A/N: Came fast, didn't it? The next chapter. Well, only because I have the last days of my leave so I can write. Enjoy it while it still lasts, looool. Thank you for the reviews, the time and the comments dears. You're all amazing. Love you so much.
Now, I know this story could be considered a little dark, but you know, I think people in jobs such as these really go through hard times and seeking help is never shameful; if anything, it should be the norm. There's still stigma surrounding it where I live, though thankfully nothing compared to what it was. No matter, I also think if Saitou lived in this day and age he would definitely have these issues; it's no longer the norm to have people die left and right and death is a much smaller part of our society, not as rampant as it was. Yes, progress!
Anyway, forget about all that; have a fun day, sweeties and hope this helps.
Beta'd by Error205. Many thanks to her.
Title: The right accidents.
Genre: Romance, Angst(kind of)
Alternative Universe: Modernday, One Night Stand
Once Hajime came to the conclusion of what he wanted to do, as well as why, his visits frequented. From one week, to two times a week, to, as of now, every other night and that last night he stayed,marked three months plus change. Three entire months of this and for some unfathomable reason, she still humoured him. He still didn't even call before showing up at her doorstep, but that posed no serious problem, other than he made the trip to the other side of town for no reason a couple of times, but who cared. What truly worried him was his slowly, but certainly increasing shame but most of all guilt, for his treatment of her that he always suppressed in the end and left unaddressed.
At the same time, he worried about her getting attached. She was fun, loving and caring; they never had a conversation about their status-quo and she perceived him to be invested. She gave no signs – at least not any that he could pick up on – of that, but since they never had the discussion, it felt like it was up in there; he showed up, they had a good time, he stayed the night. Next morning he was off to work. To him, this was a no-feeling type of thing, but not in the sense he felt nothing for her, but he in so he visited her in order to forget them: feelings, cases, obligations, everything. She was his little slice of heaven, amidst the hellscape his life was.
Basically, he had no idea what they were and he prayed she never brought it up because he'd have nothing to tell her.
Maybe that was why he told no one about her, not a soul. Having detectives for friends didn't make it easy to keep this a secret, but thankfully the only one he actually had to fear of finding out was Okita, because they worked together and the rest he didn't see as much. He had suspected something was different about him, but he could not possibly guess that it was anywhere near this.
Naturally, if something went good for him, it never lasted. He was never that lucky. The first worrying incident took place on a Thursday. Although she could never be sure he'd drop by, but being the smart woman that she was, she'd figured out his preferred days and Thursday was maybe his favourite. So, not only was she always home on Thursday evenings, she had something fun prepared for him: a special wine, a special food, another type of special treat...or, this Thursday, a reality check.
He'd rang the bell, per usual, and waited for her to answer. He hated, actually hated the rest of the people that lived in this building, whenever he met them on the stairs or the elevator, so he had made a point to be more than proper while not in her house...so at least he had that going for him, the perfect poker face, otherwise this would have been far more painful and awkward when the door opened and instead of the short woman, a man stood behind it.
What? He blinked; he hadn't seen double, or a vision. He swallowed. What?
"Good evening," the stranger greeted him politely, his voice smoother than he'd have liked any man's around her to be, especially when he wasn't there. "How can I help?"
A shot of electricity went through his body and Hajime felt like he was stuck on the ground. Look at that smile, that courtesy...it rubbed him a very, very wrong way; all he had to offer him in return was a cold smile that lasted barely a second and even that was too much. "Right back at you."
He proceeded to take a closer look at the man, just then, mind running a mile per second. Saitou was taller than him and more imposing...but that's where the comparison stopped being in his favour. This man was handsome and his posture was very good; the way he stood at the door screamed ownership. He was actually older than him, too, which was a little jarring—maybe thirty five, thirty seven; Tokio was only thirty, he remembered that much.
"Hello!"
Just as the standoff was coming to a peak, Tokio appeared in the background, running to the door from her bedroom. Her bedroom? Suspicious. His eyes immediately scanned the man in front of him, but he deemed all to be in order: tie loose around his neck but still tied, a couple of buttons undone on his shirt's collar and black slacks. No man ever, who has had sex does he put the tie on again after; so whatever reason she had to be there, it was not because they were intimate.
That calmed him down for a second, until he realised, another second later, this man didn't have to be intimate with her tonight for them to have such a relationship and he almost growled at her. "Hi Hajime, how are you?" She then proceeded to reprimand her guest huffily. "What do I always tell you? It's the host who opens the door for guests, not other guests, even if I was momentarily busy." She squeezed between the stranger and the wood, to finally get a proper look at Saitou. "I'm sorry about him," and her look told him he was not even supposed to be there right now and she was sorry for that as well "please, come inside."
Assessing her, he found her clothes were no different than usual, so he could not guess why she was there, yet. Taking off his shoes, he noticed how the other man's were a very expensive, pristine condition yet everyday pair that maybe costed more than he made this week. Who, kept being in his space, watching him, with a belligerent smile, knowing exactly the effect he had on this new guest. To his dismay, when he finally moved to the living room, he noticed his fine shoes matched his clothes; he glimpsed a tailored blue jacket resting on the back of a chair, carefully put to avoid all creases; his shirt looked like it was made of the finest thread while the brand the tie was purchased from was one of the untouchable ones.
Shit.
Upon arriving in the living room, he noticed there were two wine glasses on the table; by the placement alone, he knew which one was hers – the half-empty one – and purposefully took the seat tokiohad occupied—the one next to this offending man. Saitou looked for a wedding ring, but saw none.
Goddamn it.
"Would you at least introduce yourself while I pour a drink for our guest?" she pleaded indignant but the blow to Hajime's ego was too big; our guest? What kind of relationship did they have? A terrible thought went through his mind then, but he decided not to listen to it yet.
"Naturally; I'm Tora, pleased to meet you."
"Saitou."
Tora's hand extended, but Saitou deliberately ignored it, making sure the other man knew. He simply nodded. And yet, not only did he understand the unspoken challenge, not only did he not seem deterred, on the contrary! His smile became a smirk and withdrew the peace offering.
"Don't tell me you're the detective To-chan's been telling me about?"
"Must be," To-chan; did he just call her To-chan? That is ridiculous and degrading "unless you think there are two of us." The fact he never sat down, simply kept hovering over him, could really drive him crazy. In fact, it already was. "What do you do for a living?"
"Ah, I have a very boring job; I'm in business administration, you know how that is. One, two, three, five companies to keep an eye on."
"I wouldn't know; usually you fall under the category of people I arrest."
"Oh, how interesting; To-chan, did you hear," he asked, all enthusiasm and knowing looks Saitou's way "the detective says he's arrested business men! Do you think that annoying Gyoro could be one of them?"
Just then, Tokio emerged from the kitchen with a tray in her hands that held a whiskey glass and snacks. She snorted at the notion. "Please! That snake's a dirty dealer, not a murderer; Hajime deals with violent crimes exclusively."
"Oh, I see. How sad."
