Sooner or later everyone sits down to a

banquet of consequences.

– Robert Louis Stevenson

The After

Ebisu said nothing when I slipped in at closing time, taking a seat at the far end of the bar. My phone buzzed against my thigh but I ignored it, welcoming the darkness allowed by the hand pressing against my eyes. Throbbing temples, phantom fingers cinching my neck; heat stirring my stomach, ears howling with silent sound–

I hadn't been this angry in a long time.

"What hole were you hiding in?"

"Save it." I regretted snapping immediately for he fell silent, all traces of humor or concern replaced with smooth, cold indifference. "Sorry," Biting back a sigh, I massaged my forehead before gripping a handful of hair. "It's been . . . a day."

More squeaking glass proceeded a gentle tinkling; retreating footsteps to the far side of the bar. Silence ground my ears and I sighed, grip tightening and pushing my head into the crook of one arm. This was a bad idea; I'd known that as soon as I left my apartment. I needed to be in the gym, beating the life out of the red heavy bag, but I didn't want to see my coworkers.

Or anything red.

A nutty aroma caked with earth filtered in, a smell I'd know anywhere. When I sat up, my favorite blend of coffee sat at my elbow and Ebisu was back to polishing glasses, checking each one before hanging them with the rest.

Taking the mug, I breathed in the smell before taking a sip, savoring the miracle liquid in all its glory. "Thanks."

He remained focused on his task, though I knew he heard me – nothing escaped Ebisu's eye.

Finally, several minutes and half a cup of coffee later, he spoke. "I can put something in there to take the edge off, help you relax."

The offer caught me off-guard though I hid my face carefully behind the mug, searching for cracks or blemishes that weren't there. Ebisu knew I didn't drink; we'd known each other since I was a teenager, right after I moved in with Tatsuo. For him to offer alcohol despite that–

How bad did I look?

"No thanks, I'm alright." The lie slipped out before I could catch it and I saw him lift a brow, eyes hidden behind lilac lenses. "Actually, no, that's not right." Taking another sip, I held the mug between firm fingers, enjoying the liquid burning all the way down. "I've been at home all day; didn't feel like seeing anyone."

A grunt and he nodded, continuing his nightly routine. Except for special occasions, Ebisu closed up shop alone, blaming his attention to detail and insisting his employees always missed spots on tables, left the dishwasher running or other atrocities. Though I knew better. A few years ago, one of his waitresses ran into trouble on the way home after helping close. This district of Mushiyori had gone to pot over the past ten years, and Black Lotus sat right in the middle of the cesspool. While she made a full recovery, Ebisu implemented a new policy that sent everyone else home at ten on the dot.

Thus why we were the only ones here at almost 11 pm.

"This got something to do with Minamino?"

I stiffened at the name before releasing the cup, staring down into the black beverage. "What makes you ask that?"

He snorted but didn't look up, intent on wiping down the counter. "You don't show up for a day and he comes looking for you, asking for you by name? Doesn't take a rocket scientist."

Releasing a slow breath, I frowned, willing my voice remain level. "What did he want with me?"

"I answered your question; now, answer mine."

So I told him about last night, how I'd done my bit for Open Mic before going to work. I'd known making it on-time for the shoot would be close so I wore the red dress and heels to Black Lotus, to save the trouble of changing later. Everything went well with filming until the action scene, where my character was pursued into an alley. We'd choreographed the encounter perfectly, me biting the fake blood packet in-time with Yatsu's punch, prepared to be taken down despite putting up a good fight–

That is, until he showed up.

"So, he was trying to save you." Ebisu withdrew a cigarette from his breast pocket, lighting up after pulling a crystal ashtray near.

My nose wrinkled at the smell though I knew better than to say anything. This was his place, he could get cancer here if he wanted. "Only I didn't need saving!"

"No, I guess not." He took a drag before blowing smoke from his nostrils, glowing stick held between poised fingers. "But there's more to it, isn't there?"

I nodded, taking another sip. "While Ginjo is fine, Yatsu's pretty messed up. He had to go to the hospital – the blow ruptured his eardrum."

