Hello, I hope everyone is doing well and want to share a few critical updates:

1) Apologies for the delay but on the upside, the majority of my stories are written in advance before publication occurs. So why no updates? Some of it is travel (I travel leisurely quite a bit), but the rate-limiting step lies in the editing and revision segment. Nothing gets published until I deem it my best possible work.

2) No story of mine will ever be abandoned. It's a marathon, not a sprint :)

3) I'm not on social media but happy to share/ accept art for my works. Thank you for reaching out.

4) Initiating transition to archive of our own. It's important for me going forward to be connected to a community for feedback, growth and just overall fun of great story-telling and writing. I look forward to the robust writer and reader infrastructure offered by AO3.

5)In accordance with 4, this will be the LAST update here. I will be posting exclusively on AO3 in the future and hope to see everyone there!

Ok the show goes on!

Chapter 8: I understand

"Saigo are you listening?"

I blink out of my reverie. My supervisor Keiji was rambling about his usual weekend parties, rife with glamorous girls. Every morning in the elevator he monologues about miniskirts, martinis and midnight rendezvous.

Honestly, if he has that much time for leisure maybe he could help me out at work. Or at least get another tie. Red and gold stripes hardly qualify as "professional attire".

"Ah," I reply by default, clutching files in my arm I spent countless hours reviewing and editing. It's a final draft proposal for a giant Engineering client I finished writing after reviewing numbers crunched by the financial analyst team and briefings from multiple meetings.

The elevator halts with a "ding" and we exit.

Considering the usual laid back atmosphere on our floor, there is no chit-chat today. Everyone is seated, dressed to the nines and only the hum of hard drives can be heard.

Keiji answers his phone, replies a curt "hai", then hangs up.

He tells me to return to my desk while he hurries inside the CEO's office.

The tension in the air is so thick it can be cut with a knife. As soon as I sit, the phone rings.

I answer and there's a serious, but polite, effeminate voice on the other end.

"Good morning, I would like to speak with the Light of the East."

Is this a joke? We don't sell lamps. I search for Keiji but he's nowhere to be found. How convenient.

Interesting, I've never received a prank call here before but…

"I apologize, but I believe you have the wrong number. This is the Tokugawa Financial Holdings and Conglomerate Headquarters, Executive Office."

A momentary silence. Is this caller a male or female? It's a voice I'll never forget.

"Sou ka?" The voice drums mildly. "I see. Pardon me. I bid thee a good day."

Click.

I lean back on my chair thinking what century the caller was from and basking in satisfaction, having thwarted a prankster.

Supervisor Keiji comes out and I'm ecstatic to relay the failed antic to him, but before I can he tells me brusquely that I can leave for the day. The boss will not be in.

"Think of it as a day off. Rest up," he says with his cheesy grin and a thumbs-up, ushering me to the elevator.

Did I mention both gestures are ominously suspicious?

"Nani?" My heels dig into the ground. "But this contract…"

I have a final copy of a multi-million yen proposal that could jump our stock prices, waiting to be signed by an Engineering tycoon today in the afternoon and he is telling me to go home?

Is this a joke?

He nods with the same smile again and tells me to go as the elevator opens and he walks away.

I stare at his retreating form with wide eyes.

Somewhere in Japan is a girl who is thrilled to have a paid day off, but that girl is not me. I did not toil tirelessly for the files in my hand to "go home" on the day the fruits of my labor would pay off.

My grip tightens on the files. The hours I spent cannot be in vain! All the meetings I've attended in my boss' place and the work I've done needs to be reflected in today's meeting! The work I have done in my boss' place will NOT be forfeit.

If he's not here today, as he usually is not, I will leave it on his desk.

With a fire in my chest, I rush back to the office, hand with file in the air.

I will stay for the meeting and obtain the client's signature. If the contract can be signed, then I will return home a happy woman.

I swing open the door to the sight of black spikey hair- wild and free despite the stiff black suit and gold tie.

I will-

Five minutes later I'm stomping through the parking lot, intent on getting the hell out of here with an idiot desperately tailing behind.

"Wait- Takechiyo was my childhood name!" He sighs, rubbing his rebellious hair.

"Saigo, listen! It's not what you think!" The dumb, DUMB man says.

My fists clench so hard the nails dig in.

"So what is it? Usotsuki" I seethed, coming to a dead stop. It's not simply his name.

"I'm not lying. I am still Takechiyo," he comes around to face me.

Hands fly into the air. "You ARE my boss! Tokugawa Ieyasu!"

He scratches the back of his head. "I didn't say I wasn't."

I spin around and march towards the underground train station. Day off, huh? Day off it is!

"What a harmless omission, what else have you been hiding from me," comes my sarcastic counter.

"Matte," he calls to me, his voice trailing far behind. "There is so much for me to tell you. Please stay…."

A complete cessation of his ardent footsteps.

"…I cannot go into the station." He calls from where he stood.

