Tomatoes – Home Again, Home Again

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.

[-]

Strictly speaking, there was no reason for Junko to show up to the grand opening of Wakō Garden. Their business relationship had ended a few days prior, once the last of the legal matters regarding the actual real estate sale had been resolved.

Yet after nearly a year's worth of toil, it just seemed…wrong not to be here. To see it all finally come to fruition.

Oh, and there was also the fact that she literally never turned down an invitation to spend time with Tomohisa these days, whenever one was offered. Yeah…that too.

That being said, the tomato-grower wasn't actually here right now. The other three founders were, all neatly and professionally dressed – Kouta looked ridiculous in a suit and tie – but their valiant leader was running late, with less than an hour to go until the minor press event Inaho had organized.

The proximate cause was almost certainly his mother. The woman had taken rather ill as of late, severely enough that she was unlikely to ever leave the hospital again.

His father had long since passed, and his older sister Akane was stuck in America for at least the next few weeks. As such, it fell to Tomohisa to look after her.

[-]

Junko had actually gone with him during his last visit to her, for the sake of moral support. It'd been awkward, needless to say. She'd never met the woman, hadn't even seen a picture of her, and yet Junko was going to see her at her very most vulnerable.

She certainly hadn't been what Junko expected. Despite pushing seventy, Mrs. Inoue wore casual clothes in bright, vibrant colors and sported a rather distinctive nose ring.

When they entered the hospital room she was bopping her head back and forth to a pop song on the radio and flipping through a manga volume. Some kind of horror title, Junko guessed, based on the cover.

As soon as they walked into the room, the older woman put down the book and turned down the volume on the radio, her wrinkled face lighting up instantly at the sight of her son.

"There's my Tomo!" she exclaimed, holding her arms wide in expectation of a hug. Tomohisa obliged immediately, if very gently.

"And who's this little flower?" asked Mrs. Inoue a few seconds after they'd parted, turning to look at Junko. She seemed to be sizing her up, and the purple-haired woman suddenly found herself feeling rather self-conscious.

"This is Junko, mom," said Tomohisa. "She's…umm…a friend of mine."

A bit nervously, Junko stepped forward to offer the older woman her hand, bowing her head as she did. Mrs. Inoue returned both with a smile.

"A friend, hmm?" she responded, a smirk spreading across her wrinkled face as she stressed the word. "A friend like Inaho, or a 'friend' like Koichiro?"

"Mom!" he yelped, instantly sounding as if he was a teenager again. He was certainly blushing like one. Not that Junko's own cheeks were immune; it was obvious what his mother was implying, and she had to vehemently deny the part of herself that wanted an answer to the question.

"Oh, come on, Tomo. I'm only teasing," Mrs. Inoue added quickly, actually sticking out her tongue toward him for half a second. "You know how much I love my gossip. And there's precious little of it in a place like this. I'm telling you, if the cancer doesn't get me soon, the boredom's sure to."

"D…Don't even joke about that, mom! Please!" exclaimed her son, still red-faced. "I mean, I know things don't look great now, but…"

"I'm going to die, Tomo. Fairly soon. There's no point in denying or trying to dance around it," she said, her tone remarkably casual. "I've had a long time to come to terms with this, and I made my peace years ago. We just have to make the most of it."

"I know, I know. It's just…it's hard…" murmured Tomohisa, sitting down and taking his mother's hand in his. "Can you tell me what the latest prognosis was?"

"Doctor Momoe thinks it could be anywhere from a few months to a few years. He says it's hard to tell at this stage," answered Mrs. Inoue. "But I do know I'm never gonna get off this respirator, and I'll admit, that's kind of scary. My lungs are completely shot."

She leaned back onto her pillow, chuckling darkly. "Guess I should've laid off those cigarettes sooner," she whispered, sounding wistful. "Akane must've told me a thousand times, but I never listened. By the time I finally did quit, the damage was done."

They said nothing more for the next couple of minutes – just Tomohisa sitting in silence, holding his mother's hand tight. There were tears in the corners of his eyes, though he wasn't yet weeping openly.

Not for the first time, Junko felt distinctly out of place here. She had the nagging sense that she was intruding on what really should've been a private moment, a side of her "friend" she had no business seeing, and guilt gnawed at her insides for not doing something to comfort them.

But what could she do? She hadn't even exchanged a single word with Mrs. Inoue yet; she'd been too nervous to. And she couldn't even touch Tomohisa these days without her cheeks growing hot and her palms becoming sweaty, which was surely the last thing they needed to see right now.

Her indecision was forcibly put to rest, however, as the older woman eventually turned back to her and asked, "So, Junko…why don't you tell me about yourself? I can call you Junko, I hope."

