Author's Notes: Another day, another dollar, another update for the best Persona 4 fic on the internet. We're coming to the end of the tale, dear reader. How does it feel after so long? Where do you think we'll end up? Let me know in a comment.

First, some replies to my lovely reviewers:

alith anar: Thanks for your review! It was a long time coming for Yuuma, but it seems like people like how it turned out. Glad to hear it clicked. I can't comment on Izumi or any weddings that might or might not be happening in the future, so you'll have to read to find out. Enjoy!

Myalko: 2018, eh? Thanks for sticking around this long, and thanks for reviewing. The feeling's mutual – I always love seeing what my readers think of the chapters. As to the rest, yep, it all had to come to a head with Yuuma and Izumi, and I'm glad people seem to like how it turned out. I won't comment on the specifics since that would make reading the chapters redundant, but I imagine you won't be disappointed. Thanks again.

codywhite162: All good things come to an end, and all the best things make it an end to remember. Thanks for reading and reviewing, and I hope you enjoy the chapter. Cheers!

Binbix: I'm glad the twist had an impact. That was always the point, but knowing that it landed certainly helps. It was one of the easier scenes to write in recent chapters – I'd been sharpening it for a long time. If you're interested in what happens next, you need wait no longer. Thanks for reading, and enjoy the chapter.

I did say in the prior chapter that there were two more to go, but in the interest of brevity and making the chapters as sharp as possible, I elected to split this one in half to not make it a wall of text. That means two more to go after this one.

Thanks as always for the help, Firion.

Oh, and happy tears are not required, but they are quite likely.

Chapter 38

Souji didn't know how much sleep he got that night, but the point his mother made turned out to be true – things were a bit better the next day. He expected calls and messages on his phone, or maybe one of his friends reporting another indirect attack somewhere, some sort of blowback as reprisal for the previous day's events. What he got instead was almost depressingly simple and free of drama. His mother let him know that things were going to be fine for him moving forward. Doujima and Nanako were coming to visit and his cousin was projecting her excitement through the phone. And Naoto was going back to Inaba with Kanji and Teddie, and they all extended their congratulations on a job well done. There was nothing from his father or any of the other concerned parties, no message of suspension from the university, no snap eviction notice from the landlord.

Souji still felt like the ax was going to fall, that the fight wasn't over yet. He spent that whole day doing homework to catch up on his classes while waiting for his phone to ring. It did, and he nearly parted company with his skin when it went off, but two of the calls were scams to discuss his car's extended warranty and the third was a wrong number. Each time he hung up, he stared at the device with murderous intensity. He dared his father's associates to escalate matters and keep the fight going. He practically wanted his mother's plan to have failed just so he'd have a something to gear up for.

The day passed and that call never came. He was well and truly in the clear. It was like, all at once, his life had gone back to normal. But just like after the investigation in Inaba was concluded, and like after fighting Izanami, he felt lost as he floundered and readjusted to 'normal.'

When he'd talked to his friends that morning, the mood was quiet. Yosuke and Chie looked pensive like they also figured that the worst was yet to come, but they didn't know from where. Kou and Yoshiro were relieved that the ordeal seemed to be over, but the readiness of the others told them that it wasn't. Yukiko was at Souji's side, his support if he needed her, or perhaps he was her support while she processed the last few days, lost as much as the rest of them and trying to put everything in its place.

Megumi was off in the corner and didn't say much. She'd been quiet since before the big meeting.

Souji let Rise know how things went. Her reply was, Yosuke-senpai told me what happened. I'm glad you won. I always knew you would. Make sure you look after Yukiko-senpai – she's been through a lot lately.

Looking after Yukiko wasn't a tall order for Souji. He pampered her when they were alone and soaked up her feel and scent while he got his head back in gear. He couldn't be stuck in the present at the expense of his future. When he got the text from Nanako saying they were on the way via bullet train, he knew he couldn't keep hiding.

"So what now?" Yosuke asked on the second morning, more than one meaning to his words.

Souji glanced at Yukiko, let out a breath, and said, "We go back to how things were before. Take a day off, get some sun, hit the arcade, whatever works. Nanako and Doujima will be here soon, so that's where I'll be."

Everything still felt strange as he dressed for the day, but he squared his shoulders, pulled his fiancée to his side, and left the apartment.

The group scattered from there, breaking into their usual pairs. Yukiko was under Souji's arm the whole time as they went to the station. She didn't seem sad or conflicted, but more pensive than anything. Souji had some idea of what was going through her pretty head and stroked her side while he thought a few things through himself and sent off a text. To his surprise, he got a quick reply.

