Chapter 17

Hana sat at the edge of the cliff, sipping on her water as she ate the trail mix she had packed. It was such a beautiful view overlooking the vast forest. Hana felt more in control than she had ever been in the past few months. A feeling she had missed immensely. It was a strange thing, the longing for control.

On one hand, Hana had come to terms that she was unable to control each aspect of her life. She had learned to let go. She let go of the fear that constantly haunted her. She let go of the idea of finding a purpose in life. She had let go of shouldering the burdens of society and was no longer afraid to make choices for no one but herself.

But she was unable to escape from the depths of reality. She was trapped.

The thought did not sit well with her. It was always an endless cycle. The brief fleeting moment of freedom and independence, only to be pulled down to the depths of dreary hell where her life was nothing more than a pawn in the whole game of politics within the upper class. Keeping the wealth in the family, upholding standards that were to be expected of her, bloodlines and legitimacy, business and the family became priorities that she could not ignore.

It was a game. One that Hana still did not know how to play, nor could she find a way to win. She was well versed in the rules. Yet none of which could be used to her advantage.

All she had was time.

Time left to do what she wanted.

Time to listen to the birds chirp. Time to listen to the leaves rustle and the feeling of the slight wind in her hair. Time to let the sun shine on her face. Time for bliss. Whatever brief time she had left before she faced her ultimate destiny, Hana was unsure what to do with it.

On one hand, she could rebel. Go out, party, get wasted, have one-night stands, maybe even a fling. None of which seemed to be up her alley – it was Hiro's thing. Hana could travel, though that would cost money. Money was the limiting reagent as most of her expenses were going towards paying for her education, and perhaps another few years of watching her bank account deplete if she chose to pursue a Master's degree. Her summer internship paid next to nothing when she compared it to the tuition she had to pay.

She brushed the thoughts out of her mind. Things were bound to work out. They always worked out. Hana reminisced on those days where she felt lost with nowhere to go. Terrified of the idea of having no purpose. Horrified at the fact that she had no direction.

But here she was, sitting on the edge of the cliff with nowhere to go, and no direction still. Hana was at peace with the idea of purpose and life. She had other things to think about – such higher thoughts wasted time when her next priority was securing another job and keeping up her GPA. Reality was a distraction. Reality became her life.

She thought of him suddenly.

Would he appreciate her musings?

Maybe.

Would he appreciate this view?

The cliff that oversaw the forest. It was so peaceful. It would've been even prettier in the autumn, Hana thought. With all the leaves that seamlessly changed into an array of warm colours. Hana took her phone out of her bag and took a picture. It must have been a little past midnight by now in Tokyo.

She sent the photo anyway.

Wish you were here.

Hana packed up her bag and headed back to the bustling city. It was time to head back to her usual grind.

Mori reached Tokyo late at night. He turned on his phone for the first time in two weeks, now that he had signal as he reached his homeland. The very first message that popped up at the top of his screen aside from his graduate school emails was Hana's.

A photo overseeing a grand forest. A sea of green beneath the sunlight. It was stunning and strangely familiar.

Wish you were here, he read to himself. His eyes darting from end to end of the small glass screen. She wished that he were there with her. Why was that such an elating feeling? To be missed, to be wanted, to be longed for. It was unhealthy, he thought.

He hoped she was doing alright. Mori settled himself onto the metro and wished that he had taken photos during his trip. There was something very satisfying about being away in the woods, free of any communication from the world. He wondered if she had hiked in her spare time, if she had any. Mori wanted to be with her, almost. Right at that moment when she sent that picture. He wondered why it looked so familiar.

He longed to hear her voice. He wanted to know how she was. Tired? Busy? Overworked? All three to a degree, most likely. But for some odd reason, Mori wanted to hear about her day. Even the most mundane thing. What she ate for breakfast. Which streets she walked upon during her days of university. What the weather was like. When she woke up.

