Puits d'Amour

Skipping Steps

Koushiro paced the study in the Izumi townhome, twirling a rocks drinking glass full of rum and ice. It contained more alcohol than he normally drank in the span of weeks. Koushiro's vices included working too much and sleeping too little, but he didn't abuse substances, unless you counted tea.

But desperate times, as they say.

The ice clinked as he drank, and a bead of condensation splattered to the wooden floor. Koushiro bared his teeth and hissed at the bracing sting of alcohol against his inexperienced esophagus.

He was alone with his chef in the townhome, an old building situated near Nagano's city center. It was a pleasant walk away from the palace, university, medical centers, and the city's finest establishments and entertainments. The neighborhood was beyond the reach of all but the fabulously wealthy these days. Most homes were purchased by nobles centuries ago, before prices skyrocketed, and were passed down, insuring the family maintained a seat in the heartbeat of power and wealth in Hakone.

Koushiro's adoptive mother, Izumi Kae, was the current owner. Roughly twenty-five years ago, she was on the verge of selling this priceless resource, a desperate act to bolster her family's diminished funds. Her union with Masami, a common born man who launched a wildly successful business, preserved her from relinquishing the property that tethered the Izumis to the pulse of the nation.

From the outside, it appeared as if the Izumis had been brought low, reduced to cobbling together a ramshackle family for mutual benefit. Masami exchanged funds to elevate himself to the bottom rung of nobility, a nearly insurmountable leap for someone born in poverty and obscurity. Then, the couple adopted Koushiro, procuring an heir to carry on the limping Izumi lineage.

Koushiro knew how his little family was perceived; he heard the murmurs long before the open bullying. Your parents must have been desperate for an heir to adopt a foreigner. How dare you parade among Hakone's noble families? Even if you were their real child, you wouldn't be noble, not with your father's background.

He couldn't deny that those words hurt, not without lying, but Koushiro was never terribly affected. His parents prepared him when he was small, since his appearance gave away his origins, and since children- especially noble children- could be cruel. And he knew there was nothing fake or convenient about the Izumis. His parents adored him, providing nothing but kindness, support, and acceptance. And a mere glance at Kae and Masami revealed that they were in love- the kind of love Koushiro desperately wanted for himself. The kind of love he had reached for this last year- and might come within his grasp today.

Another sip. Another sting. A dry, winded cough.

Koushiro sighed with relief when the knocker struck the plate on the front door. He stepped into the hallway and admitted Iori, who wore a casual gray kimono and a smile that sharply shifted to a scowl.

"Are you drinking? You can't have a productive discussion with Eimi-san if you're drunk!"

"Good afternoon," was Koushiro's insipid response. Iori scowled harder still as he entered and removed his shoes. He placed his shinai case in the umbrella stand that Koushiro kept for Iori's use, removed his shoes, and donned his slippers.

The Izumi townhome was not a traditional Hakone building. It was constructed when western influences in architecture were in vogue, unlike the Izumi estate home in the suburbs. Iori could have looked out of place in his kimono here, but he wore it as naturally as breathing. In fact, with his calm, sure demeanor, Iori always seemed to belong precisely where he was.

And so, despite Iori's scolding, Koushiro was comforted by his reassuring presence. "Thank you for visiting."

Iori's cocked eyebrow suggested sarcasm, but his smile was warm. "It's a big day for you. I practically live here, regardless… Although I doubt I'm spending the night."

There was no missing that dry hint of teasing. Koushiro cleared his throat as he shut the front door. The townhome featured a large master suite on the third floor and three guest rooms on the second, one of which belonged to Iori.

The Hidas were of similar nobility to the Izumis, but they had more prestige by virtue of their family's centuries-old kendo dojo. Generations ago, when city real estate was comparatively affordable, they purchased a dojo, not a residential property. Iori often stayed overnight with Koushiro, rather than commute to the family seat in the suburbs or live in the Nagano University dormitories.

But tonight- tonight, there would be no visitors. Just in case.

Iori stepped down the hallway. "Smells good..."

