Disclaimer: Still don't own. Still not making money off this work.
Chapter 6
While Souji knew Kou and Daisuke would look in on him after he arrived, and while he knew how enthusiastic they could be when determined to get something, and even as he knew how good they both were with kids, especially Nanako, he hadn't expected them to take up residence in the Dojima kitchen shortly after his uncle left for work and entertain Nanako with their stories and antics. Nor, for that matter, did he expect them to make enough noise making breakfast to wake a hibernating bear. While he couldn't be sure, it didn't seem like a coincidence that all the noise, from the banging and crashing and uncontrollable laughter, was originating directly below his room. And thus, at 7:18AM, Souji awoke to the faint mumblings beneath his floor, groggily checked the time, and then rolled over and tried to doze off. He was asleep shortly after his discussion with Dojima, but the night had left him feeling wool-headed and stuffed up. At 7:21, Nanako came up to tell him that his two sports friends were waiting. She got a half-coherent mumble that sounded like "I'll be there soon." Sadly, the pair downstairs translated that as "I'm still sleeping, leave me alone," and took it as a challenge. So the talking volume rose, as did the range of pitch when Kou started using different voices for what Souji thought was a puppet show. Then the knocking of furniture and walls began. Finally, at 7:39, Souji bolted upright at the sound of the frying pan and a bowl knocking together. Giving up on the idea of getting anymore sleep, he shouted down the stairs and stumbled into the furo for a quick bath. Changed, clean, and in a partial state of consciousness, he staggered into the kitchen, welcomed by the sight of two grins far too wide to be as innocent as they were trying for.
"Hey there!" Kou greeted cheerily, happily ignoring the tired glare from their silver-haired friend.
"'Morning, Piglet," Souji mumbled through a yawn.
"Who's Piglet?" Nanako asked, looking among the teens curiously.
"Dude, it was Hamlet, not Piglet!"
"Speaking of pork, I hope you managed to make something edible down here," Souji continued, glancing toward the kitchen. Despite every pot and pan they owned being somewhere on the table or counter, nothing looked or smelled made. Nor were any ingredients out.
"Well, that's part of the reason we came over, y'know? Daisuke's parents are working right now and mine are on vacation. And Nanako said she was hungry, so..."
Souji cocked an eyebrow, weariness replaced by an exaggerated calm, steady even by his usual standards and edged with frost. "So you expect me to make breakfast after all the noise you made down here?"
"Well, we didn't expect you to, but there was that little hope, I suppose."
"How little?"
"Uh... well..."
"We heard you do a lot of the cooking here, and figured we'd piggyback on whatever you make for Nanako-chan," Daisuke butted in, saving face for his partner-in-crime.
Or trying to. "You two would have passed Aiya! on the way here. Why not pony up for breakfast?"
"Uh, well, I kinda forgot my wallet at home," Kou admitted bashfully.
"And I'm broke," was Daisuke's straightforward response.
"And you think whatever's left from a 7-year-old's breakfast is going to be enough for you two?"
"Um," Nanako interjected, looking up hopefully at her cousin. "Could we have miso soup? Big Bro makes the best miso soup!"
Souji hesitated, and Kou jumped on the opening. "Of course! Best way to start the day, Nanako-chan."
Souji looked from his hopeful cousin, to a triumphant Kou, to an almost-indifferent Daisuke. And sighed. "Fine." He couldn't help his lips turning up at Nanako's exultant "Yay!", nor the cunning smile as he turned to the other two. "Of course, I only need so many pots and pans for that. You'd be happy to put those away, right?" The pair looked in mild dismay at the cooking receptacles scattered everywhere. "Nanako can show you where everything goes," he continued as he walked toward the fridge, already multiplying his recipes to accommodate his guests.
Breakfast was an unusual combination of good food (even by Souji's standards), odd company, and the unexpectedly entertaining sight of Nanako ordering Kou and Daisuke around like a tiny drill sergeant, standing on a chair and lording over them in an authoritative voice. The pair dove into their roles, especially Kou, and even through the sandy-headed fatigue and concentration of cooking, Souji couldn't help but laugh at their antics.
Once breakfast was finished and cleaned, with a suitable number of compliments to the chef, Nanako left to visit her friends, after which the three males began the process of catching up. Somewhere between Daisuke's tales of Kou's attempts of talking to Chie and their arguments over who the better actor was, the nearby basketball court and its refurbishing, news to Souji, was brought up. Jumping at the chance to turn the attention back to Souji, Kou simply asked where his ball was. In less than ten minutes, the kitchen was cleaned, the house locked, and the trio walking down the street with a set destination in mind.
Which led them to the present situation of Kou and Souji running off breakfast by tearing up and down the court, trying to outdo each other's shots while Daisuke watched from the nearby bench, keeping score.
The exertion and fresh air fuelled the adrenaline hammering through Souji's bloodstream, burning away the fatigue and malaise from that morning. The fierce competitiveness and easy friendship that permeated every step and throw reminded him of Kofu and the basketball team, perhaps the first time he could say he'd found something in common between Inaba and his city life that didn't leave a bad taste in his mouth.
The months of his absence disappeared under the ball's constant beat on the pavement. The contests had started with 'first to 20', but they'd ended up coming too close with Kou's speed against Souji's practiced long shots. Horse, an old favourite of the pair, was a lost cause since the entire game would go by with the ball changing hands only once or twice. And most of the following contests were deemed unfair since their playing styles were so different. So they'd forsaken the rules and instead taken to running up and down the court, dodging around the other and lining up shots for practice. It was hard and fast, it was pointless outside self-improvement, and Souji's body sang every second and step they played.
Finally their energy waned, both breathing hard and hunched over and laughing breathlessly. Daisuke tossed them towels and water as they approached the bench, still chuckling uncontrollably. When they'd gotten their breath back, Kou glanced over at the city-dweller. "Man, you haven't lost your edge. Best game I've had since you left."
Souji wiped his face with his towel, swishing water around his mouth before swallowing. "Me too. The group I practice with in Kofu's good for keeping me on my feet, but you're just as fast as before."
"What're they like?"
"Toyama and the others?" Souji mulled it over, and then shrugged. "Dedicated. Serious. Some of them take it too seriously, and there's competitiveness among all the players, even for a sports team, but they're alright."
"That's not really a stellar recommendation," Kou pointed out, accompanied by Daisuke's grunt of agreement.
"It's not that. Toyama's a good guy for a team captain. He's down to earth, fair, and loves the game for its own sake. There are some people on the team who see it more as a sport, that's all. And it shows in how they play."
"So they're in it for sports scholarships or drafting?" Daisuke inquired.
"Yep."
"So what's Toyama like off the court?" Kou asked, idly spinning the autographed ball on one finger.
"I'm not sure."
The pair paused, clearly surprised by the response. "What?" Kou stuttered out finally.
"We don't hang out after games much, and when we do it's either about the game or school. I know more about his girlfriend than I do him."
"Ohhh?" Daisuke drawled, eyes lighting up above a slanted grin. "I sense a story there. I'm not surprised, either – even the city girls are drooling after you."
