Title: Stranger
Rating: T, because who knows where this is going to go
Disclaimer: I do not own La Corda D'oro or any of the characters mentioned here.
A/N: Thanks to everyone who read! I had a day off from school, and surprisingly, finished this. I hope it doesn't seem too rushed.
Additionally, thanks, Garowyn! I hope I did well, too. Though I confess I died a little inside when I read the second half of your review. It's a long story that involves me confusing days and having to erase three pages because I thought they didn't have school on Saturdays. I am glad I know now – thanks! I'm sorry for the inaccuracy . . . I should probably have googled it.
And lovescent, thank you . . . I'm glad to know you liked it, and yes, it is going to be Shoko/Len. Sorry things were kind of unclear . . . I just figured the books have Len pretty clearly with some complicated feelings towards Kahoko, and I thought it might be unrealistic for him to abruptly switch affections.
Dream Cager, thank you, I appreciate your support a lot (but I must admit, I'm feeling a little intimidated. Can't be helped). The dream, I agree, was a little childish, but I think a lot of dreams are weird like that. Though this one was unrealistically coherent . . . er, in any case. I'm sorry the last chapter was not so enjoyable, and I hope this one was more so. And believe me – as a reviewer, you are helping me a lot, both by providing advice through your feedback, and also giving me a confidence boost and motivation. I, er, have motivation issues sometimes. So thank you very much for your help!
Please enjoy, and as always, thanks for reading!
Wednesday Afternoon
"Are you okay, Fuyuumi-san?"
Shoko, rather than getting used to the question, was beginning to get sick of it.
Nakamura, a classmate of hers, looked at her with concern, and Shoko flushed, straightening up from her position leaning over the sink. She hadn't heard anyone come in. She'd been too focused on trying to stay calm and gear herself up for what was to come.
"I d-don't feel well . . . but I'll be f-fine."
"Oh," the girl looked curiously at her. "You looked really pale for a second . . . well, at least school is over, so you can go home now, right?"
Shoko's stomach was acting like a water bed with children jumping on it.
"N-no, I . . . I was going to go and practice before I left."
"I see . . . if you're sure you're up for that. Well, I hope you feel better soon. I should go," Nakamura ran a hand through her hair and examined her reflection before giving a little wave. "'Bye, Fuyuumi-san," and she was gone.
Shoko glanced at her watch. She still had fifteen minutes before she was supposed to meet Len to go looking for Kahoko's present, and all she really wanted to do was slither down the drain like a stream of soapy water.
She supposed it was a good thing he'd had something to attend to right after school. If they'd left immediately, they might draw curious looks. They would, after all, be quite an odd pair.
She clasped her hands together and inhaled deeply. It would be wise not to forget that.
13 minutes.
She swallowed, and combed her fingers through her hair in case there were any hidden tangles. They went through easily, and she studied her reflection in the mirror.
There were some shadows beneath her eyes, but other than that, she looked like she always did. A little nervous, but normal.
She felt anything but. If meeting Kahoko had sent her into a state of near-panic, the idea of meeting Len had her about to collapse onto the floor and start hyperventilating.
Slow, deep breaths, Shoko. It's just an outing. Be quiet, be polite, and most importantly, find a gift as soon as possible and get out.
It was a solid plan, but she didn't have much confidence in her ability to carry it out.
10 minutes.
She adjusted her hairclips, feeling more than a little paranoid. Something would go horribly wrong. It always did where he was concerned.
She backed away from the mirror and picked up her clarinet case. She might as well get there a few minutes ahead of time.
Shoko squared her shoulders, opened the door, and left the bathroom.
The hall was still crowded, but not as much, and students were making progress towards leaving. Still, it was an entirely different place from the restroom, which had seemed so still and quiet, like a room separate from the flow of time. She glanced back at it wistfully, the knots in her stomach tying together once more, and began a slow walk to the school gates.
By the time she arrived, she felt faint. A glance at her watch told her she still had five minutes. Five minutes in which to imagine all of the things that could and probably would go wrong.
And then all too soon, he was walking towards her, all smooth grace and that cold, distant face. The courtyard was clear but for a few people in transit, and any others who remained were inside the building doing who knew what.