Small things. Anything to keep conversation flowing. Anything to somehow track her orbit as she travelled further and further.

And there he was, sitting on the train, wondering why he longed for her presence. He wasn't in love. He wasn't going to go there. Love was something else. Love was a connection. This was a strong interest. An insatiable curiosity. A thirst.

A feeling that was one-sided, Mori concluded as he got off the stop to finally head home.

Hana was due to graduate in the following Spring. Hiro sighed at the thought. He called his sister after all his months of physical rehab, after resting and studying music from a plethora of eras. After spending time away from the parties, the wildness, the flings, and the poor life decisions that often resulted in hangovers – Hiro had finally come to the decision to go back to school.

Hana was thrilled to hear that her older brother had applied to Juilliard for composition.

"That's amazing, Hiro," he could practically hear her smile through the phone. It was nearly 1 in the morning in New York. She was up late doing an assignment, as usual. She was always hardworking. Hiro aspired to be like that.

"Yeah, but… you know. I'm kinda… late," the brother sheepishly pointed out. Many of his friends had already graduated from their degrees, or were pursuing their careers. He was a late bloomer, as one would say. But in all honesty, Hiro felt inadequate.

"Nonsense," Hana scolded. "Who cares? Juilliard for composition sounds like something you'd do. Whether it had been 5 years ago or 10 years from now. Education knows no age."

Hiro nodded, taking in his sister's words in comfort.

"You know… you're younger than me – but you've always been the older sister."

Hana was silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. She had always been the more practical one. She had her life together much better than Hiro did. She skipped the phase of immaturity. The phase of poor decisions, most of which involved alcohol and drugs – but lots of fun. Hana was careful and practical. Hiro was reckless. Hana knew her bounds and looked towards the future. Hiro lived in the present. Hiro grew tired of the lifestyle after being forced to physically settle down for a few months. He did a lot of reflecting over the few months he'd been away from the industry.

"I'm your sister. That's it."
"Yeah. But… you know. I'd be nothing without you, Hana."

She sighed. Hana never wanted her brother to feel guilty for her own decision.

"You'd still be a talented musician, topping EDM charts and touring the world," Hana assured.
"You know what I mean," Hiro refused to accept his sister's evasion of the topic. "You gave up your dreams so I could have mine."

"I didn't and I still don't have a dream," Hana pointed out. "It was either me or you. It was me. I chose this path."

"Don't kid yourself," Hiro grumbled.

"I'm not. I don't kid." Her voice firm. "Listen, I have to go. I have an 8:30 class that I can't miss."
"Yeah, of course. Love you," Hiro bid his sister goodbye and hung up.

Hiro's mother was passing by her son's room and caught the last bit of her son's conversation. She hesitantly knocked on the door of Hiro's room.

"Come in," she heard him call out. Hiro was sitting on his bed with his laptop and his headphones over his neck. He greeted his mother politely and kept his eyes focused on his phone.

"Was that… Hana?" the mother curiously asked.
"Yeah," Hiro answered. "She's doing fine." He answered her question for her without having to hear what she had to say.

The mother nodded, unsure of where to take the conversation. It had been rather awkward since Hiro had left the hospital. Though things have been in an uncomfortable state since Hiro had gone off to pursue his music career over the past few years. She turned to exit the room before Hiro spoke again.

"She doesn't hate you. Hana doesn't know you were the one to transfer your shares so she could have a shot at being the heiress."

The woman's eyes sharpened. "You weren't supposed to know."

Hiro shrugged. "Like Father would want to dilute his own shares for an illegitimate daughter. Those shares had to be yours. You proposed the idea to father. He just took the bait without the expense of losing any part of his company."

His mother stared at her son. Hiro rolled his eyes and shook his head in disappointment. He was bedridden for months. Hiro came up with that theory during his first week of therapy as he stared at the white ceiling for countless hours. The past few months certainly gave him more than enough time to think things through. But mostly, it was him sifting through the rumour mill in his head. Gossip was always a fun past time, after all.

