a/n: This part is finally here and I'm so proud because it's lengthy and has substance! Recall the 'déjà vu' line and how Mutsu felt gravitated to Sakamoto for some reason in the other part. Also remember Fumiko from the Renho arc? Honestly, the structure is different from the first chapter as it pieces scenes from a few days and then tapering off to a singular event. It gets deep for a minute there. This is un-beta'd, may edit one day. Happy reading!

The bristles on the toothbrush begin to wear down after its third week and Mutsu makes a mental note to drop by the convenience store for a new, purple one. Last month, she bought a blue one, and the freshness of June weathered her down to soldier on with tradition in the form of a purple toothbrush.

The order is, without fail for 20 years, red, blue, purple. The smallest details she could control. Never mind that Tatsuma swung by her office after hours, after previously stopping by to drop off additional documents. Homework for Monday.

While Tatsuma was a tentative, potential permanent colleague, she never could predict his whimsical ideas.

He laughed at her "clinically characteristic but charming" office space of a succulent, paperweight, and pen holder on her desk, a potted fern by the door, and her bag, the keychain far from being a negligible accessory.

"I expected nothing less from you," he finished guffawing, swiping his thumbs under his eyes to catch the tears. More seriously but never losing his usual blitheness, "It's Ballin' Wednesday!I thought it'd be fun to go out for some shots at The Hub since it's Wednesday."

"Wednesday has nothing to do with getting drunk though."

"Not if it's 100 yen Highball night!"

Aside from Mutsu's personal beliefs on how that should be downright illegal considering the drunken repercussions the police and late-night pedestrians would have to deal with, she decided to go.

Looking up from her bathroom mirror, placing her toothbrush where it belongs, and flopping on her bed, one would think her day is complete.

That is until her phone buzzes on cue.

When Tatsuma said he would text her later after their early evening round of drinks, she hadn't expected it at 12am. She unlocks her lock screen and her groggy vision makes out a string of images and keyboard mashing gibberish conveying nothing except the obvious fact that he was, inexplicably, drunk.

She wants to smack a hand on her forehead at his idiocy. So the moron went out and drank some more after they had their round of social drinking? Unbelievable.

It buzzes again. She turns off the vibrating option on her phone, and while her finger hovers over the 'mute conversation' lettering over his name, she doesn't press down.

Instead, she reads on.

Sakamoto Tatsuma, 12:01am: Mutsufhsbjsf I had too MUCH to DRINK I swear Zura's gonna replace me with a penguin cosplayer!qqws111

"Uhhh, who?" She feels her body lean more onto the hand on the counter. At the same time, Fumiko's name appears at the top, and Mutsu purposefully waits for her text notification to disappear.

Sakamoto Tatsuma, 12:01am: 11111111qaqsqhwbdsjwqd diahdw 111 !

At this point, it's safe to assume that he's too stoned to read his own texts, so she dials his number. He picks up right away and wastes no time slurring.

"Wazzup, Mutsu?"

Definitely inebriated.

"So, Tatsuma, found even more time to text your colleague while going for another round of drinks without me, huh?"

"Nooo! I didn't mean ta' It's all Zura's fault!"

The audio on his end muffles and fizzles as though the phone dropped against something hard. Moments later, he picks it back up again, panting about he'll kill his roommate over someone named Elizabeth and how much he needed to stop eavesdropping on his phone conversations. Inwardly, Mutsu thought, But you were practically yelling into the phone in a public spot…

By the time his tirade ended, Mutsu sighs, feeling sleep grip her. "Tatsuma, please stop texting me strange things at midnight."

It's safe to say, even if he ambushed her after work, this was a weekly occurrence. For the past three weeks, thrice a week. According to Zura, someone she ironically has only ever texted via Sakamoto's phone, he goes on texting surges because 'at times, he can't even handle himself'.

"Aww, but it was a beautiful sight! Did you see all of my photos?"