Slow, deep breaths, she repeated. Slow, deep breaths.
"Fuyuumi-san," he greeted her, nodding.
"Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she returned. She couldn't seem to get anything else out.
There was a brief silence, wrought with discomfort.
"Ah, th-then, shall we g-go?" The plan for the afternoon had actually come from her, which was astonishing, given that in their conversation after the meeting in the music room she'd been desperate to run home and kill herself for doing something so stupid as agreeing to this arrangement, and Len had been not forthcoming with ideas. He'd been silent, she'd been desperate to leave, he'd continued being silent, and finally she'd stammered out that they should walk through the shopping district close to the school and look in whatever shops seemed promising. He'd made some noise of consent, and Shoko had clumsily bid him farewell before fleeing for her life.
"Fine," was all he said in response, and she hesitantly took the initiative and began walking. It bothered her, having to make decisions. If something went wrong, she would be blamed for it, and even if she wasn't, she'd spend the next several days torturing herself over it.
Though, as the silence drew on and they walked, she wondered if perhaps she was an amateur when it came to torturing herself. The long walk brought things to a whole new level.
Shoko racked her brain for good, safe, polite-but-unobtrusive conversation.
"U-um, s-so how was y-your day, Ts-tsukimori-senpai?" Drat it all, if she didn't learn to say his name without repeating the first syllable twice by the end of the day, she was going to toss herself down the stairs when she returned home.
He glanced down at her, looking vaguely irritated. Half of her wanted to shrink farther away, and half of her wanted to smile at the expression. She was surely going mad.
But then, if she weren't going mad, she wouldn't be here, would she?
"Fine."
She waited for him to elaborate or politely return the question.
He did not.
She was annoyed and relieved all at once. A mess of contradictions. She hated that he did that to her.
She liked it, too.
It took all of her willpower to resist holding up her clarinet case and beating her head against it because those thoughts led one down a winding, confusing, terrible road where you finished with more questions than answers.
The relieved part won the struggle. He'd made it clear that he didn't want to talk, and though the little devil in Shoko that she hadn't really been aware of until now wanted to talk just to annoy him, she was glad she didn't have to say anything.
Which left the uncomfortable silence, and was it just her imagination or was his mood becoming darker and darker as they went on? The reality of walking down the road with Len was beginning to hit her and the anxiety came crawling back. By the time they reached the beginning of the shopping district, she could hardly hear, her heart was racing so fast. The silence drew on and on and on. She wasn't sure what to do with her clarinet case - poor planning, to not have thought of that problem - and it took all of her effort not to fidget like mad.
She spied an old fashioned toy store. An array of cute plushies lined the window, and Shoko, desperate for a change from this horrible walk, gestured to it with a shaking hand.
"Th-there . . . I think K-kaho-chan might like that s-sort of thing . . . w-we should look."
He looked at the shop with a grim expression.
"Fine," he said again, and stalked toward it like she'd suggested they go volunteer to clean the store lavatories.
Shoko followed him, but not without first considering running away.
However, she thought about what he might do to her if she abandoned him in a toy shop, surrounded by stuffed animals, and she hastily went after him.
It was a wonder the plushies didn't burst into flames beneath his gaze.
The clerk glanced up at them and he smiled. "Welcome . . . may I help you with anything?"
Len had already wandered over to the window, where he was regarding the display with distaste.
She looked back at the storekeeper and forced a smile.
"N-no thank you, we're just l-looking for, um, a present," she responded, embarrassed, as Len returned and looked at her expectantly, like he wanted her to conjure a suitable present so he could go home.
The clerk noted Shoko's red cheeks and nodded in seeming understanding before grinning at Len, apparently oblivious to the waves of irritation coming off of him.
"Ah, so you're here buying something for your gi-"
Shoko's eyes widened and she grabbed the nearest item.
"I think she'll love this one!" She exclaimed in panic, having realized the clerk's misinterpretation.
Len stared at her like she was insane, and Shoko took the opportunity to start breathing again and sneak a glance at what she'd picked up.
A velociraptor plushie.
Oh dear lord.
