A/N: Hello my dears, how are you? Hope you've been well, rested well. New story, eeey! It's not going to be an one-shot, I'm thinking four, maybe five chapters. The story is all done in my head, I know start, middle and finish; the problem is writing it, lol. Ideas abound, too; I have two more in mind and I just had a third one out of the blue, I don't know why, though it's a good thing. It's productive season. But I am committed to writing this one story at a time, because if I start two AUs, I'll never finish. I am that person.

So, let's stay focused. This will be one hell of a cute ride. Love you, sweeties; hope you enjoy!

Title: Fake it till you make it
Genre:Romance, humour, slice of life, child care(kind of)
AU: Fake Marriage, Modernday

The dim lights helped the eyes rest; the alcohol lowered defenses; and the soft music playing in the background really managed to dull the senses and the mind. It was all a carefully orchestrated plan to make the customers more relaxed, thus more likely to spend their money on a second and a third drink, rather than just the one and be done with it. It was a very trendy place to be, clean and well-kept, too so no one wanted to leave too early: with wooden polished floors and minimalist furniture, mirrors on the ceiling and many of the walls, it was very attractive to the not-so-young crowd. Thus, the bar had a decidedly not rambunctious clientele that was there to have a good time, meet new people, have a break from their lives, or quietly try to distance themselves from their problems, in a respectful, usually moderate way. No shouts, no too loud music; no fighting between patrons. The wildest thing that had ever happened was a man got a little too drunk and had started hitting on a married woman.

He'd been promptly escorted off premises, stuffed into a taxi and the bar even footed the bill, until the man himself came to pay for it next day, apologizing profusely.

Still, the point was this place had made a name for itself for attracting those kind of people: who mostly had their lives or vices in control. So, it was no coincidence he himself had become kind of a regular. After all, he had very few chances to go out drinking, either with friends or alone, but the few times he did, he somehow found his feet dragging him through this bar's door.

Currently, he was on his third drink; or was going to be. He was still debating about that. Anyway, despite already having two of them, he still didn't feel any better; he belonged in the category of people who went there to distance themselves from their problems, maybe try to forget them for one blissful hour...but not this one, no. This one endured and kept eating away at him no matter how big of a gulp he was taking, or how strong of a drink he ordered. It mattered not. All that it did was remind him why he was there and only accentuated his anguish. Damn it. A heavy sigh left his lips, as it became crystal clear what he should do after he flagged down the server: ask for the check and not that third scotch.

Just as his amber eyes started scanning the room, to spot the man who took his order, he was distracted by the door opening; being detail-oriented from his job and curious by nature, he immediately made an effort to see who just walked inside the bar...to spot a familiar face. Oh! That was...Takagi Tokio. He smiled involuntarily; he tried to catch her eye as soon as his brain registered, too but the woman was on her phone, none too pleased, having an argument with someone on the other side of the line. As such, she had kept an impressive focus on the wall opposite her, glaring at nothing, and decidedly not around her, to catch a glimpse of him.

Aw, poor guy or woman, on the other line; he hadn't talked with Tokio all that much, but he could tell she was a person with a mind of their own, who did not easily back down from anything, thus not the best person to argue against. His eyes followed her religiously, as she went to the bar and literally tore her coat off of her, throwing it on the stool, lining side up, and then proceeding to actually sit on it. She kept talking and talking, and he realised he wouldn't get to be part of her conversation any time soon. Shaking his head, black hair perfectly in place although he used no gel to comb them back, he put up his hand just as the server looked at his table. Nodding, the older than him man in the white shirt and black slacks approached.

"Yes sir?"

"Did you see the woman in the cashmere coat that just came in?"

"The one on her phone, you mean?" He nodded affirmatively. "What do you want with her?"

It could have sounded a little defensive, if it wasn't spoken so formally; still, he shook his head amused. "Is she a regular?"

"One could say that."

"Tell the bartender to make her one of her usual drinks, put it on my tab and bring me the check."

"You wish to buy her a drink but not join her?"

"I know her; I just wanted to say hi." Just when the server was about to suggest something, he put his palm up flat. "Just get her the drink and me the bill. That's all. I'm leaving anyway."

"As you wish, sir."

When the server approached the bartender, woman still on the phone, he leaned over the bar and spoke in a quiet voice. "Do you know if Takagi-san's going to take long on her phone?"

"Ah, no," the bartender chuckled "I think her tirade is about over. Why?"

"The detective wants to buy her an apple martini." The man behind the counter looked impressed, his usual poker-face disturbed. "He says he doesn't want to join her, though, asked for the bill." Now he was doubly surprised. "I know, right? Make her the drink as fast as you can; I'll take a little longer for the bill."

The bartender rose his eyebrows suggestively, a smirk showing through. "Are you setting them up?"

"He always comes alone, you know? Feels a little lonely; maybe this works out for him." He shrugged. "I'm hoping anyway."

Shaking his head, he started making the cocktail his coworker asked to be prioritized. Honestly, he wasn't wrong; detective Saitou-san came once every month, maybe twice, never in anyone's company other than his partner's, a short lively man, and he was a pretty cool guy. He might not have said it, but he was rooting for him, too. With one eye on the woman, who was all but finished with her call and was about to flag him down, and the other on the detective, who was impatiently looking around for the server to pay his bill, he moved his hands faster.