They didn't have to wait long before their train came in. A familiar figure in white and pink came through the crowds of gray and black. Nanako was loaded down with the bags containing her clothes and supplies for the time they'd be here, but she still ran up to him in joy as soon as she saw him.

"There she is," Souji said, picking her up and spinning with her. She was probably too old for such a display, but her hug and laughter said that she didn't mind. "The second-most important girl in my life!"

Nanako giggled. "I hope Yukiko-san is the most important one, Big Bro, or else you're in trouble."

Souji glanced at his woman. "Of course she is, Nanako. More important than anyone."

He got a pretty smile and a blush in return.

Nanako piped up then. "Actually, I'm third. Aunt Izumi should be above me, too; she's your mom!"

There it was, the reminder from his conscience. He hadn't contacted his mother since she left the bar that night. He hadn't known what to say and still didn't. He tried not to let it show on his face, the murky mire of emotions he was still working through.

"But not any lower than third," Nanako concluded, evidently unaware of his turmoil. "Third is as far as I'll go."

"That's a promise," he said, setting her down.

"Hopefully she won't be in the way too much while we're here," Doujima said on approach. "You're all she could talk about on the train."

Nanako puffed up in indignation. "Daddy! That's mean!"

Souji chuckled. "Not at all, but it seems I'm meeting my boss in a bit. I have to go over some details to get back to work. I wanted to get it done all at once. Hopefully that's not a problem."

"That'll be fine. Think we can grab some lunch while we wait?"

"Sure. I know a few places that're worth the money."

They bought donburi and went to the nearby park. Minoru-san and his family approached them a few minutes after they finished up. The men were introduced easily and immediately seemed to like each other. Etsuko-san was loaded down with all things children, carrying their infant son and the supplies he needed while Akane helped where she could, fitting into her role of responsible big sister. Yukiko offered to help, handling both baby and bottle with even greater skill than before.

Nanako, never one to be deterred by all the adults, went over and greeted Akane with a bright smile. "Hi! I'm Nanako. Big Bro told me about you, Akane-chan."

Akane looked up speculatively. "You mean Onii-chan?"

"That's right. He said he helped you one time. He did the same with me."

Whatever reservations around strangers or awe Akane had toward the older girl melted in moments. In no time they were trading stories of what Souji had done for them, preferred TV superheroes, and what their favorite animals were. Soon enough Akane had brought out crayons and paper to illustrate her points. Nanako joined in and showed her some drawing tricks she'd learned from Kanji. Akane's preferred subject of drawing was Souji and the car he saved her from, telling the tale with tongue-twisting enthusiasm as she drew. Souji barely recognized himself in the story or on paper, so superhuman he sounded. The gross embellishment she put on the story almost made him blush, but then Nanako told her about being kidnapped, starting with the delivery van and building up to halls of light – all complete with drawings of her own – and he knew better than to try to inject any truth into the conversation. Akane listened, raptly spellbound, as Nanako wove her tale bigger and grander than Souji would have expected from her – he'd thought that she'd be too level-headed for such exaggeration. When Nanako finished, both she and Akane both looked at him with stars in their eyes while Etsuko-san and Yukiko watched, clearly amused. That was when Souji stepped over to the other men.

"I thought I told crazy stories," Souji murmured, "but they both have me beat."

"Goes with the territory for their age. And because they're girls. If we get any more estrogen here, I'm going to need a drink," Doujima muttered while he lit up a smoke.

"Daddy! Cigarettes are bad for you!"

Doujima waved his daughter off, drawing deep before exhaling with a sigh. "When she was a kid, I was afraid she'd be too shy to talk to people. Now I miss when she couldn't talk properly."

"Just wait until she's old enough to date," Minoru-san joked. "Then you'll really have your hands full."

Doujima gave a rough grin. "Right back at you. Yours isn't too much younger, is she?"

"She isn't. I'm amazed how fast she's growing." The older man looked at Souji. "That's something you get to look forward to."

"I'm hoping for sons," Souji replied blithely. "I get the feeling boys will be easier."

"We'll have at least one girl," Yukiko put in seamlessly from where she sat.

The men chuckled ruefully. "I expect I'll be back to work next week," Souji said finally, trying to get back to business. "Everything looks like it's going back to normal on my end."

Minoru-san looked at him carefully. "I'm glad to hear that, but have things really gone back to normal?"

"I don't know yet. I'm still working on it. I do have one question: how much did you know about this whole thing? You're the one who put me on the trail in the first place."