"I-I mean . . . e-everyone loves d-dinosaurs . . . I . . . that is, um, h-haven't you a-always wanted s-something like this? I s-sure have." They both stared, dumbfounded. "B-but m-maybe n-not. Ah, um, l-let's, let's go . . . and . . . um . . ."
She cleared her throat, face on fire, and looked somewhere in the general direction of the clerk. "Th-thank you, b-but I think maybe we should . . . should go," and without waiting for the clerk to say anything or Len to follow, she rushed out of the shop.
She stopped before she ran into the street and oncoming traffic, but it took restraint.
Len came out seconds later, the cool default expression back on his face. He did not spare her a glance, though she wondered if that was out of consideration for her flaming cheeks and downcast gaze or a desire to erase her from existence.
She didn't speak when Len turned and entered a shop where a variety of hats, sunglasses, and accessories were on display. She was still trying to overcome her mortification and failing, and on the way there, Len's mood, if possible, had gotten even worse. She didn't dare look up. Oh, what he must think of her. Not only was she bizarre, she was useless. She suggested things like velociraptor plushies. Shame had her edging as far away from him as possible.
He must be so annoyed with me.
He certainly seemed to be. The anxiety came back. She seemed to be facing at least another hour walking alone with him, forced to stand next to him while he towered over her, looking impatient and bored and making her feel like her heart would either give out or jump out of her chest.
But finally, after a few minutes following him through the store uselessly without really seeing anything, Shoko finally dared a glance at her companion, one hand gripping her clarinet case and the other clutching her skirt for dear life to keep from fidgeting too much. Or falling over.
Len was standing next to the display of brightly colored scarves in a variety of textures, looking for all the world like someone had asked him to pick up a gun and use his violin for target practice.
Though she was feeling slightly better, she remained dead silent. She didn't trust herself where he was concerned, especially not after the incident in the plushie shop. She might do something completely crazy again, and thus be obligated to bury herself alive in the yard.
The gardener, she thought, would throw a fit.
She continued to survey him nervously, ready to jump out of the way if he suddenly went into a killing rage. He was certainly emanating waves of murderous intent as he glared down at a yellow knit scarf.
"I'm not going to bite you."
She jumped about a foot in the air. He didn't even turn his head, just shut his eyes and exhaled irritatedly.
"E-e-excuse m-me?" This might be even more embarrassing than the velociraptor incident in the last store. She had not in a million years expected him to call her on her nervousness.
Len finally turned, his exasperation showing through the cold mask ever so slightly.
"I said, I'm not going to bite you."
A small squeak escaped her, and she covered her mouth in embarrassment. He looked even more annoyed.
"Stop that."
"I-I . . . s-s-sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai. Wh-what do you mean?" She sounded like a snake, all s's.
He glowered at her.
"You look terrified. Stop it. It's distracting and unpleasant."
She flinched, flushing. She generally appreciated honesty, but Len's was razor sharp. The saddest thing was, his words weren't even meant to cut.
It was nice to know that she was a mere unpleasant distraction in his life. He could go home, forget unpleasant distractions, and think about Kahoko some more. And she could go home and agonize some more.
"I-I'm not trying to . . . I-" she stopped suddenly. A faint red dusted his cheeks. Her heart sank. Oh. Of course. She had been so focused on trying not to faint every time he so much as breathed, that she didn't realize how uncomfortable she was making this outing for him. Really, he was just as bad as she was when it came to social things, but in different ways. And she'd forgotten, preoccupied with her humiliation and nerves.
No, she thought, she would feel awkward having to go around with someone who flinched every time she moved, too. Not to mention who was crazy, but he didn't seem altogether bothered by that at the moment.
She suddenly felt like a terrible person. Her face turned an unattractive shade of red - again - but she was so used to it by now she gave it no thought. Len had gone back to his annoyed study of the scarves, and Shoko's hand instinctively reached out to hover lightly on his arm in a gesture of peace.
The moment it made contact with his sleeve, she yanked it back. He turned and looked expectantly at her, cold wariness edging his eyes, and she frantically tried to find the right words.
She ducked her head in a semblance of a bow, and spoke without meeting his eyes, fairly certain they would render her speechless and immobile.
"I-I . . . that was rude of me, Tsukimori-senpai," she spoke, shaking a little, but inwardly cheered when his name came out stammer-free. It appeared she'd live to see another day after all.