Nose wrinkling, I set the mug down with more force than intended, sloshing coffee onto my knuckles. I swore before a cool rag pressed into my hands, bringing immediate relief to rising blisters.

"Thanks." Nodding, he retrieved his abandoned cigarette, motioning me to continue. "He's going to be alright, though he won't be able to work for a few weeks. My pay's being docked to help with his expenses."

Ebisu raised both brows at this, flicking ash into the container. "Don't you guys have insurance for stuff like that?"

"Yes, but work only pays for work-related accidents. If Yatsu fell during a shoot that would be one thing; but since it was a deliberate injury caused by someone I 'know', it's apparently my responsibility."

"It eat into your rainy day fund?"

A bitter smile and I laughed, wrapping the warming cloth around the worst of the burns. "Bit more than that but I'll live."

He fell silent, gaze wandering to the far wall. I kept talking anyway, certain he was listening. "Look, I get the guy meant well and all that; it's just . . . frustrating." My fingers ached from gripping the rag but I let the pain ground me, keep me safe from pointless thoughts. "This business isn't easy for anyone – I've spent years convincing everyone I'm not like the women I play on-set – and then some stranger comes in and makes it look like I couldn't take care of myself. The jokes about 'the princess her knight in shining armor' started while we were still at the hospital."

The jabs filled my ears once more and I sighed, resisting the urge to hide my face. "I can deal with that, though – I'm not a kid. The money isn't a big deal, either; things will be tight this month but I'll make it. Just–" I paused, releasing the rag in favor of fingering a strand of hair. "I feel like an idiot for worrying about him."

There was no doubt who 'he' was, and Ebisu made no comment. In fact, he still stared at some unknown point, cigarette heavy with ash between his lips.

"Don't get me wrong, I'm glad he's okay. When he didn't show up here for a while, I thought something bad happened."Lips pursed, I twirled the black lock in slow circles, noting the contrasting colors. No matter how hard I tried, even after years in this line of work, I still couldn't keep a tan. "I'm glad he stopped by last night."

"It's weird." Breathing a sigh, I released the hair, taking another sip of coffee. "I don't usually worry about other people, so to get worked up over a guy I've never met–"

There was nothing to add so I let the words die, gaze falling to glaring knuckles. For the hundredth time, I relived the night before: the calm delight of open mic rising to genuine joy at seeing Minamino in the audience; a tinge of anxiety as I noted the time, as well as the feel of those strange eyes upon me. The pleasure of a perfect filming, crowned by one last action scene–

Then watching it all dissolve in the wake of red.

Finally, Ebisu moved, smoke billowing as he extinguished the pitiful remains of the cigarette. "He wants to see you."

I stiffened, confusion soaking through angry embers. "Why?"

"Don't know. From everything you've said, probably to apologize." He snorted, bending to reach beneath the counter. Moments later, he straightened, pushing something into my hands.

Glancing down, I noted the tightly rolled paper, bereft of lines and tied with a crimson string. For his part, Ebisu retreated to the far side of the cafe, intent on wiping down gleaming tables. After a moment's hesitation, I took a breath and and slid off the thread, spreading the sheet flat only to see:

I wonder about the trees.

Why do we wish to bear

Forever the noise of these

More than another noise

So close to our dwelling place?

We suffer them by the day

Till we lose all measure of pace,

And fixity in our joys,

And acquire a listening air.

They are that that talks of going

But never gets away;

And that talks no less for knowing,

As it grows wiser and older,

That now it means to stay.

Blinking, I swallowed and read again. The poem was written in a strange hand, free and flowing yet elegant, words scribed in both Japanese and English. A tree separated the two languages, as though they were shy lovers, afraid to face one another. The tree was beautifully rendered, complete with roots, bark, and intricate branches. I recognized it immediately – cherry blossoms grew throughout Mushiyori, meticulously tended by city personnel – yet no blooms or leaves rested on those strong arms. No, this was a tree caught in the grips of fall, captured just before the first snow.

Identical to the one planted outside Black Lotus.