"Oh! Uh…of course…" stammered the realtor, rapidly trying to compose her thoughts. "There's, err…really not much to tell, though. My name's Junko Kaname. I work at Frontier Settings as a real estate agent. I, uh…met your son while I was helping him find property for his business. And…that's about it, I guess?"

She decided to skip what was technically their first meeting, tomatoes spilt across the pavement and all. It might make for a better story, but one that was a bit harder to speak of in a purely professional sense.

Which was totally what this conversation was going to be. Purely professional.

"Oh, there's got to be much more to you than just your job, dear," said Mrs. Inoue, straightening herself up in her bed as she did. "Although it doesn't surprise me you'd open with that. My Tomo always did like the working girls. And guys. What's the word for a fetish for business suits?"

She took one look at the expressions spreading across both their faces, and quickly added, "Okay, I'll admit, that one was a little far. I'll dial it back, hon."

Junko, for her part, was experiencing two separate reactions to this inside her head. The first was absolutely mortified, and wishing desperately that she was anywhere but here.

The other sounded something like:

Oh god oh god he likes my suits I should never ever wear anything else again okay I already never ever wear anything else but screw that the point is he likes me he likes me he likes me!

She briefly envisioned the first voice taking the second out onto the street and beating it senseless. That calmed her down a bit.

"Anyway, you said your company's name is Frontier Settings? I think I've heard of them before," Mrs. Inoue spoke back up after a little while, once both Junko's and Tomohisa's faces had returned to their regular shades. "Do you know a Koji Masaoka?"

"He's my boss," replied Junko, surprised to hear the name. "Do you know him?"

The older woman smirked. "Quite well, once upon a time. We used to…ahem…date," she told her, winking emphatically at the final word.

Junko had never, in her life, met someone of Mrs. Inoue's generation so comfortable openly discussing such…issues. Not that she had a problem with it, necessarily, but it was damn weird.

Instead of saying that, though, the purple-haired woman muttered, "Small world, I guess…"

"That it is, dear. When you get to be my age, you come to realize the world's a lot smaller than we ever give it credit for. At least in the ways that count," said Mrs. Inoue, patting her lightly on the arm. "So tell me, how's Koji doing these days? We haven't seen each other in ages. Not since before I met Tomo's dad."

"Oh, he's doing pretty well," Junko answered. "He got appointed CEO about ten years ago, and the board's seen record profits since. Married with two kids – a son in college and a young daughter."

"Does he still golf?" asked the older woman. "Heaven knows, he used to be obsessed when we were together."

"Not as much as he used to. But he usually gets out once every week or two," stated Junko. "At least he's getting better at it, he was absolutely awful when I started working for him."

"Oh, I hear that. Thought my jaw would dislocate from smiling awkwardly whenever he got a triple-bogey," Mrs. Inoue recalled, smiling warmly at the memory.

The two women had a good, long laugh at this, and Tomohisa joined in once Junko felt compelled to relate a slightly off-color story of President Masaoka's last, ill-fated golf game with an American business partner.

The words "golf cart pileup" came up in it far more than one might expect.

Junko typically was absolute crap at small-talk, but around this woman she somehow found it almost effortless. That was helpful, because these days she tended to get rather tongue-tied when left alone with her son. She was sure he'd noticed it, though she very much doubted that he knew why.

Or at least…she hoped he didn't.

In any event, they spent nearly two hours together in that hospital room, chatting amicably about food and movies and Tomohisa's very most embarrassing childhood stories. They were having such a good time that they had to check the clock in disbelief, when a nurse walked in to inform them visiting hours would be over in fifteen minutes.

"My, my. We must've just lost track of time, I suppose," said Mrs. Inoue. "Tomo, would you mind stepping out for a few minutes? With Akane overseas I so rarely get a chance for gal-talk these days."

"Uhh…sure, mom. I, err…guess that makes sense…" mumbled Tomohisa, though it was clear he wasn't sure what to make of her request. Still, he dutifully bowed his way out into the hall.

She heard him begin to strike up a conversation with the nurse about the meals here, and whether they were providing his mother with adequate fiber, as the door closed, and Junko found herself suppressing a chuckle. Classic Tomohisa.

When she turned back to the older woman, however, the smile faded from her lips. Mrs. Inoue looked surprisingly somber, as she whispered, "Junko, dear. Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?"

"Erm…sure, I suppose?" responded Junko, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"Your own mother…could you tell me about her?" she asked in a quiet voice.

Junko's own face immediately fell. She wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that.

This was not a subject she liked bringing up much. Not even Kazuko knew more than just the very basics. But…Mrs. Inoue had certainly been forthcoming with her so far, hadn't she? Even shared a few rather grisly details of her battle with post-partum depression, shortly after Tomohisa was born. Maybe she was owed the same.

Besides…well, it wasn't exactly a pleasant thought to have, but she was unlikely to ever see this woman again. Was there really any harm in opening up?