Souji's reply was Kou waving a hand between them. "Pffft. Not likely. Souji's only got eyes for Amagi-san."
"Hm? Yukiko Amagi?"
"Yep."
"Ahhh, taking on the Amagi Challenge, are you?" Daisuke winked broadly as Souji pushed himself back into the discussion.
"It's not like that. First off, Takenaka and I are acquaintances. Nothing more. She's joined to Toyama's hip, and I'm-" He bit his tongue.
"Yes?" the paired intoned, leaning in mischievously.
"Unavailable," Souji finished. "For various reasons. Second, what Yukiko and I are in has nothing to do with that Amagi Challenge. It's not like there's a cash reward at the end of the line or something."
"You don't think Amagi-san's a prize by herself?" Kou inquired, cocking an eyebrow.
"I didn't- You're miswording what I said. Besides, what does it matter?"
"To a lot of the guys in her class? Plenty. But it makes me wonder if you've met her parents yet."
Souji looked at him quizzically. "There hasn't been an opportunity for that. Why the change in topic? What does it matter?"
"Just curious. Chie-san's said more than once that they're pretty scary people."
"She told you that, huh?"
"Well, not directly. It was more that she said her parents weren't as scary as Amagi-san's, that's all."
"You've been talking to her then. Good to hear."
To his credit, Kou only blushed slightly at the insinuation. "Sure. I mean, we're in the same class this year, so why wouldn't I talk to her, right?"
"Of course. Especially about her parents," Souji deadpanned while his eyes gleamed with mirth.
Daisuke stood up and stretched smoothly, grunting as his joints popped. "Enough about the girls, man. Isn't there anything interesting going on in the city? Tales you can regale us with?"
"Like what? My life now's pretty much the same as my life here. Just with fewer people to hang out with and more obligations at home."
"It seems strange that you said you don't know many people there," Daisuke commented, looking skyward. "I mean, you were the name on everyone's lips for months, whether it was in track and field, band, home ec, or exam scores. What's up with that?"
"Things work differently there," Souji pointed out, also stretching. "You don't get many transfer students here, nor a lot of stuff happening in general, so the news sticks. Kofu's an hour's train ride from Tokyo – no one stays in their parent school for very long. Add to the fact that Yasogami has about a sixth of the number of students as Sundaikofu High, and I'm just another student in the system."
"They'd probably feel differently if they knew about some of your connections, like to the Detective Prince or Risette. Even city students would be into that sorta thing, right?" Kou pointed out.
"Maybe. You're probably right. If they knew."
"And you're not gonna tell them?"
"Nope."
"Sounds like you're not trying very hard there, Souji," Daisuke observed critically. "You're cutting away from the chance of spreading out in this new school. It's not my business, but it sounds like you're trying to be a ghost."
Busted. Kou and Daisuke were as honest as the Investigation Team members, but harder to fool with his personal life. They saw a clearer picture of him, less cluttered and involved as those who knew about Shadows and Personas. Souji sighed. "There are reasons," he told them finally. "They're long, complicated, and pretty stupid ones, but reasons nonetheless."
"Don't feel like talking about it?"
It was the same reason now as it had always been – friends wanted to visit, and he enjoyed being a host. But not at his house, not with his parents. So the reasons weren't long or complicated. They were short, simple, and concise. But no less stupid. "Nah. Some other time."
"Cool. So, you hungry?"
Kou released a startled laugh. "Dude, we had breakfast like a few hours ago. And you've just been sitting there. How can you be hungry?"
"It's tiring, keeping all those numbers together. And the way you guys ran made me burn calories just watching."
"There's always Aiya!"Kou mentioned, pretending to think about it.
"No," Souji told them. "Making breakfast was a stretch; I'm not ponying up for lunch for three."
"But-but! When was the last time you've had Aiya!"
"No. Yukiko and Chie and the gang are going to be at the Inn today. There should be enough food from yesterday to cook for everyone. We can make something from those, if you want."
"You're serious? What kinda food?"
"Meats, rice dishes, salad. The usual. They decided I needed a celebration for coming back so soon. There was way more than we could eat yesterday, so..."
"Sounds good to me!" Daisuke cheered, turning toward the bus stop.
"Uh, out of curiosity, the food's already made, right? Someone's cooked it all?" Kou asked a touch uneasily.
"Not yesterday. We did the cooking on-site. Why?" Souji cocked an eyebrow.
"It's just... You're not gonna make us cook it, right? I mean, we could ask Amagi-san for that."
Souji had to suppress the laugh that choked his windpipe that instant. He covered his mouth to hold the mirth in, letting a few chuckles through despite himself. "You're welcome to try what she makes, if you want," he finally said, "but she's still learning."
"Oh. Well, someone in the group can cook, right?"
"You'll see," Souji promised. "But we can stop by your house on the way there – I made breakfast, so you're buying the bus tickets."
They stopped by Kou's house so the cobalt-haired teen could change and grab his wallet, and Souji's for the same reason, and by the time they'd made the arrangements and gotten to the Inn, it was past noon. Most of the team was there to greet them, and Yukiko led them to an area away from the normal guest quarters so their discussions wouldn't bother any customers. The area also had the benefit of being near a smaller kitchen, empty of staff, and the leftover supplies from the night before were piled on the counters. After the introductions were made, she vanished back into the Inn, saying she needed to talk to her parents about something. Shooing her through the door, Souji played the part of a host instinctively, pointing Kou and Daisuke to the team members they might not know, namely Kanji, Naoto, and Teddie, and starting conversations that he knew would take off on their own. Topics like Teddie's apparent success with the girls at Yasogami and Kanji's growing recognition among the home handicrafts club.
After the group's discussions took off on their own, he'd rolled up his sleeves and set to preparing lunch, almost missing Kou's question: "I heard someone'd be cooking lunch, Satonaka-san – are you going to help Souji?" Yosuke's loud protestations had sparked a quarrel that traveled down the same paths as the one the day before. Souji shook his head and set the yakitori sticks to cook, starting in on the kimchi he'd neglected to make before. The door slid open behind him, and, without turning, he called "don't let Yosuke get to you, Chie. I'm fine in here."
"I'm sure Chie-san would appreciate that," a deeper voice, tinged with amusement, assured him. He glanced over his shoulder to see Naoto resting against the counter near the door, judiciously looking over his preparations. Despite her staid sense of decorum, he quirked a smile when he noticed her sniff deeply at some of the dishes and look closely at others.
"Needed a break?"
"Yesterday was my break – today is research. If you don't mind, Senpai."
Souji shrugged. She washed her hands and, bit by bit, he familiarized her with bits and pieces of his recipes. She asked questions whenever he had a moment, and when she looked puzzled - easy enough to note since her mouth quirked and nose twitched when it happened - he took the time to take her through the step one at a time. It wasn't what he'd planned when he woke up that morning, but the movements and words came easily, and the spark of understanding in her eyes, and the smells that wafted from the stove and oven, kept a smile pulling at his lips.
