Puits d'Amour

Balance

Sora paused on the veranda behind the Takenouchi estate, taking in the view of the garden. There was a nip in the September air, and she wore a white shawl over her kimono, pinned at the shoulder. The leaves hinted at the coming change, greens shifting to yellow, the beginnings of chlorophyll breaking down. In Autumn, the Takenouchi gardens could soothe a hurting heart- or set it aching with fall's ineffable power, that surge of beauty and plenty before the death of winter.

Even if the servants hadn't directed her to the garden, Sora would have known where Toshiko was. Until it went dormant, she would be there, unless it was raining. Sometimes, Toshiko even worked in the snow, if she had materials that withstood the cold.

All seasons have value, their own rhythms and beauty, their own sadness and joy. Ikebana as an art was indivisible from the natural world, a celebration of it. And so, Sora took a moment to reflect on the fading summer and the autumn soon to come.

But contemplation was no excuse to be late for her lesson, so Sora breathed in a drought of cool air, tasting of flourishing plants and the decay that life could not exist without. Then, she fixed her hair and adjusted her clothing, unwilling to approach the grandmaster without looking presentable. As much as she could manage, anyway.

Then, Sora stepped down from the veranda and onto the ancient stone pathways leading into the Takenouchi gardens. As always, Toshiko sat in the circular clearing at their heart, working on a piece. Sora stopped close enough for her mother to hear her footsteps, but far enough that she could reasonably ignore her if she was in the middle of a thought.

"Do you see the problem?" Toshiko spoke softly, as if to avoid startling the plants.

Sora rejected the urge to sigh, or to say something like, Hello to you, too. The art came first. The art always came first. She knew her interpretation of Toshiko's behavior was filtered through her own feelings, perspectives, and insecurities, so she struggled to set those thoughts aside. She was here to learn. No use avoiding the question.

"A moment, please."

Toshiko swiveled enough to offer Sora a smile. "Always wise, my dear daughter. Take your time."

Almost despite herself, Sora smiled. Sometimes, she wondered if Toshiko was testing her by being so focused on the art and her training. But when kindness and maturity proved stronger than her hurt feelings, she suspected that Toshiko loved ikebana so much that she assumed Sora felt the same way, and wanted to share that love with her.

Sora realized that she might be reading into things too much. When her mother smiled at her like that, she would be a fool not to see her love. Sora was young, inexperienced, stubborn, and a bit too inclined to ignore her negative feelings. But she was not a fool.

And so, reassured, she examined her mother's piece.

The first thing that struck her was how busy it was. If she had to guess, Toshiko was experimenting with height and layering, slowly drawing the viewer's gaze down from the tallest branches and flowers to the shortest ones near the base. In ikebana, as with many creative fields, the popular belief was that less was more. A similar statement made with fewer parts was more impactful and elegant than a crowded, loud piece.

So, what was Toshiko doing?

Hesitantly, sure that she was missing something, Sora ventured, "Is it busy?"

"Yes," Toshiko replied. "And no."

She patted the cushion on the ground beside hers. Sora frowned, but shifted to a neutral expression as she sat. Clearly, her mother had more to say, but Toshiko gazed at her, silent, waiting. Sora had no idea what she wanted to hear, so she prompted, "Oh?"

"Both, yes. It isn't finished; I need to select which elements to remove while preserving the message of the piece. But there's another issue, too: balance."

Sora was unwilling to risk commenting. Balance was an eternal concern with ikebana. Visual balance, ensuring that the piece was not too overpopulated in one section and sparse in another, at least in an unintended fashion. Color balance, texture balance, and even balance in the simplest sense. The piece needed stability, and the stems needed to retain the shape the artist set them in.

In a way, saying that an ikebana piece needed balance was akin to saying it needed organic, plant-based materials. Whenever Toshiko brought it up, Sora felt a bit trapped. Of course the piece needed balance. Why comment on it?

"I'd like to see what you do with it," Toshiko continued.

Sora's shoulders snapped up; she could only hope that her shawl obscured the twitch. What if I mess it up?

Aloud, she said, "What if I don't see the piece the way you do?"

Toshiko's smile transformed her calm expression, like watching a flower bloom. Sora smiled back, craving that maternal warmth… but simultaneously wary of it, instinctively questioning why it was offered now, what the meaning might be. "That's what I'm hoping for. To see your perspective. Don't worry; I made this piece for the lesson."

Was that comforting? Sora wasn't sure. Why had the grandmaster set all of this up, just for a lesson? It must be important.