"You sent a dozen selfies of you laughing," her thumb scrolls up the past texts from 11pm to check if there was anything beautiful about it. There isn't. "And then by 11:30, you were crying over a lady with a Bitch bag."

"Ahahaha! Indeed, a man in his most vulnerable is beautiful, right, Mutsu? Especially after a cold rejection, ahahaa! Ahaha!" There's a vague choking sound and sniffle from his end of the line.

Did she just…hit a nerve? What? Mutsu stares at the white screen against the stark black of her bedroom.

She plops back onto her pillow, her finger an inch away from pressing the red 'end' button. White papers staring up at her in her peripherals reminds her of another errand tomorrow, for better or for worse, still involving Tatsuma.

Purely for her company and his benefit, obviously.

His dragged out sigh brings her back to the present moment and she frowns at the reality: waking up in a short few hours. "It was such a quality Bitch bag…you know, my mom owns one, maybe that's why–"

"I'm tired. Don't text me again unless it's urgent."

Tucking herself in the covers, Mutsu tries to push away the thoughts about work tomorrow and drunken men from her brain, pretending that her mattress wasn't hard or her hair too wet, that everything was still and at peace.

Strangely, the phone call helped her fall asleep quicker than usual.

Mutsu wakes up the next morning in a mood and with the dying urge to get shit done. She feels it in her dry throat and stiff arm, operating without coffee was never her prime.

Before her supposed lunch break that day, she gulps a double espresso from the faded coffee maker and chucks the Styrofoam cup on her way to entering her colleague's office.

Staring at his lazy gaze and disinterested frown lines entirely too absorbed in the wrapped sandwich in front of him, Mutsu realizes that a single espresso did not prepare her for this conversation.

"I can't believe the store ended their sale five minutes before I paid, piece of shit bread and their shit cheese…" he angrily unwraps it, not even acknowledging her formal greeting or outright presence.

Her grin twitches and fades. In a few words, working with Sakata Gintoki is a balancing act between "it was a pleasure, thank you for your insight," and "I know you're half-assing your proposals, get it together, if you please," the 'please' added in afterthought and afterthought alone.

Because sincerely, the man refuses to take work seriously when she needed him to.

It's half past one and while she's skimping on her sad, convenience store-bought lunch, her colleague dines like he hasn't eaten in ages, her papers from this morning haphazardly tossed aside. From across his light wooded desk, scattered with fine print papers and his homemade sandwich at the forefront, he chews into the ham and cucumber, white bread and cheese of his lunch. With each passing second, his jaw crunches louder and more audible. A grating against a professional's ears. Most definitely it's the cucumbers.

Yeah, indubitably, she is leaning towards the latter option. A late sign off on their plans is normal but complete, unacknowledged phone calls and appointments wring Mutsu's pride.

No amount of calming visuals and breathing exercises could exorcise her impatience, but then, the glimmer of glass on the edge of his desk angles perfectly for her eyes to spot. Mutsu has to glance at his framed photo of his curly locks caught between the monstrous grip of a red-headed child–Kagura, if Mutsu recalls her timeless, tomboyish feminity correctly–to steel effectively herself against her colleague's munching.

"Sakata, I really need your opinion in closing the Kaientai partnership," she enunciates each syllable with a finger puncture to the Birchwood desk, far less seething than a moment ago. "Onohara will decapitate us both, maybe even fiddle with our bonuses, and we can kiss our first Friday drinking rituals goodbye. So, if you will."

"Hey," he stops eating his lunch to bother frowning, "you bailed on me last time for Tatsuma, a fucking clown."

He isn't wrong, but she didn't like the window of opportunity he's dancing around before he flings open a storm of his crappy opinions to whip her in the face. It was a simple get together at a different bar because it so happened he lived in Tokyo, not Nagoya, because he dealt with their side offices here, and the man hit on enough girls for Mutsu to count on one hand, inebriated and sober. So no thanks, Mutsu steels herself further, I'd very much like to not entertain high schooler taunts. Mutsu pushes her papers, all clipped and stacked cleanly, further towards him. It boots his sandwich wrapping onto his lap and he glares at her as though she uttered blasphemy to his religion.

