Tomatoes – To Buy a Fat Pig

Disclaimer: In case you haven't figured it out yet, I don't own Puella Magi Madoka Magica. All Madoka-related characters, settings, etc. are the intellectual property of Studio SHAFT and Gen Urobuchi.

[-]

"Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant!"

Junko, for her part, flushed crimson at the praise being lavished upon her by her CEO. The obligatory "Oh, no, it was nothing" spilled from her mouth – for there was nothing worse for a young professional in Japan, than to be seen as boastful – but privately, she welcomed it, allowing it all to wash over her.

After the past several weeks, she felt she deserved every word.

The Sea Fragrance file had been everything its reputation had suggested…and worse. She hated every single solitary moment she'd spent working on it, with every fiber of her being. And by god, the clients…

It would be…charitable to call Reiji and Eren Azuma "fickle." A brother-and-sister pair looking to open their first business together, at least ninety percent of the delays, speedbumps, and general headaches that'd plagued the project came down to their infuriating inability to commit to even a single decision.

One day, everything would be going just fine and dandy, both siblings nodding along politely as Junko explained their payment and insurance options – and then the next, one of them would turn around and ask, oh, would it inconvenience her terribly to go this direction instead? Or perhaps this one? Hmmm…maybe it would be best to sit and think it over for another goddamn week!

And of course, being there to serve (despite it not being even remotely her actual job), Junko had no choice but to grin and bear their idiocy, smiling like a maniac and bowing respectfully as they constantly sabotaged any chance of their own success.

Needless to say, the entire process hadn't exactly been a walk in the park. It'd taken every last ounce of her patience and goodwill, which weren't really present in great quantities to begin with, to convince them to sign off on the last few documents and finalize the sale.

But, somehow – she still wasn't entirely sure what it was that'd managed to get through to them – she'd succeeded, and the entire goddamn mess was finally behind her. It'd taken five grueling weeks of constant, unyielding effort, but it was done.

She, Junko Kaname, had won.

"Congratulations, Kaname-san. Knew you could pull it off," said another employee, Reichin, clearly not meaning a single word – with the arguable exceptions of you and it. "Glad you just happened to be around to salvage things after Yosuke crashed and burned. What would we do without you?"

Junko had to heavily suppress the urge to roll her eyes at his passive-aggressive bullshit, instead simply replying, "Thank you, Reichin-san. And I'm sure Yosuke-san's next employer will be perfectly happy with a man who drinks himself into a stupor and curses out his clients for ten minutes straight."

She knew he was just trying to get a rise out of her…but while she wasn't going to rise to his bait, she wasn't gonna just sit back and take this crap either.

The fact that, by this point, she agreed with everything Yosuke had ranted about regarding the Azumas was, of course, irrelevant.

"Ah, that reminds me," President Masaoka added after a little while, as he took yet another drink – around his tenth of the night – from a nearby table, and downed most of it in one gulp. "Tossing Yosuke out on his lazy ass means we've got an open spot available. Any interest, Junko?"

"Oh, err…me? A full-time real estate agent…?" Junko asked quietly, trying to sound as if she hadn't been crossing her fingers for precisely that question all evening. "You…honor me more than I deserve."

On the contrary, she felt that was the least she deserved at this point. But again, there really wasn't a way to say that without sounding unduly proud, and possibly screwing the whole thing up as a result. Even if it was feigned, playing at humility was definitely the smarter call.

"You handled that file like a butcher skinning a pig," said the CEO; presumably, this simile made a bit more sense inside his head. "It's pretty clear now we've been wasting your talents here, having you make copies and brew my tea. I can find someone else for that anytime. What you've got is rarer."

"Thank you, sir. I'll do my best to live up to your expectations," Junko replied deferentially, deciding to offer the safe answer as she bowed low. Once her face was hidden from view, though, she grinned with satisfaction, and pumped one fist triumphantly behind her back.

Reichin made a disgusted noise with his tongue, quiet enough that President Masaoka's aged ears appeared to have missed it. Junko chose not to respond to this.

He was free to think whatever the hell he wanted about her. She had what she wanted, and any insecure little man-children who couldn't take seeing her rise up to be their equal could go fuck themselves.