Minoru-san looked distant. "This business is a smaller pond than you think, and everyone likes to talk. We're all looking for an edge to get ahead, whether that means going after rumors or digging up someone's shady past. As to your situation, I knew a few things about Tani and Shirotori, that they worked for Seta Yuuma, but that was it. I wouldn't have guessed that they were connected to so many big people, and it stands to reason that it would take an equally big gesture to bring them down. We're still feeling the earthquake your mother set off – I'd even bet we haven't seen the worst of it yet."

"She said she put everything she had into this. All her contacts, her whole reputation, everything."

"Seeing how many people are scrambling right now, I'd believe it."

"She also said she probably won't work in the industry ever again."

"She's certainly right about that. No matter how high or low they are on the ladder, everyone's heard of her by now. They won't touch her ever again."

Souji figured he knew the answer to this already, but asked anyway. "I don't suppose you could take her on, maybe give her some work on the side or off the record?"

"If I had a way to, I would do it right now. Lots of us would, especially for someone of her experience and pedigree. But she set off a bomb going to bat for you, and she's going down with the burning ship. It's not just business owners that will feel this, but politicians. If you can think of a politician you respect to do the right thing and back her, I'd love to hear their name. As for the rest of us, no one wants to get near that." Minoru-san smiled cynically. "I had some people call me about you, you know. You have the same last name as her so they wanted to know why you were just on leave and why I hadn't fired you by association."

"You're kidding."

"Not at all. That's how seriously they're taking any connection to her. I took the liberty of saying that you were estranged from her and that you were a casualty of her actions as much as your father was. Everyone thinks the worst of her – I'll spare you the specifics – so they believed it."

"That's doesn't do her any favors."

"So far as anyone else is concerned, that's just one scale on the fish. By now they'll be coming up with reasons to hate her that are almost certainly false, that's how crazy this is getting. I'm sorry for using her and making you seem like the victim, but I have to think of the company's future so I can keep paying my employees."

"The high cost of doing business?"

"That's right."

Souji breathed out. "That's what she figured. I was hoping I was wrong or that she overblew the situation."

"If she told you that she'd be blacklisted for life, then she didn't. I hope she has something on the side to keep her above water, because she'll never work at this level again."

"She does," Doujima said. "We talked about her coming to Inaba for a while to get away from everything, and she'll be staying with us. With Yuuma out of the way, I'll be able to get back to work, so we'll look after her."

Minoru-san faced the detective. "I hope my approach doesn't offend you too much. I won't apologize for it, but it is unfortunate that it was necessary."

Doujima shrugged. "My sis expected it. She told me that something like that would happen and that she was okay with it so long as Souji was protected. She didn't want to call you directly in case someone made the connection. It's a little scary how sharp she is."

"I'm glad to hear that, and I regret even more that I can't hire her – she'd be an asset to anyone who could. How is she doing?"

"She's keeping to herself." Doujima looked at Souji. "If you don't hear from her for a while, don't take it too personally. She had a chat with her boss yesterday and it doesn't sound like it went very well."

Souji braced himself. "How bad was it?"

"It was bad. They were the first ones to disavow her, and they found every reason in the book to trash her name. They have lists of clients ready to blacklist her to protect the company and keep her from ever getting back in the business. She did herself a favor by quitting, but that means she won't get any severance. She said they'll cut her off from her corporate shares and her pension, too."

"Is that legal?"

"No," Minoru-san noted, "but she would have to fight it in court. Not only would she have to find a lawyer who wouldn't just throw her case because he's heard of her, but her company has whole law firms on retainer. They would drag it out for so long that she wouldn't make anything even if she won."

Souji spat out, quietly enough that the girls didn't hear him, "That's bullshit."

"Yes, but that's business."

"That's why I told her she needs to get away from all this," Doujima concluded. "She agreed pretty quickly. Aside from you, there's nothing left for her here."

"Do you think she'll be okay?"

"She's tougher than you think she is. She might have a bad week or two, but Nanako and I aren't going to let her hit the bottom, and she found ways to make money long before she got on the corporate ladder. She'll manage." Doujima smiled around his smoke. "But if you want to talk to her once all the dust settles, then do it. She won't mind."

"I'll try. It's just..." Souji smiled ruefully. "It's different, that's all. This isn't how I figured things would end up. I just need some time to process everything."

"You'll have Amagi to help you, I'm sure." Minoru-san grinned, looking young and boyish. "Etsuko won't forgive me if I don't ask, and I'm curious myself: when is the wedding? We want invitations, and Etsuko and Akane probably won't ever speak to you again if you forget us."

