Chapter 3

After dinner, she goes back to the washroom to clean up, locking the door behind her this time to keep Asami out. As she bent over the sink to watch her hands, the necklace Asami gave her for Christmas slips out of her dress and dangles out.

Quickly drying her hands, she takes hold of the pendants to tuck them under her dress. The diamond petals of the sakura flower glitter under the lights, and she pauses. Almost absentmindedly, her thumb traces the outlines of the sakura tree and its single blossom, then the smooth disk beneath it.

Takaba closes her eyes as her guts twist at the sudden rush of emotions, remembering the warmth of Asami's breath and fingers as he traced the edge of the disc when he suggested she has it engraved with their names. In a few months, their son will be born, and she will have their names engraved on the edge of the disc — her name, Asami's, and their son's, a family tree of sorts.

Unbidden, her thoughts go back to what her editor said to her of Asami. "Don't get yourself too attached and expect too much from him." Takaba chuckles humorlessly. I suppose she'd be please I followed her advice in some way. Of all the things Takaba imagined of how things would go with Asami, creating a family was the least of what she expected. As for being too attached … well.

Takaba's been in love before, just once.

Before him, there were crushes and infatuations — the grim-faced, thick-browed captain of the baseball team in middle school who showered her with sweets and Pocky, the sly and sharp-tongued but angelic-faced school idol at her high school who was her first kiss, her cupid's bow lips that tasted of strawberry-vanilla lip gloss, saccharine sweet, even a cute, clumsy teacher or two that always smiled at her and encouraged her to do well, hands warm and reassuring on her shoulder — people she'd cared about, people that have caught her wandering eye and held her attention, sometimes for only a short while, sometimes for a long time.

In university, she met him. Takaba thinks she'd loved him from the moment she saw him, sent her heartbeat racing when he smiled at her and held her hands and said her name. Four years older than her, with quirky forked brows and serious, quiet brown eyes that sparked with passion when he talked of the starry heavens, of the vast worlds and universes beyond their tiny own, of exploding supernovas and the gaping maws of black holes.

Her memories of their romance come in snapshots, in fragments of sound. Huddled together in a quite corner at a university party where they first met, poring over a map of the night sky for hours, the wild cacophony of the party but a distant murmur to them. Hands entwined as they braved together a sudden storm of sakura petals, laughing and running like children as their petals spun around, brushing against their skin, velvet soft. Staring at the stars at as they lay on a blanket as he pointed out and named the constellations across the midnight sky, her head pillowed on his shoulder, lulled to sleep with the warmth of his voice, the feel of his breath against her ear, the steady beat of his heart. The tip of his ears as red as pomegranate seeds when she suddenly kissed him underneath the stained-glass canopy of autumn, his lips tasting just as sweet, his pulse stuttering beneath her fingertips on his wrist. Him placing a wreath of flowers around her head, crowning her his queen, his words a bare whisper compared with the roar of blood in her ears. On one knee before her, ring in one trembling hand, his face and heart full of heartbreak when she said No.

(If asked now, Takaba couldn't say why she refused his proposal. Everything had been perfect — they were great together, and he loved her and she loved him. She should have said yes. But when that moment came, even before he said the question in full, her lips were moving to say no.)

It took a year for them to start talking to each other after their break-up, another year before they settled to a comfortable friendship, with occasional emails and meet-ups and trips. But the memory of that moment haunts her sometimes, the way he'd looked at her, as if she had crushed every hope of happiness in his life with her refusal, with that single word. Until then she had never thought herself capable of inflicting such pain on anyone she loved. It was a revelation of self she'd never expected, or wanted, but has since kept close to her heart.

After him were a smattering of dates she barely remembers, a hazy blur of memories and faces, like pictures that didn't develop quite right, discarded without a second thought. It's not that Takaba had become heartless or cruel. If anything she was the exact opposite — she even became friends with some and always parted amicably.

Simply put, for Takaba, work proved far more interesting and exciting than any sort of romantic entanglement. She focused all her energies in her craft, reveled in the sharp, heady rush of back-alley chases, the thrill of satisfaction of a surveillance and investigation well executed, the heart-pounding excitement of the image of her target in her viewfinder and captured in film, the fierce hunger and drive of wanting to do better in her art, to reach for the highest, to prove to herself (and others) that she could do it. In all that time, she'd never been happier, or been more alive.

Then, of course, she meets Asami.

And everything changes.

Nothing, absolutely nothing in her life and her experiences or relationships prepared her for Asami Ryuuichi. She doesn't even have enough words to describe how much Asami affected her life. Asami isn't so much as human as he is a walking assortment of natural disasters that wrecked havoc on everything he touched.

