~*~

To say that Saihitei's apartment building was "nice" would've been a vast understatement.  Not only was there a doorman, but a lobby that seemed more fitting of a five-star hotel chain, complete with green velvet couches, intricate tapestries on the walls, and a fountain.  To top it off, the doorman had a very proper Oxford-English accent, and when he stepped back to let us in, he swept the hat off his head, held it to his chest, and said, "Good evening, sir.  Sir.  Sir.  Madam."

Miaka managed a giggled, "G-G-Good evening," and given the fact that she was still clinging to my bicep, her laughter buzzed against me, tickling my arm. 

Ryuen, who I assumed was here a great deal more often than either Miaka or Taka, led us across the polished marble floor, past the couches, and finally to the elevators, where he stopped and pressed his finger to the UP button.  Only a moment later, the second of the two elevators--both of which were shielded by glistening silver doors and had old-fashioned, clock-like floor indicators above them--chimed, and the doors creaked open. 

Inside, I was only minorly surprised to find a man in a maroon uniform similar to the doorman's; he had long white mustaches that twitched as he watched us, and bushy brows that nearly obscured his eyes.  "Good evening, sir.  Sir.  Sir.  Madam," he said.  His voice was softer than the doorman's, but the tone a bit brisker; if his entire job was to stand in a box and push buttons for people, I didn't think I could blame him for it.  "What floor, please?"

"Eight," Ryuen replied.  When I turned to look at him, thinking he sounded a little strange, I saw that he stood in the very back of the elevator, gripping the silvery metal bar that jutted out from the wall with white-knuckled hands.  The moment we started drifting upwards, he squeezed his eyes shut and swallowed visibly.  I was just about to ask him if he was feeling all right when Miaka, who had seemingly noticed me watching him, gave my arm a little shake to get my attention.

"Ne, he'll be all right," she confided in a whisper--that everyone in the elevator could hear, I should mention.  "Ryu-chan doesn't like elevators much.  Usually he takes the stairs, but tonight he's making an exception just for you--isn't that nice of him??  Ryu-chan's so nice!"

He was nice, but...  Frowning, I glanced back at him and found his jaw clenched in much the same manner as it had been outside, face paler than usual. 

Was this what was bothering him out there?  That he was going to have to ride in the elevator?  But...

"Wait," I said quietly, returning my gaze to Miaka, "he usually takes the stairs?  Up eight flights?"

Behind me, Ryuen drew a ragged breath; his fingers trembled around the bar, although whether it was because he was gripping it so tightly or because all of him was shaking, I couldn't tell.  "Sure do," he answered in a pinched voice.  "It's not...so bad.  It's only the last few flights that are difficult, but if you--" 

The elevator shuddered to a halt; Ryuen gave a little yelp and opened his eyes, shoulder blades shoved back against the wall.  As the realization that we'd reached our destination trickled into his eyes, however, he regained his composure somewhat, let out a deep and shuddering sigh, and released the bar.  Taka moved immediately to his side to help him out of the elevator, and it wasn't until we stood on solid ground again that Ryuen finished his sentence.

"If you pace yourself," he concluded a bit breathlessly, "it's not hard at all."

All confusion over Ryuen's phobia vanished from my mind right then as, with a sensation much akin to having the wind knocked out of me, I realized that we were here.  We were on floor eight, with its stylish red carpeting and smooth beige walls, and in just a few moments, I was going to be meeting Ryuen's friends.  I was going to be going into a near-stranger's apartment and meeting three new people--

Two.  Two!!  Why can't you get that into your head?!  You're a math genius, for crying out loud!  Act like it!

--and being forced to socialize with them.  My stomach turned a cartwheel at that thought, but with Miaka so near to me, watching me with those big, smiling green eyes, I couldn't very well do anything about it.  So, I just stood there, waiting for Ryuen to get his land legs back, and tried not to think about how unbelievably afraid I was.

What if they hate me?  What if I can't think of anything to say?  What if they think I'm stupid?  What if I embarrass Ryuen and he never wants to see me again?  What if I accidentally spill something?  What if I choke on my punch?  ..my God, what if they don't have punch?  What if they have alcohol??  This is a college party, after all--why wouldn't they have alcohol?  What if Ryuen offers me some and thinks I'm dumb for not having any?  Ahhhhhh, what if they have drugs there?! 

