A/N: I do not own Kaichou wa Maid-sama. Are we still doing these things? I haven't been around in years.
The first time they meet, he thinks Chiyo is actually quite the catch. A traditional beauty from a traditional family, she has been raised as a proper lady of high society—smart, well-mannered, has good taste for art. She is quiet, but she is not afraid of speaking her mind. Most importantly, he can tell that she is there out of duty, just like he is—they both know the roles they have to play and have accepted it as filial heirs of their families.
His father, of course, is not a stupid man. He made a match that is the most likely to succeed, which, in their world, means the least likely to cause problems. A failed arranged marriage is a scandal, and a scandal is bad for business. Still, with the choice out of his hands, Tora prepared himself for the worst—there's no telling what could happen in the dealings of rich and powerful men running business empires. He could have very well ended up with a shallow woman with delusions of grandeur. With Chiyo, he can at least hope for a quiet marriage—she won't demand much out of him, as long as he fulfills his part as a husband.
Tora has his gentleman mask firmly in place when they speak. He knows right away that she is charmed—not surprising, given that even Ayuzawa Misaki herself fell for his act. He goes ahead and calls her Chiyo, just Chiyo—a smokescreen for the invisible wall he erects between them. He treats the whole thing as a business transaction—he uses standard Japanese and speaks as if he is delivering a sales pitch to a potential client. They agree to go on a series of dates to get to know each other—it is, anyway, what is expected of them as a newly engaged couple. Chiyo follows his lead for the most part, but she draws the line at calling him just by his first name. He doesn't push—they'd only just met, after all.
When they finally part ways, Tora knows he should consider himself a lucky man. Chiyo is almost too good to be true, like a storybook heroine destined to marry a prince. Even so, only one thought comes to his mind—
She is not Misaki.
They go on dates. Tora takes her to a museum, a play, and a classical concert—obviously playing off her interests, with the added benefit of limiting their interactions with each other. He almost cannot believe how easy it is to pretend that they are spending time together without actually making any progress, but then Chiyo tells him, out of the blue, that she is glad he is her fiancé. It makes him a little uncomfortable—she is so naive and honest to a fault that it is simply unfair to use all his guile against her.
On a whim, he decides to give her a little test. What would you do if I suddenly disappear off into another country?
He is looking for a specific answer, of course, and perhaps this, too, is unfair. But he needs something to hold on to, if he is to consider the possibility that there exists another woman in this world who can make him feel interested in anyone other than himself.
Chiyo's answer is disappointing. It is foolish of him to hope, anyway—Ayuzawa Misaki is not like any woman he has ever met.
He is mildly surprised when Chiyo asks him out on another date. He didn't think she had it in her to do so—he'd pegged her as someone who would prefer to wait for him to act and simply follow. Still, she does not look at him like an infatuated girl when she extends the invitation—doesn't blush, doesn't stutter—so he accepts without hesitation. It is better for him to seem agreeable, after all, so he banishes the thought of making up an excuse and simply marks it in his calendar like a normal business meeting.
On the day itself, he is relieved when Chiyo takes him to lunch. Sharing a meal is similar enough to their previous dates—they focus on the food and don't have much conversation other than polite small talk. They learn each other's favorite dishes, drinks, and desserts, and Tora is happy enough to oblige in such superficial discussions. It allows him to give her something without giving too much away, and once again he is struck by the ease with which he engages in this delicate balancing act.
He must have jinxed it with that thought—the next time they go out, Chiyo takes him to tea and begins to ask him more questions. There's nothing to use as a shield, so he has no choice but to face her head on. Still, he can handle it just fine—putting on a diplomatic mask and charming people is his specialty, after all. The solution comes easily enough—go with the flow and ask his own questions, so he can limit talking about himself. Whatever he learns about fiancée he can just ignore, or he may find something he can use when dealing with her moving forward. Concessions are nothing new—it's a normal part of the negotiation process.
His patience is tested when Chiyo takes him for a walk on their next date. A walk is too intimate for his liking—it forces them to do nothing else but talk, and an outdoor space like a park, ironically enough, hardly offers any distractions. Devoid of any social context, it is as if they are walking inside a bubble. To add to his annoyance, she still calls him 'Tora-san.' She is too polite to ask anything too personal, so he doesn't see the point of getting into a situation where they have to talk about themselves.
To his chagrin, a walk turns out to be Chiyo's activity of choice for dates. Fortunately for him, their meetings have slowly dwindled over time, having satisfied their duty to get to know each other. All they have to do now is go through the motions until their families decide to set a wedding date. It's a process that will take years, so Tora does not completely give up on hoping for another future. So many things can happen still, and perhaps Chiyo will eventually get tired of his act. He does not care for her at all, and he has no intention of doing anything but the bare minimum on their arrangement. If she breaks it off, good; that will buy him some time until his father finds him another match. But in his heart, he knows he will never be interested in any woman except for the part-timer at a maid cafe with the unyielding will of a burning sun.
They build a routine over the years—Chiyo asks him out during special occasions when they are expected to be together, such as certain holidays, while he invites her for a fancy lunch during their birthdays. They give each other presents—Chiyo makes him handmade chocolates on Valentine's Day; he buys her a return gift on White Day. On Christmas, they go on a simple night stroll to see the lights.
Tora still hates walks, but he has found a solution—he always brings Maki with him and uses him as a shield. Chiyo herself invited Maki to join them when he introduced her to his aide, and since then they are never alone on walks. Tora thinks Chiyo was only being polite when she extended the invitation, but he has taken full advantage, knowing that she will never turn Maki away. If Chiyo is bothered by his presence, she has given no sign of it—she has quietly accepted things as they are, as always.
