Naomi is losing sleep.
She lays in her bed, staring blankly at the ceiling over-decorated with the glow-in-the-dark stars (Ayane's idea; something about 'aesthetics') and sighs before turning to her right side, facing the window.
Ever since her run-in with the patchwork man, her befuddled thoughts allow her no rest.
Outside, their neighbourhood was quiet. The hubbub and chatter of Uncle Ichijou's ramen restaurant simmers to a lull, and the only sound that echoed in the house was the clink and clatter of the metal pots and running water.
In the other bed, Ayane snores loudly.
She had arrived past midnight, hair dishevelled and her prim olive green pantsuit crinkled. She was driven over by a distressed brown-haired man, who hastily introduces himself as an intern for Ayane's advertising company. Uncle Ichijou thanks the man, taking his daughter's car keys as he and Naomi assisted the girl back to bed, and within minutes the blonde was out like a lamp.
The star ornaments glow soothingly, as if telling her to go and get some shut-eye and Naomi finds herself glaring back.
Ugh, this is no good, Naomi mulls over in her head. I can't sleep.
Ayane's snoring grows louder, and this time Naomi does get up, a harsh sigh escaping her lips as she grabs her grey hoodie, puts it on and yanks the door to their room open. With quiet and brisk steps, she locates the door to the veranda and opens it with a gentle shove.
This was her own private place. Her uncle and Ayane only used this space for parties or gatherings with plenty of people, but Naomi keeps track of the veranda most of the time. There were two outdoor tables and chairs near the railways, overlooking Tokyo's towering buildings and the night traffic's blinking lights, but the rooftop garden was the one Naomi took pride in.
She had started this as a little project, just a way of sorting her own thoughts when she got bored. The trellis she constructed by herself, and the plants were either given to her by her uncle or Ayane. Somehow, this was a little green space in the midst of a concrete jungle.
The night breeze tousles her dark locks as it passes by, and the glow of the moonlight illuminates the vicinity with a soft glow. Naomi hugs the hoodie closer to her body as she makes her way to the railing, leaning casually as she surveys the city.
Though it was past midnight, Tokyo brings itself to life. Naomi closes her eyes, envisioning Shinjuku, Shibuya, and Roponggi, party centers to itself and its rowdy cabaret bars, sleazy host clubs and the never-ending trail of izakaya pubs and karaoke places. The neon lights, drunken laughter, the sound of pouring alcohol, and then the smell of cigarette stubs.
And then, blue fire.
"Just so you know, I don't burn every person I run into."
The scarred man's words from her confrontation with him earlier that evening echoes in Naomi's mind. The girl opens her eyes, her gaze absent-mindedly gazing at the nightscape.
"A life for a life," She mutters in the air, a sardonic smile on her features. "Paying his debts, huh?"
He saved her life, she didn't tell his whereabouts to the police. She delivers his meal to his hide-out and as long as she keeps mum about the place, she won't be in trouble.
A sound and unspoken deal between the two of them.
Naomi scoffs to herself.
With a yawn, she glances at Tokyo's cityscape for one last time, before heading back inside the house and slipping back into the room.
As she plops herself back in the bed, she glances back at the glowing stars before closing her eyes. This time, sleep finally claims her.
When the next day arrives, Naomi rises to a still-darkened sky. Groaning, the black-haired girl rises from the bed and swipes her alarm clock off the bedside table: 5:30 in the morning.
Too early.
Ayane's snores echoed loudly in the room, and Naomi spares a glance at her. The blonde was still knocked-out dead from the group blind date from the previous evening, an eye-mask sheathed over her eyes as she huddled underneath the covers.
Look at her go, Naomi mulls in her head, a small smile twitching on the corners of her mouth. Sleeping without a care in the world.
The dark-haired girl sighs before her gaze drifts to a framed photograph on her desk. It showed three people: a woman with dark-hair that fell to her waist and a scar on her face, a man with grey eyes and a calm posture and a little girl happily perched on his shoulders.
Naomi reaches out for the photograph, nostalgia blooming in her chest at the portrait. The little girl was her—she was 5 years old at that time—and the two older people were her parents.
The photo was taken on the day they took her out to see the port town. She had been persistently begging her mother to take her out to see the ocean at that time for her birthday, and her father acquiesced, bringing the two of them out on a picnic by the bay on his old motorcycle.