Souji caught, from the corner of his eye, the sight of Yukiko perking up. As much as she was enjoying playing with the kids, she'd been listening in and homed in on any talk of upcoming nuptials. He smiled. He hadn't just been stuck in his head the last thirty-six hours – he'd also made some decisions and set the groundwork for his future plans. He replied, "As soon as I can. Graduation's next spring, then there are some things to handle, but late summer or early autumn would work. Inaba's beautiful that time of year, so it would be a great time for an outdoor wedding. Don't you think, Yukiko?"

She nodded so fast her hair blurred while she had her hands on her cheeks. Etsuko laughed and hugged her while Akane and Nanako asked what the adults were so happy about.

This was what he wanted. Enough of Souji's classmates and colleagues strung their girls along or wanted to play the field as much as they could before settling down. They treated a ring like it was the thickest link in a ball and chain, or they said the words and then ducked the commitment. Souji couldn't sympathize with them. He knew he had something special with his woman that he wouldn't find anywhere else. No one – not any of the gorgeous students in university or the girls in the city – even caught his eye enough to begin to interest him. Yukiko was the one he wanted. He wasn't going to leave that as an ephemeral maybe, some idea set on the wings that he'd get used to dodging until everything fell apart. It was time to make good on his promise and move toward his, their, future.

Doujima grinned. "I hope you know that she'll hold you to that. I heard you and she knows that too. If you try to change your mind later and she asks me to intervene, you realize that I'll have to do as she says, you know. Neighborly courtesy and all that."

"Feel free to. I won't take it back."

Minoru-san patted Souji on the back firmly. "Good man. Most guys would wait it out a little more or duck the question. Not that I'm criticizing – those guys also drag things out and leave the girl hanging. But a year and a half isn't much time to put everything together for a wedding while you're both still going to school and living apart."

"It'll work," Souji replied. "We'll make it work."

Minoru-san smiled. "You know, I believe that you will."

The conversation drifted from there to things less serious, things that could include the ladies with the baby. Nanako and Akane interrupted their coloring and tag-teamed Souji in a hug that pushed back on his heels. He responded by picking them both up, pulling gleeful shrieks and giggles out of them. Every now and again, he would meet Yukiko's eyes and see the tender, unbridled happiness there. Eventually, Doujima and Nanako went off to meet Izumi while Minoru-san had to get back to work and escort Etsuko-san and their children home. Souji considered following his uncle and cousin to speak to his mother, then wondered if they wanted some time to themselves. Even if he went with them, what would he say? He hadn't known what he felt before, and now he felt worse for how badly his mother was being treated by the career and life she'd had for so long. Yukiko interrupted his circling thoughts when she softly asked, "Are you sure you want it that early? We can wait a little longer."

That was what he needed, the focus on the present. Her question sounded like an out, but Souji didn't need it or want it. He slipped his hands around her waist and looked into those soft, dark eyes. "Do you want to wait? Be honest."

"I…"

"Because I don't. We've gone through all this to have our happily ever after. It's probably not going to be easy, not with the Inn and everything else – even if we've learned a lot, we're still going to be pretty new at this. We haven't even tried living together yet – maybe I'll hog the covers, or you'll snore and drive me crazy."

"I don't snore," she insisted primly.

"Of course not," he grinned, then tugged her closer. "But I want this. You and me, a wedding and kids. I don't need anything else like I need those, and you."

"Forever?"

"Yeah. Forever."

"Say it," she asked softly. "Please."

Souji took a few seconds to put his thoughts in order, but it had become much easier where she was concerned than it had been before. Maybe that was from experience, or it could have been the first step to him moving forward. Either way, he leaned in. "I don't know how we're going to manage normalcy. We didn't start normal and that's definitely not how we kept going. I can't think of anyone who would want to fall in love during a murder investigation, or to go through all this because of things he couldn't control. But it's never changed that you're the one I want to live with, wake up next to, and have kids with. I want to be with you now and later and until we're old and gray. Well, more gray, in my case. Trying for normal is just the next step for us, and there isn't anyone else I want to do it with. I love you, Amagi Yukiko, more than anything and no matter what happens. Will you marry me?"

She squeezed him so tight his ribs creaked. She buried her face in his chest and giggled and cried, saying over and over, "Yes. Yes. Yes."