"Your drink madam," unaffected, as if he didn't just run a mini-marathon, he presented the apple martini to the woman, who just hanged up. Decorated per usual, that distinctive thin slice of apple on the side – a little thicker, just for her – it was presented to her before she ever managed to order.

"That was fast;" she joked, just as she took it in her hands, "I barely sat. am I so predictable, what a shame."

The bartender shook his head, assuring her "no, you aren't," in his characteristic drawl "but the gentleman that's currently engaged with Handa-san asked I made one for you."

She cringed, eyes closing at the information; when they reopened, she spared an almost scolding look for the man who made it, since he knew, she had told him only a thousand times, she did not want anyone to buy her drinks or come to her table or next seat, and then turned to the person he indicated. She had her back to the guy, so she could not do it discreetly – damn it – so she refrained from taking a sip, not to give any rights to—...

Her shoulders squared, eyes wide; a small smile started forming on her face, back straightening the more she regarded the "offender". "Him? Is that him, are you sure?"

He tried not to smile; she actually sounded hopeful, how unexpected. "Yes madam."

"What's he doing—is he paying the bill?"

One eye on the detective, one on the bartender, she caught him with the edge nodding affirmatively. "No, no, I need to go—Shouta-kun, can you please bring me my things and my drink over there? I need to catch up with him!"

She stood from her stool at the best of her ability, but it was tall and she was short—she was wearing heels, too, and they had anchored themselves on the metal and she couldn't move easily, he'd leave before she ever stood! Still, blessed Handa-san, noticed her struggle and found some pretense she couldn't hear – but could guess, given he pointed at the detective's card as if it had some sort of issue – and excused himself for a moment...long enough for her, waving like crazy, to be noticed by the tall detective, too.

She finally started walking towards him, a little wobbly at first but finding her balance soon enough on her camel, stiletto, Mary Janes and her smile was as wide and enthusiastic as anyone had ever seen it, in this establishment. Pleased by the fact he stopped waiting for an explanation annoyed and reverted back to his neutral expression, she pressed on, waving and hurrying along.

"Hajime-san, it's been so long!"

"Tokio."

She actually shook hands with him, something he wasn't used to, but obliged anyway. It had been a small dilemma what to do, once he'd spotted her. On one hand, he had made up his mind to leave and even asked for the check; on the other, the fact she was so excited to see him, made him feel much better than these two drinks ever did. But she would definitely want to have a drink with him, too, and he had decided to go...

"Don't tell me you're leaving?" she pretended she hadn't noticed the coat in his hands until after she sat down. When he was about to verify it, she seemed upset. "You buy me a drink just to say goodbye after such a long time? No, no; ridiculous. You must stay."

"But you just arrived; I've been here an hour and a half."

Just then, Handa-san appeared with no bill, but all of her things in hand, which he deposited on the third seat of the table. Then he left her drink in front of her. "Thank you, Handa-san," she kindly acknowledged him but went back to the task at hand. "Oh come now, Hajime-san; you bought it for me, stay until I drink it—just this one, at least. I mean, you were on your own yes? That's why an hour and a half felt so long. Time goes by faster when you're with friends."

He wasn't trying to play hard to get, he had no reason; he was just being stubborn. He did hate making a decision and needing to change it so fast...but she was very adamant about this. That and that cute face she was making was very convincing. He nodded, giving in, and put his coat on top of hers.

"You're not wrong..."

"Perfect! Handa-san, Handa-san!" She called him over and he came immediately, because of course he had been lurking around. "Bring another round of whatever Hajime-san was drinking, too, will you?"

"Of course."

It happened too fast for him to protest, but when the server left, he did. "I've already had two."

"If you want me to cancel the order that'll be fine...but then you'll have to sit there, watching me drink my delicious martini with nothing to sip on."

"If you put it that way," he gave in again and this once she winked.

"You catch on fast, Hajime-san, I like it."

"To what exactly?" he inquired, all poise.

She smirked. "The faster you do what I ask, the less time we'll consume on meaningless back and forth."

"Oh, is that so?" She nodded only once, deeply, slowly. "Are you maybe a little spoiled?"

"Never; I just know how to get what I want."

They exchanged smirks and dubious glances but it was obvious he didn't really mind her candidness, or her go-get them attitude; if anything, it felt refreshing. He had too much to do with men or women who danced around what they wanted, spoke in riddles and shied behind formalities. But not her, with her expensive-looking beige lace shirt, casually sitting cross-legged in the chair opposite him, black slacks fashionable but strict; her leg was hanging, idly moving back and forth, as she kept looking at him with a small smirk. Before they exchanged another word, his drink had arrived on the table; or, should he say, before they managed to start any sort of conversation, his order was already there? How curiously fast...when he turned to the man, he saw him give a very big thumbs up. Rolling his eyes, he grabbed his drink. Seeing she had waited, he rose his glass and lightly tapped it to hers.

"Cheers."

"Cheers."

They took a sip. "So, how have you been? How's life treating you Hajime-san?"

"Could be better, not gonna lie." She seemed to feel that statement to her core, nodding along. "But it could be worse."

"Always the optimist I see; any new cases like mine at all?"

"Ah," he chuckled "no such luck. I only get old men; or young men; or psychopaths." She laughed heartily. "And those are men, too; many men kill come to think of it."

"You are a plague, as a sex; I should know. In my line of business there are too few women to deal with."

"Business management is a tough field."