I stop in my tracks. That's right, each time we meet he leaves by car. Is he really so high and mighty he can't bear to take the train? Even when minimally occupied between rush hours?

The Tokyo metro is the lifeblood of this city. All trains branch deep throughout this metropolis like the roots of a tree. Despite my anxieties, even I cannot avoid commuting via train. Though, I have to say my concern is greatly mitigated by taking the last or first cabin of each train where there are considerably less people, and wearing a face mask. Taking the first or last train of the day helps greatly. Crowds were never a problem in my hometown but it's a daily problem here.

I didn't think there was anyone in Tokyo who could avoid the train, either consciously or financially. Kami-sama. Apparently, there is someone.

Somewhere in Japan is a girl who thinks men are stupid liars and rants about their inability to communicate. That girl is not me because I cannot even speak through my veil of anger.

"Fine," I mutter, stomping down the stairs, "good-bye, whoever you are."

Noodles are swimming in the pot, guided by my chopsticks. In the background against the wall on a projector screen is an incomplete bar graph of sales and profits for the upcoming spring quarter. Tranquility follows whenever I crunch numbers and it was just the remedy to clear my mind from today's fiasco. I was just about done when hunger called.

Subconsciously, my hand swish strands of starch and I time it for 3 minutes exactly as Takechiyo had taught me.

Kuso. Struck by the thought of him again. I can't believe he deceived me!

Chopsticks catapult into the sink with an empty clatter.

The emptiness followed by a sad realization of never seeing him again echoes ever further in the house.

DING DONG!

"Who is it?" I call out, approaching the door with my trusty saucepan.

A brief pause as I crack the door open.

"Ore da."

There's no mistaking or forgetting that smooth, baritone voice.

The door swings ajar just to catch a glimpse of his face for confirmation.

I ask him what he's doing here with my utmost deadpan expression.

He scratches the back of his head, no longer in that stiff suit of his but the usual loose, yellow and brown hoodie. "The truth is…", he looks up, "…Saigo are you cooking?"

The saucepan is still hanging mid-swing and my face is hot with humiliation.

Baka, you know why I have my saucepan!

With a quick spin, I trek back to the kitchen, leaving him at the genkan.

"Why are you here?" I demand, busying myself washing spinach, as Takechiyo follows in.

The fridge creaks against his weight as he leans back with arms crossed.

"I want to speak with you…," he adds, with beseeching eyes I feel and don't even need to see.

Spinach crunches under my knife with an almost mechanical precision.

"Are you hungry?" No matter what, I am never one to be a bad host.

A heavy sigh.

"I spent the entire day thinking what to say, even Keiji gave advice."

The boiling water sizzles in the sink, leaving only noodles in the sieve.

HA! Maeda Keiji- that flirt giving advice? If my eyes could roll any harder, I would be blind.

"…which wasn't too helpful," he concedes with a head shake, "so it's decided I will just tell you the truth."

I set the pot down, turning on cold water to cool the noodles. A hiss of relief resonates in the kitchen from the pot and cold water.

"Ore no namae wa Tokugawa Ieyasu. On my 21st birthday, I was named chairman of the Tokugawa Financial Holdings Conglomerate and since my birth I have been its sole heir."

I turn off the cold water. "You said your name was Takechiyo. Why did you lie to me?"

"Takechiyo is my childhood name and a form of address used by members of my family, clan and my seniors until this day. We all have childhood names."

It's plausible. Who am I to question family traditions? A quick flick of the wrist and both bowls are filled with ramen noodles.

"And why did you ask me to go to that Basara martial arts match? I don't like crowds. It was a painful and frightening experience," I bit back, tossing a new pair of chopsticks into the sink.

He takes a deep breath, as if ready to confess a crime.

"Part of my responsibilities is to participate in the Basara competition. The corporate world is more complex than legal, documented transactions. Basara is a conduit to resolve unspoken matters and initiate new agreements. Every major corporation in Japan participates and not one is immune to the ebb and flow of its battles. I invited you to a match thinking you will understand once you saw…" he pauses to search for words, "…forgive me, the distress it caused. I did not know how to tell you."

True, he's not good with words.

I plate spinach, naruto, ginger and bean sprouts on top of the noodles. Suddenly, the melodious, polite voice on the phone earlier today did not seem like a prank call at all. That's right, no common prankster could reach our HQ lines. Pieces of the puzzle come together.

"…You're the Light of the East?" I venture, my ladle suspended half way into the pot of broth.

"Ah," a small laugh as he scratches his head, "that's the moniker the MC gave since my debut and it has remained since."

"You're a celebrity?" My incredulous face turned away from view. How did I not know?

Immediately, I abandon station and searched for his stage name on my cell phone. Multiple results and paparazzi shots pop up on the projector linked screen hanging from my living room.

"Sore wa…" he trails off, hanging his head.

"That explains the crowds at the stadium," I cross my arms, returning to my broth. "And why you refuse to take the train."

