busy schmoozing that bimbo from No. 2. Which didn't turn out well if I remember correctly."
Rikiga sputtered, but Kaoru was relentless.
"What business do you have hanging out with people half your age anyway? If you think you're getting free booze, you're in for a long night. Renka doesn't drink." Kaoru side-eyed him. "I hope you go into withdrawal."
Rikiga's face reddened. "You're a savage."
Shion burst out laughing. Kaoru and Rikiga abruptly shut up.
"I missed you two." Shion looked between them and grinned.
Rikiga's mortified blush hadn't faded, but now Safu could make out a dusting of pink on Kaoru's tanned cheeks. "Missed us?" they muttered. "You saw me a week ago… And you better come back next week, because Pup needs a bath. Again."
Shion's eyes lit up. "Sure. You didn't bring him today? Or Nezumi?"
Safu's heart twinged before she remembered that it wasn't that Nezumi.
She glanced at Shion out of the corner of her eye. He didn't look sad, and he hadn't faltered when he said the name. Four years is a long time… Is he still waiting? Safu could read nothing on his face, but her heart ached for him anyway.
Kaoru pursed their lips. "Left both of them home… I thought maybe this was supposed to be a nice dinner, so…" They shrugged and picked at their pants.
They wore a loose tee and culottes. The outfit was figure obscuring and androgynous, as Kaoru's clothes tended to be, but it expressed more effort than Safu had ever known them to dress with. She realized that Kaoru had actually dressed up for this dinner.
Rikiga had on a three-piece suit, but he always wore suits, so it made no difference to his image.
"Your dogs are always welcome here, Kaoru," Shion said. "Bring them along next time. None of us would mind."
"I mind," Rikiga said under his breath, but everyone pretended not to hear.
Kaoru nodded before their eyes drifted to Safu. They greeted her quietly.
Safu smiled back. "Dinner's ready. We shouldn't keep Renka waiting."
Dinner was fun. The food was delicious and Safu was so used to dining with people with agendas, that Kaoru and Rikiga's bickering and Shion's quiet smiles and conspiratorial looks were breaths of fresh air. The company appeared to do Renka a great deal of good too. She encouraged them to eat, help themselves to coffee and tea, and said several times how happy she was to see them all. Even Rikiga was dealt a healthy dose of compliments and good-natured laughter. The older man was positively preening by night's end.
Lili was nowhere to be seen.
"She's out with her friends," Renka told them.
She wore a complicated look as she said this, and Shion frowned from across the table. Safu sent him a questioning glance, but he only shook his head.
Safu hoped to see Lili one of these days, but for the night she was content to spend her time with Renka's younger daughter. Karan did justice to her namesake: a beautiful little girl, with dark hair, bright eyes, and a sunny disposition. And so smart! For a four year old she had already accomplished so much, and done more than enough to prove that West Block genes were just as good as No. 6's.
The hour grew late, and one by one the guests dispersed. Renka insisted Kaoru take home some leftover curry, and Safu swore she had never seen someone look so thrilled.
Safu was the last to leave, and when she went into the entryway to slip her shoes on, she was pleasantly surprised to see Shion pull his on as well.
"I'll walk you home," he said.
It was a ten-minute walk back to her apartment near city center, and she was excited to spend some more time with him.
"That was fun," said Shion, and indeed there seemed to be a bounce in his step as he walked beside her.
Safu nodded. "We should get together more often—all of us. Maybe we could do karaoke next time. Karaoke parties are big in the Restructural Committee, for some reason." She wrinkled her nose and smiled. "They never get tired of it. It's awful."
Shion quirked an eyebrow. "I'll bet. Can you even sing?"
"I can carry a tune just fine, thank you."
"Oh, yes, of course. Is there anything you can't do?"
"There's nothing I won't try."
"I guess that's what makes you so successful."
Safu clicked her tongue. "Alright, enough brownnosing. I get enough of that at work." She looked hard at Shion. "I want to know more about your life. We barely got to talk before dinner. Tell me everything. How are Hamlet and Biscuit?"
Shion froze. It lasted only a second; she might not have noticed if she didn't know him so well.
Shion stared fixedly at the path ahead. "They passed away. Two years ago."