There are very little words for the overwhelming tide of emotions and feelings that scoured her to the very bones, laying her bare before him, that had reduced her many times to the most primal of urges and needs. He had shaken the foundations of many of her beliefs and views of the world, set aflame her hidden cache of desires into an unending conflagration that at times threatened to burn the heart out of her. Her memories of Asami are always alive and vivid, as bright as a newly forged sword's edge and just as sharp, the accompanying intense emotions unsettling her and leave her bleeding at times, her heart beating as if it would burst from her chest. And yet she is drawn back to him again, and again, to that fucking maelstrom.

Takaba doesn't blame her editor for warning her off. Asami should come with all sorts of warnings, to be approached only with as much armor and protection as possible, otherwise he will completely wreck you — both figuratively and literally. Of course, Takaba thinks ruefully, Asami did come with warnings. Takaba just … blithely ignored them and went "fuck it!" then dove headfirst into the fray.

As for editor … part of Takaba is pissed at herself for dwelling on what she said. These matters were things she thought had been resolved with herself months ago. These shouldn't be an issue now. She shouldn't be dwelling at this so much.

Besides, Asami's past relationship with her editor was the least of her worries. Part of the reason she agreed to be with Asami is to avoid too much stress. She did not need more stress now. What does it matter if Asami didn't tell her about him dating her boss in the past? It's not like she expected him to share his relationship history with her. She certainly doesn't want him to expect she'd tell him her own past relationships, and neither is she inclined to share those to him.

Perhaps the crux of the matter lies not on Asami sleeping with her editor, but what her editor had said: Don't think you're special. You're not. Despite everything she'd said and thought in the part, the truth of the matter was that she wants to be special. To Asami.

Takaba doesn't want this, never wanted this. In the past, it had been too easy to keep her distance, to keep away. But now, in these past few months of being together — probably long before she even got pregnant, as she knows more about him, knows more about herself, she realizes all the things she'd been telling herself are lies, an elaborate self-deception meant to keep her from falling deep and ending up hurting herself.

It's a frightening realization, one she keeps close and hidden in her heart. She's already far too vulnerable as is in her situation. No need to make her more so.

These are valid reasons for her concerns. After all, this is the man who had told her, You do not have that kind of value. Oh, she still remembers that, still remembers the sudden, wholly unexpected sharp stab of pain in her chest when she first heard those words. They hurt then, and they still hurt now.

But even so, she feels vaguely guilty, doubting him. Asami has given her very little reason to. After all, soon after he'd spoken those words, Asami moved to rescue her from Fei Long despite his own unhealed wounds, putting himself at much risk. In the past few months, Asami has been very supportive, always there for her and their child, ready to accommodate her needs and wants, no matter how outrageous they sometimes get. He bought a house near her parents for her and their child, and they moved in there together. He comes home to her almost every day (except when work gets in the way, and that's only when it's something truly urgent).

There are a hundred little things, like the way he touches her, the way his hands sometimes hold her with something like reverence and tenderness beneath the usual possessiveness, the way his mouth makes that little odd quirk of a smile when he's amused and indulgent with her, even if at times what she does completely puzzles him, the way he looks at her with what could only be warmth when she thinks she's not looking. Hundreds of little things she'd never thought would ever come from him and directed at her. The way he reveals bits of pieces of himself to her, whether voluntarily or involuntarily.

Takaba may not always be good at discerning Asami's motives, and she will probably always have her doubts, but she thinks, as fucking crazy as it sounds, if his actions are anything to go by, that, just like her, maybe, maybe, Asami wants this: wants her, their child, and a future with her, and, impossibly enough, a family with her. That she is, somehow, special.

So much for her not to be "too attached."

(Maybe that's why she's so fucking scared sometimes, why she wakes up in the middle of the night drenched in sweat, her stomach heavy with dread, with some unnamed fear. Maybe that fear is that everything is all some strange dream, and she desperately wants that dream to be a reality.

But then she glances to her side and sees Asami sleeping beside her, feels his warmth pressed against her, his hands around her, and then she knows this is reality, her reality.)

In his place beneath her heart, their unborn son quickens, his movement strong and sure for someone so tiny, kicking hard in her womb. Shaking her head, she puts her hand on her stomach to calm him, and takes a deep, cleansing breath. He stills, and Takaba smiles. She tucks back the necklace into her dress, and then opens the door, stepping back into the office, where Asami waits for her.


Sorry! Don't mind me, this is me trying to get Takaba to sort of resolve her fucking feelings over the matter — man, dude, you brood a lot for someone so cheery. :P

People who follow me over at tumblr probably recognize the first part as something I posted a while back — yeah, I just expanded it a bit. I think of Takaba as someone who dated or went out every now and then (she's a fun, outgoing girl!), but probably was too busy with work and found that more exciting than dating or anyone she met. Then of course she meets Asami.