"Women are tough, too."

"I won't pretend sexism isn't real," he put up his hands "but that's not every factor."

Before they knew it, conversation really started going; this, that, one drink "oh come on, one more" became two hours. They hadn't seen each other for a long time so words flowed; they were never friends, in truth, but they had been friendly ever since he had closed her case—before that even. When one of her close male friends was killed, she was looked at as a suspect early on; she was open about everything and brutally honest on the regular. She still answered all of their questions and rarely deployed her faithful lawyer for any of their interactions. She had been helpful and clear and that helped catching the one responsible after all, for there were too many instances the perpetrator had tried to point the finger to her but failed.

In the end, everything was revealed and she had kindly told them, I told you so, idiots. Saitou had been one of the few who had genuinely believed she was innocent, not because she was a woman or she was rich or "her smile was very cute" as one of the trainees informed him; simply because, there was no way a person like her killed someone like that; and then deny it repeatedly in that straightforward way. She would have flaunted, she would taunt them, she would tell them how she did it, hypothetically of course, and try to confuse them—it was her character, he surmised so it couldn't be her. It was a gut-feeling, too and that far, his gut had never proven him wrong.

He watched her settle after a hearty laugh, sitting back in her chair; there was something quite calming in the way she filled her seat, as if she owned it, as if she was supposed to be sitting there next to him. She massaged her neck then, leaning on the table.

"How's your daughter doing?"

His smile was instinctive, but a little sad. "She's very smart; the teacher suggested we start her on real books already."

"That's amazing! Congratulations...and she's how old exactly?"

"She'll be turning six in a couple of months."

"Unbelievable...wait, couple of months you said? As in April?" he nodded. "Hey, that's my birthday, too! What date?"

"The 15th."

"Oh my god, me, too!" She laughed. "I'll remember; I'll send her something for her birthday."

"No need."

"Of course there is, please tell me your address."

"There's no reason, really, I don't want you to."

"Oh, come on, it'll be nice...!"

"I don't even know where she's going to be in two months from now," it bitterly escaped him, snorting as it left his lips "don't ask so much."

There was that little thing that bothered him, that he wouldn't share. She had correctly assumed it had to do with his offspring, since all seemed to be going if not good, then as usual at work and he had no personal life to speak of, as he himself had informed her. Talk as much as they did, joke and tease, it always felt like he was keeping something back, hidden, forgotten...or trying to forget it in favour of having a good time with her, but never managing to.

"What do you mean?"

He already regretted saying it, she could tell by his refusal to look at her and his sudden interest in his almost empty glass. "Never mind, it's nothing you should concern yourself with."

"But it's something that bothers you, yes? Come on, share; what's the worst that could happen?"

He sighed; maybe it was the drink – his fifth one, in fact – or maybe her voice; maybe the fact he felt so refreshed when he saw her and then all the more guilty for daring to think anything positive in the midst of all that was going on with his daughter. No matter what it was, it compelled him to speak. "My mother-in-law is creating problems; it's been going on for a couple of months now."

"What sort?"

"She wants to take custody of Aiko." Her chin fell. "She says I don't take good care of her, I don't spend enough time with her, I pawn her off to her and my mother all the time...which is not true. I am always there. I have done everything in my power to be able to keep up with her and work without either one suffering, even if I did lessen the hours I spent at the office. I try more, I'm there more, I never spend a night out of home, whatever she needs I'm just one call, or door, or room away; I don't leave her alone. I'm...I'm a good father damn it! And I try my best."

"You are," she assured with conviction and squeezed his arm at the clear anguish he was going through. "and it does sound like you do your best; what does your lawyer say?"

"She says single dads are perfectly fine and capable of keeping a child; there's no way she takes full custody. But she could take partial custody, depending on the judge, because I do work long hours and I do have to resort to my mother or mother-in-law to keep an eye on her."

"Oh god."

Her heart went out to him; at the same time, her own reasons for hitting the bar tonight just felt a tiny bit more selfish and small. But each their own. "I'm so sorry to hear that; isn't there anything you can do to stop that?"

He heaved an impressive sigh, forehead finding its way in his hand. "She said, if I was no longer a single dad, I could easily win the case; all I have to do is get married." His snort was impressive, too. "I barely have enough time to eat, I told her, where am I going to find a wife? She shrugged; she said it would take care of all of my problems. Well, I'm not even dating; women don't just fall from the sky. I can't—I don't know anymore...I just want to everything to be put into motion so I can see what to do. I don't even know if Miki, my mother-in-law, has filed the paperwork yet or she's just threatening to scare me."

The moment she heard the word wife, something sparked within her. Something started swirling in the back of her mind...something she wasn't ready to put to words quite yet.

"I'm really sorry; I don't know what else to say." There was a pause. "Do you want me to get you in contact with my lawyer?"

"No; I have no complaint from this one...and I could never afford your lawyer, I think."

"Well...there's a way you could." A plan started forming now. "Do you know why I came here tonight Hajime?" He shook his head. "Same reason I always do: I received bad news."

"But they say you're a regular."

"Exactly."

"Ouch." But he could relate.

"Tell me about it." She averted her eyes. "But tonight's a little different. Today's bad news are...special." She sighed, leaning forward, chin resting on her hand. "My father announced he'll be naming his successor on my birthday. There are three candidates: my brother Tora, a capable and highly organised individual; Kazuma-san, a man who has been working honest and hard for the past five years to get to the position he is now; and me, youngest daughter and child, the one who up till this morning was the undisputed favourite." She gritted her teeth and swallowed. "But not anymore; not unless I change my ways."