After all, what'd Tomohisa said about guys like Yosuke or Reichin? That they probably just couldn't take a woman showing them up because they had tiny dicks?

It was hardly an original insult, true. But somehow, coming out of his mouth, it'd…made much more of an impression.

Junko was jolted out of these thoughts – probably a good thing, as there were few good reasons to be thinking of her coworkers' penises at a company gathering – by President Masaoka clearing his throat to speak again.

"Anyway, do you remember that proposal you brought to me about a month ago?" he asked her. "Something about a health food store, I think?"

"Err…close enough…" Junko muttered under her breath, deciding there wasn't much of a point in quibbling over the term "health food." In any event, she was more caught off-guard by his bringing up Tomohisa's plans, just as she was thinking about him.

Then again, a small part of her mind noted, it wasn't like her thinking of him was all that rare these days…

Shaking her head to clear away that strange, unbidden thought, she then added, "What about it, Masaoka-sama?"

"I brought it in a package with a few others to the board, and they seemed to really like the idea. I'm making the decision to move forward with it," the president explained. "And since you already know the client, I figure you're the best person to handle this. What do you think, Junko?"

The young woman wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it wasn't this. The board of directors being involved threw her completely for a loop; no doubt they'd be scrutinizing the entire project closely, and doubly so with a "newbie" at the helm.

There were a metric ton of ways this whole mess could crash and burn, and Junko couldn't help but imagine every single one flash right before her eyes. But ultimately, that didn't matter. All the pressure only made her want, to need, to take ownership of this all the more.

This was her big chance to really and truly prove herself – to the board, to the company, and to…

For some reason, Junko's inner voice was having some difficulty completing that thought. Well…to her new clients, her thoughts added belatedly.

"I'd be glad to, sir," she finally said, bowing one more time as Reichin finally just threw up his arms and walked away. "I look forward to working with To…err, with Inoue-san and his associates."

This, at least, was one-hundred-percent truthful. Not that she'd necessarily realize that herself for quite some time.

[-]

In those early days, not counting Junko herself, there'd been four of them involved in bringing the proposed "Wakō Garden" into reality.

Kouta Kazuraba was the youngest of the group, fresh out of college and extremely earnest in his ambitions. He had a distinct talent for growing fruits, strawberries and oranges in particular, as well as just about everything electronic.

The internet was in a relatively primitive state back then, but Kazuraba was nothing if not forward-thinking, and made sure they were covered with a well-designed website.

Hermann Saltza was, conversely, by far the oldest – a German immigrant in his early fifties, who'd lost his job as an auto mechanic years ago and, failing to find steady work since, had thrown himself completely into his gardening. His specialty was flowers, and (more relevant to his involvement in the project) various herbs and spices.

But he was also handy with a wide variety of tools and construction materials, which helped greatly as they renovated their new establishment.

Inaho Miki was an old school friend of Tomohisa's, and the only member of the group who was already married. His wife was an airline stewardess, however, meaning he was frequently left alone to manage the house – including their prized home garden, filled with flowers, fruits, and vegetables. His best products by far, however, were his cucumbers and carrots, which his wife had a particular talent for baking into fantastic cakes whenever she was back in town.

And as a journalist, Inaho lent a great deal of expertise to managing ideas for advertising, as well as getting word-of-mouth going throughout the general public. It didn't hurt that he could put forward a little start-up capital of his own, as well; his recently passed mother had left him a not-insignificant inheritance, which would be helpful as collateral in pursuing further loans and investments.

Finally, of course, that left Tomohisa Inoue himself: at first glance the least assuming of their little "cabal," yet at the same time, undeniably the glue that held them all together.

Born to a family that'd owned a corner convenience store for over thirty years, Tomohisa knew a thing or two about small business…even if he'd never done anything close to management before now. Still, he'd been stocking shelves and manning registers since he was pint-sized, and a lot of the stuff that tended to trip up first-timers – inventory, payroll, property tax – were matters he either knew intimately, or was a quick study to pick up.

It helped that we was remarkably well-connected, too. Not only was he friendly with the Shizukis, but the even-wealthier Kamijou family as well, whose money and status was rumored to go back to feudal times. He was even on first-name terms with Councillor Tomoe, who represented the greater Mitakihara area in Tokyo, and who was reportedly a favorite to succeed the current Prime Minister.

