Notes: "Updates should resume by May." It's June 1st. Close enough.

Still not back to the main story, though; getting moved and settled in Japan has taken longer than I expected, particularly because I was hospitalized for a broken elbow a few weeks in, haha... so here's a side story instead! It's actually one of the first things I wrote for this universe, I've just been holding on to it and waiting to polish it up until now.

It's short, but I hope you enjoy! Still not entirely sure when I'll get back to the main story, but I at least want to update at some point during Kuzuhina Week (July 14-20), so expect something then!

Kyoko Kirigiri

"Hey, did you hear? Apparently that girl's dad is on the executive board for this whole academy..."

"No way, really? I guess that explains how she always gets top marks..."

"She pretends she's so smart, but it's just dear daddy pulling strings, huh?"

When the hushed whispers began halfway through middle school, Kirigiri paid them no mind. She was well aware of her own abilities, and more than that, she knew her father. He was righteous and fair, sometimes to a fault. She had no reason to doubt the validity of her grades, and it wasn't worth arguing with those who indulged in pointless gossip.

So she said nothing, and did nothing. Even when the scores for the next exam were posted, with her yet again taking the top spot, and the whispers began to turn to glares and sneers. Even when her school slippers started mysteriously disappearing, so she had to shuffle between classes in the clunky green visitors' clogs. Even when she one day returned from lunch to find that all her pencils had been snapped in half. Even when a couple of classmates "accidentally" bumped into her during a home economics class, forcing her to use her hands to brace herself against a searing-hot stovetop.

Especially then.

Her father, of course, expressed deep concern over her burnt hands, and was openly skeptical that his careful, calculating daughter would simply trip because she wasn't paying attention, as she claimed. Involving him would only make matters worse, though, so she said nothing. That was for the best.

The bullying only lasted a month or two, likely because she never gave any sort of satisfying reaction. It began again for a brief period after advancing to high school, but, being an escalator school, most of her classmates were the same as before and interest quickly waned to complete indifference.

Kirigiri didn't blame her classmates for their actions, though. Even if being ostracized did bother her (and it didn't) (but it did), it was logical—understandable, even—that her classmates would react with resentment, knowing what they did. She could hardly fault them for having human emotions.

If she had to blame anyone, it would be her father for putting her in such a position in the first place. Having feelings wasn't a choice. Working for your child's school's administration was.

In retrospect, leveling blame at her father for a career choice was juvenile and irrational, and Kirigiri's resulting rebellion even moreso. Regardless, that was the impetus behind her resolution to rely only on herself. She would decide on her own path, find success through her own power, and no one would ever be able to claim that she had simply benefited off of someone else.

For years, the plan had been that she would continue on to the academy's affiliated university, after which she would join her mother in Interpol. Kirigiri unabashedly discarded that entire plan.

Her father was understandably upset to hear that she didn't want to attend the academy's university, but when he tried to provide guidance on finding other colleges to apply for, Kirigiri defiantly forewent higher education completely and enrolled in the police academy straight out of high school.

Interpol might not be possible anymore, but if she did get there, it would be by establishing herself on a local level and working up from there instead of relying on her mother's connections. Of course, she wouldn't be considered a candidate for the police detective exam as quickly as if she had obtained a four-year degree beforehand, but in the long run it should, in theory, be the faster route to a satisfying life.

In theory.

Spinning the old, rusted combination lock on her mailbox was more for show than anything else—and even then, "spinning" was a somewhat liberal term. The dial would jam if turned counter-clockwise, making it impossible to reach the numbers required of the combination, so after haphazardly wrenching the dial clockwise for a few seconds Kirigiri yanked open the mailbox door that never latched properly anyway.

She frowned at the brown envelope sitting atop the small pile of junk mail, the address written in her father's familiar tilted scrawl.

Sighing, she plucked out the envelope and shoved the mailbox door closed again, leaving the junk mail for another day.

Kirigiri knew that she could probably just tear up the envelope right away, but just in case her father surprised her for once, she took it inside the apartment and grabbed the letter opener by her front door.

Of course, it was just the same as every other month.

Inside was a short handwritten note reading, "Kyoko, please take care of yourself. -Dad." Accompanying it was a check for 50,000 yen.

Swiftly, Kirigiri took a pen from her purse and drew a large X across the check before shredding it between gloved fingers.