Hajime moved to relieve her of her load instantly, but once he did, that allowed this...clown, to stop her from sitting down next to him, by pulling her in a one-armed hug and keeping her there, hand casually over her shoulders. She didn't look all that comfortable but she most certainly was used to his antics because she didn't fight him at all and that made Saitou, for a small second, really feel like he was going to be the perpetrator of a violent crime himself—a punch right in his smug face.
Relax, he advised, don't jump to conclusions. But how could he not when they just stood there like that?
"Anyway, just before you came, we were talking about how this apartment was maybe the best choice for her: plenty of space, light coming in from everywhere, walls to hang her pictures and, of course, rooms for the future. Don't you agree?"
He had to grit his teeth not to swear. "I suppose you're right."
"But it's so far away from where I live, it's inconvenient." Saitou could not hide him smile at his discomfort. "I know! What if we sell it? Get you a near identical one a block away; I saw it being for sale yesterday." that's when Tokio forced him to unhand her, hands on her middle, a tried look on her face. "Don't be like that; I'll be able to keep a closer eye on you like that."
What. The fuck. What the ever loving actual fuck?
His hands squeezed his knees so hard, his bad knee almost kicked out involuntarily from the jolt of electricity he sent it. And to think Tokio was so casual with him, what the hell? She just clicked her tongue at his feeble excuse and his his head.
"Are you for real? This is my house and you ain't selling shit."
His smile became teasing. "I could if I wanted to."
Saitou thought about that; he wanted to hit him and he definitely could. The question was, should he? He turned to his drink. Maybe take a sip; or two; or twenty, to calm his nerves.
"What's the name on the contract?"
"Takagi."
She tapped her foot. "Takagi what?"
"...Tokio."
"Precisely."
"Well, Takagi Tokio, Takagi Tora, who'll notice?"
Saitou chocked on his drink and both turned to look at him; Tokio was alarmed, but when he noticed Tora simply smile wider, he waved them away. "I'm fine. Something got stuck," he coughed, but he could only focus on Tora's smile; Takagi Tora. The smirk finally was revealed to him for what it really was: a teasing smile, designed to incense anyone who didn't know the details. After all, if he hadn't been so self absorbed, he'd remember her brother's name, right?
"Tora, I'm not selling this house; I love it."
"Mum and dad always tried—"
"Leave them out of this and just leave; you were going anyway."
"I was not."
"Leave the man be," Saitou defended him then, a huge weight lifting off of his shoulders.
"The man's been here three hours already; he needs to go."
"Last time I came by was five days ago; five! And I only stayed for like an hour."
"That's not too long," Saitou murmured out loud, but it was only after he said it he realised he shouldn't have. The affront on both their faces was comical. "Fine, it's long; too long."
"Very long," Tora corroborated, satisfied he was a quick study "and it isn't just me. Sister says," he turned to Tokio "why haven't you been over lately? She's upset." Tokio rolled her eyes again but her brother wouldn't let her get away with it. "Says if you don't go there, she'll come instead."
From the way her eyes bulged, he figured that was a bad thing. "No, no, I'll go; tell her I'll go. Monday, I'll be there."
"Fair enough, I think she'll be pleased."
She beamed at him. "And now go."
"Tokio...!"
"Go home," she pat his back "your cute little daughter will worry; she'll be asking where her daddy is."
Oh, he had a daughter; but not a wedding ring? Still, it sounded like he had custody, and if he judged by that stupid smile that suddenly took over his face, he could safely say yes, he was her guardian.
"That's true; she's very cute; and will wonder. She loves me very much," he assured Saitou, who simply nodded "she'll worry."
"And since you never bring her over anymore." Tokio jabbed "at least go be with her. Tch! Almost a month, Tora. I demand to stop this embargo of yours immediately."
"Then maybe negotiate better terms."
They proceeded to stare at one another for a long time, neither giving in; he knew those battles. He had his fair share with both his brother and his sister and he could tell they were arguing about something that has been brought up only a million times by this point. The stalemate came to an end, as she did the underhanded trick: slapped the back of his head. "Idiot. I demand to see my niece."
"Come visit us for once, then."
"...fine. I will."
She preened like a peacock for having won the argument and her brother simply shook his head. "I'm leaving, stupid." She kissed his cheek and in return he hugged her. "Bye To-chan; it was nice meeting you, Saitou-san."
His hand extended again...only this once, Saitou was quick to take it; firm grip, he gave a good shake and Tora couldn't help the knowing look he sent his way that was so on point, he had to look away. The woman realised this must have had some significance but pressured neither to explain the odd behaviour. As far as she was concerned, they got decently along. So, he waited until the door was closed behind them, whence he simply threw himself on the couch, exhausted.
"I'm sorry about him," Tokio apologised once more, coming to sit on her shins, right next to him, feet folded underneath. "He wouldn't leave."
"Does he know about me?"
"He knows...something."
He laughed, relieved. He not only was but acted the part of the protective older brother. He understood. If only he hadn't given him a heart attack once or twice would have been even better. Not that he blamed him. "I understand. I'd probably do the same." He looked at her. "So, you'll be at your sister's on Monday."
"Well, Monday to Thursday morning; she lives in Osaka. That's why I didn't want her coming, she always stays long. And last time she visited, she stayed at brother's so now she'd definitely be coming here."
"You don't want your sister around?"
"Snooping through my things and coming to conclusions and then giving me accurate but completely uncalled for advice? No thanks." He chuckled. "She followed mom's career and became a psychologist so that's pretty much her talent."
"I see." He considered. "Maybe I'll come by tomorrow, too; and Sunday."
"Whatever you want. But you didn't eat anything...!"
"I'm not that hungry right now."
An image had stuck in his brain, when he saw her brother be so casual with her and though, naturally, he had been replaced in his mind's eye, the image remained. The man didn't matter, apparently, only she did; and what the man was doing to her. With her.
So, he put his hands on her waist, bringing her closer, feeling her skin. "Maybe later."
"I'll find that the word you're looking for is after, detective," she teased and earned herself a very aggressive kiss for it.
"You talk too much," he snubbed and this once didn't give her a chance to speak again. She could only sigh, moan, and kiss him.
"Hajime," she started, a couple of hours later.
She could sense that something was bothering him. After they had a bite or two, they went to sleep right away, but even during then he didn't say much. He had appeared pensive ever since her brother was there in fact and she had a feeling it had to do with that but not quite. After she was sure he had his attention, she asked "what's the matter?"
"...why do you think there's something wrong?"
Turning around to look at him, she put her head in her hand. "You feel restless." Proof of his existing problem was the fact he still hadn't fallen asleep; by now, he should have been snoring.
"Why would you think that?" he asked instead of denying or confirming her suspicions.
Her smile became a little awkward. "I can tell." By what, his eyes asked; she shrugged. "There are days and days, you know; this is one of them."
"Days?" She nodded. "Of what?"
"Well, some days you feel better, some you don't."
"What do you mean by that?"
She huffed, visibly uncomfortable with this type of questioning. "If you don't understand, I can't explain it better without sounding inappropriate; is there something on your mind today, Hajime?"
"...yes," he admitted.