Given his lack of wealth or station, how exactly he struck up all these friendships was something of a mystery. Perhaps it was as simple as this, however: Junko had never, in any of her time spent with him, noticed someone come away with a bad impression of Tomohisa.

He was eminently likeable, in a way she found both mystifying and oddly enviable, always knowing the right thing to say – or at least, improvising remarkably well – and the right time to say it. Time spent after speaking with him always seemed a little more bearable than it'd been before, and there was no doubt in her mind he had a rare gift to bring people together.

Her job, now, was helping that gift shine.

Junko did a mental double-take at that stray thought. A few weeks ago, she'd have gagged at a line so sappy and saccharine. Clearly, she'd been spending more time around the most positive man on the goddamned Earth than she'd thought.

It was also kind of weird she was no longer sure that was such a bad thing.

There was no doubt they'd grown…closer, as the project progressed over the past several months. That was inevitable, to a degree. The entire process of locating a suitable storefront, arranging the sale, and getting everything finalized was long and protracted, filled with innumerable complications nearly every single day.

Which meant, ultimately, that they'd needed to spend a lot of time together.

Junko worked with all the Wakō Garden founders at varying levels, but more often than not Tomohisa tended to represent the rest of them in meetings. Both Kouta and Inaho had day jobs (and in Inaho's case, a wife to attend to whenever she was back in town), and Hermann was…

Well, he wasn't exactly what one might call "sociable." Not a bad guy by any means, but he was poor at small talk and his fluency in Japanese was somewhat lacking, so he tended to keep to himself for the most part.

That left Tomohisa, whom Junko got along with far better than she'd been expecting. Yes, as stated beforehand, he got along well with just about everyone, but it was certainly an unusual event for her.

She didn't, as a rule, make friends easily. Even Kazuko had taken some time to grow on her, and she couldn't think of too many other people she'd ever want to, say, go out drinking with. Her relationships with all her other school friends had gradually fizzled away over the years, and her coworkers mostly just ranged from casual acquaintances to guys like Reichin, who hated her guts.

With Tomohisa, however…

"Junko? Are you alright?" asked the man in question, shocking her from her reverie.

It took the young businesswoman a second to realize just where she was right now. Looking around, it all came flashing back – they were at a ramen place by the name of Wooser's, and the waitress was standing next to them, patiently awaiting Junko's order.

"Err…I'll just have the…uh…the special. I guess?" Junko blurted out, stumbling over her words as her mind played catch-up. The waitress nodded and bowed low, leaving the two of them alone at a small corner table.

"I sure hope the special's good today," she said after a little while, leaning back in her chair and cupping her face with her hands. "I didn't exactly catch what it was."

"Think it was tonkatsu," he informed her, craning his neck to see if he could catch a glimpse of a sign in the window to confirm.

"Ah, that's alright then," Junko replied with a sigh of relief. "Not exactly my favorite way to prepare pork, but it'll go well with the ramen here. Thanks."

Tomohisa, for his part, stared carefully at her for several silent beats before asking, "Is…something the matter? You seem distracted."

Junko bit her lip. She wasn't aware she'd been that obvious. "I was…just thinking about work, that's all," she said, avoiding his gaze. That was half-true; they'd come to this place for a lunch meeting, as they were approaching a critical filing deadline and every spare moment until then was precious.

But then, it was hardly unusual these days for them to have meetings over lunch, or dinner, or tea – or even, on one memorable occasion, big hulking ice cream sundaes. They hadn't gotten a whole lot of work that particular day.

And that was what she was really thinking about.

What'd begun as a work relationship had morphed, without her even realizing it, into…well, into something different. More and more these days, routine business meetings were turning into excuses to spend time with Tomohisa – to go out, hang out, just be near each other.

"Yeah, I know you must be really busy right now…" the tomato-grower responded, now sounding a little guilty. "Hope asking you over here didn't disrupt your schedule too much."

"Nah, we needed to go over the files one more time anyway. Might as well have ramen as long as we do," she told him, wringing her hands nervously.

She knew, acutely well, how all this looked. There was a word for a couple of people who repeatedly, compulsively spent so much time together – dining, drinking, chatting and joking and laughing and having trouble parting at the end of the night.