"You gave her no choice. You couldn't even have discussed this with me before making the call?"
"I was trying to give her what she wanted."

"I never said that the sentiment wasn't there, Mother," Hiro explained. "But that wasn't what she wanted, that's for sure. She wanted respect. You gave her a burden to shoulder instead. She wanted freedom. You locked her in a cage. She needed happiness and you brought her misery."

"How could—how could you say that about your own mother?" Any parent would never want such things for their own child.

Hiro shrugged. "Hana hasn't been happy for a very long time. I don't know how you didn't see that."

"Hiro, you weren't the best choice to be the heir—"
"—I wasn't arguing about being the heir or not. In fact, I was more than willing to marry for someone to take over the company when the time was right."
"Yes, but—"
"But gay marriages aren't really a thing, hey?" Hiro smirked, knowing exactly how to push his mother's buttons.

His mother huffed. "Hiro, we can't have that in the family."
"Fine, fine," he waved his hand casually, flicking his wrist. "But it was a fool-proof plan and my beloved sister wouldn't be as miserable as she is now."

"As if you wouldn't have been miserable in an arranged marriage."
Hiro shrugged. "Open relationships are a thing."
"Hiro!" His mother scolded.
"As if you have the right to chide me about open relationships when you had an affair that turned into a little too much," Hiro smirked. "Listen, I'm not judging, Mother. I'm just pointing out the facts."

His mother stood at the doorway in silence. Her face a mixture of irritation and guilt. Not a good look on anyone, Hiro decided.

"Hana doesn't hate you," the son repeated. "But she takes her time in forgiving people. Don't force her into forgiving you. Don't even mention marriage, much less forcing her into one for the sake of our family. Don't force her into anything. Hana is a force in itself. She doesn't need an empire. She creates empires."

"In what sense?" Hana had no experience in running a company. She was barely in her twenties. She had nothing but an abandoned career in modelling and nearly a petty degree from Stern. What possible force did Hiro see in her?

"How could you be so oblivious, mother?" Hiro rolled his eyes. "Every time she defies you, or Father – she gets her way. Every time she talks back with such venom – she is braver than I am. The more you resist, the harder she fights."

The woman shook her head. Every child these days went through a rebellious period. It was a phase. A rather long phase for Hana, she thought. But a phase, nonetheless. Something that Hana would grow out of. After all, Hana took the position of being the heiress of the company at her own accord. And Hiro had come around to go back to school after all these years.

Hiro shrugged. "Suit yourself, Mother. I know her best. And you know that."

Hana was sitting in her small apartment in New York as December rolled by. Her fingers typing away on cover letters and adjusting her resume. She'd been accepted to the graduate program at Stern, though she also applied to Stanford and various other schools. A part of her only did it to see if she would get in, though another part of her wondered if she could get away with moving even farther from Tokyo to avoid her responsibilities back home.

She wanted to travel. Though she couldn't justify a good reason to waste money for her own pleasure. Hana felt guilty unless she was doing something productive with her life.

It was early in the evening as she settled down on her couch with a cup of green tea after an afternoon of working. Her legs stretched over the cushions as she read a book – for pleasure this time, and not for the sake of passing a course. Snow fell outside her window while the sky had darkened hours ago.

He called her first.

Hana was surprised to see the name on the screen.

Takashi is calling

Hana answered the phone without hesitance. There was a small moment of silence before she heard the other line clear their throat. Not even a hello. Just straight to the point.

"Happy birthday."

She smiled. His deep baritone voice, speaking her mother tongue that she hadn't heard in a year. It was comforting. It reminded her of home. The warmth of the idea of home. A fireplace, the simple homecooked Japanese meals, the dojo. She missed it.

"Thanks," she answered, allowing for the silence to sit between the two comfortably. "How are you?"

"Fine," Takashi replied. A typical response. She'd anticipated that.