"I never knew my mom," she said, shaking her head. "Complications in childbirth…I never really understood the medical details. But basically, my dad was put in a position where he had to make a choice. He…chose me."

Junko took a deep breath, steeling herself. "I didn't really 'get' it then, but making that choice destroyed him," she continued to explain. "The fact was, if one of us hadn't died, both of us would have. He knew that. But that didn't change how he felt. All that mattered, for him, was that he'd signed off on killing the love of his life."

"Oh, you poor dear," Mrs. Inoue murmured softly, placing one wrinkled hand over hers. "Perhaps I shouldn't have asked. You don't have to tell me any more if you don't want to."

"No…No, it's fine," replied Junko with a sigh. "I've had a lifetime to deal with this, after all. I just wish I'd understood why my dad was so broken, back when I was a kid. He tried to be a good father, he really did. But his heart wasn't in it. He dived into his work to try and cope, to distract himself, and wound up with severe pneumonia for his troubles. Died when I was seven."

"Did you have anybody else? Grandparents, siblings, aunts or uncles?" asked Mrs. Inoue, as small tears began to well up in the corners of her eyes. Belatedly, Junko realized there were some in hers as well.

"No one," said Junko, and it suddenly hit her how true that was. She tried to dab at her eyes with her sleeve, before the tears could start running down her cheeks. "I went to an orphanage for a little while. It was…nice, for what it was. They were good people. Then boarding school for several years, then college. I've lived on my own ever since."

"I see…" the older woman stated in a very quiet voice, before suddenly pulling Junko into a surprisingly powerful hug. It was the first hug she'd received in a long, long time, and while Junko was surprised she didn't fight it.

It felt good.

"Alright, honey. I don't know if this will help, but I'm going to push forward anyway," she added after a lengthy silence, as the two of them slowly parted. "The reason why I brought this up…the reason why I wanted a few minutes alone with you. I've been watching all this time, and I…I've seen how you look at Tomo. How you interact with him. How he interacts with you."

Mrs. Inoue took a steadying breath, and finally finished, "I guess I'll just come out and say it. You're in love with my son, aren't you?"

If this were a cartoon, Junko was quite certain her mouth would've dropped half the length of her body right then and there. She couldn't believe what she'd just heard, and had more than a bit of trouble finding her voice in the aftermath.

To have just been discussing something so deeply personal, that made her vulnerable in a way she'd always resolved never to feel again…and then for this to hit her right after?

She wanted to deny it. She was ready to, on the edge of declaring emphatically that Mrs. Inoue was mistaken…but the words simply wouldn't come. Just like with Kazuko, she was just so damn tired of lying about the way she felt, day-in and day-out. Even if it wasn't always with words.

And just like then, in the absence of the energy to come up with a believable denial, the truth slipped out instead.

"Was I…that obvious…?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

For a second, she thought perhaps Mrs. Inoue hadn't heard her – that she still had room to take it back, pretend she hadn't said anything. But the older woman was losing her lungs, not her hearing, and she smiled a warm, patient smile.

"If you're worried about Tomo figuring it out, don't bother. Bless that boy, but he's thick as a pig sometimes," said Mrs. Inoue. "At least on matters like these. I don't know how he can be so damn perceptive when it comes to things like gardening or cooking, and still be able to miss when love is pretty much literally dancing in front of him."

"Well, I…I don't think I'd really call it love," Junko tried to protest, a very small amount of her courage leaking back in. "I mean, that's going a bit far. I just…I like him. A lot. More than I can remember liking anyone. But…But that's not love. Err…is it?"

Those last couple words were added belatedly, with an air of nervous hopefulness.

"It could be. But you're right, no need to rush something as heavy as the 'L' word," answered Mrs. Inoue, her head bowed in admission of the point. "Still, I want you to know something. Tomo hasn't had a lot of partners, but I've known most of them. Two guys and another girl. And let me tell you this, Junko dear: he never looked at them the same way he looks at you."

At this, Junko found herself chuckling breathlessly, though there was no humor in it. "Come on, that's…that's not true," she insisted, more to convince herself than anyone else. "He doesn't…I mean, he couldn't possibly…"

"Think what you like, dear. But I'm telling you the truth," said Mrs. Inoue, her arms crossed as she regarded the younger woman coolly. "And that's why I was asking you about your own mother. Because…well, I got the sense you'd never had someone to just talk with, about this sort of thing. So feel free, as long as we're here. I'm open to listening – to whatever you want to say."

Junko hesitated for a moment, but only for a moment; damn her, she was just making too much sense to argue with. And so the words started spilling out.

It was, largely, a version of what she'd said to Kazuko several months prior – albeit somewhat heavily abridged, since they'd already run out the "few minutes" she'd requested from her son. The story of their meeting, the friendship and professional relationship that'd blossomed after that day at the farmer's market…and the steady growth of a deep, yearning, burning desire for a very different kind of relationship in the weeks that followed.