Finally, she almost cheered. This man was so stubborn, she swore... "Do you want to tell me what that is? Maybe I can help."
"Tokio, are you seeing anyone?"
That caught her by utter surprise. Her shoulders fell; her head left her chin and she had to actually sit up just to look at him and make him really feel how stupid his question was. "I mean, other than me, are you seeing anyone?"
"I barely have time for you in my schedule, it's been too hectic at work—you're the same. How can you ask me that?"
"But if that wasn't an issue."
She took a good, hard look at him. "What you want to know is very different from what you're asking, though."
"No," he tried to deny, but she wouldn't let him; he sighed "maybe; I don't know. Just answer me."
That image he had tried so hard to erase, did not go away; as if it clang on to something invisible, he worked so hard, so much effort and yet, it did not leave. It returned, the moment he looked at her back, twenty minutes ago. When he put his arms around her, fifteen minutes ago. And when he brought her closer, he had the urge to just squeeze until she melded with him.
Why, was going to be her question, but she could tell, it was an ego thing. Had she been, could she be sleeping around with any other men while being with him? And yet, he didn't look like the unreasonable type. He probably knew if she wanted, she had every right to do so; he never told her anything specific about what he was trying to do with her, where he was getting at, it was only natural. Then again, he never said anything presumptuous; he merely asked a question. A loaded one, but just a question that she goaded out of him, meaning he didn't want to make it, most probably because he knew all of that already.
She took a deep breath; she exhaled. He tensed.
"No, I wouldn't. I'm incredibly, moronically, near-sighted" he ignored her little glare "and only see what's in front of me. And now it's you; and that's enough."
It was gone. Just like that, with only one word from her, the image vanished right in front of his eyes. Ah fuck, this was bad. "Me, too," he admitted unprompted, defeat bitter on his lips. He took her hand then and urged her to lie on his chest.
She giggled. "You are incredibly, moronically near-sighted as well? How delightful."
That's it, that's the thing; she knew what to say and when. She teased but knew when to quit; or start again. She understood. That's why he had been, as much as he feared to even think the word, jealous. He became so viscerally jealous he became borderline violent. That shit's scary—he wasn't the possessive type, nor a child, to feel threatened by someone else. And yet, he did. Because they had no set rules, he tried to console his soul that started vibrating, he wasn't actually getting attached. Which was why once they clarified that at least, he was at ease.
He wasn't falling in love with her; he just needed to know where they were standing. Now he did and the feeling would go away...hopefully.
.
Today was Thursday; last time he had visited was Sunday, as promised and time had passed twice as fast as usual; on the other hand, these four days she was away, time seemed to slow down for him and everything took an exorbitantly amount of time to finish; when he was supposed to get off work that same day—he was nearly buzzing. Okita noticed, naturally – Okita had noticed too many things, actually and had commented on them more than once; and it all had to do with oh how well rested he looked, how he appeared happier lately, but he had easily dismissed him – and asked him about it. He convincingly lied about how he had to help with an errand because his brother's wife needed him there for an ultrasound and despite feeling like a dick for using his future niece or nephew, he still grabbed his coat the moment his paperwork was finished and he could finally go.
He appeared at her doorstep eleven o'clock sharp. Knocked on the door and waited for her to answer. Only this once, she didn't; instead, he heard her voice ask "Hajime is that you?"
"Yes," he replied as clearly as possible.
"Open the door yourself and shut it quickly."
Strange.
She'd never done that before. Well, if she came back later than anticipated, since he never called, she could still be in the shower or something. Shrugging, he did as was told...and was faced with quite the sight. There were no lights overhead or lamps on in the entire house; only candles. Candles everywhere. Tealight scented candles that paved the way from the fall to the bedroom; some on the tables all around; others hang from ornamental wooden structures off the walls and ceiling, others were in their own glass case, scattered as far as his eye could see. Like fairy lights, they guided him to the coveted prize.
There was another sort of pleasant scent that wafted through the house, too and it came from the incense that burnt here and there, relaxing him the more he breathed it in. Relaxation and exhilaration; what a combination.
He stood motionless for a moment, trying to savour all of it. She did go all out for him; he should thank her. And right about now, he had about a hundred ideas on exactly how he should show her the entire extent of his gratitude, one more pleasurable than the next. Confident, he walked to the bathroom, washing his face and hands hurriedly and then, purposefully slow, he reached the bedroom.
There was the centerpiece.
Tokio was lying on the bed seductively, surrounded by seemingly ordinary or random things. She was wearing an unbelievably flattering fuchsia corset; black lace covered it in certain parts, making it tasteful; matching fuchsia ribbons hang from its end, at her hips; the attached garters held in place a set of thigh-high, fishnet socks with a bow on each upper end, in the same colour as the corset. The look was completed with a long, see-through, black kimono which consisted mainly of lace.
"Evening detective." She rubbed her leg on the silk cover once or twice. "Long time no see."
She did nothing to indicate she was going to move...at least not on her own. He loosened his tie and approached as she struck another pose. "I hope you brought your handcuffs with you tonight. We're gonna need them."
He slowly pulled it free and threw it on the floor; equally, tortuously slow, he started undoing his shirt...just to counteract his heart beat. If one person was able to die of anticipation, he would have. His fingers ached to touch her and when he realised what these things – foods mostly – that surrounded her were for, he felt his excitement grow alarmingly.
He was close to the bed now, within reach. She did not allow him to take off his shirt, simply dragged him down. Compliant, he did as she wanted: she sat him against the headboard, then took the black velvet mask on her right and put it over his eyes. Her hands delved between his skin and his shirt as she removed it, something cold touched his back and he jerked. She pushed him back down, chuckling, and assured him it was alright...then he felt it on his chest, slide down his torso.
It was an ice cube.
She purposefully moved it around and whatever trail it left, she licked off. When he tried to help her with removing more articles of clothing, she slapped his hand. "Nah, ah; not yet." He felt her weight on his legs; slowly, it ascended and settled right in his lap. "You just lie there and do as you're told."
The last of the ice cube was melting on his abs and he felt her take whatever was left with her fingers. "Now open wide."
Whatever he bit into was something soft and sweet...it was a strawberry covered in chocolate. She made it so that he made a mess, juices running everywhere, so she could kiss, lick and wipe whatever was left. He licked his own lips and lay back. She must have noticed him twitching then because she giggled.
"You'll get your turn detective, fret not...once I'm satisfied," she purred in his ear and everything about this moment, he wanted to last forever.
This was going to be a long, long, long night, if he had any say in it.
.
.
"Mmm," he murmured, nuzzling her neck "I really like this."
She was still wearing the full get-up, minus the kimono, and they were somewhere between sleep and awake, lying or sitting in her bed, chatting idly. "Really like this," he repeated, hands touching the corset in particular places "the lace here is very nice, too." He felt it between his fingers and it felt coarse; her skin was softer. He opted to touch that.
"Is that so?" she asked, pecking his neck.
He nodded. "The colour is interesting, too, I enjoy it..."
"Is that all you enjoy about it?"
"Mmm?"
"The corset for the sake of beauty?"
If he was any less sleepy, he would have laughed. "Are you maybe expecting a compliment, too?"