She had long since grown out of her teenage resentment of her father, of course. That didn't change the fact that she didn't need nor want his help. It was true that finances were a bit tight—since there wasn't a female police dormitory within commutable distance, her paycheck included a housing allowance, but it didn't quite cover all of her rent and utilities so that had to be pulled from elsewhere in her budget. It still wasn't something she couldn't handle on her own.

As if to mock her, her mind chose that moment to remember that she still hadn't eaten dinner, and her refrigerator was empty.

She shut her eyes, resigned to the fact that she had to slip her shoes back on and go out again, and with a deep exhale she turned back towards the door.

"Welco— Oh, Kirigiri-san! Good evening!"

Kirigiri spared Naegi a small smile as she stepped into the convenience store. "Evening, Naegi-kun."

"What are you doing out so late?" Naegi asked, a worried wrinkle forming between his brows. "You didn't just get off of work, did you?"

"It isn't even ten o'clock yet," she gave as way of response, quickly glancing over the isles in the store as she passed. "I was a bit busy with the paperwork for some incidents I helped handle in Kitazawa, though, so I didn't get around to having dinner yet."

Naegi's frown deepened further. "You haven't eaten...? You should definitely make sure you do that, but there's not much prepared food left at this point..."

"Yes, I can see that." Kirigiri glanced down at a particularly sad-looking hirekatsu bento left in the cold case. She shrugged and returned to the next isle over. "It's fine. I'll just get something from over here."

After quickly surveying the selection of cheap instant noodles available to her, she picked out a bowl of seafood ramen and brought it to the checkout counter, grabbing an energy gel pack on the way. "I'll have this, then."

Naegi blinked down at the two items. "This is your dinner, Kirigiri-san?"

"No, the energy pack is tomorrow's breakfast." She crossed her arms and raised a thin eyebrow. "Do you make a habit of questioning your customers' purchases?"

"Ah—! No, of course not, let me ring you up then..." Despite his assurances, though, Kirigiri could tell that Naegi was still itching to say more; he kept glancing at her as he bagged the items, his mouth tightly shut as if he didn't trust himself not to keep prying. "Okay, your total is 258 yen."

As Kirigiri handed over the cash and he passed her the shopping bag, though, his resolve clearly crumbled.

"Kirigiri-san, don't you think you should try eating a little better than you have been?"

She closed her eyes, suppressing a sigh. "I'll thank you not to keep track of my eating habits, Naegi-kun."

"I can't really help that. I'm the one who provides most of your meals, after all."

Kirigiri spared him a weary glance at that, and he grinned cheekily in return.

"I'm fine," she answered. "I can take care of myself."

"I'm not saying you can't, but... You know what?" Naegi stepped out from behind the counter and maneuvered around Kirigiri to the cold case before turning back around and placing something in her hands. "Take this. It's not much, but it's better than just eating instant stuff, at least."

She looked down at the small container of assorted fresh fruit that had been thrust upon her. "Naegi-kun, I can't—"

"I insist. It's on me."

Kirigiri gave the shorter man a long stare before finally smirking slightly. "You better not forget to report this expense to your boss, all right?"

"Wh— I won't forget!"

"Mm-hmm." Kirigiri hummed noncommittally as she placed the fruit in her bag. "Knowing your luck, it'll completely slip your mind and you'll lose your job over it, again."

Naegi laughed bashfully as he stepped back behind the counter and pulled out a notebook from underneath. "That won't happen. Look, I'm writing it down now, all right?"

"As long as you're taking care of yourself," she quipped, a half-smile tugging at her lips as she walked towards the door. "I'll be heading home now, then. Have a good night, Naegi-kun. And…" She faltered a bit. "Thank you for the fruit."

Naegi smiled brightly after her. "Not a problem! Good night, Kirigiri-san!"

With a final nod of her head, Kirigiri exited the store and began to make her way home, considering her bag of purchases—plus one gift.

Well, she wasn't a stubborn teenager anymore, after all. Maybe it was about time she started accepting a little help every once in a while.

Just a little.

Notes: When I first started planning this fic, I... completely forgot that Kirigiri's mother had died when she was young in canon... and once I had remembered, I decided that was just too many dead mothers for this story, so *handwave* oh well! She's alive, just busy!