It was different from his conversation with Yosuke or time spent with Nanako and Dojima. There was a space between him and Naoto where things could be, and often were, left unsaid. They worked around each other smoothly, conversing as much with gestures and inclinations as with words, and while Souji was curious what "research" meant, he left it well enough alone while they worked and, finally, announced to the others that the food was ready. Dishes were handed out, food was eaten, and compliments abounded (particularly from Kou and Daisuke, who'd taken seats near Chie and Yosuke, and Kanji, who'd looked furtively, speculatively, at Naoto from the tables) and Souji rested against the counter – privilege of the chef – and picked at his own dish while Naoto had opted to stay nearby rather than join the group. "Have you considered becoming a chef, Senpai?" she, looking decidedly cute in rolled-up sleeves and apron and hair kerchief, inquired, savouring a yakitori stick, dripping in mirin seasoning.
"Too much financial overhead," he replied, not looking up from his udon bowl.
"A shame, then."
"Hardly. If I were a chef I'd have to charge everyone for the effort I put into this. And I'd hate to take myself that seriously."
She chuckled around the chicken and skewer. "I suppose so."
"You mentioned research before," he asked suddenly, stirring the broth in his bowl around. "Was there something specific on your mind?"
He knew he'd hit on something when she looked startled, then blushed, and then glanced away from him. Unconsciously, her foot started twitching against the counter base. "It's... it's just that it seems like a useful skill to have."
"It is."
"And Yakushiji-san shouldn't be expected to handle all the chores around the house. Especially if he goes on vacation or visits relatives."
"That makes sense."
"Is it so strange, Senpai?"
"Not at all. It's just surprising; Chie and Yukiko have known me since I moved here and they've never asked for help or advice."
"That... not to offend them, but that may explain some things."
Souji chuckled. "You can say it, Naoto – it explains a lot about their cooking. Though it does make me wonder how they make what they do. I doubt I could make intentionally what they make by accident. Not that I'd want to, but it is impressive in its own way."
"May I ask who taught you to cook, Senpai?"
"No one."
She let the skewer drop slightly, raising an eyebrow curiously. "No one?"
"I didn't have a teacher or take classes, if that's what you're asking. I started when I was younger." She motioned for him to continue, and he leaned back a glanced upwards, wistful memories creeping forward like sluggish fog. "We spent a lot of time traveling when I was younger. One parent or the other was always getting transferred. That meant someone was pulling an all-nighter and the other ordered take-out. Which was fine when the other one was around, but then they both started taking on the hours, and I was... oh about 8 or 9 then. So they hired caretakers and house sitters for my sake, and one of them taught me the basics. I started as a means of doing something other than homework, and afterwards I'd watch cooking shows or ask the people who took care of me for recipes. And after that it just... kept going. So no one in particular taught me how to cook. It's just something I do." A contemplative silence fell over them and Souji let his mind's eye linger on those days. The quiet solitude, the experiments, the hopeful attempts for some kind of recognition and the regular disappointment. "Hm. It's strange," he murmured. "I've never really talked about that to anyone before." He'd never had the heart to tell Nanako that he'd learned to cook in isolation, without a personal drive behind it, when she worked hard to make what she did. He'd probably never tell Rise or Chie or Yukiko that either, for much the same reason. It didn't seem fair.
"I hope the question didn't bring up unpleasant memories, Senpai," she said finally, quiet in the hushed kitchen.
He brushed it off with a grunt and went back to his udon. "It is what it is, and it was what it was. That's life. Still, if you're interested in learning, let me know."
"Thank you, Senpai. I'll do that."
"It's a good ice-breaker when you're meeting people," he volunteered. "Mostly with adults, mind you – teenagers don't usually know how to cook like this."
"I see." Her tone was level and calm, tranquil and almost sleepy in its comfort.
"Good if you're on a date, too," he fired off nonchalantly, strategically waiting until she'd swallowed first.
And he was glad he did – she went red and pale and jerked like she'd sat on a hot stove, eyes a little wild. "W-what? Senpai, where did that come from?"
He stared back calmly, nearly biting his tongue to keep the smile off his face. "It's just advice, Naoto. Lunch dates with friends need to be worked up to, and food preference works great for starting a conversation. And even if the person isn't that close, it's good to be able to cook your own food for trips, like with family. Cheaper, too."
"Senpai," she choked out, regaining a degree of control faster than he'd expected, though still looking rattled, "what was the purpose of that anecdote?"
"Advice. And experience."
"Are you implying anything else?"
"Not at all," he responded, face as smooth as the bowl in his hand and concealing the gears turning in his head. "I just know you've had problems finding common ground to talk about with other students. Thought I'd help."
"While the thought is touching, and the advice appreciated, I don't know if that was necessary."
He shrugged. "Yosuke and I talked last night, and he made a good point: that the murder case if over, and it's alright to do things people our age do all the time. And you never know what might come along, Naoto."
"A... valid point. Though I don't know that I can expect such things in the near future."
"Last April, I thought that too," Souji pointed out.
"Hm. I will think on it. Though I doubt I will be talking to other students about cooking until I am more proficient."
Souji chuckled. Enough teasing, he thought. She'd pick up on his suggestions if he pushed any further. "Then you're already ahead of the others. You'll be fine."
They finished their meals in silence and cleaned what dishes they wouldn't need for more cooking, nearly done when they heard Yosuke growl in frustration nearby. Souji's feet were taking him to the doorway before he even thought about it, and Naoto was right next to him, once again with her hat. What they saw elicited an amused sigh from Souji and a concealed laugh from the Detective Prince.
Teddie was talking to one of the Inn staff, Kasai-san, Souji knew, and was evidently trying the same tricks he'd used to filch samples at Junes during the summer. Talking in a voice as smooth as cognac and measured as a marching band, he was driving the older woman breathless with barely restrained, and surprisingly girly, giggles. Souji cleared his throat, quirking an eyebrow when Teddie turned to him. "I hope you weren't keeping Kasai-san from anything important, Teddie."
"Of course not, Sensei! She was looking for you, but said that it could wait when I said you and Nao-chan were having a discussion. And it would have been rude not to keep her company!"
"I'm sure that was the first thing on your mind," Yosuke muttered.
"Well, thank you for keeping her company," Souji mentioned, now looking to the Inn employee, "but what did she need?"
"Yukiko-chan's parents were wondering if you had any plans this evening, Souji-kun," she informed him calmly, face as kindly as when he saw her at the shrine.
"Nothing yet," he replied.
"Then they would like to meet you. Here, at 9pm."
That shouldn't have surprised him – he knew he'd delayed meeting her parents far too long as it was – but the abruptness of the request caught him flat-footed. "Uh, sure. I'd be glad to," he told her when he got his voice back.
"Yukiko-chan will meet you at the front desk then."
"Should I bring anything as a gift or offering? Is there a special dress code?"
"Just yourself, they said." She noticed the bewildered look on his face, and gave an encouraging smile. "Don't worry yourself over it. They know how important you are to Yukiko-chan, and that will help more than you know. But, I must be getting back. Excuse me."
"Of course." The words were wooden, blocky, and delivered on autopilot. The table behind him, holding the Team members and Kou and Daisuke, was silent until the moment the door clacked shut. Then the questions began. What were her parents like? Why hadn't they met or seen them yet? How would they react to Souji courting their daughter and only child?