And it wasn't "business associates."

God, but if she didn't make friends easily, then this was something else altogether. She'd spoken honestly to Kazuko, back what Junko had trouble believing was only a few months prior: she didn't "date," as a rule.

Junko was hardly a prude, and most definitely not a virgin, but nearly all her sexual conquests in college had been with one-night stands. The longest relationship she'd ever experienced had lasted a grand total of three days…and that was just because his car had broken down, and he'd gotten stuck at her place for a bit.

It was why she'd been comfortable making that moronic "no men" pact with her best friend – she wasn't actually giving up anything she already had. But now, that deal was simultaneously the farthest thing from her mind, and the closest.

She didn't feel bound to it, oh hell no. Yet it also served as a constant, painful reminder that she had very good reasons not to pursue this. Whatever "this" was.

"You know…" he murmured, looking up from the soda he'd ordered with his meal. "If there's anything else bothering you, Junko…you can always talk to me about it. I mean…err…if you're comfortable with that. It's fine if you're not, I understand."

God, God, God, God he made this hard. And again, she wasn't even certain what "this" was. But she had a sinking feeling that whatever it was, whatever she was starting to feel in the deepest part of her gut as they spent more and more time together…she rather sort of liked it.

And that terrified her more than anything.

Dammit, she needed to focus. Hadn't she told Kazuko that the last thing she wanted to do was devolve into some dumbass stereotype? Well here she was, crushing – fuck, she'd just used that accursed word for the first time – yes, crushing on a man she'd met just a few months ago. And a client too, as an added fucking bonus!

She had her reasons, she reminded herself; had to remind herself. Reasons she'd thought long and hard about and adhered to for years.

Above all else, she was a career woman, through and through. She'd resolved herself to that path from a very young age, to do whatever it took to achieve her dreams of strength and independence. She wasn't going to rely on anyone anymore, apart from her own skills and intelligence.

That was what she'd decided would be her life, when she was a girl. And every day since had been spent making that wish come true.

But she'd had other, similarly minded friends – okay, maybe "friendly acquaintances" was a better term – who had, before her eyes, dropped all their ambitions to become the perfect stereotypical Japanese housewife, after meeting "Mister Right." Not all, but enough.

And even those women who remained in the workforce always seemed to be looked at…differently after marriage. She'd seen it at the legal firm Tohru Shizuki worked for. A female paralegal, who'd once been very prominent in contract negotiation, had been quietly shuffled to a less-public department after she revealed she was with child. And after she'd taken several months off for pregnancy leave, she'd returned to find that they'd pawned off all her responsibilities to other positions in the interim, effectively eliminating her job.

Sometimes she idly wondered, a bit guiltily, whether it was only Kazuko's utter ineptitude at keeping a boyfriend that kept her from slipping down the same path.

Either way, that was not a fate Junko was prepared to accept for herself. If the only way to earn respect in this world as a strong, independent woman was to remain single, than single she'd be.

No boyfriend. No girlfriend. No husband or wife. And definitely no kids.

"Junko…?" he repeated again, now looking increasingly concerned over her prolonged silence. "Did I…err…say something wrong?"

Now she was biting her lip again, even harder this time. The faint taste of her own blood jolted her back to reality – that she'd run out her ability not to answer him. One way or another, she wasn't getting out of this without saying something.

But if she didn't plan out, to the word, exactly what that "something" was going to be beforehand, she was absolutely petrified she'd blurt out precisely the worst possible thing.

Like the truth, for example.

Once more, she took a deep breath, willing her brain to consider all this rationally. Put aside your opinions on relationships, Junko, she told herself. Because even if…given the absolutely insane idea that she might just…

Even if she could maybe…possibly…consider…that she could want…

Another deep, bracing breath. Even if that was true, there was absolutely no guarantee he'd feel the same way.

Hell, Junko wasn't even sure if he was interested in women, much less her specifically. As a matter of fact, hadn't he mentioned something about an ex-boyfriend during their last date? Which was, of course, to say, business meeting. Business. Meeting.