He could see the anger, the betrayal in her eyes; the harshness with which she brought the incident to memory; the way she tensed at the very thought.

"It's my fault, you see, that I haven't been already chosen. It's my fault for being the diligent student, who had no time for boys and only focused on her schoolwork, throughout my student life, university included. I didn't go to parties or get knocked up by careless boyfriends, so I'm suddenly a failure! Because I didn't get led around by the nose by some guy who batted his eyelashes at me; because I was responsible and hard-working and career-oriented and so focused on being the best at what I do that I didn't care about men!"

"If you're the most qualified, why do they care about anything else?"

"Beats me!" She had began gesticulating, just like when she was arguing on her phone, but now she actually threw her hands up so suddenly, she almost knocked her glass over. "But apparently it does and apparently I am the bad seed in the family because how dare I be turning twenty nine with no boyfriend? Shame on me! I should be getting married by now..."

He almost put his hand on her shoulder, but refrained last minute and simply nodded.

"And they even had the audacity to tell me, if I wanted, I could always ask them for help; they had a line of guys waiting for me. Because, naturally, my opinion didn't matter and obviously, my judgment wasn't to be trusted." She snorted. "Hypocrites, all of them; brother had an accident with some girl he met his second year and they got married in a hurry before she started showing—it's only a miracle it worked out for him. And sister went husband-shopping as soon as she turned eighteen, of course they'll be more successful," she air-quoted, unforgiving "at it than me, who concentrated, stupidly might I add, on her academic and later on, career advancement."

"So what are you going to do now?"

"I've been thinking about that all day I've been coming up empty...until now that is." At his interest, she smirked; sitting back in her chair, she crossed her arms, then her legs, looking all kinds of authority. "Let's get married, Hajime."

He snorted; "sure; know anyone who'll have us?"

Her smirk became wider. "No, no, you misunderstand; let us get married to one another, Hajime."

A wide array of emotions went through him at that statement, even if they didn't really show: shock; wander; amazement; doubt; disbelief; concern; and in the end, disappointment. "I think the martinis got to you."

"No, they didn't." She wasn't offended; if anything, she knew this would be the first thing out of his mouth.

"If this isn't the alcohol speaking, then what is?"

"What I'm proposing is a perfectly sound business opportunity: you need to get married to keep your daughter; I need to get married to succeed my father; we are both single. This is a match made in heaven."

He needed space; he leaned back as far as he could, back always straight, hands on the table. "Are you drugged? Did they put anything in those drinks?"

"Stop; I'm being completely serious. Think about it—we don't even have to actually get married. Just presenting a fiance is adequate; we can remain engaged for however long it takes and then," she shrugged "we'll just say we didn't work out. Who'll care?"
"The court will; we'll be committing perjury, Tokio. And I am a detective, in case you forgot."

"Listen to what I'm telling you; this is the perfect crime. No victims, no one gets hurt, no wrongdoing; we just get what we deserve. Yes, your issue is much bigger than mine, I can understand that much, but we both have our reasons; and I don't mind moving in with you, I don't mind acting; I like you, anyway, you seem like a good person. Not to mention, I can work from home."

Alright, he was not going to lie; that option sounded a little attractive. "And no one will think the timing suspicious? Two strangers decided—"

"—we are no strangers, Hajime. People remember me from that case; and people remember how you gave me your number in case anyone ever threatened me."

"But we never dated; no one saw us together."

"We've met a couple of times since, but so what? I have a habit of dating men and not telling anyone—it's a thing. Ask my closest friends, they'll tell you the same. Is it healthy? No. But my parents drove me into it a long time ago, before I realised I don't have to account for everything I did, especially in the romance department."

"And why did I keep it a secret?"

"Because I asked you to; and you have an almost six-year-old daughter that your mother-in-law wants to take away from you, but even if she didn't, I bet you wouldn't want Aiko meeting a girlfriend if it wasn't serious, right?"

Damn it, why was it that she made so much sense? Such an amoral thing, too? "Say what you want; it won't work. It's barely sane as an idea to begin with."

"Oh come on; it's a no-strings-attached once-in-a-lifetime chance. Just take it!"

"Nothing about this is no-strings-attached."

"If you worry about Aiko, let me tell you I am great with children!" She seemed proud. "I babysit for my siblings all the time—I'm their favourite relative, hands down. And both brother and sister have girls, too; I got this. Your daughter will love me."

"That's the worst part." That she did not expect to hear. "Tokio, Yaso died two days after delivery; Aiko never met her mother. What if she gets too attached, what do I do then?"

"Well...I don't have to disappear from your lives once this is over...besides, what do you prefer? Emotionally manipulating your daughter once, when she's too young to remember it, or be there for only half the important moments of her life at best?"

That was a low blow, she knew it; but she couldn't do otherwise, he needed to fully understand what was at stake. Or, at least, be reminded of it...she did mention earlier how she always got her way in the end anyway, why was he being difficult?

"Alright, I admit, I was callous, I'm sorry" she tried to cajole him, after receiving the full burnt of a lasting, harrowing glare "but you see my point."

"It's a ridiculous idea and an even more ridiculous proposal."