"You don't have to start right away," Toshiko said. "Consider the piece with your consciousness, not just your eyes."

In other words, take your time. Sora breathed in deeply, from the diaphragm. Meditating on the piece was the best way to proceed- but how could she? Anxiety about the assignment and wasting Toshiko's time confounded concentration. And the haze of exhaustion from attending the party last night after a long workday hadn't lifted.

As the heiress of the Takenouchi school of ikebana, Sora was loathe to admit it, but all she saw was a bunch of sticks and plants, not a piece of art.

Minutes passed as Sora's eyes glazed, as she struggled against rising panic. Then, Toshiko placed a hand on her knee. Sora jerked towards her and found a tiny smile that she was helpless to understand.

"So, I heard His Highness escorted you to a house party last night."

Judging by Toshiko's cascading laughter, the face Sora made must have been comical. "Don't look so shocked! Of course my students and their parents saw you!"

Of course. Sora tried to control her face, to keep it neutral, but her annoyance had to be obvious. She and Yamato strolled one of the ritziest residential areas in the country. No one approached them, so she thought they went unnoticed.

But clearly, that was foolish.

Once she was sure her irritation was reigned in, Sora replied, "Yes, we attended a celebratory dinner at the Izumi townhome."

"So I heard," Toshiko replied. "Izumi Koushiro is courting his intended."

Sora knew better than to bite, she really did... But how could she help it? "How did you hear that so quickly?"

Toshiko's smile went mysterious, a look so often seen on the faces of mothers. "You know how, my dear. My customer base is in Nagano, the suburbs and the city itself. One of my students is the younger sibling of someone who attended the party. Her mother told me when she dropped her off."

It was tempting to joke about gossipy old women, but Sora understood the currency of information. She tensed; what if Eimi's secret came out right after she finally took a leap of faith?

Toshiko cupped her cheek, eyes averted in thought. "I don't know any Anamis among the nobility, however... I'm not that familiar with the Izumis, either. Our records indicate that Koushiro-kun's maternal grandmother- adoptive, of course- was the last Izumi to enroll with us."

"That might have to do with the Izumi's financial situation, before his parents wed." Sora had no reason to think her mother would harm Koushiro or Eimi, but she found herself speaking with care, regardless.

"That's true. Hopefully, with Izumi Masami's business and Koushiro-kun's career as an inventor, they won't have money worries for a long time. I would have expected Koushiro-kun to leverage his minor nobility and funds in an attempt to marry upward, however. From what I can tell, he's marrying a commonborn woman. I'm told she performs at your café?"

"I suppose not everyone is worried about rank," Sora replied, aware that she was being evasive- and a little defensive. "In terms of class standing, you married down, too."

"You've got me there," Toshiko replied, smiling. "I wish the new couple happiness. How was the party?"

Hoping she didn't look too relieved, Sora replied, "It was lovely. Everyone enjoyed themselves, and the food was delicious- and interesting. I think Yamato-san enjoyed the chance to live like a typical noble youth."

"Yamato-san?"

Once again, Sora tensed. The memory of a pleasant evening was all it took for her to relax too much, to say something she shouldn't. In a way, she liked that she wanted to speak openly to her mother. In another, she wished she were better at keeping her cards to her chest. It was a vital skill for a noble.

The way Toshiko stared made it clear that she understood the weight of Sora's slip. "Daughter... Is there something brewing between you and His Highness? From what I can tell, he frequents the café, and he escorted you to this party and saw you back safely."

Sora stared dully at the ikebana arrangement. Boy, what a wonderful meditation I'm having on this piece. Just really connecting with it, on the deepest of levels.

Truthfully, Sora hadn't told Toshiko much about Yamato. She didn't know about their arrangement, nor how often he visited- which was most days. But of course, as Sora had just discovered, Toshiko probably did know that, and plenty more, besides.

"We're friends," Sora replied. "Genuinely, I mean; friends, not mutually beneficial connections. He's been kind and generous to me, and to the regulars at the café. I asked him to escort me so I could show him the immediate area. He hasn't been able to walk freely until last night, although he still had guards."

"That was kind of you. And I truly am glad that you're helping him. I do admit that I was hopeful, though..."

Sora blinked. "That we were interested in one another? I haven't known him that long."

"That's true. But it would be a good match, in the sense that we're likely the closest to his class without being royalty ourselves. However..." Sighing, Toshiko stroked her chin. "Well, it wouldn't work, would it... If you had a sibling who wanted to become iemoto, the match would be perfect. But as it stands, if you married His Highness, you would take his name, since his family is the more prestigious of the two."