Souji himself was mostly deaf to the theories and conjecture that whizzed around him like leaves on the wind, turning to Chie only when she addressed for the second time. "So... Any advice?"
She smirked and took over the conversation. While the others eventually broke off and raided the food plates again or struck up their own discussions, Souji was hanging on every word.
He left the Inn with Chie shortly after, taking to a quieter place for their discussion. The information was expected, comforting, and aggravating all at once. He learned that Yukiko's parents doted on her, and wouldn't tear into him too much if they thought she was happy. Furthermore, she was a perfect product of her parents, from her personality to her looks. But that was where the information stopped, and the aggravation began. When Souji asked what they were like, Chie wasn't forthcoming. At first he thought she was toying with him, but she quickly assured him of the contrary. "It's not like they don't like me, but they're hard people to describe. Their personalities, their looks, everything. Best I can say, go in expecting what you wouldn't expect."
The words ran through his head like horses on the track for the rest of the afternoon. Showered and cleaned, at once more alert than he'd been in days but wearing himself tired from pacing in front of the clock, he was more nervous than he could remember being in a long time. Nanako had watched, bemused and puzzled, as he'd picked at dinner and toyed with it – a novel sight, to say the least. Dojima, on the other hand, found the entire affair vastly amusing. He never said a word on the subject, never taunted or teased, but the wider-than-usual smirk and dancing glee in his eyes, half a step from exploding in full-out laughter, said it all.
The time came, and he met Chie halfway to the bus stop, her saying he might need the moral support. He took the ribbing well enough, frayed nerves and all, thankful that she was there, no matter what form her advice took.
The bus ride could have taken minutes or the entire night and following day – he didn't remember it. Nor would he remember the walk to the Inn, the steps worn smooth by familiarity.
He did register opening the door with a deep, bracing breath, and seeing Yukiko standing near the front desk, no longer in kimono and obi, but rather in cardigan and skirt. They embraced smoothly (though Souji noticed the tremble in his hands), and the trio made their way deeper into the Inn, past the guest rooms and staff area into a section that felt slightly different. Not professionally brushed clean or tended to, but feeling more like where a family would live. As though the years and memories of the family residing within had soaked into the wood beams and sliding doors, tickling the senses with a hum or glow that Souji couldn't place, but could not help but be aware of. It felt like a home, and a loving family.
"I'll wait here," Chie told them when they stopped outside a sliding door, resting in a chair nearby. "You'll do fine," she assured Souji when she saw his hesitance. He tried for a self-assured nod. He didn't know if he succeeded. Yukiko took his hand and squeezed, and slid the door open.
Souji took a deep breath, squared his shoulders, and followed Yukiko through the door, trying to quell the nest of butterflies stirring in his stomach. Expect what you aren't expecting, Chie had said. What he saw both met his expectation, and couldn't be further from them.
A tall, imposing man with salt-and-pepper hair and skin the same shade as Souji's stood, ramrod straight and clean-shaven, in an immaculate shirt and slacks near a table, already holding tea and cups, and chair in the middle of the room. His shoulders and arms were broad enough to block the bright moonlight coming through the window behind him, and dark eyes cut across the distance, sending sharp prickles up the younger man's skin. At first Souji thought the man's eyes were naturally that narrow, but revised the assumption within two steps – that was just how had he was being glared at.
Next to him stood a woman who Souji immediately identified as Yukiko's mother, despite the obvious disparity in their appearances. Long brown hair tumbled in wide curls down a business blouse, accompanied by a long skirt. Hazel eyes set against tanned, light-golden skin and surrounded by long eyelashes, were placid and calm as they met his, immediately offsetting the vibes he was getting from Yukiko's father. Still, her facial features caught his attention for just a moment more. High, almost delicate cheekbones, aquiline nose, and rosebud lips were a perfect mould of Yukiko's, but they gave no indication of age – they could have belonged to a woman of 25 or 55. They were classical, elegant, and beautiful, but the edges of her eyes and the twist of her lips suggested a subtle strength and resilience he'd seen countless times before in her daughter.
"Mother, father, this is Souji," Yukiko told them, stepping aside so they could better scrutinize him. Her mother blinked and gave a welcoming smile, and her father grunted and stared harder.
Souji gave his deepest, politest bow, but couldn't help but think Yukiko was moving out of the line of cannon fire. "Souji Seta. It's an honour."
The woman came forward first, returning the bow. "Ryoko Amagi." The voice was deeper and more vibrant than he expected, quiet but noticeable. It reminded him of his mother's voice, only it was alive with emotions, both expressed and hidden, and washed over him like fine wine. "It's a pleasure to meet you at last."
"Katsushiro Amagi," the man rumbled in a voice Souji could feel travel down his spine and settle in his shoes. The man didn't step forward, didn't remove his hand (white-knuckled) from the back of the nearby chair, and gave only a sharp, shallow bow in return. "We've heard a great deal about you."
That... was not comforting. Souji could feel the blood draining from his face and neck at the frigid welcome. No matter how civil Ryoko's greeting or how calming Yukiko's presence might be, he was starting to feel like a condemned criminal staring done the barrels of a firing squad. Could've waited until I did something worth killing me for, some small part of his mind, the only part not stuttering and hitching like the caster of a bad public service announcement, muttered. Thankfully, either Yukiko noted his dilemma or caught her father's tone and stepped closer to him. "Daddy, please be nice."
"Of course." Clipped and curt and not taking his eyes off the teen for a second.
Souji's brain, recovering from the initial stages of "Meeting the Parents", what he was currently comparing to eating glass and swallowing metal filings, kick-started and put forth his most charming smile. Calm, fluid, untouchable. He can only kill you once. "The pleasure is all mine. I'm sorry we haven't had the chance to meet sooner." He moved to the table, pulled out a chair for Yukiko, and took one for himself. All the while he hoped he didn't appear as uneasy as he was feeling.
"Indeed?"
"Of course. It seems like I've met more of the Inn's staff and associates from my encounters with Yukiko than her relatives, and I regret that it's taken this long to correct that."
"Then she never mentioned us? Or you didn't ask?"
Souji's smile never faltered. "More to say that the topic never came up on its own during the time I've known her. Chie's mentioned you, of course, and Yukiko talks about the Inn all the time."
"Ahhh, Chie," Ryoko chuckled. "She's as much family here as Yukiko is."
"That was the impression I got as well, Amagi-san."
"Please, Seta-kun, call me Ryoko. I don't need to feel any older than I already do."
"Of course, Ryoko-san."
That drew another laugh from her, and a deeper glare from Katsushiro. "Ah, but this one at least has manners." She took the time to pour and hand out the tea, preparing and sipping her own.
"Really? May I ask, Seta-san, why it's taken so long for us to meet you?" the Amagi patriarch inquired, eyes like granite.
"Please Amagi-san, Seta-san is my mother or father. Seta-kun is fine."
"Of course, Seta-san. Your answer?"
Now the smile dimmed to a determined line, his face as neutral and blank as a wooden mask and fingers threaded together on the table. He took his time composing the answer, meeting the man's gaze and noting Yukiko clenching a small fist and shaking her head. "Until shortly before last Christmas, Yukiko and I were just friends. I had plans to return to Kofu in March, and thus meeting her family was not a priority."