"Kana-san is making dinner for Eimi-san and me. I asked her for tea, too, and to set aside what she can for you."

"Let me clean up," Iori requested. "Then, if you don't mind, I'll have whatever Kana-san can spare."

Koushiro wanted to ask him to hurry his bath- he was in desperate need of company. But affection and politeness had him nodding, and he returned to the study.

It was a handsome little room, square save for the bay window facing the street, which cropped outward. One side opened to the hallway. The wall opposite the bay window was lined with old, dignified bookshelves, currently stocked with books on electronics, physics, mathematics, and music. The wall opposite the hall housed a large desk, often covered with homework or papers for work. The desk chair and the chair for guests in the corner were made of dark green leather. Koushiro deliberately sat and forbade himself from pacing like a caged beast.

Iori, bless him, bathed and changed quickly, and returned to find him pacing. Koushiro probably should have registered embarrassment, but he was too nervous to care. Iori watched him complete a pass, sighed, and stepped into his path.

Koushiro stopped short of colliding with him, and Iori eased the glass from his hands. "Some tea, I think."

Koushiro nodded and followed Iori into the hallway. They passed the living room on the right, beyond the office, and the dining room on the left, tucked behind the stairs. The kitchen was in the back of the townhouse. Iori knocked before entering and drank the remainder of the rum in one go.

Kana stood at the oven, working the stove top. Like the rest of the house, the kitchen had a strong western influence, and the Izumis outfitted it for cuisine from multiple parts of the world. The townhome's chef was an older woman well-versed in all sorts of cooking, from daily fare to extravagant meals. Normally, her skills were wasted, as Koushiro often ate simple, light meals. But today... Well, today he was making up for that.

Iori gaped at the variety of food in various stages of production. "All this for two people?!"

Seeing it now, Koushiro realized that he had overdone it. "Um. I don't typically plan meals. I didn't realize..."

"And Kana-san opted not to say anything." It wasn't a question; Iori knew the chef almost as well as Koushiro did.

"And waste a chance to cook a proper meal?" Kana was getting on in years, but she displayed more energy and spryness than Koushiro could. Her grin caused a blossoming of wrinkles. She was lovely, in the way Koushiro imagined humans become as they live in happiness. His parents had the same glow about them.

Iori grinned, but opted not to respond- often a wise choice where Kana was concerned. He placed a steadying hand on Koushiro's shoulder. "It's alright. Have friends over tomorrow to celebrate, if they don't mind leftovers."

Despite his jittering nerves, Koushiro managed a snort. "Meaning that you don't mind leftovers."

Iori scoffed. "You know I hate food waste. It looks delicious, Kana-san."

"Thank you, dear." Kana turned away from whatever alchemy she was practicing over a kitchen counter, offering a broad smile. She wore an apron over a simple kimono with tied back sleeves. "It warms this old soul to see you ruffled over a sweetheart, Koushiro-kun. I feared I'd never see the day! That would be such a waste, as fine a gentleman as you are!"

Iori grinned, damn him. "If only you knew, Kana-san. He's been ruffled for ages."

Koushiro frowned, but at least Iori knew better than to name a precise time frame. Kana tsked. "Shy, eh? I might have known."

Iori's shoulders rose and fell, but the sounds of his laughter were mostly contained. Koushiro tried not to scowl. He wasn't shy, not really. He just… didn't know what to say or do in some social situations, and didn't often seek them out. And when feelings were involved…

Well, those circumstances tended to yield baffling outcomes, such as a dinner large enough for a party when he meant to plan one for two. "She's coming at seven," Koushiro said, deliberately avoiding comment. "I apologize, but I'm afraid I have to ask you to leave before then. And Kana-san, please take tomorrow off. Thank you for your incredible work today."

"Oh, my!" Kana lifted her brows and shared a look with Iori. "We're being kicked out! This is serious!"

"Please don't take offense." Grinning, Iori placed his glass on the only smidge of free counter space available. "Koushiro-kun's terribly nervous."