More than once, her eyes flitted anxiously to the door, suddenly wondering with alarm whether the walls in here were soundproof. She had to mentally remind herself that Tomohisa was hardly the type of person to eavesdrop at doors – he was almost disturbingly moral – and in any event the hospital staff likely wouldn't let someone just stand there with their ear pressed to the wall.

Finally, once she was sure she'd bared enough of her soul for a few dozen lifetimes, Junko found herself falling back into silence, looking at the older woman expectantly.

Mrs. Inoue had more of a point than she was willing to admit. It'd been so long, long enough that Junko could barely even remember it, since she'd been in a position where she'd had someone older willing to just listen to her problems. In a sense, she never really had.

In the absence of anything resembling a parent, she'd been forced to grow up early, in every conceivable way. Maturity meant self-reliance. It meant independence. And it meant never letting anyone see her vulnerable.

But now? It was a bit delusional to expect it, really. Yet Junko couldn't help it. Part of her really, truly wanted Mrs. Inoue to say something that would magically make this all better; that would make it all make sense. It was an impossible wish, but she wanted it anyway.

Because in her heart of hearts, she imagined that's what it would be like to have a mother.

The elderly woman, for her part, had listened to all this in stoic, supportive silence. When she finally spoke again, it was in a soft, kind voice that reminded Junko of…well, herself, at her very most obsequious.

The main difference being that she could tell these words were actually meant with the utmost sincerity.

"I won't try to push you in one direction or another, dear. This is all your decision, and yours alone," she told Junko, leaning forward slightly in her hospital bed. "Mind, cliché as it is, I can't deny I've got that 'give me grandchildren!' urge somewhere in the back of my brain, and until the politicians get their heads out their asses it's not like Akane and her girlfriend will be doing much on that score…but that's beside the point. Even if you hooked up in the next ten minutes, the likelihood of me surviving to your wedding day is pretty low."

Mrs. Inoue had herself a grim little chuckle at this, though Junko didn't really see anything funny about it.

"Look, hon…when you get to be my age, you look back and you see a lot of regrets. It's pretty much inevitable," she continued after a little while, looking suddenly very distant. "And when you do, there's a lot less 'I wish I didn't do that' than you might think. No, it's the 'I didn't do that…and I wish I did' moments. They're the ones that stick with you. The ones you'll remember until the day you die."

She sighed, and then looked Junko straight in the eyes, her stare incredibly intense despite her physical frailty.

"So that leaves just one question, Junko," she said, her tone kind but firm. "Do you really want Tomo to be one of those memories?"

[-]

"Kaname-san? Kaname-san, are you alright?" asked Kouta Kazuraba, snapping her out of her reminiscence. Shaking her head, she checked her watch to see how long she'd been zoned out.

They were five minutes away from the opening ceremonies, and Tomohisa was still nowhere in sight.

"Err…I'm fine, Kouta," she told the young man airily. "Just…worrying about Tomohisa. Do you guys know enough to start without him?"

"I mean, I wrote the press brief, so I guess I could give it a shot. But I'm not exactly the…err…best public speaker," said Inaho Miki, pulling anxiously at his short, blue beard. "That was always Tomohisa's thing. Nervous as I am right now, put me up there and you'll have a stuttering, sweating mess."

Hermann Saltza nodded, looking grim. Unspoken was the fact that he'd be an even poorer choice, given his lack of fluency in Japanese. And as for Kouta, well…

He was a good kid. And bright, and friendly. But he also had multiple facial tattoos and hair spiked up like he was the protagonist of a shounen manga. In short, not the best "face" to put on their public debut.

After a few moments of increasingly uncomfortable silence, multiple hopeful eyes fell on hers, silently pleading. She recognized what they were getting at immediately, and raised her hands in alarm.

"Oh, no!" was her whispered exclamation. "I don't even…I'm just here as a friend! I can't represent you to the press, I don't even work here!"

"We know this, Frau Kaname," stated Hermann, in that surprisingly soft but heavily accented voice of his. "But we have…worked well together, ja? You are…like sister to us."

"Well, to most of us," Kouta muttered as an aside, unable to keep from snickering. Inaho elbowed him in the ribs, however, and he quieted down.

Junko tried very hard not to read too much into this.

"I mean, I'm flattered, don't get me wrong," she said after a moment's pause, belatedly realizing her words might've sounded a bit harsher than she'd intended them. "But this is a small-time, corner market sort of business. That's a big part of your appeal. People need to get used to seeing your faces. Not a lawyer or spokesman…and yeah, definitely not your real estate agent. Hell, I might be violating some of my own company's policies if I did it. I dunno, I've never had to check that kind of thing."