"So what changed?"
"Daddy, stop," Yukiko choked out finally, half-rising from her seat. "Souji's not like the other boys you've met, and he doesn't deserve this. He's been kind and polite all the time I've known him, and he didn't once object to meeting you. Isn't it enough that he's here now?"
Souji, again, waited to compose an answer. He did, however, swiftly reach his hand under the table and lace his fingers with Yukiko's. When she gave an unsure glance, he smiled and nodded, bringing her back into her seat. Then he turned his gaze back to Katsushiro's, not backing down. "There are many factors and variables I could name, I suppose, in answering that question. But the word that sums it up best would be 'perspective'."
Yukiko's father's glare was turning positively murderous at the teens' laced fingers. Ryoko, sipping at her tea, cocked an eyebrow. "Perspective?"
"Before Yukiko and I... expanded on our relationship, I thought of her parents the same as I would those of any of my friends in Inaba. Yosuke, Kanji, Chie, and so on. Of all them, incidentally, you are among the first set of parents I've met. When things changed, between the murder investigation and my own family affairs, there were other matters that needed my attention, and the thought of meeting you fell to the wayside. Since then, Yukiko's made efforts to arrange this meeting, but between the distance and the timing, it never worked."
"And so here you are."
"Yes. I'll admit that, until now, meeting the parents of my friends wasn't and isn't a high priority. Hence the matter of perspective – Yukiko isn't just a friend to me."
"We've heard something similar from the inn staff," Ryoko mentioned, face composed and unchanged despite the black glares coming from her husband. "To be fair, I would have preferred to meet you before now, given how much Kasai and the others have talked about you."
"I wasn't aware that they were."
Ryoko chuckled behind a daintily-raised hand. "Women at work will always find a way to chat, Seta-kun, especially if the topic happens to be men, or Yukiko." She smiled fondly at her daughter, who returned the gesture a touch bashfully.
"They do seem to be fond of-"
"A question, Seta-san." Katsushiro pried his fingers off the table and drummed them evenly on the table. "You mentioned your relationship with my daughter, and how it was changing. Where do you consider it now and in the future?"
The table went silent. Ryoko was as unflappable as ever, Yukiko looked caught between protesting the question and genuine curiosity, all the while tightening her hold on Souji's hand, and Souji himself thought over the question and the implication of his answer. "As for where it is now, I like to think Yukiko is my girlfriend," he replied finally. "As for where it's going in the future, I don't know yet. For the moment, I intend to graduate high school. After that, I'll get into university. During that time, I plan to take whatever time I have and make what Yukiko and I have work."
Ryoko looked mildly intrigued, but Katsushiro's glare didn't falter. "You don't know where you will be going to university?"
"I misspoke. It is not to say that I do not have any plans yet, but more that what plans I have are fluid. The past year in Inaba has altered what path I thought I was going to take in life, and so I am making changes to where I'm going as a result."
"What triggered such a strong change?" Ryoko inquired.
"Or was it a strong one at all?" Katsushiro put in, lips in a grim half-smile. Both Yukiko and Souji paused at the question, and Katsushiro mistook the hesitance as the answer to his question. "Does that mean your plans were never concrete to begin with, Seta-san?"
Souji stiffened. That was going too far. He met the man's glare with one of his own and leaned forward in his seat. "With respect sir, you have no idea what I went through in that time," he almost growled. "And I won't listen to you disparage my efforts at the time."
"Souji's not as weak-willed as you're insinuating, Daddy," Yukiko told the man firmly, her eyes and voice hard. "It had to do with the murder cases, and he was closely tied to them because of Dojima-san's involvement."
Katsushiro turned his glare to his daughter, but seemed to lose intensity in the face of her defiance. "We can discuss that later," he conceded. "Is my daughter a priority to you then, Seta-san?"
"She is," Souji replied immediately. "No matter where I end up in life, or where I might be living or working, Yukiko will always be important to me." He felt her squeeze his hand under the table at his words.
"Always?"
"Yes, Amagi-san. Always."
"Hmph. We'll see if your actions back up your words. However, I am curious about you personally, Seta-san."
"How do you mean?"
"You can tell a lot about someone by how they speak of themselves. And while you speak well about your education and plans, I know very little about you as a person. So tell me something about your background."
"Please Daddy, can't that wait?"
"I don't mind," Souji replied. "After all, there might not be a better chance for it. What do you wish to know?"
"What do your parents do? I expect they know of Yukiko. What is your family's background?"
"My parents are in corporate finance. They've been at it for as long as I can remember. We've been everywhere in Japan for the sake of their work, and they recently returned from the States, also for business. And you know my uncle Dojima."
Both Ryoko and Katsushiro eyed him speculatively, she intrigued while he dropped some of the daggers in his voice. "Is that so?"
"Yes. If you'd like, I could bore you with all sorts of talk about finance plans and investment connections, from domestic to international. That was actually why I was late in getting here – I was attending a meeting with them."
"Do they enjoy their work?"
"They live for it. Literally. I think my father would throw himself out a window if he were somehow unable to work with the numbers."
"But you don't. You sound familiar with the field, after all, but not very interested."
Souji shifted in his chair. The questions were getting close to some uncomfortable topics for him. "Finances have been part of my life for as long as I can remember. I'm not convinced they didn't line my crib with monthly GDP reports and interest deal portfolios. So, yes, I guess I know my way around them, but their path in life won't be mine."
"And your parents? What do they think of your decision? Or of Yukiko? What are they like?" Souji didn't answer, instead glancing out the window and scratching a cheek with his hand. "Seta-san?"
"Souji doesn't talk about his parents much," Yukiko supplied, curiosity written across her face.
"It's not a happy topic for me," he clarified, eyes and face as distant as Pluto then.
Ryoko quirked an eyebrow. "Is it something someone can help with?"
"No. We get along well enough, I suppose, but we don't talk much. As for the details... that is, with respect, a question I'm not answering."
"Yukiko might be more involved in the matter in the future; you understand our concern."
"I do. Really, I do. And someday the circumstances might change. But as for now, my parents are a topic I won't be discussing."
"And if I insist?" Katsushiro inquired.
Souji chuckled darkly, a brief glimpse into a wound so old and jagged that he didn't remember not having it before his mask was back on. "Then I'd say that you're not someone I know well enough to discuss the matter with, sir. No matter your vested interest in the topic."
Ryoko cut her husband, itching to push the envelope, off. "You'll tell us if any of these matters could affect Yukiko, correct?"
"You have my word."
"Then, for now, that will suffice."
"Thank you for understanding."
"Would you excuse us, Seta-kun? We'd like to speak to Yukiko now."
"Of course." Souji rose and bowed politely, nodding to Yukiko and squeezing her shoulder in support, before slipping out the door quietly.
He made it to the next room before his foundation of stubborn determination broke under the strain and stress like sand. His calm poise cracked and spidered liked a car windshield. He staggered back against the wall, eyes staring blindly at the floor while a hand, shaking visibly, came up to his forehead. His breathing became short, clipped, and he noticed for the first time how fast his heart was beating. It was all making him light-headed.