It was hard to think that they would pass away on an accident the day after.
Naomi's eyes linger on the smile on her father's face, and her mother's gentle gaze for a while. After a moment, Ayane's alarm peals loudly in the darkness, startling Naomi out of her wits.
Ayane's form rises on the bed, stretching her arms upwards and blindly reaching out to silence the alarm. With a yawn, she lifts the mask from her eyes and reached to switch the alarm off before turning on the bedside lamp.
Once her gaze refocused, the blonde blinks in surprise at Naomi's figure on her desk.
"Nacchan? You're awake?" Traces of sleep were still present in Ayane's voice, but the surprise was evident in the raising of her eyebrows and the widening of her eyes. "I have been graced by a miracle!"
"Oh, shut up, you." Naomi counters back. "Your snores were so obnoxiously loud that I couldn't sleep the night away."
"What lies," Ayane counters back, finally wrenching herself from her mattress and finding her bathroom towel, slinging the fabric over her shoulders as she approached the desk drawer Naomi was at. Naomi moves to the side to give her space.
"Ugh, eww." Ayane moans once she catches wind of her reflection in the mirror. "My eyebags are getting worse each day…"
"Well? How was the date?" Naomi quips, handing over the cat-ear turban into Ayane's waiting hands. "Were you able to get any guys?"
"It was a waste I tell you! A total waste!" Ayane counters back, her hands promptly slicking her hair back as she secures the headband over her hair. "Out of the four men that came, 2 were married! Can you believe it?"
"Hah, they're hopeless. The worst," Naomi replies, walking away from the dresser to her closet to pull out her clothes for the day. "What are they doing? Picking up girls when they have wives waiting at home."
"My point exactly!" Ayane remarks, swiping the bottle of cleanser from the box of toiletries and heading towards the bathroom. Naomi could hear the sound of the tap being opened and water running down the sink. "I wanted to ask, 'What the hell are you doing here?', you know? One of them even tried to get me to a hotel, the nerve!"
"Well, that's good news then," Naomi replies, laying out a black shirt and a pair of denim jeans. "You didn't get drunk as usual if you refused his propositions."
"There weren't even guys who were my type you know, and the girls were busy trying to get noticed so I had no one to talk to!" Ayane emerges from the bathroom, her face clean as she pats it dry with her towel.
Naomi thinks back on the events of the night, and the bumbling boy who drove Ayane home. "Ah, but the intern? He brought you home. Hikaru-kun, was it?"
"Oh? Really?" Ayane mulls, putting the towel away as she dabs moisturizer on her skin. "Hmm, not really my type."
The blonde turns to Naomi with an eager grin that the dark-haired girl knew too well.
"Next time go with me please! Also you need to get a guy." Ayane retorts, making Naomi roll her eyes in amusement.
"What, me?" Naomi chuckles at that. "If I had that free time and money to spend on drinks, I'd rather be paying my deposit for my new apartment."
At Naomi's statement, Ayane's movements stall as she pats her face, her eyes taking a more melancholic stance.
"Hey, are you really serious about leaving?" Ayane prompts, making Naomi pause in her movements. The black-haired girl sets aside her backpack, turning to face her cousin who was making a solemn expression on her face.
"We've talked about this a lot of times before, Acchan," Naomi starts, a clipped smile on her features as she addressed the brunette. "I can't keep on relying on you and Uncle forever—"
"But I don't mind it! Not at all!" Ayane's voice rises to a startling level, surprising Naomi. "We never thought of you as a burden at all Nacchan so why would you…"
She levels her gaze with Naomi's, her eyes brimming with unshed tears of frustration. Why would you want to leave?
A collective hush falls upon the room. Naomi decides to break it first, exhaling a soft sigh as she turns her back away from Ayane.
"Let's talk about this some other time, " Naomi opts to change the subject, resuming on shoving her things for work in her backpack and yanking her clothes off the bed to change into them inside the bathroom. "We'll be late for work."
Contrary to what she expected, Naomi gets off work early that day.
Quality checking for the shipped support items may be tedious work, but when you're assisted by a supervisor with eight-arms, everything just goes swifter. (She makes a mental note to treat Tako-senpai to a round of drinks at Menya Hayase).
