1.5 years post grad

If Hayama Akira had known that the Autumn Elections would change the course of his life forever, he would probably have been more courteous to the concept of the program in general, and he definitely would have been more courteous to the pink-haired girl that would come to steal his heart.

It had been four and a half years since he made the biggest mistake of his life, and it was a blessing in the end.

"You sure about this?" Akira asked as he pulled at the sleeves of his blazer. He and Arato Hisako were on the front steps of the Arato estate, her hand poised over the large bell.

"Of course," she replied.

"He's not going to like me," he said, half to himself.

Hisako frowned. "What makes you think so?"

Akira gave her a look. "I think you already know the answer." He ran a hand through his hair, slightly unnerved by how exposed his neck felt. It had been a while since he'd cut his hair so short, but some part of his consciousness insisted that having it long would not make a better impression.

"Then that's a him problem," Hisako replied. "I chose you and that's all there is to it. Nothing could change how I feel about you, Hayama Akira."

He grinned. "You're crazy."

Hisako raised a smug eyebrow. "Crazy about you, yeah."

Akira took a deep breath and rang the bell.

A butler ushered them to the dining hall, and as he passed the intricate portraits of the Arato patriarchs, he realized just how out of place he was in this manor, inundated with the legacies of the generations of medicinal chefs that were his girlfriend's conservative ancestors.

But he repressed such thoughts, because he was going to meet Arato Hiromatsu for the first time as his precious only daughter's boyfriend and thinking of all the shit he lacked would do nothing to help him.

What the fuck was he even supposed to say?

Please let me date your daughter. Although we've technically been together for like three years now.

This was probably going to be the hardest thing he'd ever done.

As expected, the conversation did not start too well.

"So, Hayama Akira."

Akira cringed at how unworthy his name sounded. "Yessir," he replied, and shocked himself with how steady his voice was. Maybe doing this wouldn't be so hard after all.

"What do your parents do?"

He stood corrected. Hisako stiffened next to him, and he reached under the table to give her hand a reassuring squeeze. "Shiomi Jun runs a seminar at Totsuki," he offered.

"I asked about your parents, child."

"She is my parent," Akira replied. "She's the only reason I'm alive."

Arato Hiromatsu considered this for a moment. "Why are you interested in my daughter?"

Akira reflected on the last few years, on what he'd said back during the Autumn Elections. Yes, he could answer this question.

"I want to be a part of your daughter's world, sir. Hisako taught me how to trust people, and she brings out good parts of me I had no idea even existed. I understand I have no family name, and I have nothing to offer save for myself, but I never want to let go of your daughter's hand. I want to love her as much as she deserves, and then more. Her world is limitless. I want to strive for new heights with her, and exceed our maximums and then everything beyond."

"I don't approve of you," Hisako's father said after a prolonged silence. "I believe Hisako would fare much better with another man that I have deemed adequate."

Hisako started to protest but Akira silenced her with a shake of his head.

"You are too far from ideal to be worthy of the Arato name. You have nothing save for your cooking and your nose."

Shit.

"But I cannot bring myself to forbid you from seeing Hisako."

Akira blinked. "Sir?"

"I sense your virtue, Hayama Akira. You walked into my home with my daughter's hand in yours and asked me to let you hold it. That is brave, and I respect that. I value my daughter's intelligence enough to have faith that she is more than capable of choosing the right man to support all her endeavors. Therefore I will allow you to continue your relationship with Hisako. Be true, child. You have my blessing."

Arato Hiromatsu extended his hand. Akira stared at it for a long moment, shook it, then turned to Hisako with a broad smile.

This was their genesis.

In retrospect, Alice had probably timed her wedding just to get them to talk again.

It had been twenty-one months since they graduated from Totsuki; twenty-one months since they'd last talked face to face. There was one event where they'd brushed by each other but that had been the extent of it; better to pretend that they had both moved on.

But the compulsory dance between the best man and maid of honor — Hayama was still smarting, though he'd never admit this — forced them to be face to face for what had to be the most awkward waltz in history.

"Yo, Nakiri. How's it going?"

If you'd texted me you would know. Erina held her tongue. "I'm thriving," she deadpanned.

"Good to hear," he replied before twirling her out.

"How are you?" she asked finally, dreading the answer.

Souma shrugged. "Well enough."

The words slipped past her lips before she could stop them. "How's it going with Marina?"

He gave her a long look, then his eyes flickered over to the journalist, who was laughing over the rim of her tequila sunrise with Isami Aldini and Ikumi Mito. "She's been helping me out a lot with the media side of things and she's fun to be around. But we're not dating."

What was this relief in her chest? Fuck, that wasn't good.

"I'm surprised," Erina said, doing her best to keep the hope out of her voice. "You've been in the news with her a lot. Everyone's going nuts for your relationship."

"Let them think what they want. The people that actually matter in our lives know we aren't together."

God, she missed Yukihira Souma. He'd grown taller since graduation; he could now rest his chin on top of her head — but he didn't. For a brief moment, she realized that his white cloth was in her purse, but then she forgot everything; she forgot the wedding, the breakup, the three guys she'd been with in a fruitless attempt to get over him, everything else. She thought only of how damaged Souma's smile was — only in her eyes, nobody else could tell — and how she had been the one to crack that perfect masquerade.

Erina regretted it all.

"By the way, Nakiri, you've been seeing other guys, haven't you?"

Oh, fuck.

"The fuck do you care?" she retorted half-heartedly. "It's not like it matters to you."

Souma gave a dry laugh; it sounded like quarters on a chalkboard. "You're right. It doesn't."

"Then why do you ask?" Her voice was getting higher now.

"Same reason why you asked me about Marina, isn't it?"

"I shouldn't have," Erina answered flatly. "It's not my place. I apologize"

Souma's eyebrows drew together. "Look, Nakiri. If I said I didn't think of us getting back together, I'd be lying."

I want that too. More than anything.

"Don't be ridiculous." The universe had a cruel hand — she hated how inarticulate she felt with this man. So much for her god tongue.

"Yeah," Souma said with a forced laugh, the word clipped. "Reprehensible of me." He let go before the last note of the waltz had drifted into the air and shoved his hands into his pockets. Erina watched, despising herself, as he stalked off the dance floor and joined his bona fide media manager and the Mito-Aldini duo at the bar.

He didn't spare her a single glance for the rest of the night and it broke her.

good lord they have no clue how much pining is happening between them