"Now that's familiar," Chie's voice commented. He jerked up shakily, looking around the room in a rush. She was leaning against the table, about ten feet away, wry smile and cocked eyebrow adorning her face. "I felt the same way when I met Yukiko's parents for the first time. Her dad still gives me chills sometimes." She gestured at the nearby chair and took the other herself. When he collapsed across from her with an explosive sigh, she grinned and glanced him over. "You're looking alright, all things considered. I expected Katsushiro-san to chew you up a lot more."
He laughed weakly. "Appearances can be deceiving. I think I left six years of my life and half my hide in that room."
"I guess he'd be a lot more scary with you than me, considering how much Yukiko talks about you."
"I didn't think her parents were like... that. He's a lot bigger than I thought he'd be. And I didn't know what to make of Ryoko-san, either."
"I can relate to that. She's interesting, and you definitely want her on your side."
"When Yukiko mentioned that her mother became sick last April, right when the murder cases started, I expected someone frail or delicate. Ryoko-san doesn't seem like either of those to me."
"Yeah, I think a lot of people think that about her, especially when you see how traditional Yukiko turned out and how imposing Katsushiro-san is. She uses it to her advantage."
"Sounds like an interesting story."
"You're telling me. Dunno what it is though. Yukiko's never mentioned it, and Ryoko-san doesn't talk about herself that much. At least not to me. I mean, I've heard that her getting sick back then was more because of an allergy or problems outside the Inn's concerns than Ms. Yamano and the news crews."
"Curious."
"Yep. So, when're you leaving?"
"Monday night, maybe later. I've got a project to take care of."
"Homework?"
"The stipulation from my father, in return for him letting me come here. It's a finance portfolio. Pretty boring to most, but he lives for that sorta stuff."
"Finances in Inaba? Where would you go for something like that?"
"The Inn, Tatsumi Textiles, maybe the Konishi Liquor Store," Souji shrugged. "It's pretty easy, but tedious. And getting the information might be tricky."
"Probably. I'll be impressed if you get much at all, honestly."
"You think it'll be that bad?"
"I don't know what a finance portfolio looks like, but I think the Konishi family would be a hard sell to get any finance information. I mean, they're just like a lot of those small businesses that went under when Junes set up shop. I don't think saying you're doing this for the benefit of a big-city CEO, or whatever your dad is, is going to go over well."
"I doubt he cares that much, Chie. I can't see him coming halfway across the country for a few small business opportunities."
"But are you sure? If not him, maybe someone else? Or someday down the line?"
Souji was startled at her insight and dogged tenacity, all the more so because they were good points he hadn't considered yet. He chuckled softly and shook his head, cracking his neck in the process. "You're really taking this seriously."
"I just don't want you to make a mistake that could badly affect the people here. If anything can do that, it's money, y'know?"
"A fair point. I'll be careful."
"Good."
The door slid open and Yukiko walked out, a blush on her cheeks, a twitching smile on her lips, and her eyes aglow. She came to the table while the other two looked up expectantly.
"And?" Souji asked, a touch breathless.
She nodded happily, the sentiment radiating from her in waves that were almost tangible. "Daddy hasn't accepted the idea completely, and it's going to take a while to win him over, if it happens at all. But he said you were the 'least objectionable' choice so far, and my mother likes you. She said she'd talk to him."
Souji's breath, pent-up since she came through the door, left him so quickly that he deflated in relief, more weight easing from his shoulders. "That's great."
"See?" Chie pointed out with a jaunty wink. "Good person to have on your side."
Souji rose from his chair and rested his hands on Yukiko's waist in a loose embrace, gazing into those eyes, bright like rain pools under a neon lights, and let a slanted smile come to his face. "So," he asked quietly, "does that make it official?"
Yukiko jerked, her face turning a bit wild, panicked. "O-official?"
Souji's next words were interrupted by Chie, who'd shot up from her chair with a disgusted sigh. "Okay, there's only so many things you can say next, and the sap rolling off you two is disgusting. Let me get out of your way. Please."
He chuckled, casting an arch look at the martial artist. "Not curious? That's not like you."
"Plenty curious. But the vibes I'm getting are driving me nuts. You two are so sugary that I'm gonna be sick."
"It's called a 'relationship', Chie."
"Peh, whatever," she muttered as she headed for the other door.
She slid it open, but not before Souji's eyes narrowed gleefully. "Give it a try. I know Yosuke's free if you want to experiment."
She stiffened, turned, bent, and twisted all at once. The result was a narrowly-avoided face plant into the door frame before she whirled around, eyes flashing. "Wh-what! You think me and Yosuke- Ew, not on your life!"
"I think you two would do well together. You're always fighting, after all. Remember how long you two argued over Teddie's clothes?"
"And you think that's a good thing?"
"Sure. Relationships need a little fire to keep them going, and if that time was any indication, then-"
"Ugh! No! NO! Don't EVER go there! I'm gone!"
"But wait-" the door slammed "-I've got more examples!" His response was shouted through the door, the words indistinct but the sentiment as clear as glass. Souji couldn't hold in his laughter, and Yukiko giggled next to him, her earlier consternation broken. When their mirth subsided enough, he took his seat while Yukiko took Chie's, smiles and chuckles still bleeding through. "Anyway."
"So," Yukiko began, starting to fidget again, "what did you want to make official?"
Souji smiled, contemplating how much he could drag the moment out, but then deciding that he'd had enough fun for the moment. "If you're officially my girlfriend, now that I've met your parents."
That diffused the tension and made her smile more than he'd ever seen before. It was wide and lopsided and a little goofy, but made for a beautiful sight in its honest expression. "I'd like that." She reached for his hand across the table, and he let her turn it over and lightly stroke the leather. He felt his lips mirror hers, knew that he wore an identical silly smile, and couldn't bring himself to care. "So, about those other things we talked about..." she began after what could have been a few minutes or a few hours of quiet basking.
Souji covered her hand with his spare one, lightly drawing on her palm and causing her to giggle and close her fingers reflexively. His words were cut off when the door slid open and Katsushiro and Ryoko came out. Yukiko's father's glare raked over his skin like hot coals when he saw their hands entwined, while Ryoko gave him with a calm, gracious smile. Souji straightened, but moved neither arm nor hand. "It's been a pleasure, Seta-san," Katsushiro told him in a clipped tone. "I hope to see you again. Good night."
Now Souji did let go of Yukiko's hand, rose to his feet and bowed respectfully. "Good night, Amagi-san. The pleasure was mine." The Amagi patriarch nodded stiffly and swept past them.
Ryoko bowed politely and embraced her daughter before heading for the door, but turned before exiting the room. "Don't stay up too late, Yukiko. I'm sure Seta-kun has matters to see to before he goes back to the city."
"Of course," both teens replied.
After she left, Yukiko stood up from her chair and pushed it in before turning to him, eyes happy, lips turned up, and a peaceful set to her features. "Walk me to my room?"
There was no other answer to give.