Koushiro shot his friend a glare- which only made Iori grin. "How sweet!" Kana sighed. "Oh, to be young again! But don't you worry, Koushiro-kun. There isn't a finer young man in all of Nagano, excluding our Iori-kun. Who is this lucky miss?"

"I hope to introduce you, if things go well." If he mentioned Eimi, the first thing Kana would say was that she had never heard of the Anamis- the same thing everyone said when he brought her up, especially to nobles. He had no desire to explain Eimi's stigma, even knowing that Kana would accept her simply because he did.

"Well! We have some time, and thank goodness- you've filled my hands for once, my dear! Why don't you boys have something to eat, and we'll see about helping you pass the time?"

Ravenous after practice, Iori said, "Yes, please!" Koushiro's stomach churned, filled with nothing but acid and alcohol. But he would nibble if it meant Kana ceased teasing him.

They sat on stools at the counter, and Kana struck up a conversation to move the afternoon along.

XXX

Dregs of orange capped the horizon, fading fast as evening descended. Soon, the streetlight beyond the office bay window would blink awake, washing the room with its warm glow.

Eimi was due any moment. Koushiro tapped his pen against his desk, gazing out at the street. Nagano was busy, even in the twilight hours. Pedestrians passed, mostly in suits and uniforms, returning home after work.

Although he was expecting it, the cheerful chime of the doorbell nearly made him leap from his seat. Koushiro pressed a hand to his heart, which crashed like cymbals. The rush of emotions stunned him, an onslaught from his nervous system. Dread, anxiety, anticipation, pleasure… How could they all roll together? And how was he meant to act under that confused, frenetic influence? He was paralyzed in his chair, unable to resolve his addled mind into coherent thought and action.

A second chime sounded, and suddenly, Koushiro was at the door, with no memory of moving, as if he had teleported there. He opened it, and for the first time, Eimi stood on his front step. She wore a red wool coat, well kept, but worn. One hand held her familiar tote bag. The other clung to the black railing around his stairs and stoop.

"H-hello," she murmured to his feet.

"Eimi-san..." Koushiro cleared his throat. He wasn't prepared for the fresh swell of feelings obstructing it, far more tender than the last, but just as staggering. "Welcome. Please, come in." He made way and took her bag as she entered. The door shut with a snap, and they regarded one another.

It was a surreal moment. Eimi glanced about the foyer with a twitchy air. "Um, it's a western style townhome, but... Shall I take off my shoes?"

"Please." Koushiro motioned to the slippers he had placed by the door for her.

When Eimi smiled, he found himself smiling, too. She removed her brown boots and picked up the slippers. "They're beautiful! And they match my outfit!"

"I know," Koushiro said gently. The slippers were new, in a saturated shade of red, like a garnet. Eimi's favorite color. "They're for your use only."

Eimi paused while unbuttoning her coat. "For, for me?" She didn't own much clothing, so it wasn't surprising to see her familiar red skirt with its embroidered flowers. Koushiro knew what would best match her wardrobe and tastes, at least within his limited understanding of fashion.

"That's right. Iori-kun has a pair, too, as do my parents and myself." Everyone he most wanted here, whose comfort he most valued. Another pair; his family was growing, or so he hoped.

The pink blossoming on Eimi's face hinted that she understood the significance of the slippers, the physical invitation to his inner circle. "Thank you. I hope... I'd like to come wear them again."

Koushiro wished he had the temperament to say something suave- I'm counting on that, perhaps. Alas, all he could do was brush his fingers against her hand and babble, "I- Yes. Yes, please." He wished he had invited her here years ago, as Iori had suggested. But it took Koushiro far too long to understand how important Eimi was to him, and he picked up on her preference for meeting on campus. Neutral ground, he now understood. Public places where he couldn't be faulted for running into her.

And now, here she stood, idling in his foyer while he struggled with feelings he couldn't name, let alone sort. "I, I'm glad you're here," he said at last, offering the one thing he knew to be true. "Um... Kana-san prepared dinner."