Safu's chest tightened. "Oh. I'm sorry."
She looked away. Of course. Mice only lived for a year and half to two years. How could I be so tactless?
She should have known, but… Two years ago. And he never said a word. I should have called earlier—more. I should've made more time.
Safu bit her lip. Shion had seemed so happy just minutes ago, laughing and joking with everyone else. But she remembered now how adept he was at shielding others from his pain. She knew his joy tonight hadn't been false, but this sadness now was just as true. Shion had Renka and her family, and Kaoru and Rikiga and herself too, but the longer she spent with him, side by side, the more she felt he was not as happy as he pretended.
Shion. Have you been suffering all this time? So quietly that no one's noticed?
"I'm…"
Safu turned to him, but Shion was quiet and downcast still. Perhaps it had just been a trick of her mind and he never spoken at all. She looked ahead again. Her apartment was just coming into view.
"That's me there," she said, and tried to smile. As a politician, she had become proficient at smiling through her feelings. But she could not call upon her skills as easily with Shion. The smile she arranged on her face felt strained. "You don't have to walk me all the way. Here's good."
Shion nodded. Safu waited, hoping. For a promise that he would call, an assurance that they would see each other again—she'd even take another pithy comment about Dennis. The night had been going so well.
We're still best friends, aren't we, Shion? Even after all this time?
"Well," she said after a moment. "I guess I'll see you around." She turned away.
"Safu." Shion touched her wrist. His eyes met hers, deep dark and restless. "I'm scared."
"Of what?"
"Hamlet and Biscuit are gone. So Tsukiyo…" He swallowed, casting his eyes to the side. "If Tsukiyo's gone, too, then there's nothing left to remind him."
"Shion…"
"It's been four years. What if he's not… What if he's forgotten—?"
Safu grabbed a hold of his hand. "Don't. Nezumi will be back—he promised, didn't he? Don't give up."
Shion shook his head. "It's not that I'm giving up. I just can't help but think... What if something's happened to him? What if he can't come back? …What if he doesn't want to?"
Safu swallowed the lump in her throat.
She had hated Nezumi, hated him so much in the beginning. But after the Correctional Facility, he had proven himself not only worthy of Shion's love, but the only possible recipient of it. She also recognized that Nezumi was nowhere near ready to admit he loved Shion back. It seemed he was even actively denying it.
He had been too immature for love, and Shion had been too vulnerable at the time for it to be safe. Even if she accepted Shion's feelings and respected Nezumi's character, she had supported their separation, if only because it would give both men time to find balance.
But she couldn't bear to see Shion looking so broken. She hated Nezumi all over again.
"Nezumi's coming back," she repeated. "If he doesn't—"
She clenched her jaw. She couldn't believe that he wouldn't return. Not after promising, not after knowing how deeply Shion loved him. His denial could never be that stubborn.
"If it gets to be too much, Shion, tell me. I'll find him for you."
Shion's eyes widened. "Find him?"
"I have resources. I'll find where he is and drag his ass back here if I have to."
"No." Shion squeezed her hand, hard. "Please, don't. I don't want to force him to come back."
He let go of her hand and stepped away, and Safu could've laughed at how strong the déjà vu was. But she felt more like crying. To believe they were acting out the same scenes, even after all these years.
"I'm sorry," Shion said. "I was just being selfish. I thought maybe if I told someone, I'd…" He cleared his throat. Shrugged. "But I'm fine. Really. I—"
Safu yanked him into a hug. It was just shy of violent, the way he crushed up against her, but she wasn't sorry. She even hoped it did hurt a little. Why did he always apologize when he was hurting?
I was wrong. He hasn't grown up at all. She hugged him tighter.
Shion stood still for the first second or two, but then he wound his arms around her. He rested his chin atop her head and sighed. "Thanks, Safu."
"Don't ever say you're selfish again, do you hear me? You're not being selfish."
"Okay."
"If you ever feel like that again, call me. You can call me whenever you want. I might not be able to answer right away, but I'll always call back."
"Okay."
Safu fisted her hands in his shirt. What did he look like right now? Was he still hurting?
"Shion?"
"Mm."
"I love you. You know that, right?"
Shion gave a low, warm chuckle, and squeezed her tighter. "I love you, too."