My breathing, I realized, had been growing quicker with each escalating thought; it was an effort to slow it down, but I did so, mainly because Miaka was peering at me concernedly, and even Ryuen and Taka seemed to be oddly focused on my reactions. 

Okay, look, you have to calm down.  If you don't, you're just going to make an idiot out of yourself, and while you're really getting quite proficient at doing that sort of thing, you do not want to do it now.  Don't mess this up, Doukun.  For whatever reason, these people are trying to be friendly to you, and if you watch yourself and don't do anything stupid or weird, they might be your friends.  Wouldn't it be nice to have friends?  Granted, your grade point average might suffer a point or two if you were to devote less time to your studies...but, damn it, that's not important!  This is important!  Having friends, being important to people--having people who are important to you!  THAT is what's important!

So, suck it up, Doukun.  Suck it up, and go in there, and make some friends. 

My trembling had stopped, and my breathing came in slower, less panicky washes of air.  Miaka--still on my arm--and Taka and Ryuen--one on either side of me, Taka nearest to Miaka--were all looking at me, studying my face and probably trying to figure out what to say.  For once, I decided to take the initiative; why not start a new life with a new attitude? 

And if you screw it up, you'll still be able to get back to your room in time for that CNN special.  Fantastic.

"I'm ready," I said firmly.  Clasping my hands in front of my sweatshirt, I glanced over my left shoulder and nodded at Ryuen.  "Let's go."

~*~

Despite it being Saihitei's apartment, Saihitei himself did not answer the door when Ryuen knocked.  Instead, when the door swung inward, it was a tall, slender guy--a little older than Saihitei, probably around mid-twenties--with an easy smile and bluish hair.  He was wearing a short-sleeved dress shirt and loose black tie, along with loafers and olive-colored khakis, but it wasn't the way he was dressed that caught my attention.  It was his hair.  Nowhere in my study of physics and related fields had I seen anything to suggest that hair could be made to stick up in the air like that; his bangs, longer than the rest of his hair--which was cropped fairly close to his head--soared high above his forehead, drooping only a bit near the top.

Noticing my stare, he lifted a hand to them and gave the airborn bangs a little pat.  "They're not always like this no da," he said apologetically.  My memories of the Japanese lessons I'd had in high school informed me that "no da" didn't have a literal translation into English--but why on earth was this guy using it?  I shook my head inwardly.  Maybe I'd misheard.

"Tonight's a...err...special occasion no da!"

Maybe not.

Why would you even assume that he was using the Japanese "no da," anyway?  He could very well have some sort of speech impediment, or perhaps be using the AMERICAN "no duh."  Do you think?  Perhaps??

...but, the American "no duh" doesn't make much sense in this context, and the Japanese does.  But why in the world would he be using that in casual conversation in ENGLISH?

Realizing--mainly from Miaka's sudden nudge of my arm--that I'd been standing there in silence, just staring at the man's bangs, I cleared my throat and directed my gaze to his eyes, instead.  ...in doing so, I found to my surprise that only one of those eyes was real.  The left, around which I could see the very faint imprint of a scar, was actually a glass eye--my Aunt Milly, after a weedwhacker accident when I was twelve, had been given a glass eye, so I knew the signs fairly well. 

Feeling a flash of sympathy for this cheery, no-da-ing man and his glass eye, I held out a hand and waited as he wrapped his larger fingers around mine.  "Hello," I said politely.  "I'm Ou Doukun.  It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Ri Houjun," he replied, giving my hand a firm but gentle shake--which was nice.  It wasn't something I was particularly proud of, but my hands had always been oddly-sensitive, and most people tended to squeeze too hard when we shook.  Not Houjun, though, and it was nice, not having to be the one to end a handshake just because I was about to cry out in pain.  "And it's a pleasure to meet you, too, no da."

"How'd you get stuck on door-opening duty?" Ryuen asked wryly, throwing a wink at Houjun.