Against my will, a familiar voice flooded my ears, taking me to another place, another time:

"My feet tug at the floor

And my head sways to my shoulder,

Sometimes when I watch trees sway,

From the window or the door."

"Odawara?"

Starting, I straightened, burned knuckles screaming atop clenched fists. Ebisu watched from a corner table, hand stilled mid-swipe. I couldn't gauge my expression though his spoke volumes, brows drawn, mouth pulled into a fierce frown. "Everything alright?"

Clearing my throat, I carefully rolled up the note before reattaching the thread, stuffing the thing in my pocket. Sweat beaded my nape; I did my best to hide shaking hands, though I'm sure he saw, anyway. "You said he wants to meet?"

"Yeah, Sunday morning around ten, or 'at your earliest convenience'." When I could only stare, he rose to his full height, dirty rag forgotten. "Look, if you don't want–"

"No, that's fine." Another breath and I slowly unfurled my fingers, staring at the tiny scars crisscrossing there. "Unless he's willing to pay up, though, I'm not interested."

Ebisu considered a moment longer before shrugging, moving back to his task. "That's between you and him, I'm done being your carrier pigeon."

And that was it. No more questions, no insight or promises of safety. He knew I could take care of myself and if Ebisu seriously believed Minamino was a threat, he wouldn't have mentioned him at all.

I just couldn't wait to nail pretty boy to the floor.

Only my window burned by the time I got home, everyone else no doubt already asleep. One of the perks of living in an old building full of old people. Depositing shoes and coat in the genkan, I padded to the living room, falling into the embrace of sandalwood, lavender, and the light of the table lamp. Toki purred from his spot on the couch, lost to whatever dreams cats have, paws slowly kneading a blanket.

Smiling, my feet took me to the record player and, before long, Glenn Miller's In the Mood filled the room. Hand roving to the bookshelf, I plucked a slim volume before moving to the couch, sinking effortlessly into leather folds. A slow yowl and I rubbed Toki's head, massaging first one fuzzy ear then the other before opening the worn paperback to a marked page:

"I shall set forth for somewhere,

I shall make the reckless choice

Some day when they are in voice

And tossing so as to scare

The white clouds over them on.

I shall have less to say,

But I shall be gone."

Mom's voice flooded in as I whispered the final lines, taking me back to childhood. Though she always preferred fiction, mom knew how much I loved poetry, even back then. As a compromise, we read one story and one poem a night, she picking the poem, and I the story. My love for Western poets came from her, for those were the ones she read the most.

Robert Frost was her favorite.

Breathing a soft sigh, my gaze fell to the picture frame beside the lamp. Mom and I stood at my elementary graduation, frozen forever with stupid grins on our faces. She knelt on the ground in her white hose and green dress, embracing me with perfect pale arms. Two teeth were missing from my smile and, though I felt self-conscious about it at the time, what else could I do when she hugged me like that. Her hair swept into a bun, mine fashioned in twin ponytails beneath my ears–

We had no way of knowing the following week would change our lives forever.

My back itched but I ignored it, pulling the note out instead. Studying it, I couldn't help but be impressed at the layout of the thing, the perfect handwriting separated by a sprawling tree. Honestly, if not for the pay deduction I would probably let the whole thing go, just forget that strange red hair and everything else related to Minamino.

But I couldn't forget. The cost of living wasn't going down and facilities like Eiichi weren't the best because of small price tags. While there should be enough in my account to pay the sanatorium, the possibility of increased expenses due to new medication or a severe episode gnawed at my belly, overpowering any calm the music might bring.

I could get by with a temporary pay cut.

My mom couldn't.

A/N: Hello again and thank you for your patience! I intended to have this chapter published a week ago and time as well as life have not cooperated. Thank you for your continued readership, as well as those who have favorited, followed and reviewed! Your thoughts on this story are always appreciated.

So, we got to know Ebisu and Azumi a bit more this time, as well as why she's so upset about the whole thing. What could Minamino possibly say to make this situation better, and what will her response be? Kurama's back next chapter, see you then!