There might have been people around them irritated by the space they were taking up. People like passing-by housewives clucking their tongues at the display of affection from the young, saying in snide tones and undisguised jealousy how the next generation had no sense of decorum. There might have been children who watched and wondered why their parents didn't look as happy as these two, who would comment on that and get guilty looks and silence for an answer. There might have been adolescents who were re-inspired to find their own piece of what those two had – it was right there so it had to be real, and they could find it out there if they just tried hard enough.

Souji and Yukiko didn't care. Their bond had endured, their path was clear at last, and their future beckoned on the horizon, looking closer and far brighter than they'd ever thought it could.

Sunlight and birdsong used to be things Junko hated with a passion. When every move and sound crashed through her head like a delivery truck through a park full of people, she'd quickly developed a hatred for mornings, going so far as to drink and sleep earlier so she was hung over at different times of the day. It used to even be that she'd take offense to anyone who commented on the state of her office, and when she got fired, her living room, or even her front step. She knew where things were – she just had to go looking for them – and if people didn't like what they saw, they could go somewhere else.

She could now look at that part of her life with distance and resignation. What a wreck she'd been. After Izumi's last visit, she'd purged her house of alcohol and resolved to change herself regardless of the outcome. If the DTs drove her insane, then so be it. The neighbors had been so disbelieving of her that four households watched her take the garbage bags of full cans and glass bottles to the disposal site. More than once, they flinched when she turned, expecting some ill-tempered drunken tirade.

That old part of her wanted to tell them to go look somewhere else, but she could accept that, for that day only, they'd put up with enough from her to deserve it. She wasn't going to suck up to them or try to rebuild those bridges, not when she remembered some of the things she'd said and done. Maybe with some time she'd try it, but not yet. What was worse, when she tallied how much alcohol she'd thrown out and thrown back over the years she was impressed that she had any money left at all. Even by the standards of Japanese functional alcoholism, she'd gone too far for too long.

Not anymore. She was done setting up residence in a bottle of 90 proof.

Izumi's text, It's done, had been Junko's signal to move forward, but she'd already been primed for the decision. It was the follow-up to something Izumi had said as she'd left during her 'visit': "If I catch you wallowing in self-pity again, I'll come back. I won't pull my punches next time."

Message received. Junko wasn't about to ignore such a polite offer, not when Izumi had paid to have Junko's home professionally cleaned. The place sparkled and still did – keeping it that way had been one of her means of going dry and fighting off the withdrawal symptoms. The fridge only had non-alcoholic drinks now, and she had done her research on ways to stave off the cravings. Junko had even been attending regular meetings and therapy sessions to get back on the right track, powered by the same fervor with which she'd so readily crashed off of it. Even with those resources, fighting the urge for booze had been hard – it still was, every day – but that wasn't highest on her hardest list.

That distinction went to trying to reconnect with Megumi.

Coming out of her drunken haze hadn't hurt only because of the withdrawals and chemical dependency, but because she had to face what more than a decade of her life had been like. What she'd said to her own daughter, how she'd behaved, years of arguments and slammed doors had all been waiting for her with eager smiles and a very long list. It had taken weeks to get through the transgressions with the therapist, and even that just opened the door for more bad memories. Junko had spent nights with her fingers dug into her chair, bearing the lashes of the past every minute of every hour. More than once she'd almost cracked and thought of buying a bottle – only one, just this once – to make the noise and recriminations go away.

She hadn't, and she wouldn't. No matter how hard it got, Junko pulled through the worst by sheer stubbornness and by staring at her photos of Megumi. Megumi as a baby, as a child, growing up and smiling at the park, her first school uniform. After that point in her life, the pictures stopped being so pleasant, and Junko could see in perfect color where things got worse. She badly wanted to reconnect with her daughter and apologize, and while she wasn't going to sugarcoat her chances, she also wasn't not going to try. She went through her phone and found Megumi's number. She ignored the many angry texts they'd exchanged over the years and started fresh. It took days of thinking before she got the words right: Maybe this is too little too late, but I'm sorry for everything. After what I said and did, I would understand if you don't want to talk to me. But I'm proud of you and what you've done, and I love you, Peanut.

That had been Junko's nickname for Megumi when she'd been young. Megumi had always loved it, crediting it to her hair and taking extra care of it. The name called to mind the good times before the pressures of single parenthood and her crashing career took over, back when she'd spent winter days hand-in-hand with Megumi in the snow, buying hot chocolate and visiting the fairs and shows before warming each other at night, her little girl snuggled up to her and sleeping away.