"Yeah, she's right, guys," added Inaho, shaking his head. "We shouldn't have even asked. So suck it up, we'll be on in a couple minutes. Whether we like it or not."

"Wait, hold up!" Kouta interjected, pointing to a beat-up green car pulling into the nearby parking lot. "Speak of the Devil, folks."

Leaving the rest of them at the little makeshift podium Hermann had set up in front of the store, Inaho moved to intercept his best friend, looking incensed. "Where the hell have you…?" he began, but his voice died in his throat as he saw the puffy look of Tomohisa's eyes, and the streaks of dried tears that matted his cheeks.

"Oh god. Don't tell me…" murmured Junko, her eyes going wide as she jogged up to join them as well.

"It was an infection. They said by the time they caught it, it was too late," Tomohisa managed to choke out, not meeting their eyes. "She passed suddenly, in her sleep, which is…it's good, I guess. I mean, she wasn't in any pain when it happened. But I never…I never got to…"

The tears started up again, and without thinking, without even considering the fact that all of Tomohisa's business partners and several of the assembled journalists had turned to watch the scene in the parking lot unfold (though mercifully, at least none of them had been callous enough to swivel their cameras this way), Junko rushed forward to hold him tight.

He melted into the hug almost immediately, surprising her. Against her will, she felt a wave of heat travel up her body as they pressed against each other, though Junko quickly clamped down on it. This was not the time, and she burned with shame at the idea she could be deriving any level of pleasure from his grief.

Still, Inaho was averting his eyes, and when they released each other she was relieved to see the press had turned away as well. It showed a level of restraint she hadn't been expecting.

As they parted, Tomohisa could only bring himself to speak a single phrase: a whispered, "…Thank you."

Junko, for her part, had no idea what to say to this – what on Earth could she say? – but was spared the need as Inaho cleared his throat.

"Err…Tomohisa. I can…I can cancel the event, if you want," he said. "Nobody would blame you. Not in circumstances like these."

The brunette, however, had removed his glasses and was wiping his face with his sleeve, leaving an expression that betrayed none of his pain.

"No, I'll do this," he told his friend, his face set in determination. "It's what mom would want. We're seeing this through to the end."

[-]

The press event opened with two separate convocations, which mercifully allowed a little bit more time for Junko and the rest of the "gang" to silently comfort their friend.

The Shinto priest blessing the new storefront was standard and expected, with few surprises; Junko knew, having worked with Inaho to book him, that he did these sorts of things an average of twice a day.

Nonetheless, she participated dutifully off on the sidelines. She'd never been especially religious or spiritual, but this was clearly important to both Inaho and, surprisingly, Kouta as well.

A little more unusual was the Christian priest they'd managed to hire from Kazamino City, largely as a surprise for Hermann. Their German colleague was a devout Protestant, though he tended to practice at home due to his nervousness in crowds.

Still, everything Junko had learned about Father Sakura indicated to her he was a fairly open-minded man of the cloth, and indeed he took his being used in concert with a Shintoist in remarkable stride, shaking hands and offering a gift basket to the man afterward.

"Faith must adapt to the world around it, or it loses all its meaning to the common man," she heard him saying in passing, and she could see Hermann hanging on his every word. "Whether it be in the face of other faiths, no more or less worthy than my own, or simply to changes in society and technology. Scripture is the basis of a good life, but it cannot be the sole point of it. Otherwise it becomes stagnant and frail."

"Unusual words…for a man of God," Hermann replied, not disapprovingly.

Father Sakura clapped the older man on the shoulder and smiled. "True. But perhaps one day, they won't be so unusual," he declared in a cheerful voice, letting those be his last words before heading off.

After both priests had departed, however, it was finally time for Tomohisa's speech. On impulse, and against her better judgment, Junko took one hand in his and squeezed.

"You're gonna do great. I know it," she whispered.

"No need to make it too long or flashy. Stick to the script, and it'll be over before you know it. We all believe in you," added Inaho, and both Kouta and Hermann nodded their agreement.

"Thanks, guys. That…means a lot," he said quietly – but though his words were directed to all of them, Junko couldn't help noticing he was staring at her alone when he spoke them.

Or maybe that was just her besotted mind playing tricks on her. Yeah, probably that last thing.

In any event, he moved up to the podium, and waved genially to the small crowd of journalists, organic aficionados, and various other people who'd just walked over to see what the commotion was about. Then he cleared his throat, and started to speak.

"Ladies and gentlemen, thank you so much for coming," Tomohisa began, his voice even and confident despite his obvious nervousness. "The opening of Wakō Garden means a lot to all of us here. It represents a commitment by the Mitakihara community to provide each other with healthy, locally grown, organic produce – not just once or twice a year, but every single day. Everyone deserves the chance to feed their families with the best ingredients in Japan, and we're all here to give them that chance."