"Grad school treating you well, I suppose."
"I'm the head TA for a course," he updated her. Hana smiled at the thought of him teaching. She was curious as to what kind of teacher he was like. How would he run those seminars? Concisely and straightforwardly, Hana figured. They would definitely end before the allotted time of an hour, or perhaps go over time if he did his job well to lead the discussion with his students. Who knows.

"At this rate, you'll become a PhD candidate and Assistant Professor."
"Mm," he affirmed.

Hana let that sink in for a second. "As in..."
"It'd be nice," he confirmed.

"I'd love to hear you lecture one day, then," Hana imagined him at the front of a lecture hall, asking open ended questions while simplifying concepts to the most concise degree possible. Straightforward enough so he wouldn't have to speak for long. Simple enough for all students to grasp the content.

"What about you?" Takashi reciprocated the question.
"Well, I got into grad school here," she shrugged. "Maybe I'll stay here for a few more years."
"Hm," his voice dipped. Almost like he was disappointed. Perhaps she was just overthinking it. Hana continued.

"I'm still applying to jobs and waiting to hear back from a few positions. A startup tech company gave me an offer yesterday. It'd be interesting, I think – probably a good idea since father's company is all about software. I still want to wait it out though. Perhaps something else will come up."

She imagined him nodding.

"You seem to…" he paused. "Have it together." The young woman had job offers lined up for her, while he was grading papers for a living, paying next to nothing. His life was certainly less exciting than hers, but Mori wasn't going to complain. He was rather content with what seemed to be a mundane lifestyle.

Hana paused. She did seem to have her life together. Seemed was the keyword.
"It's good," he reminded, sensing her hesitance about the subject.
"You seem to have your life lined up pretty well, huh?" Hana refocused the conversation towards him.
Mori shrugged. Even though he realized that she couldn't see. Why was communication so difficult? Mori groaned inwardly. He tried to think of something to say. Hana beat him to it, naturally. She always made him feel comfortable like that.

"I mean, academia isn't an easy choice," Hana pointed out. "It's not easy to be a professor. That's quite ambitious."
"I suppose." But for Mori, it seemed right. Learning kept him going. He enjoyed teaching. He enjoyed reading essays – however awful they might've been, there were always a few that stood out. He was perfectly content the way he was, in his own lifestyle. He still worked at the library. In fact, he'd been promoted to managing librarian. The head librarian had taken a liking to his efficiency, and also his quiet nature as he worked around the building.

"Look at us, being adults," she laughed. "This is so strange. I remember being so scared. I remember being a teenager like it was yesterday – being comforted by you. Now I'm 21. Over two decades old –though I feel much older than that."

And she had every right to be. Hana's life was a whirlwind. Mori's life in comparison felt like it was just a stagnant rock, slowly being pushed by exterior forces of the elements.

"I was terrified of having no direction. Scared I would become nothing. I felt like I had so much to prove."
"And now?"
"Like I'd grown out of it," Hana answered. "I had so much to prove to myself – and no one else." Hana was far from smart. She struggled with her courses, but she worked hard. She took initiative. She was fiercely resilient. Hana had grown to become capable of many things.

"I'm glad," Mori murmured. Her voice was solemn as she reflected over the few years. She had definitely grown into a young, accomplished woman who most definitely did not need anyone to tell her she was worth more than she thought. The insecure child he'd known her to be had blossomed with confidence.

Takashi wondered what sort of person she saw him to be after all these years. Stagnant? Unchanging? Boring, maybe.

"Hey," Hana caught his attention again. "We should do this more."
"Hm?"
"Call each other. I call Ojii-san every other week, but he always acts annoyed by it. So the calls are never more than a minute." Hana chuckled. "I always feel like we're…" She sighed. There wasn't a word that she could use to describe. Was it a feeling? A state of their relationship that she tried to describe? An odd in-between of friendship and acquaintances as they drifted over the few years. A connection she longed for but was unsure how to build.