"Mmmm, maybe."
He closed his eyes and sniffed; he really loved the way her skin smelt, especially after their scents had mingled like this. "You have excellent taste," he said against her skin and she complained by giving him a light pinch. "Excuse me but what more compliment do you want? We just spent an ungodly amount of time having sex; isn't that enough?"
She shook her head, pouting. "You pride yourself on your stamina."
"I'm still human, woman," he grumbled as he sank into her chest, just breathing her in. She had to laugh, even if it was weak and idle.
"I'll take it..."
Tokio was very perceptive and, in a way, considerate. He'd never outright said it, but he liked these bright in-your-face colours for these occasions. They were more fun and exciting. He hadn't spoken the words, but she found out all on her own. Trial and error, he supposed and appreciated her a bit more. She made quite the effort for someone who didn't even know what he wanted.
"What did sister say this once?"
"Looked me straight in the eye and advised: don't ever let something as stupid as what will people say, stop you from doing what you really feel like doing; the right people won't care and those who care aren't the right people."
"Wise words..." This was nice; this was exactly what he needed. "I missed this," he murmured, not really filtering what came out.
"I figured," she kissed the top of his head "hence all these..." Her smile grew. "I'm glad it worked."
"No, I didn't mean the...well, sex is always good, but that's not what I missed..."
"Oh?"
The words stopped coming. He tried to blink. It was nothing other than genuine curiosity that finally compelled him to reexamine what the hell was coming out of his mouth; that's when he realised he was positively trying to tell her he missed her.
He missed her...? He did, didn't he? Ah fuck; this was very, very bad.
"Never mind," he dismissed her in the end.
"But what did you mean?"
"Just go to sleep..."
"You're always like this," she commented something between joking and serious "whenever you attempt to express any sort of emotion, you think twice and take it back."
"It's too late for this...!"
"It is," she agreed, after her glare almost turned into a squint. "You are such a child," she still found time to complain as she lay down properly. In an effort to stop her, he pulled her in for a hug. "At least you're warm."
Seeing it was October now, the chill bothered her, all the more so after he convinced her to leave one window open for him. He watched as she snuggled up to him, blanket at the ready; once she closed her eyes, she drifted off immediately. But he couldn't; all he could think of was how she was right. She hit the nail on the head. Every time he wanted to express something deeper, he shut down, much like now.
Still, he did miss her.
Marking this as incident number two, he decided to do the unthinkable. After all, he needed someone to tell, then help him put his thoughts in order but no friend or family would do. He had to turn to the last resort.
.
"My, oh my, this is a surprise. Welcome detective, come inside."
A young, always impeccably dressed woman was sitting in an armchair that faced the window and not the door; she had turned back to see who'd just entered her office and she had to take a second look to be certain she wasn't seeing things. She showed him the very comfortable white couch opposite her and she was pleased to watch him plop down. He didn't want anything to drink, when she offered but she knew he didn't; he was a man who got to the point. If he wanted to drink, he'd have brought it with him.
"Tell me, Saitou-san, what seems to be the problem?"
He sighed. "Doctor-patient privilege, right?"
She nodded "obviously" and waited for him to start; it took him a couple of minutes to get any traction and once he did, it still took about ten minutes before he finally trusted her enough to confess the juiciest parts. And he did tell her virtually everything, what happened between them as well what was going on in his mind. When he finished, an impressive sigh, one that put all others before it to shame, left his lips. Left hand combed back his hair and looked at the woman head on, who'd been leaning forward in her chair for a while now, notebook squeezed between her stomach and leg, long black hair spilling over her shoulders.
"To start with, I'd like to say I'm very proud you decided to come to me, overcoming a huge bias on your part," she started, yet treated it as a footnote, as she rushed to get to the good part "I really do. That being said, you mean to tell me you completely ignored my advice last time, invested in none of the coping methods I proposed and instead, you decided to unload all of your pent-up feelings of loss, aggression, fear and apprehension on this unsuspecting woman, who for some unfathomable reason puts up with you?"
Shameful, he nodded yes; the doctor fell back in her chair defeated yet flabbergasted. "This is..." she shook her head "to be expected, to some degree."
That surprised him; she shrugged. "It's because you didn't listen; you never do. To anyone. Your friends complain Saitou-san," his distaste was obvious "only because they care for you." tapping her fingers on the notebook, she crossed her legs in a lady-like manner. "So, what's with this Tokio? Why her?"
"It felt right, the first time; and then it progressively cemented itself..." He shrugged. "She makes me feel good; she helps me forget."
"Is it the sex or is it her?"
"Her."
There was no hesitation in his voice when he said it; that was deemed very interesting. "Saitou-san, you've latched yourself onto this woman physically and emotionally; you need to take a step back."
"No," he retorted, absolute "I just need to stop being emotionally attached to her and you're going to tell me how; that's why I came to you."
"I don't erase feelings, Saitou-san," she stated with authority "I help people come to terms with them." Her hand moved through her hair, tossing them. "And what you need to do right now isn't keep spiraling out of control, but pull yourself together. She's means to an end, yes?" His lack of response told her all she needed to hear. "So, in order to sort out things, you need perspective, to look at things from a distance, yes?"
"...I guess."
"So you need to...?"
"...come here," he finished for her; "I came here for you to tell me."
She tried not to be indignant with him; that's what she was trying to do, but he didn't get it. "What you need is distance." He urged her to continue. "From her," she explained.
He felt the pit of his stomach disappear. "What? No way; out of the question." She sighed at his stubbornness. "I came here to show me how to stop being jealous of her, not to put an end to it."
"It doesn't have to be an end," she probed "it could be a start; I only spoke the word distance."
"I can't stop going to her." Her eyebrow was raised, a judgmental stare followed. "It's not about the sex, you don't understand."
"Alright, I believe you." He found her to be honest, so he calmed a little; it was the urgency in his voice that compelled her to do so. "But you're right; I don't understand. Explain it to me."
He massaged his forehead, trying to come up with the right words to express his feelings, which was never an easy task to him; and she watched him struggle from her chair, but did nothing to help the situation, or make it worse. She gave him all the time he needed, in order to see the full extent of his issue.
"Have you...ever been out of breath?" Interesting start; she nodded for him to continue. "When you dive so deep that you can barely make it to the surface on time and you're fractions away from drawing that breath you know you're going to make but you still slightly panic due to lack of oxygen and think you won't make it after all...?"
She nodded yes.
"That's how I feel every single day of every single week of every single month; I've felt like that for months. And just as I was about to give in completely, she came along and suddenly, I can breathe again. When I'm around her, I can breath like before—..."
His words died because he didn't want to admit it. If he said it, he made it real. If he kept quiet, he wasn't a pathetic hip of flesh and bones who'd bee in agony for the past – now – year. If he didn't speak the words out loud, it could be denied; it could be dismissed. But if he did, he condemned himself. Hence he never spoke to anyone about anything, the situation with Tokio included. Then, maybe it could last; and for four months now, it went admirably, why not four more? God knew he needed it.