Gods, what a mess Junko had made. And all for that man who had used her only for her professional acumen. Well, not anymore. She'd seen him in the news and could appreciate that she wasn't the one with the imploding career this time. She had help and a direction and now she set about restructuring her life. That meant a proper diet, exercise, and litanies of mental reinforcements to not fall into that quagmire again. Even if Megumi never talked to her again, the least Junko could do was maintain an example her daughter could be proud of – she wasn't going to spend the rest of her life passing up opportunities and living like a slob.

Days later she was into her newest exercise regimen. When she wasn't fixing her life with her meetings, she was looking through job postings. She'd had several good interviews and was waiting on the results, and it felt good to be active again. It was when she was finished her weight curls and doing her crunches that she heard voices outside her door. That wasn't unusual – her neighbors had frequent visitors and family. These ones seemed agitated, even if she couldn't make out the words. She ignored them – it was a free country, and she was in the middle of her reps. She'd dropped an inch off her waistline already and was aiming to lose two more in the next month.

When she finished up, she thought she heard light, timid knocking on her door. She stopped and listened, caught more talking outside. A moment later, there was more faint knocking.

Junko wiped off the sweat and threw a button-up over her workout clothes, then went to answer. It must be Izumi and Souji, though she thought her friend had left town already.

"Odd of you to knock," she said as she opened, "don't you–"

The person at the door stiffened, startled as a wild hare.

It wasn't Izumi.

"Megumi," Junko breathed.

Her daughter jerked and straightened, a gauntlet of emotions running across her face. Anger and fear were the most prominent, indignation and spite following, and somewhere in there was a glimmer of love.

Junko had heard people say that her daughter was hard to read. Junko had never thought so and credited that to people misunderstanding her daughter, and perhaps to not being able to read anyone as well as Junko could.

The moment drew out. Junko's doubts and all those angry, hateful words rang in her ears. She clenched the doorframe and beat the noise back. She wasn't that person and this wasn't going to go as badly as before. She would make sure it didn't.

Junko blurted out, "I'm glad to see you. You look good."

Megumi appeared unimpressed. "You look… sober."

"I am. Have been for weeks."

"Thanks to an ultimatum? A court order? Requirement for continued tenancy?"

Junko smiled. Her little girl still had a mouth on her. That familiarity made this easier, pushed the screaming memories back. "No. An old friend visited and… well, it's a long story."

"Seta Izumi?"

"That's right."

Megumi said, "When she talked to me about Kato, I figured she would come to you."

"She said you were involved with what was going on with her son. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I couldn't tell her much, but I knew to stay down and out of the way."

"Smart girl."

The next pause was longer and more awkward. "You're looking well too, Yoshiro," Junko said, trying to keep the conversation going.

His reply was short and to the point, revealing nothing: "Thanks, ma'am."

Junko stepped aside. "There's no point in staying out here. Come in, both of you."

"So you can yell at me?" her daughter snapped. "Throw dishes at me again?"

Junko's hand tightened on the doorframe again. The urge arose to snap right back and lay down the rules, to not take attitude from anyone ever again, but she bit it back and shook her head. "I deserved that, but no. I won't ever do that again, Peanut."

Megumi grumbled. "That old name again."

"So you did get my message. I'm glad to hear that. Come on, come in, we can talk about this inside. Yoshiro too; he looks strong enough to stop me if anything happens."

This was how she worked, and the familiarity helped her keep her footing. Simple suggestions and lead-ins had been how she set the stage for her best insights and plans. The soft approach was working this time, even after so long out of the game.

Megumi and Yoshiro cautiously followed her in and looked around. Megumi sniffed the air, looking for alcohol. When she came up with nothing, before her mother could offer any refreshments, she went and checked the fridge, then the icebox, then the cupboards and the cleaning stand and the spare water storage under the floor and even inside the oven. Nothing.

"Where are you keeping your booze?" Megumi demanded.

Junko was inordinately proud to say, "The city landfill. I'm serious about staying dry."

"I've never seen the house like this. None of the places we lived at were this clean unless you paid someone to do it. I can't believe you changed tunes this easily."

"It wasn't easy. But the first place we lived, where you grew up, was clean. I kept it up before…"

Megumi looked around and nodded distantly, moving to the living room where the pictures of her were arranged, all cleaned with new frames and glass, set in sight with care and clear affection. "Was this the cleaning company's idea? Sentimentality from one of the employees?"

"It was my idea. I wanted them where I could see them. Looking at them helped keep me on the right track."

Megumi looked at her, both critical and with grudging admiration. "You've changed."

"I got a wake-up call. It made me want to make some changes in my life. This is where I want to be, so it's where I am."

"That's pretty deep."