"Drifting," Hana settled.

He let those words sink in. She never said the word apart. Drifting, aimlessly. Coming together, then growing apart, then coming around and picking up from where they had left off.

"I do, as well," he cleared his throat. Was that too much of a pause? Was it weird now?

They let the silence blanket over them.

"I – I miss Japan," Hana admitted. "I never quite felt… at home anywhere. Comfortable, maybe. But not… home. When your heart can take a break and your mind is at peace. Maybe it isn't Japan I miss," Hana mused. "Maybe… maybe it's you."

Mori cleared his throat. "I…"

Hana chuckled. "Sorry, I didn't mean for you to feel uncomfortable. I—um," it was her turn to be at a loss of words.

"I miss you," his gentle voice travelled through the phone, making her melt in her seat. There was something very comforting about his low baritone voice. It had a soothing lull. It was nice to hear that he felt the same. Assuming of course, that he wasn't just saying it to make her feel less awkward.

"Come home," he said. He didn't demand for it. It just rolled off his tongue. He wondered how she looked like now. Mori wanted to see her face. Watch her smile at the simplest things. Let her point out how the sunlight hit the leaves during the Spring. He just wanted her around. It was silly, he thought. No one should be this happy making up hypothetical situations like this, letting his imagination run off.

"I…" she sighed. Reality was a harsh reminder. "I can't." Hana tried to delay her responsibilities as an heiress for as long as possible. She avoided the familial duties like a coward.

"That's fine," Mori answered. He wasn't expecting her to come back… it was just wishful thinking, his brain without a filter.

"I'm sorry," Hana murmured. She felt like she had disappointed him too many times.
"For what?"
"I…" took a moment. "I always feel like I'm never there for you. But… you are."

He never thought of it like that. It wasn't like he needed her. Likewise, she most certainly didn't need him, either. They were independent individuals who led completely different lives, their orbits wouldn't ever cross, he kept telling himself.

"I don't mind."

"Do you think I'm a coward?" she whispered. "I've been avoiding… the entire country for fear of being tied down to a duty for my family. It's… irresponsible and immature. I don't want to lose my freedom. I don't want to fit into the mold of what is expected of me. I… I just don't. I can't. I won't."

Hana fought so hard against a battle that she knew she was bound to lose. Was that naïve? Perhaps. But knowing Hana, she was likely still in the midst of finding an escape. A way out. She never went down without a fight. She was no coward.

"No," he answered truthfully. "You can come back when you are ready."
"I don't think I'll ever be ready," Hana sighed.

Mori couldn't say much to that.

"You know where to find me," he settled. Whenever she came back. He'd be there, always.
"I'll take you up on that offer, then," Hana promised.

He sent her a tin of tea. Shipped all the way from Japan, a little taste of home. He had her address from the time she sent him a birthday gift. Hana had just come home from work over the summer to find a box outside her apartment door.

It started with a birthday card and a photograph that she had taken during a hike. It was a small gift for his birthday, and a handwritten letter in Japanese. Her kanji had gotten a little rusty after so many years from her motherland. He sent a letter back. And she responded.

It was an odd arrangement. Sending letters, despite having each other's numbers at the top of their contact list. There was something very intimate about handwritten notes.

Immediately, Hana pulled out her stationary after settling down at her desk to write a thank-you note. Their letters were never long. Occasionally, he would send a handwritten quote.

Thinking: the talking of the soul with itself. – Plato

Youth is easily deceived because it is quick to hope. – Aristotle

Courage is grace under pressure. – Ernest Hemingway

And for each quote, she sent him a photograph. Sometimes of the city, other times of the sunset. The sea. Her cups of coffee. And soon after, she began taking photos of things that reminded her of him. The back was always the date of the photo.

Hiro began his studies in Julliard in the autumn, taking over Hana's apartment in New York as she moved over to London to pursue her Master's degree. Working for the startup gave Hana very little time to pack and Hiro decided to help his sister do the job.