"But it isn't; it's perfect...!"

Neither one was going to change their mind about this, it was clear to see; they sighed at the same time. And just as he had started thinking about it, she said the wrong thing, damn it...but she did have his attention; she could see from the way his eyes averted, trying too hard not to betray what went on in his mind, his head turned away, but his body fully facing her. And his hands were on the table; not open, but there. That meant he was at least considering the possibilities, not too bad of a sign. She could still make it.

"Look, it's been a long day; we are both tired. I know you need to sleep on this, to make a proper decision."

"I already did: I refused."

"Sleep on it," she insisted and stood "I'm going to the ladies room for a moment."

"And when you come back, you'll realise how stupid this was."

What a stubborn man; shaking her head, she went to the bathroom.

What a head-strong woman; he shook his head, as he watched her go. When she returned, she reached for her purse immediately; she produced a small writing pad and a pen. "This is my personal contact information," she ripped the first little page, after she scribbled on it "use it once you reach a decision."

"I've already—"

"Goodnight and bye for now, Hajime-san," she cut him off on purpose as she retrieved her coat. "Hope to hear from you soon."

"Yeah, bye."

What a night; what a crazy woman. As if all he had on his mind wasn't enough, she put new thoughts, troubles and ideas into it. Why was she so insistent on this, anyway? It was never a good idea to lie in court, especially under oath and for such a reason, too. He didn't want to keep his daughter because of deception, but because someone actually realised how much of an effort he put in and the result was satisfactory. He was far from perfect, yes, but he was a good father; period! No matter what his mother-in-law tried to say.

"Hey," he stopped their server then "bring me the check, will you?"

"Err..." he hesitated.

"What?"

"The lady took care of it." Saitou stared. "All of it; yours, too, from before she came."

Flabbergasted, he wondered "why did you let her?"

"She said you gave her cash for your share and she paid all of it by card."

"...of course she did."

"I'm sorry sir, but—"

"It's okay," he reassured "it wasn't your fault."

Goddamn, she was really smart, too! Smart and pig-headed. Because she did this on purpose, he was sure—she could read people easily and she knew he wouldn't stand for this! At the very least, he'd call her to arrange a date where he'd pay for everything; at best, he would torture himself with thoughts of her and her stupid deals!

He shook his head disappointed in himself as he put on his coat; when he exited the bar, and the crisp night air hit him, he took a deep breath, savouring the feeling as long as he could. Too many things happened tonight. He was exhausted. All he wanted was to kiss his daughter goodnight and go to sleep. With that happy thought in mind, he took to the streets, walking to the taxi piazza one block away and waited.

.

.

Next morning, he woke up to his doorbell ringing; stumbling out of bed, as well as a little suspicious on who could it be when his alarm clock hadn't even gone off yet, he headed to the front door with steady steps. He opened the bedroom door that his daughter slept in on the way, making sure she was still fast asleep and only then did he confidently decided to open it, acutely aware of where he kept his gun.

"Good morning sweetie."

He blinked. What was his mother doing here? She always came once she picked Aiko from school, well after four. Still, she shouldered past him, when she saw he was still too groggy to process information right, holding something he couldn't make out in her hands. He closed the door behind her.

"Couldn't sleep?"

"No; yes; yes and no." She took a deep breath that she released immediately. "This came for you in the mail, yesterday." She produced an envelope. "I didn't give it to you when you came back because you looked very tired but it ate at me. Here, take it."

She shoved it in his hands and then proceeded to kick off her slippers and ran to the fridge. She took out a bottle of milk, then moved to the cupboards where she took out a glass. She filled it to the brim and drank greedily. All of that, before he even looked at the letter, which was suspicious because his mother never drank milk like that if something hadn't gone wrong. Keeping his eyes on her, he noticed she went through the motions of making him a cup of coffee before he asked for one.

Alright, he was getting worried now. When he glanced down at the envelope, he felt the pit of his stomach disappear; his throat, dry. It was from the Department of Justice. He opened it, sitting on a chair, trying his hardest to brace himself. It wasn't too long, only three paragraphs—he read them all thrice. And every time, he would linger at the same places, taking a deeper breath, trying to swallow the knot that had formed in his throat, but no luck; it was still there, still making it harder for him to breathe.

He could tell his mother had read it before him, since he didn't break the seal, and he could finally understand why she was being like this. He looked at her with the edge of his eyes.

"It came yesterday you say?"

"I don't know when exactly, only that it was here when I brought her back."

He nodded, hand in his forehead. "Thanks," he said offhanded, as she put the cup of hot, fresh coffee in his hand. He took a sip. "She did it," he stated and they both knew what that meant, without her asking. "This sets he date for the first preliminary hearing."

"Want me to take Aiko to school?" she asked after kissing the top of his head.

"No, I will; this" he held the paper out 'changes nothing. And I will fight it with everything I have. She is my daughter; she'll stay with me."

"...maybe we should call the lawyer."

"I will, later; you go to tell dad, once he wakes up. See you tonight."

Something hardened in his eyes; without realising, he had made a decision. As she kissed the top of his head for the second time, he fixed his phone with a serious look. Trying to put all of those thoughts away though, he drained his cup, even if it was almost full, and concentrated on waking up his cute little daughter.