A brief thought flitted across her mind, that Tomohisa did rather fit a certain…stereotype in that sense. Then came a sharp pang of guilt, because she knew those stereotypes were bullshit. Yet it wouldn't leave her head that many of his traits – his cleanliness, love of cooking, absolute refusal to stare at her legs when it was so easy to – were ones she'd typically associate with either gentlemen or gay men.

And there was little question which she thought was in more plentiful supply these days.

Perhaps, said a tiny little corner of her mind, the part that seemed to get irrationally emotional over things she had no business feeling, simply because they related to Tomohisa, he's bi? Naturally, she'd never asked; never even considered asking.

Nevertheless, that stray thought filled her with a stupid amount of hope, the way his initial reference to an ex had, she realized, filled her with a moronic amount of jealously. Jealousy she, again, had no business feeling.

But she did. Oh fuck, she did.

Goddammit. She had to respond now, within the next few seconds. She was going to hurt him if she didn't, she knew somehow.

A safe answer. That's what she needed, and fast. Or…a question. Yeah, that was the ticket. She could buy more time with a simple question. Maybe about how Hermann was doing. He'd come down with something last week, and she hadn't heard from him since.

Junko opened her mouth to ask the question. But different parts of her brain were vying for control right now, and they fumbled over each other in a complete mess, so that what came out instead was, "Are you bisexual?"

There was no mistaking Tomohisa's shock and discomfort at this – his eyes went wide behind those square-rimmed glasses, and his mouth hung down so low he practically dislocated his jaw. But as his cheeks flushed and he averted his eyes, he swallowed and finally said, "Uh…yeah. I mean, yeah, I am. But…I…err…well…uh…whydoyouask?"

That last string of four words came out as one, mumbled nervously as his cheeks continued to burn so intensely he looked like one of his own prized tomatoes.

Junko, for her part, was mortified. Here she'd been, sitting there silently like an idiot, grappling with herself to figure out the perfect response…and then she'd just gone and blurted out a question about his sex life from out of fucking nowhere.

She felt embarrassed, for herself. She felt ashamed, for suddenly putting him on the spot like that. And…she also felt ecstatic.

It was insane, but there was undeniably a part of her brain that was jumping for joy. Because that meant that something between them was, well…possible. Maybe. Y'know, if she wanted it. Which she totally didn't.

Junko sighed inwardly. What was the point of lying in her own inner monologue?

Scrambling to keep her voice level, the young realtor scanned the room and reached for an easy lie.

"Err…well, it's just that…you mentioned an ex-boyfriend a while back, right? But then I thought I saw you checking out our waitress," she told him, gesturing to the woman in question as she delivered tea to another table. Junko hadn't seen anything of the sort, but she really needed to deflect right now. "I was, uh…just curious, y'know? But that was probably too personal, I'm sorry…"

"Oh no, don't apologize!" Tomohisa exclaimed, still flushing brilliantly. And cutely. Goddammit, since when did the way a person blushes become something that could be attractive? "Although I wasn't…I mean, I don't think I was…"

He glanced over at the waitress, just for a second, before snapping his focus back to Junko. "She seems nice and all, but, umm…she isn't really my, err, my type," he continued. "I mean, that is to say…when it comes to men or women, I'm kinda more into…uh…"

Somehow, his blush was actually deepening. He almost looked like an anime character now, what with how brightly crimson his cheeks were shining as he buried his face in his hands.

"I…okay, I…never mind. I don't have a good way to finish that sentence," he said after a long pause. "Can we, uh…please, change the subject…?"

"Erm…no, no problem. Again, I shouldn't have asked in the first place," answered Junko, despite the fact that a very loud, very insistent voice in her head was screaming just the opposite. What'd he been about to say, before the big bundle of awkwardness their whole exchange had devolved into had killed his momentum?

Whatever he'd been referring to, it was a trait he found attractive in both men and women, so a great rack or a full package probably didn't qualify. That same inner voice piped up again, idly wondering if it could possibly be – purely for example, of course – something like "independent career person" or "likes to wear nice suits," even though it most certainly wasn't and holy shit was she over the moon right now.

She'd known, going into this totally-not-a-date, that she was into this guy, whether or not she was willing to admit it to herself. But the last few minutes had just gone to prove how much she'd stupidly, hopelessly fallen for him.