He opened up a box tucked away in the corner of her desk. It was filled with handwritten letters. Quotes. An empty tin of tea. He opened up a note, signed by Mori in his neat handwriting. The brother quietly put away the box and continued on packing his sister's things, keeping the knowledge to himself.

Hana left quietly for London to pursue her Master's after her summer contract had ended. Hiro settled into the city, keeping a relatively low profile now that he focused on his education. The Sawada Siblings were reunited in Japan during the winter for a brief company event. The 25th Anniversary celebrating the triumphs and the successes over the quarter of a century.

Mori read the article featuring the Sawada siblings on a business magazine which focused on the future of the Sawada Group after 25 years. The older sibling was a musician, famous for topping music charts a few years ago before settling down to pursue his studies at the prestigious Julliard School of Music. Meanwhile, the younger sister was a former model turned heiress with a finance degree from one of the best business schools in the world, and was continuing her studies in London before working at the company. What an extraordinary family, the article said.

Extraordinary indeed, Mori agreed. The head TA sat back in his office and stared at the photographs sent to him by Hana that were taped to the wall. She had an eye for aesthetically pleasing moments. Whether it was a book half-opened paired with a cup of half-finished coffee, or the colours of the trees with sunlight that shined through the leaves – she captured these moments and sent them in a small envelope every few weeks, even while she was in London.

Mori flipped the page to see the Ootori Group featured in the next article. It was no surprise to have the two families featured together.

There was a knock on his door. An unexpected guest. Mori had office hours before the winter break so that students could inquire about the assignment that was given for the winter holiday. But instead, a man with his hair styled with an undercut wore a grey t-shirt paired with a thick leather jacket and jeans. Headphones had always been his trademark, and it surely hadn't left him after all these years.

"Hiro," Mori greeted after taking a moment to recognize his friend. He wondered how he knew that he was still at Toudai, finishing up his graduate studies. Much less knowing that he had office hours right then and now.

"Hey Mori," Hiro shuffled into the small room. The giant sat in his seat with an eyebrow raised, waiting for Hiro to explain himself. The musician slowly took a seat across Mori's desk, noting the magazine article that was open.

"You read the article, yeah?"

Mori nodded. Of course he would. They were his friends, after all. He supported them quietly over the years. The Hitachiins took over their mother's work. Haruhi was still at Harvard. Tamaki and Kyouya were working at their own respective companies. Honey began working in the food industry applying his engineering degree by developing new sweets using new innovative techniques.

"Listen," Hiro sighed. "My sister is getting engaged. I'm worried. She wouldn't willingly come back to Japan for an event, she never bat an eye over the past 6 years at these things. Either she's out of options, or she has willingly accepted her fate. You and I both know that this isn't what she wants."

Takashi blinked. He wasn't sure how to feel. Hiro kept speaking, trying to gauge for some kind of reaction. Anything better than just a blink.

"She'll be getting engaged to Kyouya," Hiro tried again. "That's why the article was written with both our families. She doesn't know yet. That's why I'm here. I don't know what it is between you and Hana, but I know there's something. I don't know the whole story. I don't care. But I'm telling you that you have a shot."

"At what?" Mori pried. He would've been lying if he didn't feel the least bit upset at the news. But who was he kidding? Takashi wasn't anything like an Ootori. He wasn't worthy. Mori was just barely a graduate student. He had nearly two degrees to his name while Kyouya Ootori was the heir to the Ootori group.

Hiro shook his head. "A shot at something worthwhile with her. I know my sister. I have this gut feeling. She'd call me impulsive but Hana doesn't keep a box of handwritten letters and quotes from people."

"We barely know each other," Mori reasoned, wondering how Hiro found out about their mail exchange.

"Handwritten letters are pretty intimate, platonic or not," Hiro pointed out. "Look me in the eye and tell me you aren't at the least bit interested in my sister."