He turned to the doctor, and he could tell she finally understood; the comprehensive stare that pierced him was for too perceptive for anything less. Pen on her cheek, she was in deep thought. He did not use this analogy lightly: drowning was a terrible way to go, painful and agonising; he did because that's what he felt. She sat up better.
"You could say she's become a bit of a constitution, yes? Someone who has such an important role in your life that the idea of willingly foregoing contact upsets you." He didn't like how she put it but damn it all she was right. "Which is why I'm telling you, distance is imperative."
"How."
"What if she moves?" That he did not expect. "What if she decides she's had enough and breaks it off with you?" He looked a little resigned to that and she realised this must have been the one scenario he too had thought of. "What if she decided to go on a long business trip again and she has no way of getting in touch with you? What if she decides she doesn't ever want to see or hear from you again, with no logical explanation and tells you to go away next time you show up?"
If looks could kill, she'd have dropped dead twice; the ferocity, offense, as well as pure unadulterated fear that glared at her almost scared her. But she had to deal with Hijikata Toushijou not two days ago, she wouldn't be discouraged.
"But you do get what I'm trying to say."
"Yes," he barked.
"You aren't simply attached; you are dependent on her. Stop seeing her for a while and decide what you feel about her. But don't leave things as they are, for your own good." He clicked his tongue; she pursed her lips, dissatisfied. "What do you usually do together, other than sex?" she demanded.
"...we chat; she tells me how her day was, talks about her family...we eat something, sometimes have a drink...when I feel like it we watch a movie." He shrugged, not knowing where she was getting at, but it looked like he answered her question to her satisfaction.
"Do you leave the same night?"
"No, I stay till next morning, but I always leave early; I never have days off." Out of choice and they both knew it so he felt he didn't need to clarify; work always helped him through his issues...other than now, apparently.
"Then I suggest this: take a day off and go to her the night before; stay the morning, don't rush it. And once you do, come back to me." Her black, sharp eyes deepened their stare. "And you'll understand why I recommended distance."
"As you wish, doctor; I'll be back in four days."
"Be back whenever you want; I'm not going anywhere."
.
"I really hate you."
Saitou was glaring daggers at her, standing in front of the door he closed; her smile became particularly wide the moment she connected the voice to the identity and when she actually turned to face him, she had to chuckle.
"Hello detective. Welcome back."
"Don't be cute with me, Takani; this is your fault."
He threw himself on the couch, taking up more than half of it, the way he spread his legs and slang his arm over the back. "You were right," he answered to her probing eyebrows "isn't that what you wanted to hear?"
"You know it." His ire brought her mirth. "So, what happened?"
"We got up late, had breakfast, talked...argued..." his eyes darted to the doctor; his glare was venomous "one thing led to another and we actually fought."
She tried not to smile—scratch that, she just did. Don't laugh, Megumi, she cheered for herself mentally and focused back on him. "Was this your first fight?" He nodded; now she couldn't help it. "And you've been together for four months, oh my god; this Tokio must be a very, very patient woman. I have to meet her." Shaking her head, she waited for the hiccups to die down. "Are you on speaking terms now?"
"Yeah," he replied as if saying "duh" "it was just an overblown argument."
"How did you resolve it?"
"I apologised."
"Did you mean it or were you simply hoping she wouldn't stay mad at you?"
"Both; she said how I was being too rigid and if I don't validate an opinion personally then I automatically thought it false or needless, even when it was about insignificant things and, she was right. I do that. So apologised." He sighed. "We made up and then talked some more...but then she had to go to work, because – per usual – I hadn't called to let her know I had a day off and...I panicked. It didn't show but I actually panicked." He was at a loss with himself. "Isn't that what you were aiming for? There, you got it. I need rehab."
Her smile was triumphant; like the cat who ate the canary, she raised a finger. "The word you're looking for is distance."
They said the last word at the same time; he waved her away. "I'm not doing it to spite you, Saitou-san; it's for your own good. You developed an emotional dependency on this woman, originating from your fear of loss and inability to deal with it. But if you don't, with her, who's still here, how will you deal with those who have already passed? And you, more than most, need to deal with this, because you were there."
Saitou's entire body shivered and sprang up.
"And because you were there for both—"
"Thank you Takani-san," he cut her off immediately and she barely registered when he went from the couch to the door "I'll tell you how it goes."
The woman sighed, sinking back in her armchair. Damn it, she rushed it. The fact was that if he didn't address the actual problem, the loss of his friends and his perceived responsibility on the matter, he wouldn't be able to move on. At least talk about it! But no, not him; he felt the shift of the conversation instinctively and booked it. Damn it; damn him! He was one of the most difficult people in the entire precinct. She just hoped that whatever advice he decided to follow did him some good.
.
Tokio was worried.
It'd been a week and a half since she last saw Hajime; it was the day they had fought, but she doubted that was his reason for staying away, it was a minor thing. And when he had apologised, which she didn't even ask him to do, he did it on his own, he was very honest; when they parted that day, he did seem a little out of sorts, but not at all bitter or upset. She guessed it had everything to do with how much time they spent together and how that made him feel; but then again, he had mentioned of another joint operation he was participating in, all six of them in it this once, and that was her main reason of concern.
She was no idiot; she put two and two together. Last time that happened, Toudou died; the other two probably died in a similar or the same situation. One could easily divine her reason to worry: both bodily and mental harm could easily befall him; the first more urgent that the second, but both were obviously bad. And yet, not knowing was worse! Had he chosen not to visit her anymore and this was his way of telling her, fine! It sucked to be rejected, but fine. She liked the man; she wanted to see him happy and pain-free...she could finally admit that yes, she did care, in a much more invested way than just a friend or someone she happened to sleep with.
She would accept him moving on...what if he hadn't though and he was in some hospital bed, hurting, fighting for his life? And she wasn't there to hold his hand...
Her mind had been going in circles for almost a week now; an hour and a half today in particular. Wait no, make that two hours—it was already one in the morning. And she still couldn't sleep. Not that she did yesterday, or the day before that; or before that even. It was because she'd gotten used to sleeping late; it was his fault. If he had the audacity to change her sleeping patterns like that, he should have the decency to visit, too but no, he was nowhere to be found. And now who would she hold accountable for all her heartbreak? Meh, it was no use. Another night alone, another lonely night.
She looked at her watch, on the far-most wall of the living room; moping around got her to 1:49. impressive. Shaking her head at her own stubbornness, she turned the TV she wasn't actually watching off and stood to go to bed. Her empty, king-sized, cold bed.
She shrugged off her house clothes and put on her pajamas; her warm, fluffy, cute pajamas, to keep herself warm. She pulled the blanket over her-...
The bell rang; she froze. It was him. It could be no one else at this time of night, she was sure. Without giving anything much thought, she literally ran to her front door, uncaring for the few things that were knocked down in her haste. She reached in record time and pulled it open!
And she froze twice in ten seconds.
Yes, her wish had come true; it was Hajime who stood at the door. But her fear had also come true; he was hunched, as that white thing hang around his neck, supporting his left arm, wrapped up in something harder than bandages but not a cast – thankfully –; his face sported one huge wound that was covered with cotton and tape; his right eye was bruised, but functional; and his lower lip was cut a little too deep.