Taka's eyes were wide.  "And how much gel did you have to use to get your hair to do that?  It must've cost you a fortune!"

Houjun chuckled, a low, pleasant sound amidst the background noise from the apartment--which, now that I paid attention to it, I could make out as the distinctive theme music of "Friends," the low and soothing baritone of Saihitei's voice, and--cutting through it all--loud, near-obnoxious laughter that just about drowned out all other sound.

"To answer your question," he answered, nodding at Ryuen, "I volunteered."  He smiled ruefully.  "Besides no da, Genrou was starting to win at Trivial Pursuit, and he can be--"  Houjun cast a glance over his shoulder, where the obnoxious laughter continued.  "--a little loud when he's winning."  The one-eyed gaze flickered to Taka.  "And, it didn't take that much no da--just a bottle of gel and half a can of hairspray."

Ryuen burst out laughing, a sound I appreciated all the more after how reserved he'd been in the elevator, and Miaka--who'd finally opted to let go of my arm--slid forward to give Houjun a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. 

"It's so good to see you again, Houjun!" she chirped, taking the man's hand into her own and giving it a squeeze.  "I'm really glad you could make it tonight."

Houjun smiled--but, then, he'd never really stopped smiling, so I suppose it would be more accurate to say that his smile grew wider.  "I wouldn't have missed this for the world," he murmured, bringing his free hand down to clasp over his and Miaka's fingers. 

"Hey, what the fuck?!" came a loud, grating male voice from inside the apartment.  "Ya gonna bring 'em in, Houjun, or are ya fuckin' gonna stand out in the hall all night?"

I couldn't help it--my eyes went wide at the blatant vulgarity, and as luck would have it, it didn't go unnoticed.  Houjun chuckled again, and--after releasing Miaka's hand--said brightly, "Don't worry, no da!  Genrou only swears that much when he's awake--and after how much sleep he got last night, he won't last long no da!"

Flushing at having my relative innocence exposed for all to see, I opened my mouth to say something--but before I could, Miaka had grabbed my arm and started bouncing up and down.

"Come on, come on!" she squealed.  "Let's go inside!  You have to meet everybody at once!"

Frowning at her odd phrasing--everybody at once?--I nonetheless gave a weak little nod and let myself be herded through the door.  Houjun, for his part, stepped back in time to avoid being plowed over by the enthusiastic Miaka, and so my first view of the apartment was unobstructed by even a hint of gravity-defying bangs.

The breath seemed caught in my lungs. 

It was huge, for one thing, despite the deceptively-small amount of space between doors in the hallway; Miaka and I were currently standing on the mat just inside the door, onto which apparently all shoes were to be deposited.  Glancing at the immaculate interior, I could see why. 

To the right, clearly, was the kitchen and dining room area, and the only portion of floor in the place that was covered in tile rather than plush beige carpeting.  Against that right-most wall there was a long counter with a sink, cupboards, and a few oaken drawers; a microwave sat in a cubby built into the wall above the counter, and a full-sized refrigerator hummed just beside it.  Past the counter--and just about in the center of that square of black and white tile--was an oval-shaped table of the same dark oak as the drawers, above which dangled a Tiffany light, the half-sphere of colored glass shooting little rainbows onto the wood.

To the left, I gathered, was the living area; the beige carpeting swept from the edge of the kitchen tile to each pristine white wall, along which had been hung a few gilt-framed oil paintings, none of which I could make out very well from where I stood.  Between two of those paintings, however, there were sliding glass doors that led out onto the balcony, on which I could see a table, chairs, and a few potted plants. 

Finally, I let my eye drift to the center of the living area, where Saihitei and Genrou--and the TV--waited.  The entertainment center--a sturdy wooden structure that was, again, of that same dark oak--rested against the wall opposite to the front door.  Aside from the T.V., I could make out a VCR, DVD player, Playstation, and stereo inside the thing; two wide speakers rested on either side of it.  Arrayed tastefully around the entertainment center was a variety of brown suede furniture.  A long, curving couch sat facing the television, a glass coffee table stretching out in front of it, while two reclining arm chairs flanked the couch, each angled to face the entertainment center.  About five or six feet to the left of all this, facing the far corner, sat a sleek Baby Grand piano, which the light of the lamps--tall, amber-hued floor lamps on either side of the entertainment center--set to glistening.