Eimi tipped her head, and Koushiro was at a loss to explain the concerned crinkling of her brow. "Kana-san?"

"My cook. She's been with my family for decades. She was happy that you're coming. I fail to take advantage of her talents, so when I said I had a special guest..."

Koushiro caught himself rambling far too late. Eimi looked away, clinging to her upper arm. "Oh... You have a..."

Baffled, but hyper alert for problems, Koushiro asked, "Is something the matter?"

Eimi shook her head. "No, I just, um... Well, I made you... But I guess that was silly of me..."

"You made me something?" Koushiro could tell that Eimi was off balance, but regrettably, the suggestion of a gift from her caught his attention more.

Eimi rubbed the back of her neck. "It's nothing. Um, I made you cookies. But you could just buy some at the café, or, or Kana-san... Hers are probably..."

Smiling, Koushiro took Eimi's hand. She flinched and checked her surroundings, and that familiar pain seared his heart. He knew Eimi was worried about damaging the Izumi's reputation, but watching his beloved recoil from his touch was no easy thing. His smile faded, but, as always, he reminded himself not to interpret Eimi's caution as aversion to him.

Koushiro cradled her hand in both of his and murmured, "It's just us. Please... If being observed is your objection, don't be troubled."

Eimi drew a deep, steadying breath. Then, she wove her fingers between his- an acceptance Koushiro had rarely experienced, and craved. They stood there, holding hands, neither knowing how to act or where to begin. With his pulse pounding in his ears, drowning out his thoughts, the best Koushiro could manage was, "Are the cookies in here?"

Eimi nodded, and he opened the tote. A sky blue pastry bag from the café was nestled inside. "They're chocolate chip. I used Sora-san's kitchen- she has ovens and baking supplies- she helped, but I, I made them. I mean, we did, but…"

He peeked into the bag and inhaled. They smelled incredible, but he barely registered the sensory input. "This is… the first time you've given me something." His eyes stung, and he found himself rapidly blinking. He ordered himself not to cry over cookies, but knew that wasn't what was happening, not really. Which didn't mean that he understood what he was feeling- far from it. He was unmoored, reeling in place.

Eimi shifted, gazing at the floor. "Well… you know why I didn't. Even when I wanted to."

She wasn't looking, so Koushiro attempted to subtly wipe his eye. "So... Something's changed, then?"

Color crept across Eimi's cheeks. "Well, I had to thank you for the recording, but also..." She licked her lips nervously. "Um... Were you the one who put the 10,000 yen note in my bag? I found it when I emptied it for the cookies."

Koushiro blinked; that was not where he thought the conversation was going. "Oh? No, I can't say I did."

She looked up at last, eyes wide. "What? But it isn't as if it just fell in!"

"Surely not." Koushiro's brow furrowed. "Has anyone handled your bag recently?"

Eimi shook her head. "No, I'm the only- Oh! On the day we met, the prince asked to see my music." Those big brown eyes went wide and panicked. "You don't think…"

"As candidates go, I suppose he could spare it more than most. But why..." Koushiro stroked his chin, thinking. His impression of Yamato was rather complicated. He had never spared royalty any thought, so it wasn't as if he had a preexisting idea of what they might be like. But he surely didn't expect a prince to take interest in the lives of Eimi and himself.

"Should I ask him?" Eimi winced at the idea. "I thought about sending it to my mother- my parents can't be doing well. But... Well, I don't know what I'll do after graduating, so I put it into savings. Do you think that's selfish?"

Koushiro swallowed hard. While they were friends, he didn't think about where Eimi came from, nor where she might go. It was only when his feelings became evident, when he discovered a desire to weave his future with hers, that he considered it- and fretted over it. Was that callousness, or a symptom of his youth and privilege? That was certainly something to examine later, but his priority now was to encourage Eimi to think of and value herself.

"Keep it. It's not selfish to take care of yourself. And if Yamato-san didn't mention it, then best let him keep his secrets." But Koushiro stored this additional kindness away. He had no way to repay the future king for everything he had done for them, but he would try, regardless.