He then gestured for his partners to step forward, which they did, leaving Junko alone off to the side. She tried to smile encouragingly, and he returned it…which made her avert her eyes and blush quite fiercely.

Goddammit. Since when did she turn into some high school girl in a shoujo anime?

"To start off, I want to introduce you all to the full Wakō Garden team," he went on, once they were all lined up together. "I'm Tomohisa Inoue, and this is Inaho Miki, Hermann Saltza, and Kouta Kazuraba. Together, we're here to serve everyone here in Mitakihara with the freshest fruits, vegetables, herbs and spices, and rice that money can buy. And we're not gonna stop there. But first, I'd like to thank a few other people for all they've done to help make our dream a reality."

Junko's attention perked up sharply. Surely he wasn't going to…

"First of all, to my mother, father, and sister, who taught me everything I know about running a business. To my mom, especially…who I know would be smiling if she could see me right now," said Tomohisa, sniffing slightly as he mentioned her. Besides that, however, he gave no indication of how raw a wound this must've still been for him.

"And of course, to Tohru Shizuki, as well as Jiro and Kikko Kamijou, for the generous donations they provided to help us put all this together," he added after a moment, gesturing to the three financiers in question – all of whom were sitting at the front of the crowd and smiling pleasantly.

Junko was mildly surprised to see Tohru there, after how harshly he'd laughed off the idea all those months ago. Clearly, he'd changed his mind. Or perhaps the involvement of the Kamijous had changed his mind for him; the Shizukis were rich, yes, but the Kamijous were stupid rich, and the rest of Mitakihara's "old money" tended to follow theirs.

"Similarly, many thanks to Councillor Mikage Tomoe, who took time out of her busy campaign schedule to help promote awareness of our grand opening. Unfortunately, she wasn't able to make it today, but we'll be sure to save her the biggest, heaviest gift basket we can find when she does come to visit," Tomohisa told the crowd, eliciting some light laughter.

Junko was beginning to realize what he was doing. By expressing gratitude toward all these big names in his speech, Tomohisa – or perhaps more accurately, Inaho, who she reminded herself had written most of these words – was subtly influencing the audience to associate Wakō Garden with their success.

On a purely mercenary level, it was quite an impressive strategy. Of course, Junko tended to operate on a purely mercenary level herself, so she didn't exactly have a problem with it.

She was getting deep enough into analyzing his technique that she barely noticed when he said her name.

"And finally, there's one person I'd like to thank most of all. A person who went above and beyond the duties of her job, and did everything she could to make certain Wakō Garden would be a success for years to come," said Tomohisa. "Without her…none of us would be standing here today. So please, if you'd all do me the honor of letting me introduce: Junko Kaname."

To say that Junko was blushing would be an understatement on the order of saying the ocean was wet, or that Kazuko had just a bit of trouble with the male sex. She hoped he hadn't noticed, but realistically he'd have to have been blind not to.

Still, she couldn't help glaring at him accusingly as she walked up to join the others, somewhat resentful that he'd just put her in this position. Well…perhaps "resentful" wasn't the right word. But she'd still prefer not to be up here. Or anywhere near here.

Or on the same planet.

Tomohisa seemed to pick up on her discomfort, and as she awkwardly waved to the small crowd, he whispered, "Sorry, that part wasn't in Inaho's speech. You don't need to same anything to them, or whatever. I just…I thought you deserved to get a little applause today."

She turned her head and watched on, as all the gathered individuals dutifully clapped for her.

Fuck, it honestly did feel good. Which made getting mad at him rather difficult, despite how fully, wholly, entirely 100%-justified she would've been in doing so.

"Thank you. Really, truly, thank you," he continued to tell her in a low voice, soft enough that even the other founders could barely hear. "Anyone else in your position would've found us the listing, then ran. But not you. You stayed at our side all the time, and made sure everything would work out. I'll never be able to repay you enough."

Then he turned back to the crowd, to continue his speech, and Junko felt the sudden return of her burning cheeks, even more pronounced now than before.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

[-]

Not much else of note took place across the rest of the event. There were a few photo ops, and several other matters of ceremony. Tomohisa gave a short interview for local access television, and at the conclusion of the whole thing, everyone present was invited to try some free samples of their best produce.

Junko had wasted no time in going straight for the tomatoes.

Eventually, however, the ceremonies came to an end, and only the four founders and Junko were left behind to clean things up. Strictly speaking, she didn't need to help out here, but it was the professional thing to do.

Yep. Right. Professional.

(Who the hell was she kidding?)

Inaho had needed to depart about half-an-hour prior, to pick up his wife at the airport. Meanwhile, Hermann was leading Kouta in the disassembly of the podium and improvised stage they'd set up in front of the shop.