"Meaning there would be no Takenouchi heir." Sora's delivery was wooden, bordering on cold. Her status brought so many wonderful things to her life, such as her education, her home, and her café. And yet, it trapped her, stripping her of choice.

Toshiko nodded. "I often wish we had a second child, for so many reasons. If there were two heirs, there wouldn't be so much pressure on your shoulders... But it simply wasn't what happened."

As Sora understood it, there were complications at her birth that made more children unlikely. Fertility issues were disastrous for nobles, who preferred to have at least two children, often three, to ensure the bloodline continued.

Sora often wished for siblings, herself. Maybe they could help her navigate her duties and her family, or at least support her. But how could she say anything? Her mother had no further children because of how her pregnancy with Sora went. No one was to blame, Sora knew, but she couldn't help feeling at fault.

As these heavy thoughts occupied her, Toshiko continued, "I don't see how you would produce a Takenouchi heir and Ishida heirs, nor how you could attend to your iemoto duties and royal ones..."

"You... gave this a lot of thought," Sora realized. And wasn't processing that information going to be fun?

"I know it's not your favorite subject, but your marriage is on my mind. And now that His Highness's schooling is over, and he's returned to train for the crown... Well, you'll forgive us mothers of eligible daughters for being aware that this is the time for him to find a wife."

"Oh, mother," Sora groaned. "You sound like every comedy of manners novel I've ever read!"

"And art imitates life!" Toshiko laughed. "But on a more serious note... I'm truly glad you're befriending His Highness. I encourage this friendship, but please, be aware that all eyes are on the prince right now. Every interaction he has with an eligible woman his age is going to be noticed- and commented on, from every angle, to the point of exhaustion. Be aware of the signals you're broadcasting, not just to His Highness, but to people you aren't aware are watching."

"That's so unfair." And once again, Sora's thoughts were out in the open, freed before she could contain them. "I know he can't have a normal life, as a prince. But to be so scrutinized... He was just having a night out with friends."

"I'm not in a position to comment on what's fair and unfair for royalty," Toshiko said gently. "I wish him all the best, too. He struck me as a good child during our lessons. I can only tell you what I've heard and seen."

Sora sucked in a deep breath, recognizing that her emotions were hitting the immovable wall of her mother's maturity and compassion. Again, she was torn, wishing that Toshiko would let her vent, but understanding her point. Accepting what she could and could not change, and directing her efforts and emotions accordingly, was far more productive and conducive to happiness than purposefully heightening negative emotions.

That didn't mean she liked it- nor that she liked how cognizant she was of these issues in her mother's presence.

"Have you considered your potential suitors?"

Sora twitched, forcibly ripped from her thoughts. "I'd prefer Yamato-san," she snapped.

Annnnd there it was; the inevitable result of being on edge for too long, when she was already so tired. Every muscle tightened, anticipating a scolding that Sora felt she had both earned and been unfairly set up for.

But to her immense surprise, Toshiko laughed. "You're sassing, but that's the closest we've come to progress. Is it how he looks? I don't know that we can find many candidates with his physical description, but if it's his personality-"

Mortified in a way she hadn't been since those tender pre-teen years, Sora screeched, "Mother!"

Toshiko enjoyed a belly laugh at her daughter's expense, until her eyes glistened with tears. "Oh, daughter, mind yourself! I told you to be careful of the signals you send! I can't blame you; the prince certainly is handsome. But remember, you two have too many conflicting obligations."

"That's not-"

With herculean effort, Sora snapped her mouth shut. Until she calmed, every word she said would only broadcast how upset she was. And why was she so upset? Surely, everything about this encounter ruffled her: the ikebana assignment, the discovery that her mother knew her every social move, and the reminder of her looming arranged marriage.

These days, coming home was usually upsetting, to the point where home had become the flat above the café, not her family's ancestral seat.

"I have a general understanding of His Highness's personality," Toshiko said. "I can narrow things down that way. But I'm teasing you, dear. I see I've taken it too far. I'm sorry."

Sora inhaled, counting to ten, focusing on the slow expansion of her diaphragm and lungs. She knew she should acknowledge her mother's apology, but frankly, she didn't want to.

Gently, Toshiko held Sora's knee. "Sora... I'm worried. You're exhausted. I noticed the moment I saw your face."