Mori kept his expression neutral.

"I just need her to realize that there is hope that she doesn't have to do this for me. For the family, or whatever her reasons are."

"Kyouya is a good man."
"I never said he wasn't a good man," Hiro reasoned. "He's the one who told me where you'd be, after all."
"It's her choice," Takashi spoke truthfully. He had no part in meddling.

Hiro shook his head in frustration.

"God damn it, Mori. I'm not asking you to marry her. Just talk to her. Remind her that she isn't at a dead end."
"How?" Their paths were not meant to cross, he kept telling himself.

Hiro shoved a piece of paper over to his desk. It was an invitation. "Come to the event tomorrow night. She'll be there. Dress the part," Hiro reminded. The brother left promptly, giving no chance for Mori to refuse. He checked the time. He had tomorrow's lecture to prepare for, given that the professor had left for his holiday and gave Mori the job. He kept the invitation on his desk and packed his things to leave for the night.

Takashi found himself tossing and turning during the night. He couldn't sleep. He thought of her. He thought of the invitation sitting on his desk. It wasn't in his place to intrude on her life decisions. Takashi knew that.

Instead, he stayed up preparing for the lecture, practising beforehand and making sure the slides of his presentation were free of any error. Mori tried distracting himself. In the morning, Takashi stood at the front of the lecture hall, watching as students trickled in one by one. There was one minute before the lecture began before he caught one last student sneaking into the back of the classroom.

Her hair was dusted with white snowflakes, her body hunched over from the cold weather as she took a seat discreetly at the very back of the classroom. There was a glare in her glasses that was reflected to conceal her eyes. She had no backpack with her. Not even a laptop bag. The lights were darkened for the projector in the auditorium. There was something oddly familiar about her, but his view was obstructed by a student who sat in front of her and all he saw was a silhouette.

It had to be her.

But it was illogical. Hana wouldn't have known about his lectures. In fact, Mori could count the number of times he lectured in place of the real professor only a handful of times. What were the chances? He had been so preoccupied with Hana at the back of his mind that he began seeing things.

Takashi shoved his thoughts aside and began the lecture. In the five minutes before it ended, he noticed the same figure standing and quietly leaving. He tried to get a better glimpse, but the light of the projector had him struggling. Takashi needed sleep.

And he needed to see her in real life so that he would stop going insane.

Mori wrapped up the lecture and headed back to his office. Takashi would've sworn that he was going insane when he stepped on a note that slid through the bottom of his door.

Ojii-san said you would be here. I loved your lecture – it was very intriguing. A great change from the usual financial analytics lectures I've attended. Sorry I couldn't stay to talk. There are busy plans this evening, and I'm flying out tomorrow. Glad to see you were doing well. You're going to be an incredible professor one day. Good luck in your future endeavours, Takashi. – Hana

But all he could hear was her voice narrating the words that she left behind, coupled with Hiro's conversation that haunted him through the night. It felt like a reminder that their orbits would not cross from now on. Her trajectory was far from his, she went into deep space. He was stuck in his comfortable zone, never leaving his regular orbit.

It felt like she was saying goodbye as she travelled deeper into space without looking back.

He couldn't have that.

A/N: It's been a while. Apologies. Writing has been a difficult task over the past few weeks because lab reports and final exams are the only things I've actually been writing. I'm trying to keep up the realism with Mori/Hana's careers before diving into the emotional aspect of their lives. Relationships (and careers!) are difficult to write realistically, especially at the age where I'm at. So many things to consider, so many options to navigate. I don't know - life is just... hard, haha.

Thank you for being patient with my updates, with this pairing, with the slow pace. There are reasons for this (over on my tumblr, if you're so inclined to read about it). I hope I'm not frustrating you all who were expecting more romance. (But you made it this far, and I'm incredibly grateful.)

I promise things will pick up in the next chapter. I'm trying my best to write as much as I can before my next term of uni begins.