That's what's visible anyway.
"Hajime," she breathed, devastated, once her hand left her wide open mouth. She pulled him inside by the fabric of his clothes, fearing to actually touch him. "Oh god, what happened to you?" She nearly cried as she put her arms around his wait for a hug and closed the door behind him through it. "You're so hurt."
"You should see the other g—..."
The joke died in his throat; what was the point anymore? "I can't." He felt his knee starting to give out, so he took a step back, clutching it.
"Come sit down," she begged and led him to the living room. She sat him on his preferred couch where he proceeded to collapse on, lying on his back. "Are you feeling any better?"
"I can't," he repeated, hand coming over his eyes; he couldn't take her gaze on him, not when he was about to cry. "I can't Tokio; not anymore."
He was all over the place; there were a million things he could have meant, which is it? "What can you no longer do?"
"Cope."
That little word felt like a punch to the gut; it was so familiar a sensation, so honest. He was really breaking down on her. What had she done then, how can she help? He was so vulnerable, too...she took to caressing his hair, trying to calm him down as much as she could; she didn't know if he knew, but he was shaking. Her eyes started welling up.
"I can't cope with the idea my friends keep dying; I'm still here. My wife left, I was strong; my friends died, I was there; then he died, and I...I'm still here. I'm still here! Yamanami isn't; neither is Yuzan; or T..." He really couldn't speak his name, it was impossible for him. "Why am I always the one to walk away from these things, actually walk away? What's wrong with me? I always escape—I was right there when the explosion happened; when they came in, guns blazing; why did I make it? Why am I the only one?"
She felt like being slapped; her eyes on him were sad. Tsuki had called that survivor's guilt, five years ago, and her heart went out to him. "You were there for-...?"
He nodded yes and she actually cried, tears falling from her eyes in abundance, but she tried to keep her voice as unaffected as possible for his sake. So, she wrapped him in her arms, as tightly as she could.
"To think you had to see that..." The kiss on his forehead was long and lingering, effectively stopping the shakes. She didn't let up on her hug though, not until he hugged back, finally removing his hand from his face. "I am sorry. You are so strong. I am so sorry, so, so sorry; but you are so strong."
Her smell was all he wanted think about; her warmth, her kindness...she kept talking, whispering soothing nothings and wishes, encouragements and apologies in his ear for so long, he felt his heartbeat relax. He had no concept of time in that moment. Was she holding him for a minute; an hour? He didn't know. How long ago was it since he last visited? Too long. When he tried to stay away, he was almost twitchy; then they had this raid and that was it.
He gave up. He could not do this alone. He could not face things on his own.
He needed a break; a break from himself, from his work and reality. He needed her and her soft touches. Her, with the bright black eyes that never judge. Who put her hands around him for comfort. Her, who should have been feeling slighted, used and scorned and still didn't think twice of allowing her into her home.
Her. He needed her. He was comfortable with admitting that now, as it was her light caresses to his hair, her hand around him that managed to make him breathe again. He wanted her with him, next to him, not hidden away in an apartment, as if she was too good for him, or him for her; he wanted her there, all the time. Even when he didn't feel like being around someone; he wanted her for himself and he had to make his sentiments know or the world would take her away, as well.
"I couldn't stay home, or at the hospital; they gave me mandatory leave at work, too and I had nowhere left to go." Quite honestly, even if they hadn't, he didn't know if he could go back, at least soon; from the moment they told him of the raid, he could barely walk into the building. "So I just...came here."
"You did well to come."
"I'm sorry I'm bothering you."
"Not at all."
"Why?" She gave him a look. "You should be furious with me; why aren't you?" He put his able hand on her cheek. "Why do you even put up with me?"
She was unprepared for that, but not worried he posed said question; she just smiled, her hand on his. "That is not a conversation to have now; rest. We'll talk tomorrow."
"Give me the short answer for now, then."
She obliged, but she had to think about it a little. "I know you have issues to work through and I can understand, to some degree; and I...like you. I am willing to wait because I think we are some of those people who just click." She shrugged, a chuckle escaping her. "I didn't exactly suffer here, so..."
"I was tolerable," he actually joked and she smiled brilliantly. Joking was good; it bore hope.
"You were much more than that," she assured him and gave him another kiss. "You still are."
He closed his eyes, a sad smile on his face; he made himself comfortable in her arms and it was too soon he started drifting off. "I'm sorry I kept you waiting," he murmured, sleepiness betraying him again.
But that didn't matter anymore; she was there and she was his.
Not ten minutes later, she realised he had fallen asleep. Well, it made sense; he must have been sleepless for some time now and he did always joke how her skin must have been made of poppy seeds, to practically sedate him every night. So, she lay there with him for a long time, unmoving.
"Mmm, Tokio?"
It was still dark outside; Tokio had curled around him in an odd position and he could feel his own bones creak at that. Thankfully, she seemed to stir when she heard her name spoken. "Do you mind if I stay with you tonight?"
"Why..." a yawn "...would I?" She stumbled to her feet first. "But you have to promise me one thing," she demanded, sleepy as she was "you won't go silent on me again."
"I promise."
Whether because his heart settled or he managed to get a good night's sleep, he woke up at eleven. What's more, she didn't. She did sleep longer than him...the only reason she woke at the same time was to make him breakfast. He was kind of hungry, but he didn't have to go to work, no need to wake her; he decided to look around until she did.
The longer he spent searching her house, he realised he had never really looked at her apartment properly. There were many, many photos on the walls and most of them, if not all, had to be hers. Most of them were very beautiful; artistic but the realism was out of this world. Most of them were portraits or some idyllic scenery. As he looked at them, he started appreciating her point of view; most of things she snapped where ordinary but the way she did it, they looked exceptional, something out of this world. So, she had a way to do that to everyone.
The more he looked at the pictures, the deeper into the house he went. He had never noticed there were two spare bedrooms; only one was an actual guest room though. The other was turned into a small show room: as if he was in some gallery, the walls were lined with framed pictures, two rows of them on every wall in fact, and they even had name plates underneath them, to describe the photo. But not who had taken it. Still, because of the way these were shot, he figured they were a mix: some hers, some other people's. Besides, the themes were too different from the rest.
Currently, he must have been standing in front of the most jarring yet hypnotic photo he had ever seen; its realism was skin-crawling. The timing was insane. And the content grim. But that was its marvel: it was too real, too cruel, too raw. It drew you in.
"Hey," she made herself known, standing at the threshold, in front of the open door. She approached with silent footfalls, standing right next to him. She proceeded to alternate between looking at him and the photo.
"This photo is...remarkable." Her humming signified she agreed. "A little horrifying, if you think of the implications, but extraordinary."
The photo was captured right at the moment a small homing missile struck the earth; half of it was exploding, while the ground, like a lake that you threw a rock in it, had ripples of dirt shooting high, in perfect sequence. Debris had already shot out, dirtying the lens a little, while there were people in the background, unfocused but clearly visible. Some were diving; some were being blown back; others were running for cover...others lay on the ground, already dead by some other reason.