Now dressed in her civilian clothes, the black-haired girl shoulders her pack and weaves her way through the crowds. At 4:00 in the afternoon, the ward was becoming congested with commuters, and she particularly didn't want to take the trains at the moment, so she opted to go for some window shopping.
While this part of the metropolis does specialize in Support Items, there were several retail and general merchandising stores that carried non-hero related products. There were clothing boutiques, thrift shops and even a special street that boasts of a wide-selection of food: from desserts, to main courses and even drinks.
Naomi hums a soft tune to herself as she passes by a high-end clothing boutique. Outside, a dress of velvet and orange taffeta outfitted with layers and layers of ruffles and gemstone decorations was on display. Season's Originals, the sign had said, but Naomi scoffs at it.
Season's Originals, my ass. She mulls in her head, raising an eyebrow at the outfit. More like a Season's Catastrophe to me.
She leaves the boutique and turns on her heels, her eyes searching for her go-to family diner in this area, a small hole-in-the-wall eatery that served filling meals without the extra price. As if reading her thoughts, her stomach growls, making her fluster in embarrassment. She only had an onigiri and a bottle of green tea for lunch after all.
"Time to eat, time to eat," Naomi mutters under her breath as she picks up her pace, tapping her feet against the pavement impatiently once she pauses at the red light on the pedestrian lane. Just opposite was the street leading to the small alley that opened up to the diner's locations.
She casually glances at her phone, looking at any sign of emails or messages from either Ayane or Uncle Ichijou. The latter sent her a message that he'll be out for drinking with his buddies from the local Go club, while there was no sign of contact from Ayane.
Figures. She's still upset about this morning's conversation.
Sighing, Naomi places her phone back into her pocket, just in time to see the stoplight change colour. Before she takes one step into the lane, a familiar voice calls out her name from afar.
"Naomi?"
The dark-haired girl turns around, only to meet with a figure seated in a wheelchair, his steel blue eyes twinkling with warmth as he waves at her direction.
She recognized that smile from anywhere.
Iida Tensei.
"Well, get anything you want. This one's on me.'
While she was reeling from shock, Tensei had somehow persuaded her to come with him in a fancy upscale diner on the special food street. The waiters and the servers had been particularly accommodating with the former Pro-Hero's presence. Heck, there were even people asking for his autographs and pictures until the security disperses the curious crowd and ushers the two of them in a seat in the back of the diner, far from prying eyes.
Naomi fidgets in the plush seat, her fingers nervously lingering on the menu.
"Iida-san, you really didn't have to." Naomi remarks, eyes darting nervously around the room. In an effort to conceal her identity, she had undone her braid, letting her dark hair fall to her waist and arranging her bangs so they slightly covered her face.
Decked in a casual dark t-shirt, skinny jeans and her worn-out sneakers, Naomi looked out of place with the fancy chandeliers, the plush seating, and the mahogany furniture.
"Iida-san?" Tensei repeats her address before he laughs, making Naomi's heart do a little flip-flop in her chest. "Come on, don't be so distant. Stop acting as if we didn't know each other."
"Okay, well." Naomi inhales a shaky breath before a small smile quirks the corner of her lips. "Tensei."
The gentle smile he sent her way after she said his name made her a little self-conscious, and she shyly tucks a strand of her hair behind her ear.
"Have you decided, dear guests?"
The posh waiter, an elderly gentleman smartly dressed in a pressed suit, appears by their table. Naomi breathes a sigh of relief, grateful for the distraction.
"I'll be having the Steamed King Crab with Periguex Sauce," Tensei rattles off his order expertly, and the waiter promptly writes down his order down on the small notepad before he turns to Naomi.
"And for you, young Miss?" The waiter asks, his eyes waiting expectantly behind the spectacles he wore. Naomi returns her gaze back to the menu, racking her brain for whatever minimal knowledge of western cuisine she had.
"Uhm, I think I'll be having the Cod with Botargo Pasta," She recites almost mechanically. She had no idea what it was, but she knows she could never go wrong with pasta. The waiter duly notes their order and promptly leaves, leaving the two of them alone again.