"Who is, in fact, part of Kaientai Corporation. We need their Nagoya port for expediting our technology and frankly, he's silly, but he knows his priorities unlike a certain moron eating a sandwich instead of signing our project off."

"That's because you're hounding me during my lunch break!" His voice pitches an octave and Mutsu now understands how Tatsuma and Sakata got along easily, immediate impressions aside. Hysterical, he continues, "Leave me alone! I wanted to catch up on the last season of Dragon Ball Super until your workaholic ass attacked me!"

"Do you know how lame you sound right about now?" She wrests his sandwich from his hands and despite the potential crime scene about to go down, Sakata clenches his empty fist, and leans in his chair, blowing a loud sigh. Mutsu urges a pen against his closed hand.

"Is there a reason you're so against their brand?" She doesn't realize her mouth twitch in sync with her fingers once she says it.

Finally, after another long breath is released, Sakata accepts the pen and his sloppy signature transfers onto the necessary lines. It's skimpy in length but thick in ink blotting. She sighs in relief–finally.

However, it's fleeting.

When he looks up, Mutsu narrows her eyes at the suspicious smirk blooming at the edges of his mouth. She's spent far too many Fridays with her co-worker and babysitting his adoptive daughter (on the days the Shimuras couldn't of course) back in the day when they weren't on equal footing, to realize he's playing a hand.

Mutsu starts to formulate a taunt, to verbally prod and probe for a bluff somewhere but his level, knowing eyes give her pause.

"I'm not," he says, setting the pen back into her palm, "it's just fun watching you so whipped for that idiot's brand if you know what I mean."

"Excuse me? Are you –are you kidding?"

"C'mon, Mutsu, you can't really want me to sign off on all of this for this start-up company. It's my guy Sakamoto's disarmingly annoying teeth that reel a kickass lady in, not his port!"

She scrutinizes Gintoki for a beat longer to confirm if he means it. Indeed, there's been wingman moments before, but if her silver-haired colleague had any sense, considering his friendship with both parties, he'd eat his words. Rather, he'll quit butting his nose in matters that didn't require his observations. He could get extreme with those.

"I'm not going to dignify your overzealous fanfiction with an answer," she gathers the papers with her free hand and still clutches his oily sandwich with the other. It's understandable for the upset for bailing on their social outing but accusing her of something so unprofessional is…is…

Mutsu stands and as if fully waking up from his high-horse daydreams, Sakata stands too, gestulicating to his lunch.

"Wait, wait, wait, Kaien," he's sweating profusely, his smile just as watery. "Hand over the delicious hostage you got there at least, pretty super please!"

She ignores him, her foot halfway out the door. Mutsu turns to flash a dazzling smile.

"Sorry. It's trash," she says matter-of-factly. And then she drops it in the trash receptacle by the door.

Later, as she keeps to the dry, grey, domineering walls of the HR department, hugs them with the edge of her loafers as she skirts around the bustle of the middle path, her throat is desiccated by a long day of work which mostly involved tracking Sakata down. Now that she's succeeded and wrapped up her side project and confirmed the crunched numbers as sound, Mutsu finds the nearest water cooler and swallows a cold cup in a gulp.

Mutsu smells the orange blossom at her side, barely needing to catch sight of the painted lips and auburn locks to mentally prepare herself for whatever bizarre dialogue about to go down.

"Fumiko, what is it that you need?"

"Sex. Lots and lots of sex," Mutsu chokes on what remaining water she swallowed. She glares as Fumiko twirls around theatrically, brushing her wavy hair back with an air of perfume tickling Mutsu's nose more than she wanted. "Foreplay, penetration, you know the works."

"Why are you here again? Please keep the conversation relevant to me." While her colleague's trysts are no secret, Mutsu prefers to pretend it was exactly that.

The older woman's eyes widen for a moment and then Fumiko goes in for a wink and nudge of Mutsu's shoulder.