"May I take your coat?" Eimi shrugged it off, and Koushiro hung it on the rack by the door. He placed her tote bag on the console table in the hall, then began a tour of the townhome's main floor.

Eimi followed him to the office, then the living room, the powder room tucked beneath the stairs, and the kitchen in the rear of the house. They concluded in the dining room, where a fraction of the food Kana prepared waited, dropped off just before Eimi's arrival.

Koushiro helped Eimi sit, then retreated to the kitchen for drinks. It was rare for him to enjoy wine with dinner, but he grabbed a bottle of red, hoping to soothe his nerves.

The mood was odd, strained. There was so much at play, more than Koushiro could hope to name. It was exciting, showing his love his home, and yet... He expected the nerves, but not the raw ache. He waited so long to welcome her here, always wondering if it would ever come to pass, given her fear of damaging his reputation. Seeing her seated at his dining table, smiling but clearly anxious, caused a pang of regret. How much was lost- and how much remained, so fragile, unknown?

Koushiro poured water and wine, then sat. The dining room admitted a full western table, seating eight people, with a console by the hall entry. The walls were dark blue, and the chandelier lighting was soft, intimate. Koushiro took his meals in the kitchen or the office, reserving the dining room for company. Even with two inhabitants, it felt cavernous.

Koushiro cleared his throat, suddenly aware of how very little he felt like eating. He picked up a fork and knife, then placed them back down. "I'm sorry, Eimi-san. I meant for this experience to be positive, and yet…"

His insides churned. He last saw Eimi in the recording studio three days ago, where she agreed to discuss their relationship in private, outside of neutral public areas. It was finally time to clear the air and discuss the future of their relationship. But now that they were here... The weight of everything, this harrowing blend of possibility and dread, was crushing.

"N-No!" Eimi's eyes flared wide as she pressed a hand over her heart. "I've wanted to see your home for so long. I couldn't imagine how beautiful it is. I'm so happy to be here, but it's... Scary, too. And... I thought I knew how different our lives are, but... Being here... I, I feel out of place."

"I see…" How had that failed to occur to him? He glanced at the table, set with antique serveware several centuries old. The wine was expensive, brought up from the cellar. The gods only knew which of his mother's ancestors stored it to age, for some future descendant to impress a potential partner with. Kana had prepared steak, mashed potatoes, asparagus, and freshly baked rolls. Beef was an expensive delicacy in Hakone, where there was little space for rearing cattle, and most households lacked an oven for baking.

In short, this was not a typical meal for someone from Eimi's province.

Koushiro took a bite of steak. Juices burst in his mouth, flavorful, primal. He smiled when Eimi's brow shot up at the taste of her meal. "Have you had steak before?"

Eimi shook her head. "No, just ground beef. It's delicious."

"I'm glad." There were so many things he wanted to share with Eimi, but he was suddenly cognizant of the danger of coming off as bribing her with the resources she lacked- and of intimidating her off with them. "I apologize," he murmured. "I never meant to make you uncomfortable."

Eimi's smile went wobbly. "I don't know if you should apologize for treating me so well." A long pause followed, as Koushiro had no idea how to respond. Eimi dove for her wineglass and threw a hefty dose back. Then, with an air of someone grasping for conversation, she blurted, "Does Kana-san always cook such impressive meals?"

"Not at all," Koushiro admitted, grinning ruefully. "Kana-san complains about that. I often fail to request meals. She claims she cooks more for Iori-kun than for me."

At last, Eimi grinned. "So Iori-kun is here often? You realize he might partially be making sure you eat well."

Koushiro ignored that suggestion, as he knew there was some truth to it. "Yes, he uses one of the guests rooms. Another is reserved for my parents, most often my father."

Eimi was engaged in cutting her steak into tiny pieces that she neglected to eat. "I don't understand. Your father works in the city, yes? Doesn't he live here?"