Then let me go home. That wasn't something she could say to Toshiko, not when she had allowed Sora to leave the estate and pursue her café. Sora couldn't blame her work, which she had pushed to take on herself. She couldn't blame the party, not if she wanted to have a social life.

Which she didn't really have, of course. Not outside of the café.

"I am tired," she admitted at last. "But I'll do my best with the lesson."

"Sora... If you carry too many things, you're likely to drop them all. It's better to put one or two down than risk collapse. Can't you hire another baker at your café?"

"Baking is a huge part of why I started the café." The old, hated argument sapped Sora's tenuous calm.

"I know, and your food is delicious. But you've taught your staff your recipes. You could take one or two baking shifts per week, and give yourself more time with your friends."

Sora stared resolutely at the arrangement, feeling thunderstruck and foolish. For some reason, she saw giving up the baking shift as black and white; bake or don't bake. But her staff worked in flexible shifts to accommodate their schooling. Why was she expecting only herself to have a non-changing schedule?

"That's a possibility," Sora allowed. But for some reason, admitting it made her want to cling to her current schedule more than ever.

Toshiko withdrew her hand, but her slow speed implied reluctance. After a long pause, she asked, "Are you ready to work on the piece? Do you have any questions?"

Sora was ready to knock the ikebana arrangement over and go home, thank you. She grit her teeth- she had already sassed too much for one day.

"I don't know if I'm seeing what you want me to see," she managed at last.

Her mother placed a hand on her back. "Only one way to find out."

Sora had no plan, no guiding thoughts. All she could do was experiment, and the tactic that seemed most likely to improve the piece was reducing the parts. If there was a trick to this exercise, something she wasn't seeing, then it would simply go unseen.

Slowly, guided by intuition and by the tenets of the art that she had grown up on, Sora removed flowers and branches. The general idea of the piece, the colors, texture, and mood, were there from the start, but as she touched it, felt the elements, Sora began to sense the energy of it, to hear its voice.

A curious sensation, discovering the piece as she removed, rather than as she built.

When she was finished, a third of the initial materials were back on the tray with the flowers and branches initially available for her use. Sora stood and stepped away from the piece and circled it, checking the faces and angles.

The altered piece still drew the eye down its height, but now, the effect was generated with as few elements as possible. Additionally, the eye moved from right to left as the flowers and stems shortened, with a gentle curve formed by a large branch, the focal point of the piece. Sora cascaded flowers over it, and the flow also suggested movement.

Exhaling, Sora resumed her seat on the cushion. It was difficult to know in the moment if a piece was good. She did know that her ideas were exhausted, and that she liked what was in front of her. She faced her mother and bowed, indicating that her art was ready for the grandmaster's review.

"Daughter," Toshiko murmured. Unsure what to make of her tone, Sora looked up- and found shining eyes and a warm smile.

"It's beautiful."

"Really?" Sora's hand twitched up, wanting to shove that word back into her mouth. A dignified iemoto accepted praise with grace, not shock.

Toshiko managed a tiny laugh as she wiped her eye. "Yes. Everything I wanted you to see, to know... It's already there, Sora."

Sora wanted to be pleased, but confusion remained the dominant emotion. "What do you mean?"

Toshiko slid her cushion closer, until it touched Sora's. "I mean that beauty and meaning can be found by subtraction, not just addition. That your own touch can totally alter something that already exists- reshape it, even. That balance comes in many forms. That the whole must shift as you change the balance of a piece."

Sora hesitated. Somehow, she was still waiting for some kind of trick, but she didn't want to push her mother, especially not when she seemed so proud. "This... isn't just about ikebana." It wasn't a question, and Toshiko didn't bother acknowledging it as such.

"Our lessons never are. You know how much goes into being an iemoto, and into training to become one. Things would be far easier if we only worried about the art."

Toshiko drew a deep breath. "I worry for you, Sora. I know you're so capable and grown, and I know you're trying to make your own way, as much as you can, just as I did. It's not for me to decide how you structure your life, even if we grandmasters are constrained by the same traditions. But when I see you struggling and tired..."

Toshiko sighed. "Sometimes, removing elements can create beauty. Sometimes, changing the way you balance your life can show you new opportunities. Sometimes, you can make your own mark, even on existing ideas and traditions. And that, my daughter, is all the unsolicited advice I have for today."

Sora blinked. That was a dismissal, even if it was the strangest one she had ever received. She bowed, muscle memory, and murmured, "Thank you for the lesson," although the irony of thanking her mother for turning some kind of... mother/daughter heart-to-heart into an ikebana exercise was not lost on her.