"Who says it's not relevant to you?"

Out of the corner of her eye, Mutsu swears one of the younger co-workers' nose bled at the oozing sexuality her colleague liked to show off.

Politely shrugging Fumiko's touch, Mutsu forces a beam as she turns on her heel. "I'm leaving."

"No, no! Wait, it's about Eren again!"

Mutsu pinches the bridge of her nose; she should've seen this coming. During the times she's conceded to lunch outings with Fumiko, it's impossible to deny their friendly acquaintance-ship built around despising Onohara and occasional office gossip Fumiko shamelessly shared. Eventually, their conversation topics shifted to her ex Eren and his former deadbeat, amusement-park career before he moved on to bigger things, leaving her behind the second his life got better.

"Well, there goes any chance of passing the bechdel test."

"Oh please, you never gave that much of a damn about that." Her eyes are bright, full of desperation for companionship. "So can you talk?"

"No," when she sees Fumiko's face fall, Mutsu cuts off what she knows to be an expected begging fiasco full of sniffles and waterworks, "but I can talk after work. I just got out of my lunch break and Onohara won't appreciate it if I extended it."

"Great! Let's go to this restaurant I keep hearing raving reviews about–all for ramen and soba, can you believe that?"

If Mutsu would experience a night listening to the same love life rant about the same guy for the millionth time, the restaurant had better be worth it.

The wafts of steaming noodles are undeniably mouth-watering. A long day of working out the finalization of their company's partnership with the Kaientai, Mutsu craves nothing more than stuffing a bowl of ramen or two in a single sitting. Fumiko's scolding be damned.

"Here, here!" A porcelain hand shoots up, an overdone smile plastered across her face.

Mutsu then listens and listens as the words mesh together and sound like gibberish until Fumiko confesses to drinking one too many cups of sake and excuses herself to the bathroom. At the same time a dark-haired man emerges from the kitchen, scolding a very hairy legged man, Mutsu realizes the rest is…

Her lips loosen and mind worn from listening to her co-worker, she shamelessly marveled. "Holy shit…he wasn't kidding about a penguin cosplayer."

The penguin stopped in his tracks and held up a sign. 'I'm not a cosplayer, lady.'

"I'm repeating what I was told."

'Are you here with Fumiko to spy on me?'

"I've only heard about you from Tatsuma and his roommate. When they said Kotaro's cosplayer pal did something, I incorrectly assumed it was a hobby over a way of life."

'So you're Tatsuma's lady?' Before she could correct him, the penguin bowed shortly with a new scribble on the sign. 'My apologies. I'm Elizabeth.'

"Kaien Mutsu."

"Eren, you bastard, get away from Mutsu!" In a dramatic flip of her auburn hair and wrenching Mutsu from her seat in misplaced heroism from her ex, she rounds on Mutsu as though she were partly to blame "You made contact with the enemy and didn't tell me?"

"I–"

Elizabeth raises another sign. 'I thought you said you never heard of me from her?'

"…so you're saying you've been in an on-and-off relationship with this man named, 'Elizabeth', but you decided to nickname him after that spineless boy in Attack on Titan?" Mutsu crossed her arms and quirked a brow at Fumiko. "Believe me now?"

'Any side away from her, I'm on,' the penguin responds.

"Alright, alright, fine," says Fumiko.

Tatsuma waltzes in immediately hitting on a woman a handful of years his junior calling her "sweetness" and that is how she realizes he's there. How was a coincidence of this magnitude possible? It would explain why I felt like I've seen him before, she ponders, eyes subconsciously following the light shining on her silver keychain.

As the possibilities congeal in her head, he takes a seat at the food bar and starts animatedly gesturing to the owner like an old friend with far less flirtation. A moment later, a dark-haired man washing a bowl, dripping suds and water everywhere, tries to spook the owner when he slips. Tatsuma wheezes like he usually does when a non-mutual, hysterical misfortune happens to another friend.