"My parents live in the Izumi estate in the suburbs. Most days, my father commutes to work, but sometimes, it's more convenient for him to stay here. It's the same for the Hidas. Iori-kun usually sleeps here instead of commuting to the Hida estate. He's spending the night in the back room at the dojo this evening."

And this time, Koushiro suspected that he joined Eimi in blushing. He didn't intend to imply anything, but she seemed to understand why Iori opted to give them space tonight. "That sounds nice." Her coloring intensified, and she hastily added, "Having people around, I mean- but just close people."

"Iori-kun often hinted that I should invite you over," Koushiro murmured. "I wish I had listened, but..."

Eimi shook her head. "It might be better that you didn't, not until you took steps to protect yourself from my stigma. As much as I would have wanted to say yes, I would have turned you down for your safety."

Her shoulders drooped, and Koushiro was palpably aware of the difficulty of their situation. Navigating this conversation felt like traversing a bog. The surface looked mostly uniform, but every step could send him hurtling into cold, muddy waters. It might have been cowardly, but he suggested, "Shall we discuss that after dinner?"

Eimi exhaled, looking relieved. "Let's."

Not knowing what else to do, Koushiro turned the subject to his work. It seemed like a poor choice, but Eimi smiled and relaxed, which was an improvement. When they finished dinner- and they didn't eat much between them, something he sincerely hoped would go unnoticed by Kana- they stored the leftovers and cleaned up.

"There's dessert," Koushiro pointed out in the kitchen. "Er- your choice of things, really."

The way she pressed a hand to her stomach suggested that she might be queasy. "Thank you, but..."

Koushiro managed a weak smile. "Agreed. Wine, however…" Iori's admonishment against drinking floated through his mind; alcohol wouldn't improve his ability to handle this discussion. But in terms of soothing his nerves, he needed all the help he could get.

Eimi gave him her decanter, so Koushiro refilled both, then led her to the living room. He had fluffed the pillows on the couch and spread out a blanket, an invitation to be comfortable together, but the thought of sitting still set his teeth on edge.

"Shall I put a record on?" Looking somewhat bewildered, Eimi nodded. Koushiro approached the phonograph on an antique, solid wood console and grabbed the first record his hand landed on: classical pieces with violin solos.

"Shall we dance?" Koushiro asked. "I'm afraid I'm not much inclined to sit."

Eimi's mild confusion progressed to full on gawking. She seemed to shake herself out, then took a mighty gulp from her glass. "You… dance?"

The wee grin he was forcing faltered. "Poorly, but yes. I've been taught from a young age for social occasions."

And, as she had so many times this evening, Eimi looked away. She wrapped her arms around her front, as if to support herself. "Um... I wasn't."

Koushiro blinked. Not at all? Ballroom dancing arrived in Hakone from the west and became a popular social activity, along with several other styles of dance. As in many parts of the world, social dancing was a way for young people to flirt under the watchful eye of older members of the community. Koushiro wasn't particularly fond of dancing, but he couldn't imagine not knowing how.

But he knew that expressing surprise would make Eimi feel more vulnerable, more othered. And so, praying he sounded nonchalant, he said, "I'm in luck, then." He took Eimi's drink and placed both decanters on coasters on the side table by the sofa. Then, he stood in front of the record player and offered Eimi his hand. "It would be my pleasure to teach you."

Still looking anxious, not to mention mystified, Eimi took his hand. Gently, he drew her in, placed her other hand on his shoulder, and held her hip. With that sorted, he swayed softly with the music.

"This... Isn't a social dance, is it." Eimi was right to be suspicious; they were far too close. Most public dancing was conducted at arm's length, near enough for private conversation, but far enough to maintain propriety.

There was no other word for this than intimate.

Koushiro first encountered the slow dance in a film from New Hope years ago. It featured a couple swaying in the host's darkened drawing room after the other party guests departed, lingering, putting off their farewell. At the time, he found the film dull, focusing on characters discussing feelings he hadn't experienced and social situations that seemed tiresome. And yet, in a moment of panic years later, here he was, imitating it.