"How long has it been?" Tensei finally breaks the ice, bringing Naomi's attention back to the subject at hand. "We haven't seen each other since…"
"We broke up three years ago?" Naomi supplies helpfully, a polite smile on her features as she meets Tensei's gaze. He blinks, surprised, then laughs it off.
"Wow, it's been that long already, huh?" He mutters and Naomi reaches for the glass of water, resting her skin against the cool feeling of the glass.
The two had met three years ago at a group blind date Ayane had organized together with the help of a friend working at a hero agency. Naomi was 20 years old that time, and Tensei, 27, both of them dragged to fill in the gaps of the people who backed out at the last minute.
Needless to say, something between the two of them clicked and they started dating for a few months (discreetly, of course—the media will be vultures if word of Naomi's relationship with pro-hero Ingenium comes out), but coupled with a Pro-Hero's busy lifestyle and Naomi's work hours, the relationship didn't last long.
"So how have you been? Are you still with Ryuugen Industries?" Tensei asks, steering the conversation away and changing the subject. Naomi's features relax, and she eases in her seat.
"Yes, though I'm nearing my end of contract with them in the next week," She replies, her tone casual and light. "And after that, it's job-hunting for me again."
"How about you? I've heard about…" She trails off for a moment, her eyes drifting to the state of Tensei's legs and a pang of hurt twinges at her heart. "…the Hero Killer incident."
"Oh, that…" Tensei's tone appears sombre and he flinches for the slightest moment. "Well, just as you can see, I can no longer use my legs."
Naomi unknowingly clenches her palm into a fist, her fingernails digging into the skin.
"But I still work with my agency," Tensei remarks, plastering a smile on his face and the cheer in his voice back. "I could still help the guys even if I'll just be by at standby on the office."
Naomi hesitantly returns the smile. Tensei was Tensei after all. He could still find a way to help out the public even though he was like that now. Someone who isn't willing to give up easily.
The conversation steers to the more mundane things. Naomi mentions having seen his little brother, Tenya, on television during the sports fest and Tensei sits up a bit straighter, blabbering about how proud he is of his sibling, the light in his eyes evaporating any trace of sadness in his gaze that he displayed earlier.
He then asks her about her recent projects and it was her turn to talk about how she intends to improve the Hoverbike engines, how it would soon be the future of hero work and how it would be of great help in navigating through more inaccessible locations.
She misses the fond look Tensei sends her way as she rattles off on engine properties and alternative yet sustainable fuel sources for the machine.
When the food arrives, their conversation comes to a halt but it continued during the course of the meal. Time soon drifts by and Tensei's picking up the check (despite the insistence of Naomi in splitting the bill). They head out of the diner, but not before Tensei signs a small boy's paper, and Naomi's walking with him by the sidewalk.
"Do you need me to take you somewhere?" Naomi asks, walking beside Tensei. He maneuvers his wheelchair with ease, no doubt a model generated to make the occupant navigate on their own. Tensei struggles a bit with turning, until Naomi offers a hand and pushes his wheelchair to his preferred angle.
"Thanks," Tensei mutters under his breath. "Actually, I'm waiting for someone to pick me up."
"Pick you up?" Naomi arches an eyebrow until the gears in her mind clicked. "Ah, your sidekicks from your agency."
"Yep," Tensei agrees, taking a look at the wristwatch resting on his right wrist. "They'll be here any minute."
"Tensei-san!"
Naomi turns her head, only to see a young man waving from the distance. Tensei raises his arm to confirm his visual before he focuses his attention back to Naomi.
"It was nice seeing you again, Naomi." Tensei remarks, a small smile on his features as he addressed the female beside him. He raises a hand, to which Naomi takes, gripping it tightly and shaking it.
"Same here, Tensei." She replies, a smile on her face. She squeezes his hand gently for a moment before letting go. "Well, I need to go now. I need to tend to the shop."
"If you're ever gonna drop by the factory, just come." She adds as an afterthought, eyes scrutinizing the wheelchair Tensei sat on. "I'll provide you a better wheelchair. Better tech, much smoother navigating."
Tensei blinks before he laughs. "Okay. I'll keep that in mind."
Naomi waves him goodbye, flashing him one last smile before she crosses the pedestrian lane to the street opposite where Tensei was towards her train station.
Later on, when his subordinate catches up, he would follow Tensei's gaze, staring intently at the petite figure of a woman with long dark hair.