But then, this was Takenouchi Toshiko. Everything came back to the art.

Sora said her farewells, then retreated to the house. Her brain felt fuzzy, as if someone had wrapped it in velvet. Normally, she chatted with the staff when she visited, but today, she hardly had the wherewithal to request a ride home.

XXX

Jyou walked into Yamato's office, carrying a tea tray and feeling unusually relaxed. It was evening, and a fire danced in the grate, with Roncier stretched out on his back before it. Occasionally, his foot blissfully beat the air. He didn't react when Jyou placed the tray on the coffee table in front of the sofa.

"He's passed out," Jyou said to Yamato, who sat on the sofa, reading reports.

"He was restless," Yamato sighed. "I walked him for two hours today, and I had an attendant run him."

Roncier is restless, huh... As far as Jyou could tell, Roncier still enjoyed hours of daily exercise, but there were two differences. He was confined to the palace grounds, which were far smaller and less varied than the Côtes d'Armor countryside. Additionally, more of his exercise was taken on by attendants and servants than before. These changes impacted Yamato just as much as Roncier, if not more so, and Jyou wondered if he realized it.

"I'm sure he enjoyed it." Jyou sat beside Yamato, who placed his papers aside. "Tea?"

"Please."

Jyou poured two cups of herbal tea and passed one to Yamato. He cradled his cup with both hands, but made no move to drink.

"Tired?" Jyou guessed. Yamato grunted. Wonderful. It's one of these moods tonight…

"How is your family?" Yamato asked- obviously turning the subject.

"Alright. It seems the hospital is having difficulty seeing everyone who wants to be seen, however." Ask about the Kidos, receive an answer about the hospital. The problem there was not lost on Jyou, and yet… Well, the two were indivisible.

Yamato's scowl made Jyou wish he hadn't mentioned any issues. They often worked in the evenings, completing tasks that couldn't fit between meetings, social obligations, and other scheduled events. But introducing a new worry after hours was not a considerate move.

Yamato slumped into the cushy sofa, sinking into it. "That sounds... bad." Jyou might have laughed if that wasn't so terribly true. Without looking away from his tea, Yamato added, "What are the implications?"

"It's... not simple." Instinctively, Jyou pulled his leather-covered notebook out of his pocket, giving himself something to fuss with. "The immediate effect is that we have to prioritize patients based on the severity of their cases."

"Meaning that you see patients based on how concerning their symptoms are?"

"Correct. And that we schedule follow-up visits, screenings, and surgeries based on the same."

Yamato's impressive scowl sank, perhaps to record depths. "But that means people will have to live with minor illnesses, or have treatments pushed back."

"That's right," was Jyou's grim, but inevitable, assessment. "It creates bottlenecks even at the diagnostic stage. We could see a rise in communicable diseases, like influenza, because people aren't being treated in a timely manner- or at all."

Yamato dragged a hand through his hair, mussing up its styling. "Is this limited to the Kido hospital?"

"I've already sent out inquiries to my network," Jyou replied.

"Hm..." Yamato sipped from his cup, then closed his eyes. His brow furrowed, suggesting concentration. "Nagano has the top rated medical facilities in the country, so people travel here to be treated, if they have the means."

Jyou blinked. Frankly, he was surprised and impressed. It's not that he thought Yamato ignored his reports and chatter about the medical world; he just assumed that he left those worries to Jyou. But clearly, he retained plenty.

"Right. Nagano is a highly populated area, and a wealthy one, meaning that locals tend to have the means and education to be on top of their health. We have high participation in preventative care."

Jyou raised a hand and waited until he was sure Yamato was watching. With each new point, he lifted a finger. "So, we have a large population, they are comparatively proactive about their health, they are mostly older people, and additional patients travel from around the country to see local experts in our private facilities, such as the Kido hospital."

Yamato grunted and rubbed his temples. "Gods... Can Kido hospital prioritize locals?"

Ah. How could Jyou handle this with tact? "It's… a private hospital."

Yamato stared, then tsked. "Meaning you prioritize noble and wealthy patrons."

Jyou's fingers dug into the supple leather. Yamato wasn't wrong. He hated that Yamato wasn't wrong. "It's not... quite that," he replied, painfully aware that he was splitting hairs. "There is a local public hospital, as you know. The private hospital... Well, nobles prefer it. And you know what can happen when nobles are... unsatisfied with the service they receive."