Another day to try a little harder. But for what? Why does it matter?
She pressed on.
"I don't mean to . . . to . . . I, with everyone, I . . ." How did you explain to someone that the reason they seemed to be able to make you wince or turn red with a single glance was because you were always socially inept, and at the same time, do so without letting on that while that was true, they were still the only one who could terrify and thrill you into a state of complete incoherency?
"It's fine," he cut her off, but - though it might have been her imagination - the words came out a little softer.
She nearly sighed in relief, and her heart danced to a funny tune. She thought she might be able to breathe again.
He seemed to hesitate for a moment, glancing at her with unreadable eyes before turning away.
"What do you think of this one?" He did not look at her again, but held out a fuzzy, neon orange and green plaid scarf.
Shoko stopped breathing again, at a loss.
Any other scarf but that one, and so happy was she to have met sort-of even ground with him she would have smiled brilliantly - okay, perhaps it would have been more of a petrified upturn of the lips - and told him it was a good choice, but this one was truly repulsive.
Len was waiting tensely for an answer. She almost didn't dare discourage the choice, but at the same time, she didn't dare do that to Kahoko, who would kindly feel obligated to wear it.
Shoko did not pretend to be an expert on fashion, but she still had to wonder if Len was color blind.
"Ah, um, I . . . it's pretty . . . oh, but w-winter ends soon," she murmured regretfully.
Except not really.
He blinked.
"That's right. Okay." And he turned and ventured off into another part of the store, a pair of girls quickly edging out of the way of his brisk stride, and then doing a double take once they got a good look at him. They started whispering excitedly, giggling every now and then.
Shoko waited a moment before going with him, mulling over what she'd learned about him today.
How amazing. She felt almost as though the composed, cold young man she'd spent the last hour with should come with a "Fragile - Handle With Care" label, and at the same time she knew he could completely break her.
Finding Kahoko a gift had taken longer than it probably should have, but Len and Shoko had ended up going back and forth between a variety of places because A) neither of them had any suggestions or B) Len seemed to have some issues discerning what was an acceptable composition of colors. Shoko kindly avoided telling him so.
In the end, an hour and a half after the scarf shop, they came up with a pretty jeweled hair clip with curling, intertwined musical notes, and they'd each bought her a copy of a CD of one of their favorite musicians after Len hesitantly explained that Kahoko was unlikely to have amassed a collection of such things like they had. Shoko easily went along with it, glad to have found something at least a little more personal than just random trinkets that constituted 'safe' gifts.
And yet, the latter half of the trip had been almost . . . almost pleasant. Neither had said much, but it was a mostly comfortable silence.
By the time they left the music store, it was nearly six o' clock and they'd been out walking around for two and a half hours. Shoko was ready to go home and sleep, but they still needed to discuss plans for the food.
Six o' clock . . . about dinnertime. She swallowed. They'd been on their feet for some time and neither had eaten since lunch. Did she dare?
"Um, Tsukimori-senpai," she addressed him, relishing the inner glee that spread from being able to say at least his name without the stammer at the same time her fingers went tighter around the case handle. Please don't sound like an idiot, please don't sound like an idiot. "It's around d-dinner time, so maybe we should s-stop and get something to eat, because . . . while we figure out w-what to do." She waited.
He gave her another one of those unreadable glances that always left her wondering.
"Fine . . . where?"
She felt considerably relieved, but wasn't quite in the clear yet. Though she suspected she wouldn't quite be able to attain normal functionality until he was gone.
Looking around her at the street they'd walked up and down numerous times that day, she wondered if normal functionality was really so great after all.
"Um . . . ah, right. I think a f-few shops down, there's a place . . . I don't usually eat out, s-so I don't know where would be best . . ." she glanced apprehensively in the direction of the restaurant, hoping this wasn't a mistake.
"It's fine," he said. "Let's go."
They walked the short distance and entered the restaurant. Conversations fluttered, some loud, some politely hushed, and the lights were warm but not too bright. Several wooden tables were placed all around the room, most of them occupied, and the music quietly playing over the speakers was upbeat but unfamiliar. Shoko was relieved to find that many of the people eating were around their age. She would have felt silly walking into a nice restaurant full of adults while wearing her uniform, holding her clarinet case.