"Who's she, Tensei-san?" His subordinate would ask, and Tensei would only close his eyes, a wistful smile on his face.
"Someone I once cared immensely about." Tensei replies, before turning his wheels and proceeding to the direction where his subordinate came from, ignoring the blubbering questions that spew from the young man's lips.
"I'm back…"
Naomi slides the door of the restaurant open. Uncle Ichijou was nowhere to be found, probably still drinking; Ayane's car hasn't pulled up on the garage so she was probably on overtime duty; and the part-timer, a guy with a built physique named Jun was preparing ramen noodles.
Jun's been her Uncle's trusty kitchen aide. His bleached hair is pushed back by a red bandana, revealing his old scars from previous brawls he got into when he was with the gang.
Uncle Ichijou picked him up from the street five years ago. Apparently, Jun had decided back then to cut off all connections with the gang he got into in high school, resulting in the members pummelling him to the ground until he could no longer stand up. Uncle Ichijou patched him up, gave him a bowl of hot ramen and then offered him a place to stay and a job he could make a living off.
With his shirt sleeves rolled up, he expertly scoops the noodles out of the boiling pot, shakes it twice to thoroughly drain the water and plop it inside three bowls. His hazel eyes found Naomi's gaze, and he bows.
"Osu, Naomi-chan." He greets, to which Naomi returns with the briefest of nods and a smile before she sprints to her room to plop her things on the floor, returning back downstairs almost immediately and grabbing an extra apron.
"Jun-nii, I'll lend a hand," Naomi remarks, her hands dutifully pulling her hair into a simple braid before twisting it up and securing it into a bun.
"Aye, appreciate it." Jun replies, stepping into the side to make some space for the younger girl. Naomi joins his side, taking a knife from its holder and deftly cutting spring onion stalks.
Tonight was a slow night for Menya Hayase.
The only customers that were in the shop were three college students tapping at their phone away, and a tired-looking salary man swishing his noodles around with his chopsticks.
Naomi glances at the wall clock inside the store. 8:00 in the evening. Normally, this would be peak hours, but without her uncle around to bolster the place, few people came in.
Not that she particularly minded. The staff could use a few nights of peace and quiet.
Next to her, Jun was already pouring ramen broth into the noodles, placing cuts of chashu, one ajitama, sliced into halves, a small sheet of nori, and two pieces of kamaboko. He passes the bowl to Naomi, who promptly sprinkles spring onion as a final relish.
They do the same process to the two bowls, and Naomi loads it on a tray, bringing it to the waiting group of college students who immediately start digging in.
When she goes back at the counter, Jun was placing the cooking utensils in the sink, running the faucet to start cleaning up.
"Looks like we'll have to close early tonight." Jun mutters and Naomi hums in agreement, joining his side to assist in washing the dishes.
Soon, the salary man leaves his payment on the table, and the three students follow soon after. Jun packs up his things and finally unwounds the bandana on his head. As he retrieves his bag and his motorcycle helmet from the lockers, he turns one concerned gaze to Naomi.
"Will you be alright on your own, Naomi-chan?" He asks. "I mean, I could keep you company for a while if you want."
"It's fine, Jun-nii." Naomi nods, giving him a thumbs-up to reassure him. "Besides, you still need to look after Haruka-nee right? Since she's pregnant."
At the reminder, Jun sighs. He walks up to Naomi and ruffles her hair, much to the chagrin of the latter.
"If you insist, then." Jun replies, sending her a brief smile before he buckles his helmet. "Stay out of trouble, kiddo."
"Will do~" Naomi chirps in a sing-song voice, and as Jun revs the motorcycle engine to life, Naomi waves goodbye.
Once the outline of the man disappears from her sight, Naomi drops her arm and exhales a breath, turning around and stretching her arms.
"Time to close up, then—"
"Yo, delivery girl."
Naomi freezes in her tracks at the sound of the familiar drawl. Slowly, she turns back round again, staring face to face with a familiar patchwork face and his goddamn sea-green eyes.
No way, right?
He holds up the restaurant flyer with one hand, a small grin on his lips as he addressed her.
"You're still open, right?"
Dabi watches in amusement as he watched the girl skitter to and fro in the kitchen as he sat across the counter.