All in all, they only meet several times a year and communicate only as needed—they have each other's mobile numbers, but they only use it to make arrangements for their obligatory dates. Sometimes he even uses Maki to contact Chiyo when he is too busy, and she does not complain. On one hand, he is glad that Chiyo is giving him free reign; on the other, he looks down on her meekness. Sometimes he wonders if fate is toying with him that he ends up getting involved with someone totally opposite of the one woman he desires. Every time he looks at Chiyo, he is only reminded of what he cannot have.
They are on their third year in college when he sees Chiyo properly for the first time. On a cold December morning, they go on walk at a park with Maki right on their tail. Chiyo invites him for a Christmas date, and he is glad to have an excuse not to spend the holiday with her—he is going home to Kyoto to do a job assigned by his father. Chiyo is as understanding as ever, but she makes a compromise—she travels with him and heads to her own family home.
When they get off the train, Tora sends her off with a practiced smile and promptly puts her out of his mind. He and Maki then head to business, a boring little overture to a restaurant under the wing of a rival group. His mood changes when Orie appears—the daughter of the restaurant's owner and his old classmate. A proud woman, she's a rival of sorts and half in love with him. He doesn't say no when she asks him out—he could use some amusement on this bleak holiday.
Maki chides him for agreeing and reminds him of Chiyo, but he turns the other cheek and carries on regardless. What Chiyo doesn't know won't hurt her, and if she gets hurt, it will only to be his benefit. His aide grows silent, but then, out of the blue, he tells him to forget her. They do not need a name—they both know who his heart wants. Tora feigns ignorance—he does not want to dwell on the fact that the one woman in the world with enough courage to enter his world for the sake of love did it for someone else.
Instead, he turns his full attention to Orie and the scheme she prepared for him this evening. He can see it clearly—over the course of their dinner, she is charming him, seducing him, using his perceived weakness so she can gain an upper hand in negotiations. Still, he plays along as they enter the hotel room, and when he drops the act at last and lets her know of his displeasure, he realizes that he finds no satisfaction at all in their pointless dance. Pathetic woman. She did not notice at all that he was playing her better than she was playing him, and, judging from the tears threatening to fall from her eyes, probably fell into her own trap.
Chiyo is there when they step out of the hotel. She cuts a striking figure against the light snowfall—standing alone on the street, wearing a kimono and holding an umbrella. It's Maki's doing, he knows, and his aide comes clean right away. He does not know if it is the remnants of his game with Orie, but his guard is up when he hears the first words out of Chiyo's mouth.
"Did you have a good talk?" It's the usual amiable Chiyo, but for the first time, he sees it. This woman knows how to play the game. When Orie, in all her bitterness, attempts to hurt Chiyo with her words—"he doesn't even love you!"—his fiancée fights back with quiet steel that takes his breath away.
"Yes, he has someone else he loves. Even so, I do not know who she is. There is likely no one who can ever beat her. If you still won't give up, then you will need a lot of resolve."
Chiyo is showing an expression she has never made in his presence before. Her eyes are slightly narrowed in focus; her lips set in a determined line. Her face has come alive—far from the doll-like visage she usually wears that he found magnificently dull. It's her real face, he knows it now, and perhaps it is fitting that she is wearing it while speaking a truth he has been nursing in his heart.
He does not have time to wonder how she has seen through him. Orie suddenly blurts out, her voice full of challenge: "Are you saying you won't give up?" Chiyo responds with easy certainty: "I have no intention of giving up."
Orie looks at her in disbelief, and then backs away, defeated, like how a lesser beast flees from an apex predator with its tail between its legs. After a few heartbeats of silence, Chiyo addresses him: "Even if it cannot be avoided, something like this will still make me angry. It is lonely to be left alone on Christmas."
He knows Chiyo is not entirely passive, but this assertiveness is new for him. She breaks the spell, however, when she crouches down to gather a fistful of snow in her hands. With child-like mischief in her eyes, she throws a snowball right into Maki's face. She is surprised with the hit and instantly approaches Maki to apologize. "How odd, I was aiming for the chest."
The whiplash between an apex predator and a child playing in the snow is too much for him to handle. Tora gives in to the chuckle and says without thinking, "This is unexpectedly interesting."
Chiyo freezes, and her eyes begin to shine with tears. Maki is alarmed and insists he is quite alright, but Chiyo turns to Tora instead. She's crying tears of joy, he realizes. And then his heart stops when she flashes him a smile, the twinkle in her eyes blindingly bright like a thousand stars in the clear night sky.
"You finally spoke in Kansai dialect!" she exclaims, reverting to Kansai-ben herself. And just like that, all the pieces fall like dominoes and everything clicks in his mind. Tora has been busy drawing lines in the sand that he has failed to see Chiyo responding to his game and making her own boundaries. She won't cross until he does, and she made it clear that she is going to be waiting.
Maki asks Chiyo about speaking consciously in standard Japanese, and his fiancée says something about being too forward if she uses Kansai-ben. But he knows better now. He is wrong about Chiyo all this time—she is far from the innocent lamb she has shown him all these years. She has an inner strength that he has seen on only one woman before. But while Ayuzawa Misaki is an unstoppable force, Sakurai Chiyo is an immovable object.
"No, you're just too stubborn, aren't you, Chiyo?" he says with a smirk, the first he has ever directed at his fiancée. And just like that, he steps over the line. Chiyo recognizes it and flashes him that smile again. "The same goes for you, Tora."
He does not miss the fact that she finally calls him just by his name.
Well played, Chiyo.