They were seated after about ten minutes, which she thought was rather fast, considering the crowd. She was thrilled when the smiling waitress, who was about their age and who's bun seemed perilously close to coming undone, directed them to a table set in the corner. Shoko, of course, liked corners best.
"Can I get you anything to drink?" she asked as she handed each of them a menu.
"Water," they both requested, and Shoko suddenly realized how thirsty she was. They should have stopped and purchased some bottled water sooner, she thought. They'd been so distracted, trying to find something for Kahoko. She gave a rueful little smile. And in the end, they'd come out with things they could easily have thought of in the first place.
She glanced at her companion's hands, which rested on the table, his fingers drumming against it lightly, and she thought maybe she didn't mind that it had taken so long after all.
"Mkay, I'll be right back out with that," she said, and darted off.
The pair flipped open their menus, laminated sheets of white with bright blue borders, and after a few minutes Len shut his, apparently having decided.
Not long after, Shoko closed hers, and the silence that ensued was somewhat less comfortable than those that had taken place during the last hour.
Len returned to tapping his fingers against the table, one at a time in a graceful wave. She noted this action curiously.
Clink.
Shoko leaned back, startled, as the waitress set the glasses on the table.
"Are you guys ready to order?" she asked, cheerfully whipping the pencil out from behind her ear, at ease.
Shoko wondered if she could ever pull off something like that. She would probably drop the pencil and then accidentally stab herself with it when she scrambled to pick it up.
They told the waitress their orders, and Shoko noted that both she and Len had taken the careful route with small, simple, safe dishes. She supposed neither of them were used to eating somewhere like this, and wondered at the astonishing difference between people's lives.
The silence descended once more.
Right,she thought. The party.
"Um . . . about the food, for the party . . ." she began, and he nodded.
"Yes, I thought about it earlier, and I can have the house cook take care of lunch, I think. There aren't that many of us," he said, and paused. "Though I suppose some of us have . . . larger appetites."
She thought of Kazuki and laughed.
"Y-yes, that's true . . ." She stopped. He was giving her that odd look again. It made her skin tingle, and she felt unreasonably flustered. She wished he'd explain, say what he was thinking. She hastily took a sip of water and thanked her lucky stars that she didn't make any slurping noises.
Inspiration struck.
"Oh . . . Tsukimori-senpai, if you can arrange lunch, then, um, I thought for d-desert, I could order some cakes from the cake shop." She looked at his left ear while she waited for his response.
"Yes, that sounds fine."
Her brain let out a cheer. She was beginning to realize enough about him to know that "Yes, that sounds fine," was very nearly as good as, "Great idea."
Or she thought so. Maybe she was wrong and it really did sound fine and he just wanted to go home.
But . . . she frowned. If he'd already had plans for lunch, dessert wasn't so big a step from there, so why had they come in here to eat? Well, he was probably hungry.
But wouldn't the aforementioned house cook have something ready for him? Oh, but she had suggested it, and he might have just been polite. Yet that seemed uncharacteristically polite for him . . .
In the end, Shoko decided not to think too hard about it. Or rather, she didn't dare.
"O-okay . . . um, so if you can do lunch, I'll arrange dessert . . ."
He nodded in agreement.
And now, she thought, suppressing a sigh, the silence.
Len surprised her though. He talked. Well, a little.
"Oh. I suppose it ended up taking a long time . . . your parents aren't going to be upset that you're getting home so late?" The question surprised her. If he was going to start asking her things, she'd assumed they'd be about Kahoko. Or maybe he was looking for an excuse to leave early. It was so hard to read him.
"Ah, no . . . they're visiting friends e-elsewhere for the next couple of weeks . . . um, its just my housekeeper a-and I. She probably won't be so worried, s-since I don't go out much," she stopped. "Ah, I m-mean, that is, I don't, but it's not . . ." Oh, heavens. Shoko had never thought of herself as having poor thought-to-voice controls, but lately she wondered. "Um, what about you, Ts-tsukimori-senpai?" Drat it all, the stutter was back.
Len studied her for a couple of seconds before he looked away. Shoko thought his lack of clear expression might drive her completely mad, but she managed to continue sitting calmly without tearing out her hair.