Mutsu notices she laughs at the same time as Elizabeth. Curiously, she peers at him; she wasn't sure if he spoke at all, but here they were, laughing at the owner's presumed lover misery.

"Oh, Elizabeth, there ya are–MUTSU?!"

He jolts, electrified and jubilant, leaping from his chair to give her a high five. Elizabeth grumbles to himself, again the only words she's heard from her, really, and takes out a cigarette and leaves for a smoke. It's a shocking situation, but with Tasuma charging at her, words flying out of his mouth and arm wrapped around her shoulders, she has no time to comment on it. All she can do is simply adjust and let it be.

She's suddenly thankful that Fumiko left her and Elizabeth in their awkward, one-sided, audible conversation wherein she avoided complaining about witnessing an unnecessary altercation between the two ex-lovers, ending in her co-worker covered in snot and tears. If Fumiko were present, she'd never hear the end of it at work; it's enough to hear it from Sakata, but a female friend?

So help her, the gun tucked away in her safe at home would be very tempted to be broken open.

Excitedly, Tatsuma introduces Ikumatsu and Katsura to her, and she's shocked to see the same man she roasted over text on his love life showing off a successful one, when Katsura supplies that it was new, though not without defensively salvaging his honor when Ikumatsu pointedly adds the part to the story where he tried to distance himself from her.

It's a compelling story, and admittedly, especially so coming from one of Tatsuma's friends, from his infamous roommate, no less.

Later, she runs into another familiar face by happenstance when Kagura and a sandy-haired boy come in for what Mutsu suspects is a date. The younger female lights up in recognition of everyone and greets Mutsu first, pulling her into her signature bear hugs; she knows this because whenever she sees Otae or Tsukky she bundles them up in a similar bone-crushing show of affection typical of Kagura.

After exchanging small talk and rapid-fire gossip about Gintoki, Tatsuma and Zura even joining in on the fun (just how many people were sick of the man?) –they enjoyed obtaining new work-only or home-only information whenever possible to hold over his head in their individual situations–her companion nudged her on the shoulder as Ikumatsu handed him a hefty plastic bag with their dinner.

"China girl, we're going to have to hurry if we want to make it for Soyo's recital."

She swatted him away but shouldered on her coat on all the same. "Don't rush me, Sadist, I'm collecting very valuable information." Kagura ignores the eye roll her boyfriend(?) gives her as she starts for the door, waving enthusiastically. "Now, Mutsu, have fun flirting this idiot! Don't worry, Gin-chan told me all about it!"

Zura starts cracking up, Ikumatsu shushes him, Tatsuma raises his brows, and Mutsu sighs. It is as if since her work life relished in reprieve, her personal life necessitated imaginary, romantic drama.

"What is with the Sakatas?"

"I dunno, the idea of you flirting with me is rather entertaining," Tatsuma slides closer to her but with respectful space left, chin resting on his palm. "Besides, the idea's not all that arbitrary, considering you're a pretty face and I'm handsome."

"So your idea of romance is based on a couple's aestheticism? I didn't peg you for the western, Oscar Wilde enthusiast, 'art for art's sake' seems random to me."

"While The Importance of Being Ernest is the funniest shit the Brits ever came up with, Banana Yoshimoto's an unexpected favorite."

She pauses as she absorbs the information. "Didn't think you were into magical realism."

He smiles, waving his confession away and continues his point. "Now, take Zura and Ikumatsu for example. Dark hair, blonde hair. Kagura and her new boy toy: striking red, plain straw blond."

"So apply that to us," Mutsu gestures between them, "you're shithead brunette and I'm more Mother Nature brunette."

"Is this your guys' weird way of flirting? This is even worse than Tsukuyo-dono and Gintoki, to be honest."

Eyeing the sake and resigning to her urges, she beckons Ikumatsu to pour more. "I should take a shot every time someone mistakes us for flirting?"

"Maybe I am flirting with you," Tatsuma says. "Maybe it's no mistake.

