Author's Notes: I don't like putting notes at the start but I've moved them here to make a few quick disclaimers. Firstly, this chapter doesn't work if you haven't read manga chapters 431-433. It's not so much a spoiler as it is entirely dependent on something we learned in that arc. You can still read it either way, but parts may not make as much sense. This whole fic is set somewhere between that arc and the arc that just ended. And secondly, this chapter isn't their next encounter after the last one. With the exceptions of 1-2 and 5-6, none of these happen right in a row. I don't write every single one of their implied interactions, only what stands out, just like any story. With that, enjoy, and have a happy New Year!

Chapter 7: Every Year Looks Better Than The Last When It Starts, But You'll End Up Hating It Too Before The End

It was a quiet, cold evening. Which evening it was didn't matter. Ikumatsu simply felt like keeping the shop open later than usual that night. There was nothing strange about that in her eyes.

Apparently no one expected it, as there had been no customers since that afternoon. But of course – just like every year, they had better places to be. She didn't mind that, they all had a right to take a holiday. She'd take one herself if she wasn't the sole owner of her shop, living in the same building, with nothing to do with her time but run it. There was nothing left to do but wait now.

As it was, she stood behind the counter as always, watching the door. She'd finished her work for the day, and it was likely there would be no more during the night either. But she had a few hours left before it would be time to give up; she hadn't put anything away yet. There was little of interest to keep her occupied. Only herself and her thoughts, her steady breathing and the hum of the electric lights, the occasional noise of a person or vehicle passing by outside.

The door opened abruptly and she realized she'd nearly drifted off. A single glance told her this wasn't the man she was waiting for. A second glance, as her focus returned, told her a bit more: not only the wrong man but the one she specifically didn't want to see, his hair still the same ridiculous hue as always, sunglasses and headphones still making it a mystery how he managed to navigate the city at night, his coat's collar turned up against the chill but the zipper still only half-closed.

Though he bowed the same as always, he didn't have quite the same poise about him; he slammed the door, stumbling slightly, seeming to have just caught his breath. He carried a bag that looked to be from some sort of grocery shopping, but that had to be considered suspicious by association with him.

Ikumatsu didn't think much of this. It was only natural that this man would be here; he had made a habit of showing up at unusual and inconvenient times, and that pattern remained unbroken. She made no comment, forcing an irritated look onto her face so he wouldn't have a reason to ask what she was preoccupied by.

The man took his time sitting in his usual spot, as though compensating for the lack of care in his entrance, notably not setting the shamisen down this time. There was a faint smile on his face as he finally said, "The last night of the year, is it?"

Had she expected any other subject of conversation? She'd expected him to at least preface it with that condescending greeting of his. "I suppose it is, Sunglasses Samurai-san. What of it? I'm sure you don't have enough good in you to waste any of it wishing it on me in the new year."

Then she forced a smile and offered her usual services, as much as she didn't want to: "The menu is listed on that board, I'm sure you know that. Please let me know if I can do something for you."

This was not so much a truce as an indication that nothing he did could shake her. As though it were true.

"Ah... I will not be ordering anything tonight. I only wished to kill some time before the... New Year's party tonight." He hesitated slightly, but it wasn't even worth trying to guess why. "I figured you may have liked some company, however unwanted it may be."

"Hmph." She turned her back to him, not even bothering to pretend she was working on something. "Killing time? I suppose that's better than killing people," she said derisively. "If I was so desperate for company, I would have gone out and dragged in someone from the street. I'm not that lonely, I'll have you know."

She gulped, trying to swallow the lump in her throat before it grew too big for her to speak. She wasn't sure what bothered her more: the loneliness, or having to talk to this jerk about it. The man she waited for wasn't there, so she was stuck with this one. In most cases, it was better to have someone there than no one at all – she only wished it could at least have been someone slightly less terrible.

After taking a deep breath, she continued, "There's a new year starting. Shouldn't you be reconsidering your life choices, then?"

He laughed quietly. "I don't know, I am reasonably satisfied where I am. If anything, my resolutions would be worse than what I already do... by your standards, that is."

She could tell he was about to turn the question back to her, and she wouldn't give him that chance. It wasn't something she wanted to answer, least of all for him when she knew he would twist it somehow.