"I-if you're okay with what I can make," she had said, "Then come on in."
He rests his cheek on his palm, watching as she deftly chops up some meat, some garlic and some spring onions, before gathering them and placing them in dumpling wrapper. Halfway through the first batch, she pauses in her movements, her grey eyes directed at him.
"Uh, can you stop that?" She asks, her voice tinged with slight irritation. Dabi blinks.
"Stop what?" He asks, and she sighs, resuming her task with the dumplings as she finally finishes a dozen and puts it aside.
"Staring at me while I work," the girl replies, her back turning against him so she could run her hands down the sink before she grabs a pot which she fills with water. "It's… unnerving."
"Well then, any suggestions on what I should do then?" Dabi remarks, a subtle smirk on his features appearing when he voices his next thought, "Maybe I could burn this place down?"
That successfully catches her attention. The girl places the pot atop the stove and fixes him with an icy glare. Dabi sighs, holding his hands up in surrender.
"I was just kidding," He replies, "Like I told you, I don't burn anything or anyone that comes my way."
The girl's features relax for a moment, before she fumbles with a drawer and places a remote control in front of him.
"Go and watch TV then," she remarks, returning to season and place the dumplings in the boiling water. "It'll stave off your boredom for a bit."
"Not interested," He quips, making the girl exhale another irritated sigh before she eventually gives up and returns to her cooking.
"Then do whatever you want."
Dabi returns back to observing her movements. Now that he had taken a closer look at her, he finds that she's tall, taller than most women, but still a bit shorter than him. She's more on the lankier side, and there were several scars that marred her pale hands. Her dark hair was bunched up in a bun—much like the first time they met each other—and several stray strands slip out of the hairstyle, no matter how much she tries to smooth it back in place.
He halts his staring when a bowl of steaming dumpling soup is placed in front of him, along with a bowl of rice and a pair of wooden chopsticks. He eyes the meal carefully, making the girl twitch anxiously in front of him.
"It's not poisoned," She remarks, gesturing to the bowl she set in front of him. "In case you were wondering."
"Then take a bite first," Dabi replies, his sea-green eyes glinting with amusement as he stared at the girl. "To make sure it's not poisoned, after all."
The girl stares at him blankly, before she sighs resignedly, picking up a soup spoon and dishing out a piece from the cooking pot. She blows on the soup to cool it down and takes a bite out of the dumpling, chewing thoughtfully before she swallows it down.
"Satisfied now?" She asks him and Dabi merely shrugs, before finally partaking in the meal she had prepared. The girl gauges his next movements, eyeing him warily—trying not to catch his attention, but she was failing miserably—as he continues to down the soup.
He says nothing and continues the rest of the meal in silence.
"You look like you want to ask me something."
Naomi stalls her movements, hands pausing in scrubbing the pots clean when the man's voice echoed in the shop.
The bowl of dumpling soup was emptied, and he seemed content with her cooking, now downing a glass of tea.
She pauses in her washing, drying her hands as she leans behind the sink, arms crossed protectively across her chest as she meets his curious gaze.
Oh, I have a lot. She mulls in her head. How did you find this place? Why are we always meeting? Why the heck did I have to get entangled with you?
"Your name," Naomi blurts out, despite all the questions currently occupying her mind. "I didn't catch your name,"
The man rises from his seat, placing the empty glass of tea on top of the counter. He falls silent for a moment, and a small smile (smirk?) lifts the corners of his lips as he pins his gaze to hers.
"For now, just call me Dabi." He says, turning his back to her as he heads for the exit of the shop. He throws her a sideways glance over his shoulder. "See you around, Delivery Girl."
Before Naomi could say a word, he steps out into the street, shutting the restaurant's door behind him, disappearing into the night.
Dabi. Naomi repeats his name to herself, testing out how the syllables rolled off her tongue. Dabi.
"What the heck," She mutters to herself, a small smile twitching at the corners of her lips. "What a weird name."
Author's note:
So many happenings in this chapter amirite? Figured it would interesting to level up the drama a little bit. University's starting again next week but I'll update at least once a week! I have so many plans for this story and I am really itching to write and finish this.
What do you think of this chapter? Let me know and drop a review! A favourite and follow is nice and all, but reviews give me power to write!
See you next time!