He waited a moment, then spoke, hesitant. "My parents travel often, too, on tours. Though the maids and the cook leave in the early evening."
She looked at him thoughtfully.
"S-so you're alone, most of the time?"
He blinked.
"Yes, I suppose. I don't really notice."
She wondered if he was telling the truth, and then thought maybe he was. Shoko often forgot that she was by herself or that she was sad or afraid when she played her clarinet. She wondered if it was the same for Len. If all the energy he might have put towards relationships, he used to devotedly practice his violin, and if in return, it took away the emptiness.
"Oh. I see . . ." She wasn't sure what else to say.
"Do you see Kahoko often?" he asked, slowly turning the water glass in a circle on the coaster.
She had been expecting questions like that, but her mood dimmed slightly nonetheless.
"N-no . . . hardly ever, actually . . . I-it's strange, I think. I feel like she's done so much for me, yet at the s-same time, we barely know each other."
He nodded slowly.
"I see . . . it's true. One gains a lot from only a few encounters." He didn't elaborate, but then, Shoko figured, she hadn't either. "I ask because you seemed as lost as I was on the subject of what to buy for her. After Friday, I thought you two might be close."
Shoko bristled. She'd been lost?
But she was too honorable to bring up the subject of his color problems. That, and she knew he hadn't meant anything by it.
She exhaled quietly. He never did mean anything by it, yet she jumped to react anyways.
"Here we are," the waitress announced, setting Len's plate down and leaning over to give the other to Shoko, who had automatically inched as far back in the corner as she could.
Intending to be helpful, Shoko took it from her so she wouldn't have to reach as far, but her elbow hit her water glass.
The only half-empty glass went sideways, its contents spilling along the table and splashing off it.
Oh no, oh no, oh no, Shoko thought, her eyes going wide. Len flinched.
Shoko shot to her feet, grabbing her napkin and hastily trying to mop up the water. She managed to get it to stop dripping off the side of the table, and Shoko hurried over to Len to help him dry off.
"H-here, I'm s-so s-sorry, Ts-tsukimori-senpai, I didn't . . . ah, let me h-help you," she apologized, sure she was red as a tomato. Of all the times to be clumsy . . . she checked his sleeves to see if they'd gotten wet, and dabbed at the stray water droplets, though they didn't seem to be the primary target of the water.
"Er, Miss, I wouldn't help, if I were you," the waitress said, looking embarrassed and amused at the same time.
"I-I beg your pardon?" Shoko glanced at her, then back at Len who, actually, seemed to be turning a little red, as well, looking horribly uncomfortable.
And she promptly realized that the water had, of course, gone into his lap.
The napkin fell out of her hand.
"O-oh! I-I-I - no, I . . . Ah, um, you should . . ." she picked it back up and handed it to him, mortified and unable to meet his gaze. "Should, um, that is . . ." Ohgodohgodohgod. She was surely going to faint.
"It's fine," he mumbled and, with as much dignity as possible, made his way to the men's room. Shoko nearly fell into her chair, face flaming, and the waitress dissolved into giggles. Her bun spiraled out of its twist and fell around her shoulders, the hairpin clattering to the table.
"I'm," she gasped, picking up the pin, "So sorry, and excuse me f-for saying so," she managed to get out between laughs, "b-but you should see your - your face."
Shoko, past the point of caring about being in a public place, buried her face in her arms and prayed for someone to kill her then and there.
Her prayers were not answered, and nor did the flush seem to be leaving her cheeks this time around.
Note to self. Do not ever, ever, even if it was your fault, try and help dry someone off.
The waitress tentatively tapped her shoulder lightly.
"I'm sorry, miss. I didn't mean to laugh. But it's alright, he seemed just as embarrassed."
Shoko lifted her head miserably.
"Er, there's no need to look so depressed . . . it wasn't so bad. Really, I'm sure you'll be laughing about it on your next date."
Shoko couldn't even find her voice to correct her.
Because who cared? Who cared what people thought? Shoko knew what it was and what it wasn't, and it certainly wasn't a date.
She did not know, however, what she wanted it to be.