She laughed, mostly because she didn't know what else to say, and shoved him a filled cup.

Tatsuma, upon Ikumatsu's insistence, walks her home. But her toothbrush took precedence and stumbling drunk into a 24-hour store isn't the prettiest picture because all she can feel is irrevocably bummed out that they ran out of purple.

"These assholes don't have purple," she grumbles as she places her purchase on the counter, the man across all-watery smiles as she slides the coins on the counter. "Hey, don't look so afraid."

"You can start by lowering your voice," Tatsuma offers, evidently beating her to soberness. She didn't think she was yelling; she rarely shouted unless it was warranted, but as he apologizes profusely to the man, sunglasses off his face, Mutsu realizes that she's in for a confusing walk home.

And prophecy becomes reality when she starts rambling about how she's angry over a blue toothbrush instead of a purple toothbrush and she finds herself relating it to the blue sweatshirts and keychain at the airport, accusing Tatsuma for being another detail unaccounted for that day.

"Aw, I wasn't too horrible to ya, I don't think."

"No!" This time, she realizes she's shouting and forces herself to relax. At the very least, she's able to catch herself. Perhaps those drinks were wearing off, albeit on snail time. "Not at all. I mean, a weirdo and dork, sure–"

"Slightly drunk Mutsu is just Mutsu to the one hundredth exponent and I'm kind of glad you didn't unleash this when we went to Ballin' Wednesday."

"I said," this time her intonation is on purpose, "You were strange but it was for the best anyway because I work with you now."

"Yes and because I know how to have a good time," Tatsuma chuckles and then shrugs. "Besides, I'm glad I ran into you, it had been awhile since I saw you."

"What, because my dad's a runaway debtor and blacklisted in the business world?"

He raises a brow and frankly, she can hardly believe she brought it up herself.

"Kaien," Tatsuma says it slowly like he's drinking the words themselves. It's the way he pronounces it, emphasizes the concise syllables, that Tatsuma's decided to excavate a long-exposed skeleton of hers she uncovered. "He's quite the scum. Pictures of you would be pulled up in the news when it came to light that you would take up business."

When in actuality, it is no secret, to the public, even. But she likes to think she can pretend, at least, with people who don't know her much. To him.

The low lights of the light posts illuminate the way. It does nothing to ease the chill or rush circulating her body, propelling her forward.

She doesn't like it at all. It twists a knot she recently feels in her gut. Crestfallen feels all too real of a description if she let her chest tighten with every string pulsating and hacking away blood flow to her feature. Because it's still, so very still, but her hand twitches more than she can control.

Tatsuma breathes out, long. "That's not right for anyone ta bring that up, ain't that right? Some asshole I am, telling you what you already know."

"It's okay," she tells him a little faster than she intends. Without thinking it through, she finds herself amending it to clear the hesitation from his brow. "We can talk about it."

Unexpectedly, he pulls his body in reaction. "Wait, what do you mean by 'it'?"

"Well, what does anyone mean by 'it'?"

"Ohh, the movie by Stephen King with the clowns!"

"No!" She facepalms and rubs her temples–just how deep does his obliviousness run? And how far does copyright extend in fanfiction?

"Mutsu, you know me by now!" He throws his hands into the air, at a loss. "You gotta spell these things out for me!"

"All the shady, skimming, embezzlement frauds a shitty father ran away from. How it makes me angry but I had to suck it up because I had an already predestined future ruined by his sorry..." The next instant after, she slaps a pale, pale, paling palm over her mouth. She presses against it like any more stupid ideas verbalize faster than her brain can acknowledge will leak through the cracks.

Know when to be quiet and do what you have to, she berates herself, in a mental tone that takes her maturity up a few notches but her age pegged back down to her childhood.

He coughs into a curled-up hand. "Here, let's stop here."

Interestingly, he too has a nervous tic. His is opening and closing his fist to the rhytmn of what must be his chest. Or maybe she's just projecting.