Impressively, Yamato sounded as pissy as he looked. "They rescind whatever mutually beneficial arrangement was in place. And these arrangements usually benefit a noble individual, not the institution that individual represents."

Jyou and Yamato stared at one another, both angry, neither willing to escalate- or to back down. "Are you accusing my father of taking kickbacks?" Jyou was a mild man, quick to avoid confrontation. But there was no mistaking the warning in his voice, the quiet threat.

Yamato's eyes were a hard, grayish blue, like the sky before a storm. "You hinted that more is exchanged between nobles at the Kido hospital than payment for treatment rendered."

"It's not that- Not exactly. For example, if the dean of Nagano University wanted treatment, would you push him back, knowing it would be seen as a slight, regardless of how busy the hospital is?"

Yamato's expression was terrible- hard eyes, rigid mouth, set jaw. He and Jyou both knew that alliances and grudges were often inherited from generation to generation, the same as resources. Pissing off the dean could mean that your future grandchildren might be rejected from Nagano University, for example, as long as whatever your family offered could be had elsewhere.

Yamato placed his cup on the coffee table and scrubbed his face with both hands. "Ugh," he muttered into them, muted and utterly disgusted.

"Ugh," Jyou agreed, sipping his tea.

Yamato plopped his head against the sofa's back cushion, as if he no longer possessed the will to hold it up. "I'd say there can't be enough nobles to choke up Kido hospital..."

"But this is Nagano," Jyou supplied.

Yamato appeared to be contemplating the wonders of the ceiling. "I miss the Côtes d'Armor."

Jyou allowed a tiny grin. "They're lousy with nobles, too."

"Yes, but they're properly spaced out- and the masters of the estates are only there on holidays. These people... They live and work here."

A thin, weak smile lightened Jyou's face. "Incorrigible."

Groaning, Yamato hauled himself upright, returning to the conversation. "Can you hire more doctors, nurses, staff?"

"We're trying to figure that out. Hiring more medical personnel is never simple."

"This is probably a case for my parents... And yours," Yamato sighed. "But I'm sure similar issues will come up when I'm ruling. Can you keep me apprised?"

"I will." Usually, Jyou was happy to keep Yamato in the loop. But this time...

Well, the more he looked into how patients were prioritized at his family's hospital, the more uncomfortable he grew. This sort of thing happened all over the country, and in Autun. He wasn't an idiot; he had spent his adult life observing it. And it wasn't as if he didn't know his family did it, too.

But now that the country's next leader was taking notice and bringing up the issue… Things were suddenly, well, uncomfortable.

"That reminds me," Yamato sighed. "Do you remember Yagami Taichi?"

It took Jyou a few seconds to drag his mind out of one topic and into another. "Um..."

Yamato lifted his hands, with his palms about four inches above his scalp. "He's a barista at Café du Ciel. His hair is like this."

"Oh! Right, he was with Tachikawa-san behind the counter."

Although it was an improvement over his recent glowering, Jyou did not like Yamato's sudden grin. "Yes. His family owns a successful flower store in Nagano. Apparently, his younger sister usually makes the displays in the foyer at the café."

Jyou tipped his head. "Why is Yagami-kun making coffee, then? He could do any number of tasks for the store, including finance roles, if he doesn't like working with customers."

"I wondered that, too. I'd like to talk to him about it. He seems to have political ambitions that his class status is frustrating. But tonight, I wanted to ask you a favor regarding his sister, Yagami Hikari."

"Oh, um... Alright? I don't believe I've met her."

"I haven't, either. Apparently, she's been ill, and Taichi-san has been covering her flower arrangement job and his job at the café."

Jyou's stomach sank- or maybe clenched was a better description. "She can't get an appointment?" Imagining faceless citizens failing to receive medical help was bad enough. Was he about to meet a victim face to face?

"I don't think that's the problem, but maybe it will be, soon. From what I understand, she can't get a diagnosis, and not for lack of trying."

"You want me to see her?" Jyou asked. "Or do you want me to see if there's a specialist available?"

"I don't have details," Yamato admitted. "From what I can tell, Taichi-san thinks she isn't being listened to, or taken seriously. She's been told to rest and decrease her stress levels, but apparently, she's in enough pain that she can't go about her day."

Jyou ruffled his thumb across the edge of his notebook, fanning the pages. Why were they back on the foibles of the medical community?