The rest of dinner happened in mutually embarrassed silence, and Shoko hadn't recovered enough to argue with him when he paid.
I'll just order an extra cake to send home with him after the party, she decided.
They exited the restaurant to find that the sun had begun to set long ago, and it was mostly dark out. Shoko was desperate to escape so she could go home and toss herself down the stairs like she'd first planned. Although . . . the walk home was going to be rather eerie. She wasn't used to walking in the dark.
"Ah, um, thank you f-for dinner, Ts-tsukimori-senpai," she stammered, gazing at somewhere just beyond his head. "I g-guess we should b-both get home, it's s-so late."
He watched her for a moment, the streetlamp casting shadows all around him, and she fought an involuntary shiver. He could be rather unnerving sometimes. No, he was almost always unnerving, so she supposed she should say he could be a rather comfortable presence sometimes.
He opened his mouth to speak, hesitated, then seemed to decide on something.
"I'll walk you home since it's dark out."
Please don't. Yet even as she thought that, some rebellious part of her, the part that had enjoyed the evening, humiliating incidents aside, and wished it would continue, thought, Please do.
"I-I . . . that is, it i-isn't n-necessary, but th-thank you."
He shook his head.
"It is. Either your housekeeper or your parents would disapprove if I didn't see you to your house. It's not really safe, anyways. It would be stupid to walk home alone at this hour."
She would have determinedly declined his offer, especially after him implying she was stupid for doing so, but she'd been nervous about the walk to begin with, and he was right. Takano would come after him with kitchen knives, and it really would be stupid to walk alone.
"O-okay . . . th-thank you, Tsukimori-senpai."
He simply nodded and began walking. She followed, careful not to walk too close, and at the same time, not so far apart that it would be obvious.
And the evening had been going so well, she thought. Not so much now. The breathing problems had come back.
She studied the pavement as they walked, listening to the sound of his footsteps matched with his quiet breathing, the latter somewhat more difficult to hear.
He was a quiet person. She wondered if he wished he could fade into the background sometimes, like she was able to. She frowned a little. He could never do that. Len was a conspicuous person. Tall, graceful, elegant . . . he had far more presence than he seemed to realize.
The fact that he was so handsome - and she thought this in a purely observational manner. Really. - probably made it even worse.
She wished she knew. Wished he would tell her if she was right or wrong about him, and if she was wrong, she wished he'd tell her the truth.
But he didn't tell people, just as she didn't, and much as she respected that, she still wished . . .
"You turn here, right?" he asked, and she'd been so lost in her thoughts she hadn't realized they'd reached her and Kahoko's cross streets. He has a good memory.
"Y-yes . . . it's down this street, but we t-turn at the first right, and it's at the end of that one," she explained. She found it slightly easier not to stutter when she was giving directions instead of having a conversation.
"I see."
And down the street they went, retracing the steps Shoko had taken while she'd tried to keep her composure on Friday. They turned, and followed the path she'd run.
Some of the ache in her chest came back at the memory, and it felt strange to walk this street with him next to her, as if Friday had never seen her running down it, desperate not to feel so bad.
Before she knew it, they'd reached her house.
"Y-you don't have to walk all the way to the d-door with me, of course," she told him quietly, trying to shake the strange feeling.
He hesitated.
"Alright."
"Ah, thank you v-very much for dinner, and for t-taking so much time to look for a gift. I had fun."
Shoko blinked. Had she really said that? But it was true. Somewhere in between the sort-of understanding next to the scarves and the unfortunate incident with the water glass, she had had fun. With him.
He looked equally taken aback.
"I . . I'm glad," but the words were not as smooth as his others. She turned red. What an awkward thing to say. Len had no doubt seen it as an unavoidable errand to be taken care of, and she was babbling about fun.
"Ah, um, then, thank you for w-walking me home. G-good night. Please get home s-safely."
He nodded, that unreadable expression back on his face.
"Good night."
Shoko turned and slowly walked up the path to the house, telling herself it would be silly to turn around. But when she opened the door, she couldn't help it. She glanced back.
Len was only a few feet away from where they'd been standing. Strange. He must have stood there for a long time before he started walking.
She shut the door behind her, and as she went upstairs and got ready for bed, Shoko wondered.