Before he could say anything more, she approached with a sly smile. "You're probably right... what kind of horrible things did you do today?"

"Laundry, paperwork, and preparations for the New Year's party. It was quite a busy day of work."

"You didn't brutally murder anyone?"

"Ah, yes, I suppose I did that too. But I would not consider that horrible. Most enjoyable, really."

Ikumatsu didn't cringe outwardly, but she couldn't be entirely sure he didn't catch her inward reaction somehow. She narrowed her eyes, knowing she would regret this but deciding to ask him more anyway. "Who was it?"

His eyebrows rose slightly, but whether he was confused or impressed by her sudden boldness was unclear. "That, I'm afraid, is classified information. And of little importance. It was one too overconfident and self-important to realize what was happening before it was too late."

"Sort of like you, then?"

"I haven't the faintest idea what you are talking about."

"Why did you do it? What do you fight for?" She didn't want to hear his answers anymore, nothing could ever justify or even properly explain his actions; she was only imitating his style of making the conversation uncomfortable and one-sided.

Naturally, the irony wasn't lost on him but any sort of effect was. "Sometimes I wonder. Much of the time, it is simply on a whim."

With a slow, careful motion, as though indicating he wasn't drawing any sort of weapon, he pulled something from the bag he'd been carrying and set it on the counter. A bottle of sake – presumably an expensive one, but it was hard to be sure.

"Is that..."

"I told you, I had to make preparations for a party. But I am certain no one will miss this, no more than they should miss me so long as I arrive before midnight."

She stared at the bottle, trying to imagine this man celebrating with his fellow terrorists – no, he'd never outright claimed it was a terrorist party, it could have been any old New Year's party.

"Do the Joui really throw parties?" she asked idly. It was hard to think of them as people with normal lives. No, it was disturbing. It wouldn't make sense for them to do nothing but plot and destroy things all day, or else they would have made a noticeable difference by now, but that was all she could ever imagine.

"It would depend on how a particular faction is organized. Most follow a particular tradition: some do nothing at all, some hold grand festivities, others might allow their members to take holidays with their families... and then I have heard Katsura regularly holds Uno tournaments for no reason."

"I've heard that, too. He doesn't invite you, I hope."

"I have yet to ask." Just as he'd given no indication as to which of the examples his faction was, there was nothing in his voice that suggested a particular reason for this. She liked to think he wasn't personally acquainted with Katsura, but...

But she wouldn't think too hard about it. Instead she shook her head, a hint of a real smile beginning to show through. "Honestly, this is a strange place for a drink on a night like tonight."

"Might there have been a more suitable night?"

"There are plenty of more suitable places. This is a ramen shop, you know, regardless of what you seem to be trying to turn it into."

"Bars do not particularly appreciate customers bringing their own alcohol," he said with a quiet wisdom that made Ikumatsu wonder if that was something he'd had to learn first-hand once.

"And you think I do?"

"It is not quite so much of a problem for your business." He inspected the bottle a moment, then opened it with practiced ease. "Were I to bring my own food to eat here, then you would have reason to take offense."

"I take offense the moment you walk in the door."

"I did not doubt it." The smirk he gave her didn't carry the usual sort of smugness, somehow. "May I have something to pour this in?"

She hoped he didn't expect anything fancy. "I'll see if there's anything you didn't break," she said with a huff as she opened a cupboard, grabbing a simple glass. It would've been an embarrassment to drink sake from something like that at a formal event, but it was oddly unconcerning here.

"Unless I am mistaken, it was entirely your choice to break all of that."

That doesn't make it any less your fault. Ikumatsu scowled but remained quiet, holding the almost-pathetic cup out to the man.

Rather than take the glass, he brought the bottle up to it and poured delicately, filling it about halfway. Ikumatsu froze. She should have anticipated this, but it was strange. He watched her almost expectantly until she took a sip.

It was expensive sake, all right, or at the least not anything she'd had before – rich, smooth and only faintly sweet, with a flowery aroma about it.

A harsh contrast to her bitter thoughts.

A moment too late, it occurred to her that the man may have had a more sinister reason for giving her a drink... and whether he did or not, it was rude of her not to offer him the same. Setting her cup down, she snatched the bottle away and retrieved a second glass from the cupboard. This she filled almost to the top and placed in front of him.