The film characters were suave, but Koushiro lacked the advantage of being a handsome actor prepped with scripted dialog. His knees shook, and his hands grew moist.

"It, um, it's a lovely piece. And you've a beautiful phonograph." There was an ache in Eimi's eyes as she watched the record turn. Koushiro knew she coveted a phonograph and radio of her own, but they were far beyond her means. Meanwhile, he didn't even pay for his; he was given models of his own design by the Tachikawas. He wanted, dearly, to gift them to Eimi and buy his own, but he knew she wouldn't accept.

But now, he was almost glad for that. Voice low, a touch uncertain, he ventured, "Visit anytime to use it. There's a radio too, and a piano."

"Oh!" Eimi's first reaction was pleasure, he was sure of it, based on her lively voice and widening eyes. Watching that excitement sour to worry hurt more than Koushiro could stand. "But... Are you sure you can afford to have me coming and going?"

"I'd rather have you coming than going." Even in the intimate lighting, Koushiro saw color burst across Eimi's face. He didn't understand any potential double meanings until it was too late. The polite thing would have been to apologize, but having a flustered Eimi in his arms...

Well. He had waited a long time, and he was not above pressing an advantage. And, while he knew he had to approach this conversation with care… Suddenly, he couldn't bear to wait another moment.

Koushiro stepped even closer, so their bodies were flush. "Respectfully, I don't see a need to rehash our conversation in the studio. My mind is made up, and the preparations I discussed are in place. As I mentioned before, my intentions towards you are..."

He wanted to be brave, he really did, but his hand curled tight around hers, seeking comfort. "I don't want to pressure you, but I can't be at ease until I have your answer. May I court you?"

He felt her sharp intake of air. She missed a beat in the dance, stumbled over Koushiro's leg, and grabbed onto him, tight. She nearly pulled them both to the ground, but he clung back, regardless.

When it was clear that they were fated to remain upright, Eimi tried to ease back. Koushiro held on, pressing her against him, and she sighed and rested her head on his shoulder. "Koushiro-kun... I know going over it more would just be talking in circles…"

Koushiro nodded. At this point, he was confident that he had the full picture of Eimi's situation. He also understood now that his verbal assurances meant nothing next to the realities Eimi lived with. But if his actions were insufficient to convince her that he would stand by her, and that the Izumis could bear the weight of her stigma undamaged... Then there was likely nothing further he could do to convince her to accept him.

And if she didn't accept him... What would become of her, bearing a stigma far greater than her family's name could withstand? That question haunted him nearly as much as the fear of losing her.

Eimi's grip on his shoulder was growing uncomfortable. "I... I have one more question, though."

"Of course." How could Koushiro blame her for having questions? The gods knew that he did.

"I know how much you love your parents. What do they think of us? You mentioned that they would put me up if I lose my scholarship, but... Do they know why I could lose it?"

It would have been the worst possible reaction to laugh, but Koushiro almost did. "Ah- They know, believe me. I explained everything to them before the recording session. Apparently, they understood how I feel about you long before I did, like Iori-kun. They've wanted to meet you for years. "

Eimi's hand jerked, taking his with it. "Koushiro-kun!"

Realizing that he wasn't helping her nerves, Koushiro patted her back and employed a softer, less playful tone. "I'm serious. My parents understand your situation and are eager to meet you. My family is already known for being a bit… unusual, at least among the nobility. My father is common born-"

"But he's a wealthy business owner. That's not comparable to-"

"Perhaps not," Koushiro admitted. "But please recall, I'm an orphan. My birth parents came from another country, and they were common born, too. The stigma of lacking Hakone blood, while not comparable to your situation, is still strong. You know that, too, having a foreign parent. My parents have always worried that my biological background and lower nobility would make finding a partner difficult."

Eimi blinked. "Maybe a noble partner? But..."

"But what?"

Eimi's gaze fell from his face and seemed to land somewhere around his collarbone. With downcast eyes and a soft, breathy voice, she whispered, "But... How could anyone turn you down?"