Aiko was such an easy and accommodating child; just like her mother, in more ways than her looks. Even if, objectively, she was a spitting image of Yaso, thank god, with her soft brown tresses and her small nose; the only thing she took from him was his sharp, amber eyes, that now were barely opening, as he nudged her little shoulders.

"Little plum, wake up; it's a school day. We need to get you ready."

She groaned, pulling the blanket up; he chuckled. The one thing that always made him feel like he was staring at a miniature of his ex-wife, behaviour-wise, was this: her adamant refusal to wake on the first try.

"I will go and prepare your breakfast; you have five minutes."

She nodded at the best of her ability, grateful for the extra time; he petted her hair once and headed to the kitchen, as memories of them together started playing in his mind:

Aiko being late to preschool because he wouldn't let go of her hand at the door; Aiko being sick, a little bundle of clothes and blankets at his feet, as she lay on the couch with him, to keep him company as he worked a case; her stubbing her toe on the kitchen table and crying; the first time she drew blood and didn't know what to do and came to show it to him distraught. He had simply smiled, warned her it would sting, sterilised it and put a band-aid over it; kissed it better, too, to make sure. Her first word was "dad"; and the first time he ever saw her, he could only hold her, not too tight, because she was just born, but as tight as he could, to let her know he was there for her, forever. She was his responsibility. And although he looked at her for only a split second, he would everything for her.

Everything.

And now someone wanted to take her away, because why? He worked too long—he worked so that she could be taken care of, provided for; he actively made the world a safer place for her. And now they were going to blame him for it? As if on repeat, he could only hear Tokio's voice echoing in his head: what do you prefer? Emotionally manipulating your daughter once, when she's too young to remember it, or be there for only half the important moments of her life at best? Fine, so be it; let them come. He would not allow this to happen; he was not going to take this lying down.

Giving a final look at his cell phone, then a glance at his coat's pocket, he went through his routine and once he'd finished with her breakfast, he went back into her room.

"Little plum, it's time to rise; we need to beat the sun to school." He had no idea why, but that line always worked on her; it was the competitive streak she inherited from him, he smugly hypothesized, and again, it made her bounce out of bed, causing him to scold her for falling out of bed, because she got her feet tangled.

"Daddy, what are we wearing today?"

"Leggings; it's getting a little milder. And how about a nice sweater?"

"I want the grey ones, with the cute butterflies! And the grey woolly sweater."

"You aren't a Super Sentai, yet; different colours for tops and bottoms, okay?"

She pouted; he prompted her. "Okay, fine; but once I become a Super Sentai, I get to wear all grey," she continued stubbornly.

"I promise."

Then they had her breakfast, while she told him all about yesterday; there was a girl in her class he didn't like because she always picked on his little plum, but lately he'd be hearing plenty about a boy named Hori, who was very nice and smart and always came to her rescue...he didn't like that either. Well, he did, because it was cute and nothing came of it, but what are they doing in that place? Why does a fellow classmate have to protect her? What about the teachers?

When he had posed that question to one of them, she defended themselves, by saying there was only so much they could do. And since the other girl, little Sissy, wasn't being physical, or too hurtful, they couldn't keep them supervised all the time, because some boys did resort to fistfights and they had more sources of problems. Well, fine; it wasn't unreasonable...but he didn't have to like it. And apparently, they needed more people. He'd be sure to comment on that.

Once both were dressed warmly enough to start their day, he locked his door, took Aiko's hand in his and they got to the car. All strapped in, he drove her to her preschool; there, he got her out of the car, picked her up, gave her a big kiss goodbye and watched her go inside. He got into his car, still looking at the spot he last saw his daughter, and took out his cellphone. Digging into his pocket, he produced the crumpled paper he thankfully hadn't thrown out, for some reason, and dialed the digits.

He waited.

"This is Tokio," he heard her formal voice and almost hesitated; he was going to hang up. But just one thought of his little plum being taken away jolted him right back and prompted him to speak.

"This is Hajime."

"Hajime!"

They spoke his name at the same time: hers was exited, his was somber. That gave him some hope. He still sighed. "I'm in."

"Perfect! Say no more over the phone; we'll meet tonight and talk shop then."

"Just one question." He rushed her, because she was so psyched about this, she said it all in one breath and was about to hang up. "What kinda ring do you want?"

There was a moment of complete silence on her end; then, laughter. "I like sapphires but I hate in-your-face things; we'll talk about that tonight, too. Does nine sound good?"

"Where?"

"I'll text you the address. I really have to go now, okay? See you tonight."

.

.

When he read the address on the screen, he wasn't sure where she was leading him, he believed that to be a residential area, and, sure enough, when he pulled up he bore witness to a very upscale apartment complex. He had an idea it was going to be so, but at first he had assumed it was going to be some expensive bar or restaurant she was leading him, not her house. A little trusting, wasn't she? And how was he supposed to get there? This place had a fence around it and she gave him no floor or building number.

All of his objections were rendered null when he approached said fence and saw he had a telecommute system. He rang the bell.

"This is Suzuki Honda, how may I help you?"

"My name is Saitou Hajime—"

"Ah, the gentleman Tokio-sama has been expecting. Please come inside and head for the building number three; there, you will give your name to the man at the lobby and he will tell you what to do."

The door for the people opened, next to the huge door for the cars, and he was allowed inside. Geez, this place was even bigger than it looked ten seconds ago. Six huge apartment buildings, ten-stories high, were laid out in front of him; they had numbers in kanji at the height of the lobby, to tell you which one was which. He spotted the one he wanted and headed there. Three minutes of fast-walking later, the automated entrance parted and allowed him in.