"Unfortunately," he began, staring at a snoozing Roncier, "that happens. Sometimes, doctors don't listen to their patients, especially if the symptoms aren't visible. And surveys indicate that women notice this effect far more than men. It seems they are often told their problems are mental, rather than physical, as Yagami-kun reported."

Yamato looked as tired as Jyou felt. "I've always been taken seriously in medical situations… But then, I'm a prince."

Jyou nodded. "Right. If a doctor were to misdiagnose you, or fail to listen to you… Well, we're back to that hypothetical situation with the dean. But most people aren't princes, or even nobles."

"Gods, Jyou, I'm exhausted. We can't do anything about this tonight. Are you willing to talk to Hikari-chan for me? Sorry to volunteer you."

"No, I'm glad to help." Especially after considering the unfairness of the hospital run by his own family- the hospital he spent his life feeling so proud of. Still, a nagging, nauseous doubt remained. "Unless she minds that… Well, I'm not really a doctor."

"You've got all the qualifications. You've got the damned license," Yamato pointed out, irritated and obstinate. This was not their first time going over this. Jyou anticipated this response when he objected, and yet, he still spoke. He still felt that he had to.

But no hospital or medical practice would hire me. Just private individuals who want a doctor at their beck and call- or you, who needs me in other ways. "I can't take blood…"

"Then don't," Yamato snapped, but his expression quickly softened. "I think she wants to be listened to… And I know you're good at that."

"Alright. I'm happy to talk to her. I can't promise that I can connect her to a specialist, but I'll try to, if I think there's a need."

Yamato offered a tired smile. "Thanks. That will mean a lot to the café staff. I got the impression this Hikari-chan is doted on."

"No pressure, huh." Very much wanting to change the subject, Jyou added, "How was the party? I'm sorry I missed it."

Yamato's huge smile seemed almost too great a contrast to the strain and irritation he displayed for most of this conversation. "It was nice. I walked there with Sora, and the surrounding area is beautiful. It was nice to… Well, to do something that anyone else my age living here might do."

"No problems, then?" Frankly, Jyou's chief concern about missing the party (other than a lost opportunity to mingle with Mimi) was that he couldn't keep an eye on Yamato. True, the guards were far better protection, but Jyou understood him and could help in other ways.

"Hm… Well, obviously I wish I didn't have to bring guards to a party. Other than that, no. But I did hear something that might interest you."

That damned grin was back, and Jyou poured himself another cup of tea, just to avoid looking at it. He didn't want to take the bait, but Yamato was waiting, damn him, and nothing would happen if Jyou didn't appease him.

"Oh?" It was the most tart monosyllable ever spoken in human history. Jyou didn't need verification to know he was correct.

If only he had a photograph of this awful smirk, threatening to spill beyond the confines of Yamato's face, to juxtapose against his earlier scowl! The duplicity of man, he would title it.

"So, this Mimi-chan that everyone thinks you're interested in..."

Jyou tossed his notebook on the sofa cushion beside his. "Oh, come on!" He instantly regretted the outburst, as it sent Yamato laughing.

"I'm sorry," he gasped. "I don't even know why everyone thinks that. Yagami-kun implied that it had to do with how you reacted when you met her. Ichijouji-kun has brought it up a few times, too."

"It wasn't a big deal," Jyou grumbled. "She's beautiful. I got tongue-tied when I met her. That's all."

Which was a massive lie. There was a difference between fumbling your words because you're so stricken and forgetting language entirely. But no one had to know that.

Of course, they all seemed to, regardless.

Yamato's laughter tapered off, but that smirk remained, damn him. "Ah well, guess I was wrong. Too bad... Mimi-chan said she'd love to drive into the country with you to view the changing leaves. I'm told the Tachikawas have beautiful vehicles, but I guess you're not interested."

And once again, Jyou was frozen, damn it! His mouth seemed numb, refusing to move. "B-beg pardon?"

"Mimi-chan wants to go driving with you. A date."

Heat rushed to Jyou's head, and seemed to set his brain cooking, boiling in its own juices. "I, I- What? Surely she, she didn't- Just walk up to you and say-"

"Sora brought up that you enjoy driving in front of Mimi-chan. Mimi-chan mentioned the driving trip." Yamato's smirk abruptly morphed, setting into an uncomfortable, uneven line. "Mimi-chan apparently finds you... attractive? Tall, at least. She mentioned your shoulders?"

Jyou slapped both hands to his temples, rubbing the ache there. "Yamato- Gods- What?"

Chuckling, Yamato poured them both fresh cups of tea. "That's all I heard. I think you need to approach Mimi-chan for more, if you're interested."