This was a war zone.
"This photo won a Japan Photo Award prize." His expression said, he could see why; she smiled involuntarily. "It was a statement piece."
"I can understand; whoever made the statement though...unlucky folk." She looked at him curiously. "No one can survive an explosion from that up close."
"There's always zoom, Hajime."
"How much zoom do you think this has? Look at the people in the background—distorted. If it was zoom, they'd be clear."
"Oh, you are smart, sir." He pursed his lips. "You aren't entirely wrong; but there was zoom."
"You know the photographer? Did they make it?"
"This is my brother's least favourite photo," she chose to say instead,. "In fact, he hates it."
He didn't know where she was going with this, but his gut told him it wasn't going to be pleasant. He didn't have to be a detective to see the warning signs: she never looked at him, only stared at the photo, crossing her hands in front of her chest.
"Do you know why I became famous, Hajime?" He nodded no. "I was one of the youngest yet most successful as well as prolific battlefield photographers." He turned to look at her wide-eyed, almost agape. "Five years ago, a grenade exploded our jeep; I got the best of it—everyone else died."
She showed her back with her thumb. He knew her body in extreme detail to know he was referring to the huge scar she had on her left shoulder blade. He had never asked her how she'd gotten it out of courtesy. Maybe he should have. He nodded, awe-struck and a smile pulled at the corner of her lips, but suppressed it to continue with her story.
"We had a family council and decided it was high time I turned to more conventional landscapes. I agreed." A sigh. "Then three years ago, my brother called me, just as I'd come back home; I really wanted to grab a bite and take a shower that I almost declined his call...but I did answer in the end. And, he says, stop whatever you're doing, I'm picking you up, we're going to the hospital. Our parents, you see, with his wife and daughter in the car, had an accident."
Fuck.
"When we arrived at the hospital though, they were already dead; his wife was in the ICU but thankfully, his daughter was surprisingly unharmed."
If she'd told him her niece had died, he'd have literally started crying; he knew her brother had a daughter, but he could have had two and then he hated his brain for thinking that.
"Brother was...a rock. He arranged everything, the funeral, the dinner, the invitations; in contrast, sister couldn't hold it together for ten minutes and I just...signed off, you know. I refused to accept it." A chuckle. "I nearly called my mom that day, to tell her someone so close to me had passed." She shrugged. "A day later, he arranges his wife's funeral."
Another heavy sigh; there were no tears yet, but they had started forming. Hajime started getting sick to his stomach.
"Next day, it's the opening of the will; my dad was very rich and successful; left us all equal money and all that but, amongst other things, he left me management of two of his companies. But I'm a photographer, not a business major. The only reason he did that was because he himself was teaching me things and although I hated it, I knew something. He was hoping, I think, we wouldn't break apart because of their passing, but all I could think of was nope. Not gonna do it. This didn't happen; and I decided to deal with it, by not dealing with it."
He gave her a knowing look.
"Some drink to forget; others overeat. Some do drugs...others have sex." That she said a little teasingly. "I went back to old habits; bad, old habits; next morning I was on a flight to Syria. Neither sibling knew where I was going, they just wished me the best, said don't worry about us, just call to make sure you're alright; we do the same. We said goodbye and for the next three months I just worked. And then that happened."
"Those aren't birthmarks."
Her entire right side was riddled with four-five centimetres markings, from below her shoulder to her thighs, not too wide apart. Her face was spared, but her arm, torso front and back, almost all the way to her middle had gotten the worst. All of them.
"They are shrapnel scars." Again, he hadn't asked because he thought it'd be a little rude, especially since he was under the impression they were birthmarks, but shit.
"I was in the ICU for three weeks; once I was stable, they flew me back to Kyoto. When I opened my eyes, the first person I saw was brother." She smiled guiltily, a tear escaping. "Once I was well enough...oh boy. He started screaming at me at the top of his lungs. He just kept repeating something in the lines of what did you think would happen, what did you expect over and over again; I had never seen him so upset, so angry, so...out of control."
He rubbed her back with his good hand; she let out something between a laugh and a sob. "Five minutes in, a nurse comes and takes him away; he was allowed back the next day. But it wasn't until my sister came later that evening that I truly grasped the magnitude of my injury—after all, I was out, I just opened my eyes. As far as I was concerned, I simply had some bruises and cuts. But then she comes in, calm as ever and tells me, point black:" a bracing breath, "how dare you make him think he'd have to arrange a third funeral; of his baby sister no less." She did sob this once; took a little time before she went on. "Tsuki is so passive-aggressive; I will never forget that cold, sarcastic smile of hers...and I just realised, I had to deal with it."
She must have truly come to terms with their passing because once the difficult part was over, once she wiped the couple of tears that fell, she was fine. No more sobbing, nothing. "I did, quickly enough. Sister was already living in Osaka by then so guess who took care of me."
"Tora."
She laughed. "Yeap; took me in his house where I stayed until I made a full recovery – an entire month mind you – and let me tell you, watching him do everything around the house: chores, cooking, caring for me, go to work, spend time with his daughter, call sister and with the help of only one other person, our head maid at the old house...it really put things into perspective."
She spared a furtive look for him, who was still idly rubbing her back.
"Had to pull myself together, step up; for my brother, who shouldered everything and never asked for anything. And my niece; she deserved a better aunt, not the one she had, whose first option was to run away—what kind of an example was that? But mostly...myself." That was said a little different than the rest. "I was better than that. I was stronger. I had to face things. But yeah, I couldn't do it alone. I turned to my family for help—which is exactly why, even now, two and a half years later, five days without seeing me is scandalous to brother. And of course, considering Tsuki is a psychologist, we could afford not to turn to a professional; we already had one. But even if she wasn't, just talking about it helps; when you keep it all inside, it corrodes you, slowly, but so, so certainly. Once I came to terms with the fact being strong didn't mean being alone, I truly calmed down."
She shrugged.
"Then I sent the picture to the magazine I usually worked with; it made the rounds on the internet then the news and it exploded. Before I knew it, it was nominated and I actually finally won that damn thing. Three times it slipped through my fingers...! But, in the end, I won with what my brother considers my worst work to date; says if you have to get blown up to win, fuck that."
"Stop saying it so nonchalantly; and he's right." He shook his head, trying to rid himself the image of her bleeding from every scar. "Enough war stories out of you for a year."
But okay, he got it; he realised why she shared the story with him. It was gruesome and a little shocking, but it served its purpose. She understood loss, his state of mind, she was willing to give him time. If one asked him, she had lost much more than him, but he did remember the doctor had once said, when he mentioned how he could not compare to Toudou's family, loss is not a competition. It sucks for everybody. Granted, losing both parents and your sister-in-law was a bigger deal than a good friend, or three, yet it was still a human important to you dying. A gap was a gap and you still had to find a way to fill it.
At the same time, he was really thankful she decided to share this with him after what happened yesterday; any earlier and he honestly didn't know how he'd deal with it. Maybe that was why she refrained, too, she was no idiot.