And as she'd repeatedly made clear to herself, that was a problem.

Junko was kept from dwelling on that any further by the arrival of their food, looking delicious and smelling even better. For the moment, hunger drove all other thoughts from both their minds.

Somehow, one way or another, Junko managed to get through the rest of the lunch without too much issue. Halfway through the meal she'd opened up the folder she brought and they'd gone over the paperwork line-by-line, just to make sure they were both on the same page.

Besotted like some schoolgirl with a goddamn crush she might be, but Junko was a professional before she was anything else. She wouldn't let these newly acknowledged…feelings…get in the way of her client's best business interests.

At least, that's what she told herself as they parted with a brief, chaste hug, and a pang erupted through her heart as she wished it might last just a few seconds longer.

[-]

Junko plopped her head down on the bar, allowing the copious amounts of alcohol she'd just consumed to ease her pain.

Kazuko Saotome, for her part, seemed at a loss for how to help her friend; she was rather unused to being on this side of this sort of thing. Failing to come up with anything better, she awkwardly patted Junko on the shoulder and asked, "Work getting you down?"

"In a manner of speakin'…" mumbled the realtor, not raising her head one centimeter but managing to point her arm straight at the bartender anyway. "Gimme another!"

Junko was beginning to slur her words, and Kazuko was beginning to worry a bit. Her friend was most definitely not a lightweight when it came to alcohol – far from it – but even by her standards she was going overboard tonight.

"C'mon, dear, I think you've had enough," she said softly, rubbing Junko across the back of her head. "And what do you mean by 'in a manner of speaking'?"

As long as she could keep her talking, Junko wasn't drinking…that was Kazuko's reasoning, at least. The barkeep seemed to be thinking something similar, as while he dutifully passed on another shot of whiskey, a much taller glass of water came with it.

Surreptitiously, Kazuko made sure to place the latter right next to her friend's outstretched hand, while keeping the former just out of her reach. As Junko still was only barely raising her face from the bar surface, this ploy worked, as she grabbed for the nearest beverage without looking and swallowed it all in one gulp.

If this thwarting of her quest for more hard liquor bothered the young businesswoman, she didn't show it, as with her face still firmly planted downward, she began to answer Kazuko's question.

"S'embarrassing, Kazuko. Don't wanna talk 'bout it…" she mumbled into the wood. "Jus' leave me alone. I'm-a call a cab later or whatevs…"

While she was hardly the most formal person around, Junko usually didn't lapse into slang that severe unless she was hammered nearly to the point of unconsciousness. Now mildly alarmed, Kazuko grabbed for another glass of water and dipped some of it over her friend's head, while simultaneously shaking her lightly.

"Stay with me, Junko. Keep talking," she whispered, tipping the rest of the water into the realtor's unresisting mouth. "You know you can tell me, right? Whatever it is, I won't judge. I'm about the last person in the world that could."

"You'll…think I'm stupid…" said Junko, barely audibly.

"Trust me, dear. You could jump head-first into an orgy of crocodiles and I wouldn't think you were stupid," replied the teacher-in-training. "You're the smartest, prettiest, most talented person I know. Whatever you've got weighing you down, it can't be that bad."

There was a lengthy, protracted silence – or at least as silent as a fully stocked, overcrowded bar in Mitakihara could be on a Friday night – before, finally, Junko could hear herself let out a low sigh, and feel her head rise up to meet her friend's determined gaze. She felt a certain amount of detachment from these motions of her body, as if they were moving autonomously while her conscious brain shut down in a booze-saturated stupor, but she was too tired (mentally, physically, emotionally…take your pick) to stop herself as she began to speak.

And speak she did, at length and in detail. She'd never talked about Tomohisa with anyone before (when would she?), which meant that after more than a month of pure, unadulterated infatuation, her emotional state was roughly comparable to a red-hot pressure cooker.

The slightest opening, in short, allowed innumerable weeks' worth of "steam" to burst forth all at once, providing a seemingly endless stream of stories, anecdotes, and utter nonsense that tumbled from her brain without even the pretense of a filter.

Junko talked about the time she'd bitched about having to move some furniture around her apartment and he'd immediately volunteered to help, no questions asked. She talked about the time her car had broken down in a bad part of town, and he'd dropped absolutely everything at a moment's notice to pick her up and make sure she was safe.