The hallways were dimly lit, partially by the lights at set intervals and partially by the full moon outside. Yukiko led and Souji followed, comforted by the silence. When she stopped at her door, Souji nodded and turned to leave, already pondering how he was going to explain returning home so late to Dojima, when small, cool hands grasped his wrist, stopping him. When he turned questioningly to Yukiko, her blush was apparent even in the low light and leeched colour. But his curiosity froze in place when she whispered "come inside? Just for a bit."
His brain seized like a car engine blowing its pistons clear through the hood. His heart rate tripled, his ears kept repeating those words a hundred times a second, and he didn't have the faculties to wonder what his face must have looked like. Either it hadn't changed at all, or was perfectly showing his incredulity, because she kept looking at him expectantly. Finally, after an unknown number of minutes, he choked out "um, what do- I mean, how would-" Before he made a bigger idiot out of himself, he bit his tongue and took several deep breaths. "Are you sure?" he asked finally.
Her nod was small but decisive. "I want to spend time with you, away from the others. That's what boys do with their girlfriends, right?" Her voice was low and shook with the effort it took to push the words out. When he thought of his answers to her father's questions earlier and how he'd felt like he were made of thin sticks and paper, he felt humbled at what must have been a daunting step for her.
"Uh... Well, I suppose so," he murmured, scratching the back of his neck. "I'll have to slip out later though. Gods know what would happen if your dad caught me here."
"I'll talk to Daddy about you soon," she supplied, still holding his wrist hopefully. "Please?"
He caved. She turned her dark eyes toward him, glistening in the moonlight and full to the brim with emotion, a picture that would feature extensively in his dreams afterwards, and what concern he felt for his own wellbeing at her father's hands wavered and flowed away. He nodded and followed her in, gently sliding the door closed behind them as she turned the lights on, swiftly dimming them when he winced sharply.
The first thing he noticed about her room was the feel and air it held, the sights similar to his own in Kofu. The studying desk with tacked-up papers and sticky notes and ordered pens and pencils, a bookshelf with carefully categorized books, ranging from cooking leaflets to fashion sundries to advanced textbooks to tea ceremony instructions (and filed, he noted on a closer glance, by subject, and then alphabetically by author), and a cushy reading chair, low table, and folded-up futon. It was larger than what he was used to, and more richly-furnished, but didn't feel alien or oppressive to him. Instead the smell of tea leaves and ink and paper and that scent that was distinctly Yukiko, like freshly-clipped herbs and new frost, was as welcoming as an embrace.
A chest of drawers and a walk-in closet were across the room, a school uniform set aside for after the weekend, and a set of rotating magnetic rings decorated the desk surface. What surprised him, and really shouldn't have, when he thought about it, was the signed poster from Rise on her wall, a miniature doll set from Kanji, and the numerous picture frames scattered about on the desk and table and chest. Many of her and Chie or her family, several of the Investigation Team, and the group photo taken before he left in March. "Make yourself at home," she murmured, bending down to lay out the futon. At any other time he might have helped her, but the photos grabbed his attention and pulled him forward.
They felt like a kaleidoscope of her life. Most were of her in the past five or so years, as recent as the vacation he family had gotten back from only a few weeks ago. But some were older. One of her and Chie and a small brown dog, apparently after Yukiko had been unable to keep it and Chie had adopted it on the spot. Another of her and Kanji, both much younger, poring over a bolt of cloth, absorbed in the rulers and diagrams scattered about. And one of her early adolescence in front of a large temple with her parents, sakura blossoms scattered everywhere. The scene looked familiar and tugged at the strings of his memory. "Kyoto?" he asked, pointing at the photo.
Yukiko finished setting up the futon and glanced over. "Ah, yes. I was about thirteen or fourteen then. You recognize the temple?"
"Vaguely. I think I was there, or at one similar to it, when I was young. During one of my father's business trips when I was too young to stay home alone."
"I still remember that trip. I don't think I've ever seen so many temples and hot springs in one area. And the entire city smelled of cherry blossoms."
"It's a beautiful picture." And it was. Katsushiro, almost unrecognizable without his scowl, was smiling as his daughter waved at the camera while Ryoko, looking entirely in her element in a seasonal summer dress, was laughing from the side. It had the feeling of a happy family, of people bound together out of love. It struck him, before he shook the feeling off, how vacant part of him felt; he didn't have pictures of the trips he'd taken with his parents. Those had been business trips, not vacations, and the memories of one place melded with countless others. Then he slammed the door on that stream of thought. Stop it. You're in your girlfriend's room, and you're getting maudlin over the past. "Your father looks different."
Yukiko came over to his side, wrapping an arm around his. "Daddy gets that a lot. He's always been like that whenever there's a boy involved in my life, whether I like it or not. I hope you weren't put off earlier."
The man scared him, no two ways around it. And that wasn't easy anymore. Still, Souji put on a carefree smile and chuckled. "I'm fine. See? No bite marks or bleeding."
She snickered. "Good." Her next words were cut off by a yawn, too big to conceal behind a hand or wrist.
Souji smirked and nudged her toward the futon. "I think that about settles it. We've had a long day, and I need to think of what to tell Dojima in the morning." She seemed reluctant, holding his arm tighter. Souji caught the edges of indecision and sadness on her face. "I'll stay for a while yet. There's something I wanted to ask you before I leave."
She nodded at last and padded over to her closet, glancing back with red-dusted cheeks. "Um..."
Souji caught sight of the sleepwear she was fingering and felt a similar blush creep up his neck. Of course she'd need to change. Why didn't you think of that? "I can wait outside if you'd like." He was outside her room moments after she nodded. His palms were clammy against his gloves, and he had to work hard to banish the thought of his girlfriend changing only a door away. Her slender arms, long legs, graceful neck... Focus, he berated himself. Some other time, but you just met her parents today - don't go borrowing trouble. His calm control, so long an asset and boon in everything he did, was clearly on vacation. Or perhaps it was the unusual surroundings of the Inn, or Inaba as a whole, that was throwing him off-centre. Or, maybe, that was life – always changing and forcing people to adapt. Either way, the routine of Kofu and his parents was being thrown down the side of Mt. Fuji and forgotten like the day's usual wind direction. It was harder and harder to maintain his focus these days, and he wasn't sure what to make of it. Part of him thrived on the change, no doubt there, but-
She cleared her throat from the other side of the door and cracked it open, stepping back as he slipped through. The sight that awaited him stole his breath. As with everything Yukiko wore, it radiated style, propriety, poise, and the perfect balance between function and form. A loose sleeping yukata, cinched at the waist, woven from a darker red than her usual cardigan, sleeves to the wrist and the bottom at the knees. He spied a t-shirt beneath the neckline, and her feet were bare. He never noticed how cute her toes and ankles were, he thought absently. The edges were dark, almost black, and fine vines and real-as-life sakura branches in full bloom adorned the sleeves. "Wow." Horribly inadequate and miles from his usual eloquence, but his vocabulary and silver tongue were evidently on vacation in Hawaii with his calm centre. Still, it wasn't a total loss – she smiled and reached out to grab his hand, slowly drawing him toward her bedding and dimming the lights. He pushed against the wool gathering in his head and knelt at the side of her futon, leaning against the wall as she burrowed under the quilts, once again in possession of his arm.