He inclined his head and smiled in a way that could be called genuine, and somehow that was worse than any sort of mocking expression he could come up with. That he would be anything but insufferable at this point struck her as distinctly wrong. She never thought she'd want him to disgust her.

At least he disproved any suspicion that he might have done something to the sake by drinking it without hesitation. That was not to say quickly; he sipped it as though it were only a small amount he had to make last, turning away slightly to look around the shop.

Ikumatsu did the same. There wasn't much to see – if anything, it felt emptier than usual in there. Her gaze wandered, lingering on the man's shamisen, which stood out as it was not where she was used to seeing it. Had he kept it on because he didn't intend to stay very long, or because he would be needing it?

Bringing it with him at all was practically a declaration of war, except that he seemed to carry it everywhere. That was fitting, wasn't it? Declaring war against the entire world? Either that or she was only reading too far into it. She drank more of her sake, wondering why he would do something like this...

...Music, right?

The silence was unbroken, which felt odd – at first she didn't consider that, but usually she could hear the man's headphones.

She wasn't nearly intoxicated enough for it to explain the idea that occurred to her, let alone excuse her finally giving words to something she'd never dared ask about before, but a question slipped out nonetheless. "The one you killed today... what kind of 'song' did that person have?"

To say the question caught him off guard would be too kind to him – he nearly choked on his drink and still didn't appear too terribly surprised. "It could be described only as easily forgettable. Or over, but I do not believe that sort of humour is to your tastes."

He was right: even spoken as a joke, the comment chilled her. "Are you saying that because you couldn't make anything up quickly enough, or so you'll feel better about ending it?"

"I am saying that as I do not recall a single part of it. Perhaps it called to mind a tired pop tune one has heard on the radio too many times for it to hold any meaning. It was not intended to be remembered."

There was nothing sad about the way he said this; he didn't regret forgetting something like that one bit. Nor did he seem to think he'd done anything he should regret, or else it should be a relief that nothing could haunt him.

Or was it the living who did that? She'd dismissed his talk of music as the ramblings of a madman or some sort of bizarre metaphor... and it still could be a combination of the two, for all she'd ever know.

"I'm sorry I bothered you with it, then," Ikumatsu said, looking only at the glass in her hand as she spoke – she'd managed to empty it without realizing. "But would it be alright if I bothered you with one more thing?"

"This is not the first time you've made such a request. I do not mind."

It was an insane thing to wonder about, made even more so by the way he showed no intent of asking her anything in return, but everything related to this man was insane. She'd tried so hard not to be drawn into it, or into anyone's madness for that matter, but in his case it almost seemed the fighting was what caused her troubles.

"What do you hear in me?"

This didn't seem to surprise him either, but he spent a moment considering it. "You are... waiting for something, is that correct?"

She frowned, watching him closely but trying not to give any sign she was any warier than usual. "I've never heard of a song that could tell you that."

"You must listen to more, then. There are many songs of the sort – mournful, yet not so hopeless as to be called sad. Often they are ballads about loved ones who have gone to war, but that does not apply here." He stopped to consider, or maybe to listen more closely. Could he hear her starting to wish she hadn't asked? "Rather like such a song played on a different instrument than it might traditionally have been, marked by frustration as its performer struggles to adjust and improvise, but showing a unique potential when the expectations of the original genre are forgotten." For a second he seemed to be blushing, but it was only the effect of the alcohol – she suspected he'd had more to drink before he arrived, too. "It is truly something beautiful... but I have told you as much before."

A drunken poet, was he? "I don't deserve that kind of flattery, and I'm not sure I even want it from you." Considering what it was that made you feel that way, I'm not sure if I can call it a compliment at all. "But..." she sighed. "You're right, I am waiting for someone tonight. Someone I care about very much."

He moved to pour her another drink but she pulled away – one was fine to be polite, but she didn't want to get drunk. This wasn't a night to celebrate, for her at least. It hadn't been for years.

This didn't perturb him; he refilled his own cup instead after a pause, doing away with any attempt he'd made to seem proper. "Would that be someone who is still alive, Ikumatsu-dono?"

"Of course! What were you expecting?"