"Good evening; my name is Saitou Hajime."

He said it before the man had time to look up from his computer screen, throwing the older man a little off. "Of course, Tokio-sama has been expecting you." He looked to his papers but he had no idea why since he already had all the information he needed. "Please go to the elevator and press the button with the Latin letter "P"."

P was it? As in a penthouse. Not that he didn't remember how rich she was from his case, but goddamn. Nodding to the man, he easily did as requested. Just by the elevator he could tell what an apartment he was going to go to, seeing it was all golden colours, yellow polished metal and a sort of European feeling of luxury. And yet, nothing prepared him for what he witnessed once the doors opened to let him out:

He was already standing in the hallway of this house. It was all windows, as far as the eye could see, with white minimalist and luxurious furniture. To the right, he could distinguish a bar, in the same colour, clearly wooden, separating the rest of the living room from what appeared to be a fully-equipped liquor store, with all types of alcohol on the shelves.

It stretched for a long way, until it stopped, there were exactly two large steps and a half-wall separated the rest of the flat from the main entrance. There was nothing else on the left, other than small space with a chair, enough from someone to sit and remove his shoes, like a little box. Alright. This was new.

"Tokio, are you here?"

"Yes!" Her head appeared behind the half wall, smile wide. "Come in, come in; I was just preparing a quick bite—you haven't eaten anything, right?"

He nodded, as he removed his shoes and then his coat, hanging it on the hanger that was about a metre long, with multiple hooks, on his immediate right.

"Would you like something to drink, too?"

"A beer would be nice."

"Whatever you want."

The more she talked, the faster it got, absorbed as she was in her task, for she had already went back to the, obviously, kitchen. He approached, taking in the space as well as the general feeling of luxury. It reminded him of the suites one saw on hotel brochures and he always wondered, who actually lived there? She did, was the answer. As the rest of the house was revealed to him, he noticed the kitchen, all of it, appliances included, was one of those smart kitchens—the entire house was, probably. She was clean though, he had to give it to her—for such a white house everything was spotless. She hardly did it on her own, though. He bet she had a professional do it.

"I hope you like shrimps."

"They are to my liking."

"Great; I made some crab-patties, too, with some smoked tuna; I think there's a mackerel somewhere here, too. Oh, I have a tentacle from an octopus, too it's quite the delicacy!"

"Is it a quick bite or a whole meal?"

She laughed. "Small quantities, large variety. Now, sit down, get comfortable, I'll be right there."

She brought a tray of small plates, all filled to the brim with something different than the other; with quick steps, she left and came back with the drinks: a beer for him, as he asked, and sake for her. Hm...sake, huh? Now he was jealous. He noticed she brought two cups; a good hostess.

"Since you didn't open the beer, put it away; I think I prefer sake, too."

"As you wish."

When she came back, finally empty handed and plopped to the couch right next to him, he noticed she was wearing a burgundy, satin nightgown, with lace details at the bust and the hemming around her knees, as well as a matching robe, all the way to the floor, with the same black lace details at the end of the sleeves. Her feet sported black thick woolen socks that went to her ankle.

"This place is harder to get into than the Prime Minister's office, what gives?"

She chuckled. "Dad wanted me close to him and this was the only place that satisfied my aesthetic needs and his paranoia."

"Whatever; I'm not moving in with you."

She blinked. "Pardon?"

"I'm not bringing my daughter here," he stated absolute "nor myself."

"Oh," she sighed in relief "I know, that's fine; I'll move in with you."

He raised an eyebrow at her, challenge written all over his face. "It's quite the downgrade."

She rolled her eyes. "I think I can handle it. Besides, this house is mostly a symbol of status, rather than a necessity. I am one person, I don't need a penthouse."

He reached for the sake bottle at the same time as her; she slapped his hand away. "Besides," she continued like they hadn't just argued over the alcohol "the one without the child moves; can't have her changing districts and schools and her entire routine. Baby steps."

When she actually poured for him first and then herself, he was surprised. She caught it with the edge of her eyes and shook her head. "I have manners, Hajime." Flipping her hair, she sat back in the comfortable sofa, feet curling underneath her as he took his first sip.

"So, we already established place of residence: your place. Now we need to arrange a date for you to spontaneously pop the question," he smiled at that "as well as a set of rules. We are supposed to be getting married after all. Secret affair or not, we are supposed to be in love. And I can guess, judging from your character, if your emotions weren't truly deep about a woman you wouldn't ask her to marry you, so it's safe to say we must act in love. Like ourselves, yes, but ourselves in love. For instance..." she took a little pause, making sure she had his full attention "I am very big on displays of affection, public or not."

"I feared you'd be."

She nodded, sympathetic. "Yeah, I bet you aren't." He didn't even have to verbally confirm it, just the way he looked to the side was all she needed. "But that can work in our favour! We don't have to be too effusive in front of friends and family. Though there will come a time where we'll have to hug or kiss, it's going to be unavoidable."

"I see what you mean with rules." He popped a crab-pattie in his mouth, taking another sip. "Alright, hugs and kisses are acceptable in any fitting setting; but nothing more and not behind closed doors."

"Deal."

"We sleep in the same room—"

"Naturally," she commented annoyed, as she too drank.