"So," she said, glancing up.
"So indeed."
"What did you want to talk about?"
He rested his head back against the wall, tapping the fingers of his free hand against his knee. "About what we discussed with your parents," he started, carefully drawing the words out, "what do you think?"
She cocked her head to the side, gears turning but missing and stuttering. "We talked about a lot tonight. What did you mean?"
"Us. The future. I felt like I took over the conversation and never asked you about it."
"Mom and Daddy did want to talk to you," she pointed out.
"Still."
She looked into the gloom of her room. "I want this," she murmured finally, nodding toward her room, the Inn, and perhaps Inaba itself. "I want you here, us together. I want to take over the Inn – I haven't changed my mind on that. I want to complete school and go to university, to see what I'm capable of. But I want you there too. I feel like Christmas was yesterday, and Izanami... It went by so fast. Now you're halfway across the country and making a new life while I'm still here. It's..."
"Frustrating?"
"Yes. Definitely that. But I'm also worried. That you'll get tied up there, that you'll move on, or run into something I can't help you with."
"Hey." Souji nudged her chin up, gazing into her eyes. "I'm not moving on from this. I promise that. I may have to change houses sometime, and this distance thing isn't a short-term arrangement, but I'm not going to forget about you, or anyone else here."
She held up a hand. "Can you promise that though? Let me finish. Dojima-san's mentioned your parents before, so I know they work a lot. That's the life you've known, and they are your parents. Can you really say you're not attracted to that lifestyle?"
Yes, he wanted to say. It was up his throat and on his tongue in an instant. Absolutely, certainly, or beyond any doubt. But they all broke on his clenched teeth. He remembered his conversation with Dojima the previous evening, and the words wouldn't come out. Dojima's comments came back, how his parents had been before he was born. It was easy to think that they'd always lived for their work, but no matter how much he denied that way of life, he also knew that he enjoyed the numbers. The formulas, the challenge posed by limits and varying rates, they were all familiar, and he'd be lying if he'd ever said that the life of finance lacked any lure to him. He was quiet for the longest time, looking around the gloom after breaking away from Yukiko's eyes. Finally, hesitantly, he opened his mouth. "I can't promise that finance won't have any appeal to me. I don't know if I can keep a promise like that, so I won't make it. I can't say that the next few years are going to be easy. In fact, I expect them not to be. But I will promise you this, Yukiko Amagi. I'll do everything in my power to make it work with you. You said you wanted us together. So do I. Inaba's the first place that's ever felt like home, and I promise I'll find a way back here."
She looked up at him with a tremulous smile that grew with each sentence. When he finished, she leaned forward and hugged him. Not an embrace, or leaning in close, but a hard, full-on hug. "Thank you," she murmured. He responded by rubbing her back in return, wrapping one arm around her shoulders. His hand caught in her hair, unrestrained, and he ran his fingers through it, soaking up the contact. She seemed about to say something when another yawn made its way out, infecting Souji this time.
"I think that's enough, Yukiko." He moved to get up, but she tugged on his arm.
"Just a little longer."
"Any longer and I'm going to need a futon of my own."
"Please?"
He met her eyes, tired and mellow and pleading, and sighed. His willpower, apparently, was AWOL too. "You win. Just a while."
The time passed slowly as they caught up, hidden from the rest of the world in this little corner of the night. He talked about school and Takenaka and Toyama. She talked about the Investigation Team in greater detail than Nanako had, mentioned her growing role in the goings-on at the Inn, and discussed the various universities she was already researching. Four more times he offered to leave, his eyes drooping more and more. And each time she answered the same and held his arm tighter. Finally, when she'd trailed off mid-sentence, he made one last effort to pull away. He failed. The last words he heard before falling asleep were a groggy "jus' a lit'l longer."
Waking up felt different this time. Normally he'd either snap awake between one heartbeat and the next, or wake up slowly but completely aware, often to take measure of the time and then doze off again. This was neither. It was a hazy state of consciousness that felt like he was aware of himself as he was waking up, or even slightly before. Like being underwater and floating to the surface, he felt the waking world approach and surround him, light and cloudy and muffled somehow. And then his eyes dragged open. His was disoriented at first, staring blearily at unfamiliar furniture, but the warm weight still snuggled in at his side reminded him of where he was, reassured that last night hadn't been a dream. It distracted him from the pain in his neck and lower back and filled his head with the scent of her hair. He smiled when he noted that she hadn't moved in the night. Either she was a still sleeper, or she didn't want him to leave in the middle of the night. His ego, perhaps the only part of him that hadn't abandoned him the night before, preened under the spotlight of the second option.
However, sore and stiff and self-assured as he felt, it all dimmed when he saw her in repose. Leaning against his arm (and the culprit for the small streak of dried saliva on his jacket sleeve) and sleeping softly, eyes closed and face relaxed, or even smiling a little, if his ego was to be believed. Her hair had drifted in front of her face like a thin curtain, resting against her cheek, and her nose twitched instinctively every now and again when the odd strand tickled her. Her warm weight at his side, the calming scent of her room, and the quiet all tugged at him, made him rest his head back and start to fall back asleep. So deep was his lethargic tranquility that, when he heard something shift nearby, he wrote it off as his foot sliding on the floor. But when it happened a second time, and he felt no twitching or friction on either appendage, he opened his eyes and turned slightly toward the door.
And froze solid, his heart seizing, when he saw the beginnings of light blue in the corner of his vision. There hadn't been anything that shade of blue in the room last night. Nor any blue, he frantically recalled.
Slowly, painfully turning, he tilted his head upward. His eyes shifted just as slowly, taking in the fabric of a kimono, then a white obi, near which rested a hand on a hip, and finally-
-Meeting the impassive gaze of Ryoko Amagi, lips quirked and head tilted and hair loose, staring at him.
He couldn't move. From the stiffness in his joints, the awkward position against the wall, and Yukiko still on his arm, blissfully asleep and unaware as Souji's heart kick-started to three times the normal pace. Still, his mind worked clearly enough. Enough to blare one sentiment in his ears and drown out his racing pulse.
Oh shit.
Author's Notes: This one took longer getting out for several reasons – new semester, wherein half my university's been thrashing around like a headless snake due to sizable course and organizational screw-ups, new classes, half of which I didn't know I was in (long story there), and because the content itself gave me trouble more than once. The conversation with Yukiko's parents, timing things between Yukiko and Souji, and so on, all took a few tries to get down. And I'm still not sure if it's my best work, so kindly let me know, yeah? One way or the other, any feedback helps.
My longest chapter to date – have to see if I can curtail that. Might get stuff out sooner that way.
Finally, it's come up before, but I've been wondering – what pairings do people want to see? Is my audience fairly streamlined, with SoujixYukiko, ChiexYosuke, and so on? Or more adventurous and untouched pairings? I'm interested in knowing where the minds of my readers are.
Last, but not least, thanks to all who've been reviewing this. Regular or first-timer, it's all greatly appreciated. And, as usual, let me know what's working and what isn't.