Jyou leaned back into the sofa, resting his head on top of the cushion. He shut his eyes tight, cutting out as many stimuli as possible. He was already overwhelmed with his thoughts and feelings, thank you.

"I... Don't know," he said at last. "Casual dating? I'm not sure my family would..."

"I wondered about that." All traces of humor and teasing were gone from Yamato's voice. He sounded serious, as he often did. "Casual dating is popular among the commonborn, but..."

"Right. I might have more levity than my older brothers, since I'm not inheriting anything. But I'm not sure how my family would react if I spent a day alone with someone they don't know. Especially someone commonborn, even if they are the Tachikawa heiress."

"Her friends say that Mimi-chan dates casually. She might not be looking for something serious."

Jyou opened his eyes, mostly to shift his behavior back towards normal. He gazed into the fire, unwilling to look at Yamato. From his voice alone, he knew his expression was complex- and that he didn't have the spoons to decipher it.

"Thank you for telling me," he murmured at last.

"Jyou..."

Oh, no. No, no, no. Jyou already hated where this was going. Tension tightened his back and shoulders, snapped him into rigid form, like a toy soldier.

Yamato gazed at Roncier, and somehow, Jyou got the sense that he was also avoiding eye contact. "I'm probably poking my nose where it doesn't belong... But when has that stopped me?"

Despite himself, Jyou released a surprised huff of laughter. "Never," he told the fire. "That's when."

"Do you want to talk about whatever happened with the last person you courted?"

Despite knowing this was coming, Jyou flinched from head to toe. Cursing himself, pressing a hand over his straining, anxious heart, he sputtered, "What? I, I've never..."

"It wasn't announced, if it happened. I could be reaching. But you told Sora the other day that you thought you were in love, once. And you told me that your family is experienced with being approached by potential suitors because of your rank."

"I told you that was my brother." Jyou tried to sound cross, but his palms were sweaty, hinting that he likely came off as anxious. He tried to discretely dry them on his pants.

"That doesn't mean it never happened to you."

"I've never been involved in a formal courtship." Which was true, as was the comment about his brother. But Yamato was circling another truth, sniffing like a bloodhound- a truth Jyou wanted to leave behind.

"Jyou." This time, Yamato's voice was gentle. "I'm your friend. I want to know what's bothering you."

"It's not," Jyou replied- lying at last. "Not anymore. It's in the past."

"It never got out, then."

"That's right."

"It must have happened while you were in Nagano and I was in the Côtes d'Armor."

Jyou nodded. That was all Yamato was getting. They stared at one another in stiff silence.

Yamato released a ragged breath. "I can't force you to talk about something you don't want to."

Jyou fussily adjusted his glasses. "Correct."

A muscle twitched beneath Yamato's eye. "Fine," he nearly growled. "All I want is to help. So, if this isn't helpful... Fine."

It was clearly Not Fine. The least fine of all times. Even knowing that, Jyou replied, "Thank you."

Roncier stood at last, rising from slumber. He walked to Yamato, sat beside his feet, placed his head on his lap, and whined. Heat rushed to Jyou's face. Even the dog knows things are strained...

"Sorry," Jyou muttered. "Thanks for worrying."

Yamato managed a grunted, Mm. Aware that was all he would get- and that he was lucky to get it- Jyou rose.

"I'm going to bed. You should rest, too."

"Good night."

For once, Yamato's curtness worked in Jyou's favor. He fled Yamato's quarters and retired to his room, frazzled and heartsore.

As he undressed and prepared for bed, feelings and thoughts bounced through his brain and nervous system. A chance for a date with Mimi was the most exciting and terrible possibility to come his way in years. But what would happen after that? Doubtlessly, he would enjoy her company and have a grand time.

And know all the while that no more would come of it.

Before long, Jyou lay restless in his luxurious bed. What would his parents think of Mimi? What did it matter, if she was only interested in casual dating? And why the hell was he torturing himself with these questions? He had barely had half a conversation with her!

That's it. I'm done. Good night, world. Jyou yanked the covers up to his chin and wiggled into his mattress, as if to convince his body that it was time to close shop, god damn it.

It didn't help. Of course it didn't. He lay awake for god knew how long, until exhaustion finally overpowered anxiety.

Author's Notes: Happy Odaiba Day! I hope you Chosen all around the world had a lovely day! I'd love it if you took the time to say hello on our annual Digimon celebration! Have a great one.