"If you feel comfortable with the idea," he began, walking away from the certain room "I would like to pay my respects to your parents."
"I'd like that."
"And, if you can move things around today, if you want, we could go for lunch."
"Mmmm, sounds nice."
"But there's a catch." Her eyes became smaller. "We won't be alone. The guys will be there, too."
"Oh, I don't mind."
"With their wives and girlfriends, too." She gave him an over-the-top suspicious look and he raised his palm flat to explain. "Once a month, we get altogether and have lunch; it's a tradition. It started around the time I'd gotten engaged. We had to cancel last couple of times because of...everything at work, so now it's a long time overdue. I wasn't going to go, but if you're coming with me, I wouldn't mind."
"Is that so?"
There was something very cute and tender in her voice, as well as the way she came close to him, hands curling on his chest. She was being cute. It was torture not to be able to grab her and do all sorts of things to her but his ribs hurt enough just by breathing; anything else would be at least abuse. So, he settled for a kiss right at the line her chin started and her cheek ended. She shivered for a second, that spot always made her skin crawl, and then smirked.
"So, what do you think?"
"It's a tradition," she claimed "I'd hate you to miss it because of me."
It'd been a long time he felt he made a right choice of any kind; looking at her now, he was convinced he'd just turned things around for him and hopefully this would be the first of many.
"What's the place like? I'd hate to overdress ."
"Right..." There were more he needed to tell her and the question seemed to bring that to the surface. "It's an upscale place, expensive; more of your scene than ours," she pursed her lips, kind of annoyed, he ignored her. "Just, be prepared for an interrogation."
"Pffff, I don't fear your friends or their significant others."
"No, but, you see, the reason we go to that place, despite being expensive and popular is because we always find a table, no matter what and we get a discount...because my mom's the head chef."
She went completely still; slowly, she raised her head, then her entire body simply to stare, transitioning to glare at him, eyes wide, chest expanding. He tried to calm her down with his uninjured hand, raising it in defense, but there was no stopping her.
"Hajime, are you serious!? Your mother? The same person who undoubtedly visited when you were lying in that hospital bed but never saw me there and now you're just gonna tell her, what? Oh we've been together for five months, but I never gave her my number!? What will I tell her? I, I can't—"
"Chill; mum's not the type to pry."
She crossed her hands, glaring harder. "She's your mother; I can't lie to-..." She looked away. "What's with this all-or-nothing attitude? You wouldn't take me out for a coffee, versus, meet my entire social circle and my mother in the same day." She clicked her tongue; he laughed. "Does my trouble amuse you?"
"Mother is not the type to pry; and she won't have too much time on her hands, she'll be working. But she will ask about you. As to why you didn't come, if you want to tell people the truth, I don't mind; if you tell them I came to you yesterday for the first time, I don't mind either. Just," he shrugged "whatever you want."
"...I can't let you leave here alone with that arm," she gave in, in the end "and you want to go there so anywhere else won't be the same. If you don't mind me meeting her, I guess I can put up with the awkwardness. But you'll owe me."
"I don't like the sound of that."
"Sister is bound to come sometime next month; you'll have to come to a family dinner."
"...that doesn't sound too terrible."
"Wait till you meet her," she whispered in passing and was glad he didn't catch it. "So, nice place, nice clothes. I'm getting ready and then I'm driving you to your place to choose something for you, too. When's the lunch?"
"In three hours."
They were pushing it, but "we'll make it."
She proceeded to run to the bathroom, shedding clothes as she went; he shook his head, picking up after her. At least she said yes. He wasn't sure how she'd take it, but he really wanted her there; mission accomplished. He took out his cell and went to the living room and went out at the balcony. Only then did he call.
A smirk formed on his lips the moment he heard the other person pick up. "Hey, Okita; guess what."
.
.
.
One year later...
"Pink is fine."
Tokio clicked her tongue as both her hands fell on the counter. They were currently standing in front of a salesman, in the middle of the store Nagakura had suggested, with her brother's excited approval upon mention of the brand. They only needed to buy the essentials, they had told themselves but the moment they walked in, Saitou was taken in by all the cuteness: baby shoes, bibs, little baby suits and formal dresses...she, on the other hand, just wanted to get this over with. They'd already gotten what they needed and her ankles hurt for an hour now. Besides, he insisted on buying things in pink, fuchsia or lavender, as if other colours did not exist.
"Hajime, we don't need this. And even if we do buy it, let's go for the blue one instead."
"But the blue ones have no flowers."
"Exactly; but they do have cute sheep. Besides, I thought we said no gendered clothes."
"We're having a daughter," he informed her then as his hand rested on her very big stomach "why not?"
"We don't know what we're having because we decided to leave it as a surprise," she nearly cried.
"We're having a daughter," he insisted and turned to the salesman "so pink is perfect, right?"
"Why not a nice red one? Like a fire-truck," she tried to make a pitch, but the third and last member of their party, snorted.
"We're having a daughter," Okita dismissed her and looked at the dresses carefully. "How about this one?"
"You're the godfather, emphasis on god; stop acting like she's yours."
"Well, exactly! You're going to be a very scary dad to a small girl; when she can't confine in you and she has had a fight with Tokio-chan, whom do you think she'll come to?"
"My daughter won't fear me," he protested.
"Our son or daughter won't fear you, I agree; and you," she snubbed Okita "you're only here because Momo-chan said she'll be coming, too."
"Ugh, you're setting them up? Perfect, she'll have more reason to hate me now."
"What? Momo-chan adores you." But even she couldn't keep a straight face at that. "We're still not getting that pink thing, put it down."
"We'll carry them," Okita complained "what's your problem?"
"Madam," the ma behind the counter tried very hard to keep a serious face "so long it isn't used, you can return it and exchange it for something of equal value. If you want something more expensive, some fees will apply, but it's still possible."
"Ah, we could return it, yes..."
"I'm having a daughter. I'm not returning anything."
"What if it turns out it's a boy?" He looked away at her challenge, not mad, but resolved. "Well?"
"I'm having a daughter...eventually. I'm not returning anything."
Tokio's mouth nearly fell open as Okita started laughing; the salesman had to pretend he was looking for some bags under the counter, to keep his smiles or snickers unseen or unheard, but Saitou didn't care. He said what he said, he wouldn't take it back. According to Takani, it was the best way to resolve issues and he wanted a daughter; a son wouldn't be bad and he welcomed the child whatever gender it turned out to be, but...he was partial to a daughter. He loved his nieces and the few times this past year he babysat for Tora, she was a delight. He even had them all as bridesmaids to his wedding, they were so cute! It was only normal he wanted a cute little one for himself, so, even if this child was a boy, he'd just keep trying.
It's just that he forgot to mention that to Tokio. That could be a problem, but honestly, they had their entire lives ahead of them, it would come up sooner or later. Stealing glances at his best friend, they smirked at one another. Life, after a very long time, was on the right track. Now if only Momo-chan turned out to be just as well-suited for Okita, they could all be happy.
A/N: I couldn't leave you without that happy ending, you know that. Stay healthy and happy peeps. See you next time.
Kisses,
FAI.