"For a drunk?" Junko tried to laugh and took a seat. "Come on, sit down. If you want to yell at me you may as well be comfortable."

Megumi sat on the couch, Yoshiro beside her. "Yell at you. Is that what you want me to do?"

"You can do whatever you like. I'm just glad to see you, Peanut."

Megumi huffed and looked away.

Junko looked over. "You've been well, Yoshiro?"

"I'm getting by, ma'am. We both are."

"You're cautious. I suppose I didn't make a good first impression on you, did I?" That was an understatement. When Megumi introduced Yoshiro to her, all Junko could think was that her daughter was about to make the same mistake she had. That, along with the alcohol and her cratered career, had led to one very bad night. It had been one of the last times Megumi spoke to her in person.

He scratched his cheek. "No, but I wanted to see you for myself. I've… things changed on my end, so I wanted to look at this situation with fresh eyes."

"Smart. You always were smarter than people gave you credit for." She realized how crass that must sound and quickly added, "I mean that as a compliment."

"Thanks."

"No, thank you for looking after Megumi. I'm glad you're still together. I was worried that she inherited my taste in men, but she's done much better than I ever did. You've been through a lot already, and I know she can be a handful, but if I can ask a favor, please keep looking after her."

Megumi glared. "A handful?"

Junko answered, "Well, you can be. Sometimes you behave like... no, I meant to say that you come by it honestly – gods know I'm not perfect. That's okay, though. Some guys like women like that."

Yoshiro watched them carefully, probably expecting things to escalate. When Junko smiled and Megumi huffed and the table wasn't flipped, he said, "I'll stay with her. That was always the plan. But I'm finding this a bit hard to believe. From what you were like to now, it's…"

"A lot to take in. I understand. If you're wondering what my long-term game is, I'd be happy with Megumi just talking to me. That's all."

Yoshiro looked at her again. Junko didn't need to pretend to be sincere. He must have seen that – he nodded uncertainly. "I hope that's how it turns out."

Megumi cleared her throat, taking control of the conversation again. "Are you okay?"

Junko tilted her head. "With what?"

"First off, how are you handling sobriety? For how long you were drinking, I would think you'd be worse than this."

"It's a little easier now, and having something to work on helped."

"It looks like you're focusing on exercise."

"That's right. Having goals has helped keep me on track, especially with the bad days."

"You have those? What, like cravings and night sweats?"

"Of course, what else do you– Sorry, sorry. Yes, I have a lot of them, so I've had a lot of goals to work toward. Actually, one of them was that I wanted to see you again. That's why I texted you. I didn't expect it, but this has been my best day so far, Peanut."

Megumi looked like she expected the flare-up to continue. When it didn't, she seemed annoyed, but moved on. "When Souji-kun came back from his meeting a little while ago, he said his mother threw her career into the fire to protect him. That she wouldn't work ever again for what she did to bring those men down."

"I saw the news headlines. I figured she'd do something like that. You're right. That was the price she paid."

"You helped her with that, right?"

"I was never in a position to bring the house down like she did, but yes. I gave her as much information as I could."

"Has there been any blowback to you? I've heard your name going around, how you were Kato's first victim and how people are treating you like a martyr, that sort of thing. It was why... I was just curious, that's all."

"I didn't know that," Junko mused. "Izumi didn't tell me much once she got what she needed. No one's contacted me about that, but I guess that explains my recent job prospects."

"So you're okay?"

"Yes."

Silence drew out uncomfortably between them.

Junko went on. "It doesn't have to be soon, but after today, could you stop by again? I'd like to get a picture of you so I can have something current." She indicated the other photographs.

Megumi glared and growled. "Why are you being so reasonable? It's like you found religion or something. Where's the shouting and swearing and the calls from the neighbors for the cops? Why isn't the furniture flying? Where's the drunk I had to put up with when I was in school, hm? Do you remember all the problems you caused me with my teachers? Or the parents of my friends? Do you remember that?"

Junko clenched her fists so hard on reflex that her nails bit into her palms. She wanted to answer with how thin the rope she was walking felt, how coming this far this fast was because she'd self-destruct if she didn't. The corporate predator she'd been and still was wanted to set the record straight and show that she was keeping the door open to her daughter, not laying down as the mat to be stepped on. Instead, she bit her tongue and simply replied, "I remember that. I remember all of it."

"And?"

Junko cleared her mind, opened her hands, and locked eyes with her daughter. "And I'm sorry, but I'm not that person anymore. If you want to yell at me, it's what I deserve, but I won't drink ever again. That's behind me, and I have no intention of going back to it."

