VI.

"I'd never believed in luck. Never had any cause to. Never relied on it, because I never could." – Lee Child, Killing Floor

One would think that after so many years, Kagome would have learned to notice the signs that her luck was about to run out, but she never really did. She preferred to think of herself as a true idealist, someone who hoped for the best and planned for the worst. But the truth was that, yes, she was an idealist, but a bad one. She hoped for the best and planned for it. If she happened to plan ahead for something bad that could happen, it was either because she had learned to do so in that situation or that strange moment of pure dumb luck.

And every time her luck was about to run out, the day always started so lovely and perfect. She woke feeling refreshed and rested for the first time in months before her alarm went off (which was a first, even after so many years), actually had breakfast, made it to work on time, and was actually doing an amazing job at handling customers and orders. She felt like nothing could go wrong with the day, and that should have been her final warning sign.

So focused was she on creating the perfect kitty face for a young girl's coffee, that she didn't bother to look up when the bell jingled, letting in more customers. But at hearing the adoring and appreciative sighs of her coworkers had her looking up and around in confusion. All of them immediately started setting down the rules for rock-paper-scissors-winner-gets-to-wait-on-their-table, and she rolled her eyes before focusing on finishing her masterpiece.

She smiled and wiped off the sides of the mug. "Jones!" was her only warning before her boss dropped a pad in front of her. She started, but managed to keep her design from being ruined. "Since you're the only one with a straight head on, table five is yours."

Her coworkers sighed in disappointment, and Kagome did as well. "But…"

"No." And then he walked away before she could finish her protest. But since she was already on strike two, mainly from being late so often, she swallowed her desire to say more.

Until she glanced over at the table in question.

"Lucky," one coworker said in a sing-song voice.

Kagome could only cringe.

No. No, she was very unlucky.

Souta was supposed to be a lazy recluse who never really grew out of playing with toys. That was why she felt all right taking this job so close to him. Damn whoever managed to put some drive in his lazy butt.

Perhaps everyone was right and he did need to get out more, Souta thought. Unlike the two men with him (never mind the fact that one of them was a super-soldier and the other was a trained soldier, while he was merely a lab-rat with gadgets and some field experience), he was still trying to catch his breath even though they had been resting for at least five minutes now. No, all Souta could really focus on was that he was so out of shape when compared to his younger self, and perhaps he should try to change that.

"So…" he drawled, trying to make conversation. Both men were quiet, pretending to read over their menus like people do when they know what they want at their favorite place, yet trying to be polite for the new person. "What's good here? I didn't even know there was a café just down the road." He hoped if the coffee was good, that they would do deliveries. He lived on it, yet hated making it. It was the worst thirty minutes of everyday for him.

"Because you're a shut-in," Sam helpfully replied with a smirk. Souta could only roll his eyes in response.

"Everything's good. Haven't had anything bad here yet," was Steve's more helpful reply.

"Hm…" Souta glanced back down at the menu. He wondered just how terrible it would be to gorge himself on the thing with the most fat and calories after their jog. Then he realized that he just didn't care. Coffee could, would, and did sustain him.

"Are you guys ready to order?"

His head snapped up so fast that he tweaked one of the muscles in his neck. It had been a good three years since he heard that voice, but no amount of time could make him forget it. Like a parent's voice or touch was unforgettable, so was a sibling's. Especially when it was an older sibling, because they had always been there, in every memory, every crevice, every pore in his body.

She wouldn't meet his eyes, and shuffled from foot-to-foot as if she didn't want to be there. While he had thought about what it would be like to see his sister a lot through the years, what he would say to her or do, his mind actually went blank instead. All the carefully constructed conversations, all the scenarios about how this would go: how they would embrace and apologize, laugh and cry about all that had happened…

It all fell away and he was left with nothing. It all escaped him at the moment he needed it most, and he could only look upon her dumbly.

Sam elbowed him, bringing him out of his stupor and he noticed the worried looks he was getting from both of them. But more than that, he noticed how she still wouldn't meet his eyes.

Instead of doing anything a normal person would do, like follow her lead and pretend they didn't know each other for the moment, or place an order, or try not to make more of a scene, he did the opposite. He stood up so fast from his seat (probably knocked it over, but like he could care at the moment) and slammed his hands down on the table.

It had the effect he wanted as she finally met his eyes. The same shade of grey that he had and their mother had in their eyes met him for the first time in five years. "Kagome…"

Thank you for all the lovely reviews! I hope you all enjoy this chapter as well, as I know many of you have been waiting for this.