Gaping as I was, I still noticed Miaka and the others--even Houjun, which seemed rather strange given that he'd already been inside--removing their shoes and piling them to one side of the door, so I bent to remove my own. 

"Isn't it gorgeous?" Miaka whispered to me as we both worked at our laces.  Glancing over at her, I found her eyes wide and excited, but couldn't help but think that it had to do with slightly more than the interior of Saihitei's apartment. 

Before I'd had much chance to think on that, however, and just as I'd deposited my sneakers beside Ryuen's Keds, I heard the rustle of socks on carpeting, and Saihitei was coming towards us.  It was strange, seeing this regal man in his socks--but the rest of him more than made up for the lack of dignity the improper footwear created.  His hair--which I'd only ever seen loose, flooding down over his broad shoulders--had been tugged up onto the top of his head in a loose bun, leaving only a handful of strands dangling down over his forehead.  He wore a stylish red blazer adorned with gold buttons, beneath which I could see a white dress shirt and orange- and red-striped tie, and again, I had that inexplicable impression of imperial presence when looking at him.  There was just something about him... 

"Hello again," he said, granting me a kind and regal nod.  Before I'd had the chance to return the greeting, however, Ryuen had swept forward and wrapped his arm around the man's neck; they shared a quick kiss of greeting before Ryuen stepped back.

Saihitei was just turning back to us, apparently readying himself to greet Miaka and Taka more properly, when abruptly his eyes went wide and he turned back to Ryuen.  "Sweetheart, did you take the elevator?" he breathed.

Smiling, Miaka stepped forward and hugged Ryuen's arm; cheek to his shoulder, she answered, "Hai, he did.  Just as brave as ever, ne?"

Ryuen, who was suddenly blushing madly, cast Miaka a dark glance.  "I-I wouldn't call it 'brave.'  It's just an elevator."

"Shit, Ryuen, ya took the elevator?"  Glancing up, I saw the source of the voice--a gangly red-head in a ratty T-shirt and equally-ratty jeans--loping towards us from the couch.  A Trivial Pursuit card was squeezed between the index finger and thumb of his right hand, and a variety of chains hung from his neck, jangling as he moved.  "Fuckin' didn't think ya had it in ya!"

I struggled for a moment to put a name to the face.  I knew that Ryuen had told me about this person--I remembered in particular a tale involving a pool skimmer--but no matter how deeply I searched my brain, I couldn't come up with a name.  And Houjun had just said it a few moments ago, too!  Brow furrowing, I studied the boy with his wild fiery hair and easy, swaggering stride; I was fairly sure that his name began with a T, but try as I might, I couldn't come up with any more than that.

The red-head had come to a halt beside Saihitei, hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans and amber eyes drifting from face to face--and then finally coming to a halt on me.  "Hey," he said, giving me a nod.  "Good ta see ya."

A little flustered, particularly since I was starting to fear that no one was going to properly introduce us, thus meaning that I would be left to my own devices to divine his name, I nonetheless nodded.  "It's nice to meet you."

A short silence fell . . . and, very slowly, I realized that everyone had turned to stare at me.

I glanced from one to the other, frowning more deeply than ever, and wondering if perhaps I had something on my face.  "Ah..."  I swallowed.  "I-Is something wrong?"

No one said anything for a long moment, just standing there, staring at me, looking as if they were waiting for something...and then Ryuen gave a short, too-loud laugh and clapped a hand on my shoulder.  "O-Oh, it's nothing!" he assured me.  "C'mon, let's go sit down.  I bet you're great at Trivial Pursuit, huh, Doukun?"

As Ryuen led me to the couch, an arm around my shoulder and his free hand intertwined with Saihitei's, I distinctly heard the red-head whisper, "What the fuck, 'Chiri?  Why doesn't he remember?"

...but then Miaka was chattering in my ear about snacks and movies and reminding me of the good times we'd had in Home Ec, and the strange snippet of conversation was forgotten. 

~*~