That left Tomohisa and Junko to tidy up the inside of Wakō Garden, which looked approximately how you might expect when you invite in a crowd of fifty to grab some free food, alone. Together.

Which was awkward.

Nothing displeased her more than how acutely aware she was of the distance between them. The crush had started out small, nearly harmless, but months of bottling everything in had, if anything, only amplified those feelings.

Now she could barely look at him, barely speak to him, without butterflies erupting in her stomach. She spent every second that they picked up trash and pushed brooms around the store trying very hard not to brush up against him, even slightly – which wasn't easy, as Wakō Garden wasn't very large. In her current state, she might actually squeal if they touched.

And she hated feeling that way. Even more than she usually did. She felt guilty, and ashamed, because he was clearly hurting right now and what he needed wasn't some stupid little girl with a crush.

Junko had to remind herself: she was his business partner (or was, at least), and more to the point, she was his friend.

Which was what he needed now, goddammit.

"Are you…feeling alright…?" she asked tentatively, not making eye contact as she strained to grab a wrapper with some tongs. Irony upon ironies, someone had brought a pre-packaged, 100%-artificially flavored fruit snack to the opening of an organic produce store.

After several minutes of silence, these words caused Tomohisa to jump a bit, though he recovered quickly. Still, he didn't meet her eyes either.

"About mom, you mean? No…No, I'm not," he said. "I was okay as long as I had other stuff distracting me, but now it's…well, it's a lot harder. But I'll deal with it. I don't want to be a burden to the rest of the guys, and I don't want to be a burden to you. Not now that we're taking all these new steps."

"Tomo…err, Tomohisa. Come on. If there's anyone in the world who can justify leaning on his friends a little bit, it's you," she replied, hastily correcting her term of address as she did. Since that conversation with the late Mrs. Inoue, she'd taken to calling him "Tomo" in her head more often than not.

Which, for obvious reasons, would've been a colossally stupid blunder right about now.

"I…I know you're right about that. But it still isn't easy," he told her quietly. "I mean, Inaho's my best friend, I know he'd go to bat for me anytime, but we just don't…talk, about this kind of thing. Kouta and Hermann even less so. We talk about the store, and gardening tips, and baseball, and that new Gundam movie coming out soon."

Before she could stop herself, Junko found herself whispering, "You know, you can talk with me about anything."

At this, he surprised her by turning toward her position, though with his eyes closed and his chin lowered.

"Yeah, I…I do know that," he said. "I don't know why, but with you I…no, that's not true. I do know why. But this isn't the time. This isn't the place. I mean, I shouldn't even…we shouldn't, I…"

"Talk to me, Tomohisa," she responded, again finding it almost as if her mouth was working on autopilot. "Your mom just died, this is a time it's okay to be vulnerable. To open up a bit. And I know it makes me look like a goddamn hypocrite to say that, but you're a better person than I am on that score. So let me in."

"It's not that I don't trust you!" he exclaimed in hushed tones. "Please, it's definitely not that. You've become closer to me, gotten to know me, better than I ever thought I…but, wait, there I go again. That's exactly what I'm afraid of. If I just start unloading, I'm sure I'll say something I can't take back."

"I don't care, dammit! Just tell me! Tell me what's going through your mind right now so I can fucking help you through it!" she yelled out, shocked at how strongly she suddenly felt about this.

This was more than just her intense attraction to him talking. Deep down, right now, she couldn't feel anything but a burning desire to hold him, to let him know things would be alright. That she would protect him in moments like this, if he was willing to do the same to her.

"I can't, okay? This isn't…I mean, this shouldn't be…!" he breathed out, and suddenly she became acutely aware that they'd almost completely closed the distance between them without thinking about it.

"You can! And it should! Whatever it is, I'm here, and I'm not going away!" shouted Junko, feeling an acute heat spreading through her that only partially had to do with their raised voices. "So why the fucking hell won't you…?!"

"Because I'm in love with you!" were the words that finally escaped his lips, instantly causing her own to die to silence.

Those six words seemed to reverberate throughout the otherwise empty storefront, and Junko backed away a step, stunned. She had to blink a few times, through hot tears she hadn't even realized were there, before her brain could even begin to process what she'd just heard.

"That's…That's why. Because I'm in love with you," said Tomohisa, his voice hoarse and throaty. "At least, I…I think so. I've never said those words to someone outside my family before. But I mean them, I do. I just…I didn't want it to come out this way. Not right now, when you…I mean, when I…"

Seeing the expression on her face (what was the expression on her face? She couldn't tell…), he looked positively distraught, exasperated – as if he'd been dreaming of this moment for as long as she had, and he was certain it'd all gone horribly, horribly wrong.