She talked about his murky brown eyes, and his remarkably soft hair, and his small, gentle smile – so kind, so warm, so genuine. About his pleasant, calming voice and his amazing cooking. About how goddamn impressed she was at how hard he was willing to work to make his dream a reality, and how quick a study he was with regard to the world of business savvy.

And she talked about the way he made her feel, every fucking minute they were sharing the same space. How easily they could talk and joke and laugh for hours, with Junko barely even realizing how much time had passed.

Finally, after all that was said and done and she was sure Kazuko was bored out of her skull – or at least that she should be, though on the contrary, the other woman seemed more enraptured than ever – Junko talked about all the reasons she'd come up with in her head as to why a relationship between them simply wasn't possible.

She'd started at first by mentioning the deal between them, hoping to cast a bit of the responsibility off herself, but Kazuko just narrowed her eyes and glared at her over her glasses.

"I know a lame excuse when I hear one. I'm studying to be a high school teacher, remember?" she said. "Besides, even I haven't been following that silly pact. Hell, I've dated three guys since we agreed to it! All total jerks without an ounce of sense or class between them which I guess doesn't really help my case much but…still!"

Shaking her head, she leaned forward and demanded, "What's the real reason?"

Junko was caught off-guard by this. "Well, I…I mean, he's a client, and…" she began, but Kazuko cut her off.

"The real reason," she continued to press, more forcefully this time.

"I don't even know if he'd be interested in…" Junko sputtered, but again, Kazuko held up a hand.

"The…real…reason!" she exclaimed, now drawing some curious glances from onlookers.

"I'm scared, okay!" burst out Junko, before she could stop herself.

The young realtor was breathing heavily now, her hands clutching at her shoulders, her eyes darting around the room. Faces snapped back to their drinks or their food as soon as she caught them looking, and Junko found herself clenching her fists as she turned back to Kazuko, who was – for some goddamned reason – smiling like an idiot.

"You're scared…okay," she said, placing one hand gently over her friend's. "Tell me more."

Junko sighed and cast her face downward, taking deep breaths and forcing her racing heartbeat to slow. Finally, after a full minute of complete silence, she began to speak again.

"I'm scared…that things are going to change," she whispered, every syllable taking a little bit of effort. "That I'm going to change. Because that's what relationships do to people. Especially women. Maybe not immediately, maybe only in subtle ways…but it happens. I've seen it. I don't wanna lose what I have, what I am…for the sake of something I don't even know will work…"

Kazuko slightly tightened her grip on her hands at this, which Junko knew to be a signal that she wanted to interject. She fell quiet, and slowly nodded to her best friend, who smiled again.

"Look, Junko…I know I'm probably the person in the least position to give you advice about this," murmured the teacher-in-training. "But maybe it's because I've screwed this up so much that this'll mean something. Because let me tell you: I've dated dozens of guys over the years, and not once have I had a look in my eye like you do when you talk about Tomohisa."

Without even thinking about it, Junko found herself breaking eye contact, looking back down at the bar table and flushing.

"I may have never met the guy, but what you're talking about here…it's clear it's not just a passing crush or chance at a fling," she continued, her features set with certainty. "I think you've got an opportunity for something real here, Junko. And I think you're gonna spend the next few years kicking yourself if you don't at least give it a shot."

"I…I just…" said Junko, but her mouth just kept opening and closing after that. No more words would come.

"And if you're still so frightened by the idea that dating this guy might 'change' you…well, ask yourself this," added Kazuko, her voice now carrying an air of finality. "Look back on all the time you've spent together; all you've gotten to know about him. Has he ever once given you any indication that he wants you to change?"

The brunette leaned forward once more, but this time for the sake of embracing Junko around the shoulders, holding tightly onto her friend as the corner of her eyes grew misty – though out of what, she wouldn't have been able to quite articulate.

"Because how will you know he'd never accept you, just the way you are…if you never ask?"

And with that, Kazuko got up and, in a demonstration of immense and lasting friendship, paid off their rather substantial bar tab.

Then she hugged Junko one last time and departed, leaving the realtor alone with one last glass of water…and her own thoughts.