"Is that supposed to make this better? Am I supposed to just let all that go? No harm, no foul?"

"That's up to you. I can't change what happened, Megumi. I regret what I was like, I wish things had never gotten that bad, but they did and now every day I have to live with how much it hurt you. I hoped that you would contact me, but I never imagined that my chances of us reconnecting would be very high. I'm not going to pretend that what I did magically didn't happen, and if you don't want to forgive me, I'll understand. I'm just glad I can see you now."

Megumi crossed her arms and grumbled. "You're making it hard to be angry with you, you know."

Junko shrugged and smiled, but the conversation stalled there. When she or Yoshiro tried to start it up again, it sputtered along for a minute or two and then died. Megumi remained quiet.

It was easy enough to read the room. Junko stood. "I'm glad you stopped by. I'm sure you have other things to do today, right?"

"Something like that," Yoshiro put in.

"Well, I won't keep you. I'd love to hear from you sometime, whenever you get the chance. If you can, stop by again. I'll set a proper table next time."

They rose. When Junko approached, Megumi trembled. "I'm glad you're okay," the girl choked out, turning in toward herself and looking very small. "When I heard your name on that list, I thought… I mean…"

"It's okay, Peanut."

Megumi shook her head. "We heard about the jobs Kato used you for. All of them. He did it intentionally, then threw you away. We got proof that he used you. Hurt you, right where he knew it would do the most damage and keep you down. He did it and didn't even think about you after that, like you were just... When I heard that, I…"

Junko straightened. The memory of those days stung with an old ache, the rush and flow of the job, the thrill of the hunt and the deal. That had been her life for a long time, the outlet for the instincts that had already resurfaced. Those instincts had resulted in her poor taste in relationships, had led her to her failures as much as to her successes. But through all the pain and damage across the years, one fact stayed true no matter what the circumstances turned into. "I don't regret that, Megumi. Not the jobs or the people or how it ended, none of it. No matter what happened to me and how much it hurt and how long it went on for, I wouldn't change anything. It was bad – some days I'd even say it was terrible – but it gave me you. That was worth more than I could ever say, and I would do it all again and go through worse for my little girl."

Megumi shook, hugged herself and looked around. "I… we got him, Mom. He ignored me and he hurt you… he hurt you so much, but we found out what he did, and he can't do that anymore. He…"

Here it was, crystallized in this one moment in time. Junko didn't know if it was Izumi's influence or the residual alcohol rebelling against her brain, but she could feel the gap between her and her daughter. The thorns they'd both grown as defense mechanisms, the pain and harsh words she couldn't take back but could only move on from, the sense that they were so far apart from each other even with this one chance that brought them together.

It was a large gap, far more than the few feet between them. It was years of bad times and worse memories, of chances taken and lost with only anger and spite left behind. It would take three times as many years to fix this, and who knew how much work would be needed to mend this bridge? What if the worst happened? What if they failed?

The doubts were familiar, but Junko wouldn't let them dictate her life.

She crossed the distance with a few steps and hugged her daughter. Megumi reflexively grabbed her arms, prepared to push away, but Junko held on. It was light enough that Megumi could break free if she wanted, but didn't. She slowly let go and fell against her mother.

"I'm so proud of you, Peanut," Junko soothed. "You did great. It's okay now."

"Mom…" Megumi was trembling so hard that Yoshiro could hear her teeth rattling. She let out a keening whine and hugged her mother, crying into her shoulder as more than a decade of pain and regrets finally, finally broke loose and flowed out, allowing for the chance to heal. Junko held her close, rocking her back and forth and stroking her back like she had when Megumi was young and hurt herself. The familiarity brought more choking sobs, more outlets for the years of grief. It took a long time but even as the crying died down, Megumi still held on tight.

Through the worst of it, Junko smiled and laughed. Not at her daughter, but at the lightness she felt. Things would be hard, no two ways about it. There were going to be bad days for her and Megumi, words would be said on reflex and made to hurt, and there would definitely be times when giving up would be the easiest choice.

But Junko hated losing more than anything. She'd take her punches and lick her wounds, but she wouldn't stay down anymore. When she had wanted anything badly enough, she'd found a way to get it, so she would work every minute of every day to get her happy future. Someone had shown her the way already, the road to reconciliation, and even if Junko was so far behind already, that just meant working twice as hard three times as often to catch up.

With that opportunity close enough to hold in her arms, Junko said a word of gratitude to her friend, the one who'd dared her to take the leap of faith in the first place and who gave her the only chance she needed.

"Thanks, Izumi."