"Look, please don't think I…that I said that to make you feel…I dunno, guilty, or something," he continued to sputter. "You've been so good to me, and so special and wonderful and fuck, I'm not good at this! But I've been trying to work up the courage for months and I just couldn't, and now mom's gone, and this place is finally taking off and oh god oh god oh god I'm just rambling…!"

She cut him off right there. By crashing her lips into his.

In her life, apart from her father, Junko Kaname had kissed precisely five other members of the opposite sex. Now she was beginning to think she needed to invent a new word, because to group those moments together with this one as mere "kisses," as if they were remotely on the same level, was a crime of indescribable proportions.

Waves of building, pulsating heat flowed up her body, up through her stomach and chest and outward through her lips, so intense and so amazing and so utterly, utterly right. Her body working on autopilot, her conscious mind barely a whisper, she melted into the contours of his body, and after the initial moment of shocked surprise, she felt him match her in kind.

The feeling of being with him, like this – oh god, it sounded cliché as fuck, but it felt like a goddamn dream. His thin but well-toned frame, developed through years of quiet, consistent work in yards and fields, pressed firmly against hers, and she delighted in teasing him as her breasts rubbed softly against his muscles.

They were constantly in motion, never holding the same position for long. Both their passions had been restrained so long, kept barely in check by awkwardness and shyness and a sureness that this could never possibly happen that, when it did, neither could keep their hands to themselves, grasping onto hair and clothes and flesh in a desperate, yearning hunger to be closer.

If they were in a private place, his apartment or hers, she was almost certain she'd have already been tearing away at his clothes, fuck the consequences up the ass.

But they weren't, of course. Kouta and Hermann were just outside, and while it didn't sound like they'd heard their momentary abandonment of any and all inhibitions, she wasn't exactly the type of woman to start fucking in the middle of a grocery store. She loved sex, but she had some class.

Thus, it was her who finally ended the extended make-out session, parting slowly and gradually from his warm, soothing lips and blinking away the tears still gathered at the rims of her eyelids.

"That was…umm…" he said in a very quiet voice, his cheeks burning so hot they were practically steaming.

"It was…err. Yeah. Very, very…'umm'…" she replied with a smirk, though her face was just as red. "Where'd you learn to…I mean, like that…?"

"Dunno. Maybe it's the bi thing? Err…I mean, y'know…'cuz I guess, I kinda, like…have more of an idea…uh…what guys and girls, umm…" he tried to answer, though he succeeded in little else but tying his tongue even more thoroughly in knots. "Err…sorry. I'm not good at talking about this stuff. Or any stuff, right now. I'm too…uhh…"

"Surprised I felt the same way?" Junko guessed.

"Yeah, uh…that thing. That thing you just said," muttered Tomohisa, not meeting her eyes. "I never thought, I mean…well, look at you. You're the smartest, sexiest, most incredible person I've ever met. I was satisfied enough just getting to know you, getting to be your friend. I never dreamed you could look at me like…like a…"

"Like what? Like the nicest man on the goddamn planet? Like the sweetest, the gentlest, the most charming guy I've ever known?" she said breathlessly. "Tomohisa, I've spent the past eight months head-over-heels like some stupid little schoolgirl. Counting the number of times you glance my way and shit like that. Trust me, the reasons I held out this long have nothing to do with you. That's all on me."

"Err…what were those reasons, then?" he couldn't keep himself from asking, before immediately thinking better of it. "I mean, you don't have to tell me if you don't…"

"No…No, you deserve the truth," she whispered, her head hung low. "Look, like I said, it's not about you. Err…you specifically. It's about relationships. Just the very idea of them."

Junko let out a long, drawn-out sigh.

"I've been on my own, looking out for myself because no one else would, for as long as I can remember," she went on to explain. "So I've always planned out everything. What to eat, what to wear, the exact right way to finagle my way into the next big promotion. I had my whole life mapped out, and I didn't leave room for anything else. Anyone else."

Finally, her eyes once again met his.

"But then I met you," she said, her voice a dim, throaty murmur. "And don't get me wrong, those plans still mean the world to me. I want to make my way up the ladder, I want to be the best damn realtor I can be, and I want to be the boss one day. I'd just convinced myself I couldn't have both – a career, and a chance at love. But every day I spent around you…made me just wanna say 'fuck it,' and try it anyway. No…do it anyway."

"I hope you know I'd never…I mean, the fact that you're so damn driven is one of the biggest reasons I love you," responded Tomohisa. "You're strong, and confident, and you don't take crap from anybody. I want to see you succeed, to be your own woman. Hell, with this…all this…"

He gestured widely to the shop around them.

"I was just trying to live up to your example, really. It wouldn't have happened at all if you hadn't inspired me," he added, before flushing again. "Besides, umm…honestly, there's nothing that gets me, well…more turned-on than seeing you, y'know…"

Junko interrupted that thought with another kiss.

This one was even better than the last.