There was a distinct thumping in Koushiro's chest. Eimi often kept herself to herself, and yet… Well. Her feelings had a way of shining through, an earnestness that he esteemed- even if it hit like a freight train on occasion. For a few slow turns, he was struck mute.

And then, at last, an implication rose. He felt the doofyness of his smile, but lacked the processing power to correct it. "Is that a yes, then?"

"K-Koushiro-kun!"

"There are no objections to our union from my side," he hastened to add, as if fearing a loss of momentum. "Truly. The only thing remaining is..."

He wanted, so desperately, to be smooth, but suddenly, his throat was dry. Koushiro coughed, swallowed, and choked, "Your response."

Eimi stopped swaying, and he bumped into her. His heart seemed to freeze when she released him- until she caught him in a crushing hug. She buried her face in his neck, and a hot tear slid down his skin and beneath his collar.

"I, I've been trying so, so long to do the right thing, but there was never a good choice. Either I hurt you by being beside you, or by keeping my distance. And even now, I... I'm so scared to make a choice. If I hurt you..."

Koushiro tried to gently pull Eimi back, so he could look at her. Her response was to cling harder. Gently, he directed her head to his shoulder and stroked her hair. "Eimi-san... With respect, protecting me isn't your job."

She twitched, then backed up enough to flash a confused look. Her eyes were glossy and rimmed with red. "What? But- But it's my stigma."

Koushiro shook his head. "Not anymore. I've chosen to link myself to you as much as you'll allow. Unless you ask me to drop my suit, it's our situation. We'll work things out together. There's no need for unilateral sacrifice."

Liquid filled her eyes and leaked free at the corners. Koushiro offered his handkerchief, and she covered her face with it. Eimi had carried so much for so long without his knowledge- or, rather, without him truly understanding. What could he say to convince her to lay those burdens down? Or at least to allow him to shoulder half?

He rubbed her back, hoping to soothe. "In fact, I insist that you lean on me- and that you think of yourself and your own needs. When we discuss this, you always mention your fears on my behalf. But never, in all this time, have I heard you say what you want. May I ask… If you weren't afraid, what would you do?"

Eimi lowered the handkerchief, revealing a stricken expression. That beautiful voice twisted with an anguished frustration. "What would I- Why do you think I kept my distance?! I knew that the second you had me alone…"

The sentence hung unfinished in the air. Eimi seemed unable to speak, or even to decide what her face was doing. She released a nettled, overwhelmed huff, and more tears slid free. Koushiro was suddenly cognizant of her hands on his back, fingers gripping him, digging in.

So softly he barely heard, she whispered, "How could anyone turn you down?"

Koushiro didn't elect to kiss her, not consciously. He was well into it before he registered what was happening, and when he did, well, how it began hardly seemed to matter. She was kissing him back, clumsy, urgent, all need and hope and hunger.

The record had stopped by the time they parted, and strangely, the quiet was the first thing Koushiro noticed. The void was harsh on ears that rang moments before. And was it his imagination, or was breathing usually far easier?

Eimi's face was red and teary, her eyes glazed, her lips reddened by contact. She looked as brainless and stunned as he felt. Koushiro gathered her shaking hands in both of his, kissed them, then held them to his chest.

"Eimi-san," he whispered, as if they might be overheard alone in the townhome, "forgive my boldness, but... Can I tempt you to skip several more steps?"

She somehow managed the impressive feat of reddening further. Her mouth opened, as if to speak, but as before, nothing came out. Still, somehow, her answer was clear. When Koushiro gently tugged on her hand, she followed, squeezing back hard enough to make his fingers ache.

Together, they scaled two flights of stairs and went to the master bedroom, where they proceeded to skip a great number of steps in a polite courtship.

Author's Note: There is one final chapter starring Koushiro and Eimi, followed by a party where most of the characters will be in one place together, where the next story arcs will start rolling! I'm really looking forward to seeing Yamato tossed into the group, lol!

If you enjoyed the chapter, please do leave me a review! I'll see you again in two weeks. Please be well and take care!