"—and the same bed," he persevered; she still clicked her tongue.

"Yes, I'm not an idiot; I understand. We have to lie to your daughter, too, so of course we will. If they ask her and she says we sleep in separate rooms they'll immediately suspect something."

"Just so we're clear..." These shrimps were delicious, oh god. "One important thing: when it comes to Aiko, you do as I say." She crossed her arms, visibly bracing herself. "What I mean is, I can't tell her one thing and you another; and just because you'll want her to like you, you won't let her do whatever she wants."

Fair enough, her expression betrayed.

"Also, if she asks to do something and I forbid it and you don't agree, please don't argue with me in front of her; we'll talk about it privately and if I believe you're making more sense, I'll probably change my mind."

"I get it, don't challenge your authority in front of her." She took a sip, eyebrows raising. "But you do the same."

"...fine, so long as it complies with the first rule."

She smirked. "Very well." Another sip. "We need to set a time-frame, too; I think it's going to be impossible to get engaged, convince everyone we're a real couple and then break up in a normal way in less than four months—maybe more." He nodded. "I think it's paramount we don't break up as soon as it's decided you get to keep her, to make it more believable, so everything will depend on the court. After all, once the proposal in made, my end will be met much sooner; maybe the same month. It will be your issue that takes the longest."

"Preliminary hearing is April 1st."

"That's some sense of humour they have..."

Conversation dwindled after that; seeing the detective was actually hungry, he started alternating between snacking and drinking, sparing few words for the hostess who drank her cup but did not refill hers before his. As if remembering something, some long minutes after the last word was exchanged, he jolted. Swallowing his food, he looked straight at her.

"We need an accomplish, someone to have our back. If we have that one witness who knew of our relationship, it makes sense how we could have kept it secret for so long. He could testify to it, too if it came down to it, though I don't appreciate putting anyone in that spot."

"You're not wrong...do you have someone in mind already? Otherwise, I can definitely talk to a friend."

He put up his palm to stop her. "No need; you said you've kept relationships secret before this, from everyone." She nodded, even if he didn't word it as a question. "I can't. There's one person who'd definitely know; it's him we'll have to make use of."

"Which is...?"

"That's easy," he teased, as if thinking her lazy for not guessing it "my partner, Okita Souji."

"Of course; Okita. How could I forget?" A tired smile later, her eyes on him because softer, but just as calculating. "So, do we have a deal?"

"We do."

"Splendid! So, when can you propose? Ah, first, show me some rings; I'll tell you what I like."

He took out his phone, prepared for that question. He readily went to his photos and pressed on the first one. She actually crawled next to him on the sofa, looking over his shoulder. "This is the one I lean towards the most." It was a discreet, but solid sapphire in the middle, standing alone. But the band around it was studded with semiprecious diamonds. "Then is this one, but you did say—"

She stopped his hand from swiping to the left; "it's perfect; no need to see any more. I hope it isn't too expensive."

"No, it's fine," he assured her "within desirable price-range."

"That's a relief." She looked at him with the edge of her eyes. "Another condition: I'm paying for the ring; and I'm keeping it."

"What? Why? And if you were going to pay for it why are you worried about how much it costs?"

"I don't want to pay a thousand dollars for a ring! But this one is really beautiful, I want to keep it; I don't believe you managed to find something I'd like so much, but now that I saw it, I want it and I won't be giving it back."

He shrugged. "Whatever. I'll go buy it tomorrow; talk to Okita then, too. I'll text you the details."

"Fax me the receipt, too."

"I may be nearly as rich as you, but I'm not without means, either; relax. It's not that taxing of an expense. Besides, I think you're good for it."

"Alright! Perfect. So, a toast." She lifted her cup high in the air with one hand and the other she put around his neck. "To close-knit families and great business opportunities."

"Aye." They touched their cups and drank. "Once I finish this cup, I'm leaving. Savor your last days in this house."

She chuckled, unhanding him, opting to simply rest her head on his shoulder. "I don't mind downsizing for the right reasons." They shared a look. "When do I meet Aiko-chan?"

"Once I propose; I gather it'll be in four days from now, maybe a week. Depends entirely on Okita."

"Oh, if he agrees please give him my phone number, yes?"

He had no reason to disagree; with that detail being settled, he drained his cup. He ate the remainder of the shrimps for good measure and pushed off the couch. "Thanks for the food."

"Don't mention it."

"I do hope you know how to cook more things than just shrimp though."

She laughed, a little disbelievingly. "No one starts off with shrimp, Hajime; besides, I told you I was a student didn't I? I lived alone, I can take care of myself."

"Taking care of a child is different though. Certain things must be done no matter wha-"

"I know, detective, just go," she actually pushed him towards the front door "I'm not an idiot; and like I've already said, your daughter isn't the only small child I've ever taken care of. In fact, she's older than both my nieces were. Chill; I got this." He gave her a look. "Yes, I know; she's your daughter. But try to be a little trusting at least."

"...goodbye, Tokio."

As he took the long elevator ride back to reception, he couldn't help the feeling he just made a huge mistake—or at least, compromised himself some grand, stupid way. But now the deal was struck; he would not back away. Not if it gave him the chance to stop this dispute with his mother-in-law for good.

A/N: First chapter is over, yay! I really liked the concept, not gonna lie. Love you all. Please leave a review on your way out lovelies.

Much love,
FAI~