"Aren't you going to say something? A snarky comment about daddy issues?" She snaps as she leans her back against the wall.

"Not really," he stares forwardly and lets out a low laugh. When he feels the brunt of her glare, he holds his hands up to placate, "I wasn't laughing at you, I wasn't laughing at you I swear!"

Mutsu harumphs, arms locked across her chest like a spell to ward him away. "You're such a blockhead."

"Boy do I know it! Ahahah!" Meekly, he continues, "Actually, I was thinking about the other thing I meant to bring up. It wasn't really about your dad. More like how I met a Kaien daughter when she was 16 but it wasn't the best of times for her, so she probably forgot about me."

"What're you babbling on about?"

He sighs into the night, the cool, spring humidity suddenly feeling more of a spark to a match more than anything. Mutsu scrutinizes him longer than she knows is appropriate, searching for any of his usual tics, his giveaways in the brow or in the upturn of the mouth.

But there's none.

"Aww, you really think you're going to find answers without asking, first? Sheesh, how rude. I'm saying that…" The air hangs between them, silent as him until he exhales like he's never felt his lungs feel so relieved. "We've met before."

There's another beat that magnetizes Mutsu forward, rocking on the balls of her feet, arms untangling to rest at her sides. But her face does not shift, it eases.

"Is this some ill-timed prank? Because It's not funny."

His face reads exactly what he's grumbling to himsef: Actually, you're being so deadpan and dead serious that it's not even funny! Am I that cruel to you, Mutsuuu?!

Safe to say, he's sweating bullets when he has no reason to be. She's simply asking.

"No! Nonono, why would I lie about this?"

She raises a palm for her to cheek to lean on, her other arm's elbow supporting her conscientious look. After a heartbeat, Mutsu half-turns, her profile revealing two-thirds of her to him. "I suppose you were nothing remarkable then."

In between a somber chuckle and half-moon of a grin, Sakamoto shrugs. "I'd like to consider myself unforgettably handsome and clever, but yeah," his index finger meets his thumb in a ridiculous 'OK' gesture. "Back then, I was annoying as hell, so I can let it slide just this once."

She contemplates this, a hand tucked underneath her chin before she fully faces him. "This explains the keychain thing…" She continues but leaves her ruminations on the 'keychain thing' to herself. He appears to stop himself from asking when she sees a tiny smile quirk on her face. "Thank you then. I actually do remember something kind from you, you've always given me that feeling that you had more to you."

Her childhood is murky save for turning points in her family and academia, but at least, out of all of the roughness that her father brought to her name, he remembers her not by familial misdeeds but by his efforts to give her a better day. Not an amazing one, but a simplistic one a kind acquaintance at a party could give. He's genuine when he nudges her elbow gently, other hand tucked away in a pocket; he's at ease at last and the contact travels in their contact, switching on the warmth she seemed to be warding away all night.

"Aw, I give you feelings, huh?"

"Don't push your luck, Tatsuma."

He shrugs, not because he needed to brush it off–he was long-adjusted to her scoldings and they both find comfort in that, that they mean well in their individualistic ways. Tatsuma pushes off the wall and then they're off, they arrive at her place at long last, and she begins her bid goodbye when Tatsuma beats her to it, shoulders abnormally high, as though he were talking to the head of a company instead of his usual jocular, will-hit-on-you-for-the-hell-of-it attitude. This side to him suggests something more, what he tries to hide, and though Mutsu has felt it underlying everything he does, his uncertainty shows in his seemingly laid-back confident attitude.

But he is the picture of serious and sincere and so, she lets him talk.

"Yoshimoto's a secret favorite of mine because I found her book in my mom's things. It's called Kitchen. Remember how I told you my parents were always away? Wasn't always work. My dad remarried and became busy with his new wife, that's why. My mom died because, well, leukemia six months before he got married again. I was nine. And I thought to myself, how is there great loss with love? Mikage, the main character, ends up finding friends to lean on, to heal. And eventually, when I put myself out there with my leadership camps and meeting so many people, I multiplied love in different forms, through making other people smile and giving them what they came for. Because as a kid, I was home and it was like, if my dad came home, I wasn't what he came for.