Though she could say this with fierce certainty, she realized she didn't know that for sure. She hadn't seen her father since last New Year's Eve, when they had finally been reunited. It was entirely possible that he had died since then.

But no, Katsura would have been checking up on the old man regularly. It was possible that he was out searching right now, for that matter... and equally possible that he'd avoid telling her something had happened for as long as possible.

Truly, she'd be better off asking the man in front of her now to go look. For all his lying habits, he had no qualms about telling unpleasant truths.

"One never knows what to expect. I have made the mistake of jumping to conclusions far too many times, after all." He spoke more slowly than usual now, like he was taking extra care not to let his words slur. She wanted to tell him to stop that, to start being irritating again.

Well, he still was irritating. Just in a different way than she was used to.

"Is this a person who regularly arrives at this time?" he asked. "Have I disappointed you by appearing instead?"

"No, a few hours later than this. You're not breaking a tradition or anything." Part of her wanted to tell him it wasn't fine, but that was only what she was used to telling him...

"When will I have to leave, then?"

"Whenever you want. Isn't that what you always do?" She laughed. "Honestly, if I knew you would be so talkative, I wouldn't have let you drink in here."

But she would have, she knew. It was a relief not to have to sit in silence, for once. Though it pained her to admit it, no matter what he was trying to achieve by coming here when he had a party to go to, he'd managed to do some good in his own way.

She'd still trade him for the first person she saw passing by.

"I do hope you see that person tonight," the man said suddenly. "Perhaps I cannot wish you a happy New Year without sounding like a terrible liar, but I can say that much."

"Such an uncharacteristic show of kindness," she said, almost cheerfully but not without sarcasm,"are you feeling alright, Sunglasses Samurai-san?"

"Not at all, to be truthful." He stood unsteadily, draining his glass quickly and setting it on the counter. "I've no idea what might have brought this about."

"One never knows what to expect?" Ikumatsu said, imitating his tone of voice somewhat. She knew he could say something terrible at any moment, she could do something she'd regret – she might even regret this conversation later, for all she knew – but that didn't matter until it happened.

Live for today, right? That was her own philosophy, and she couldn't let it change.

"You may be on to something there, Ikumatsu-dono. Or not. Not at all."

These were unexpectedly troubling words, and on that note he must have considered his role here complete. He picked up his bag (whether it was full only of alcohol or of other supplies for a party, or even a bomb he had to drop off somewhere, she would never know) and then remembered to pick up the sake bottle he'd taken out.

"This did not have quite the kick I had hoped," he said, turning it over to read the label, then he looked back to Ikumatsu. "You may keep it, if you'd like."

"We've been over this before, I can't possibly accept that."

He frowned, apparently puzzled, but to her relief he nodded and put the top back on the bottle, returning it to the bag. "You are right; I'll have to let the other party-goers drink the rest."

"You were only offering because you don't want it?" At this, she had to stifle a laugh.

"It would be a waste otherwise. Ah, but that was rude of me." As always, he conspicuously failed to apologize. She almost didn't mind this time.

"That's right," she said, "it was rude. Now, if you're going to leave, just leave. You have somewhere to be, don't you?"

For a moment he looked about to tell her the party was a lie, but then he made up his mind. He bowed and crossed lightly – with only a slightly different gait than usual – to the door.

Ikumatsu didn't watch him after that point, turning away to put the two glasses in the sink.

It almost seemed that for once he wouldn't feel the need to have the last word, but sure enough he spoke up, so quietly she wished she could pretend not to hear it, "Thank you, Ikumatsu-dono."

By the time she'd registered it and glanced back in surprise, he was gone, leaving only faintly uneasy silence again.

After a pause, she sighed. Nothing he ever said made much sense, did it? She'd been thinking of his words as sincere for once, but the same time they could have been purely drunken nonsense, more ridiculous than usual. In hindsight, it was more unsettling than anything that he'd almost seemed to make sense in such a state.

"I have no idea what you wanted from me, Sunglasses Samurai-san, but I suppose I'm glad you found it this time," she said, aware she was speaking entirely to herself. "But that's not the question, is it? The real question..."

She shook her head, scoffing. It wasn't worth asking, if only for fear she would get an answer she didn't want.

Would she find what she was waiting for?

There was time yet before she could give up.