"I know magical reason is all about dreams and escaping, maybe it's not masculine to enjoy it, but the sentiment that someone understood loneliness and put it into words fascinated me. Sorry, I know you didn't ask for my story, but I needed to say it so you'd feel better in the morning after spilling your guts to me about your dad," he chuckles at that and finally meets her gaze. He is striking in the night. "Besides, I didn't mind telling you because I know you'd get it."

Mutsu lets herself smile and holds the bag with her blue toothbrush closer. He's really an unaccounted for detail and she couldn't find herself more impressed by him, by his ambition, his motivations. It's admirable, inspiring, real. A night that began with listening to Fumiko's failed love life metamorphoses for the better, opening two people up who needed it, to see a new light to it all.

"Thank you for telling me. I knew you'd get it, too."

There's a second where she thinks this it it, this is where the magical realism spell dispels, and the light coming from her apartment complex that seems brighter and luminous will finally dim and reveal the ending of the day.

But then he speaks, and it isn't over yet.

"Forget magical realism, Mutsu. There's an art gallery event, a nonprofit thing, but let's just call it more of my aestheticism showing," he tries not to deflate at her head tilt, but he continues anyway as if he were completely confident in whatever her response would be for the next part. She admires his tenacity all the same. "Would you want to go with me? As people who tolerate each other and need some aesthetic on their arm."

He doesn't even wiggle his brows.

Mutsu considers him for a full minute, perhaps debating between remarking on his overconfidence or the meaning of his invitation when she says something so surprising, he almost trips: she says yes.

Sakata Gintoki (Work) 11:18am: ?!

Mutsu groans. She was about to text him about their department meeting next week, their message history opened and her fingers over the phone keyboard, but alas there is no escaping the 'read' receipts and the inevitable confrontation. In retrospect, she could have avoided it altogether if she told Tatsuma 'no', but then…

Then it'd be a detail she didn't control; she'd had to have held back from what she wanted to say. And she went and said it.

No take backs and that meant dealing with Sakata.

Sakata Gintoki (Work) 11:20am: YOU SAID YES TO A DATE WITH TATSUMA

Sakata Gintoki (Work) 11:22am: I TOLD YOUR BITCH ASS YOU WERE IN LOVE WITH HIM

Sakata Gintoki (Work) 11:23am: BUY ME A NEW SANDWICH PAY UP

Mutsu, 11:24am: Wtf? You're getting nothing.

Mutsu, 11:24am: Do you boys have a Discord you gossip in or something? It's none of your business

To herself, she shakes her head at Sakata's diction–it's simply too soon. But then she remembers the leverage delivered to her before she left the restaurant when she ran into a reliable information source.

Mutsu, 11:25am: I'm not the one in love here, you and your sorry ass can't even get the balls to ask Tsukky out and how long has it been?

Mutsu, 11:26am: it's been years and still you just screenshot photos off of her facebook instead of just getting your fix by manning up.

Sakata Gintoki (Work), 11:27am: …

Sakata Gintoki (Work), 11:27am: god DAMMIT, Kagura told you, didn't she?

Mutsu, 11:28am: Met her while she was on a date herself with her school's kendo president. Even your daughter's got more game than you. I feel sorry for you.

Sakata Gintoki (Work), 11:29am: Uncle. Hate that kid. The bratty sadist president, not my kagura.

Sakata Gintoki (Work), 11:30am: Anyway, please consider eating my ass good night this conversation is over

a/n: This took so many 2am nights to complete. Thank you to the lovely guest reviewers, how could you not leave me an account so I could profusely thank you personally, it touched me that I got their chemistry down according to 'LILFOC' and that 'Guest' told me that they're "Looking forward to anything else you may write, whatever the fandom", how incredibly sweet of you! The support from you guys is appreciated!

I want to know your thoughts, leave a review and let me know!