"…I did not choose any of this," his silent, serious reply. "There are tasks set before me I have to complete, but I cannot control the media's attention and certainly do not care for it."

In a way he's right. No matter our status, wealth, accomplishments, or heritage we are still humans in need of space and privacy. As a nobody, even I understand this but our difference lies in who is afforded privileged anonymity. Such is the twisted price of living in a mega city versus an isolated hamlet.

"Many years ago, I decided to visit Shibuya station on my own, thinking a mask and a hat would disguise my identity. Needless to say, the public caught on immediately and the station was shut down for an hour due to crowd control. There were injuries as well as delays. The clan leader at the time then held a press conference issuing a formal apology to the public. I was on house arrest for two weeks." His head shakes with remorse.

"Why did you go knowing Shibuya station is notorious for transferring hundreds of thousands of people PER rush hour?"

"Ah…..well, there was a viral pastry sold exclusively there," he says sheepishly before regaining composure. "The clan has forbidden me from taking trains since then, to avoid inconveniencing the public."

I couldn't help but snicker, tasting the broth, which needed more shallots.

"The truth is, I am grateful for the opportunity to meet you," he confesses, standing straight. "Not as a man of fortune, power or title."

My stomach is an anchor dropping deep into the abyss, and I doubt it's from hunger. Why is there an air of finality to his tone?

He hangs his head. "Forgive me for deceiving you."

I turn around to face his downcast eyes, the indignant betrayal in my heart melting away. Never in all the time we have been "friends" have I seen him so down.

"Ore…" he scratches his head the way he always does when uncertain.

Ieyasu does not desire to be in the public spotlight just as much as I do not want to be in a crowd.

My arms fall to the side. We are not so different, both individuals just wishing for some privacy- a modicum of anonymity in this crazy, crowded clusterf*k of a city.

I forgive him with a sigh and the light returns to his eyes.

"Saigo," he grins, but I shoo him off my fridge, murmuring that I need shallots.

I close the door and he grasps my hands.

"What are you doing?" I gasp, face glowing red.

"The truth is…"he stammers, with that boyish but undeniably charming smile, "You are my first female friend. I will do anything in my power to preserve this bond…I wish to continue seeing you."

My expression softens as I realize, he must not have many friends outside of the corporate world. Could it be that the talented, handsome, CEO of a thriving multi-billion dollar conglomerate in Tokyo could be just as lonely as a 9 to 5 paper-pusher like me?

"Ii yo," I agree with a small smile, and punctuate it with, "but I have 3 demands."

A quirk of his eyebrow. "Name them."

"You must allow me to continue my current position, and if I see fit, to be allowed to quit and find work elsewhere WITHOUT your influence or interference."

My occupation cannot be in anyone else's hands but mine.

He nods wordlessly.

"Second, promise to protect me from media exposure through any means possible. I don't wish to be on television, social media or the press. You are never to take me to social gatherings, and we are not to be seen in public together. Protect my privacy as you would protect yours."

The last things I want are millions of noses browsing into my business and breathing down OUR necks. Don't even think about the crowds of paparazzi.

Ieyasu gives me a look of consideration. "It's not easy but I'll do my best. Agreed."

"Lastly," I breathe, setting down two bowls of ramen, "should there come a day we decide to part ways, promise we will dissolve our relationship peacefully. No scandals, sabotage or press coverage. Promise you will let me leave without repercussions."

A twisting churns my insides thinking about a time without him, but I am a big girl, living in a big city, about to make a big decision. Investing in an ounce of reality and a gram of caution is what a big girl should do.

Hands on his hips. "Our bond is unbreakable. That day will never come," he announces with a confident smile brighter than the sun, "but you have my word. Consider it all done…"

I breathe a sigh of relief and gesture for him to sit and eat.

"…only if you agree to my singular term."

I gaze warily at him.

"Nani? Oshiete kudasai."

The distance closes between us as he steps forward; my back against the counter as he boxes me in.

"Saigo, I want to see you everyday," he whispers in my ear before meeting my eyes with his sharp gold ones. "Move in with me."

"W-what?" My eyes the size of saucers, and hands pushing him away in vain.

"It's true." He replies with resolution, not budging an inch by merely standing. "How about it?"

"You are asking for trouble," I frown, attempting again to push him away but it might have been better to try that with a concrete wall instead.

Ieyasu embraces my hands with his strong, warm ones, a handsome smile on his face. "Iie, I am asking for you."

If he were anyone else, I would be awed by his charismatic negotiation skills. His CEO title is not for show and yet he's bargaining with a country girl like me? But he isn't just anyone and I can't help but shake my head furiously, only to burst out of laughter at the delicious irony. Then there's his smile that is more infectious than the flu. How can I possibly stay mad?

"You have a deal," I nod, returning a toothy grin of my own. .

His stomach interrupts with a furious growl and we both can't help but laugh. He says his stomach suffered silently while the entire day was spent thinking of what to say. I choke on the broth during his story, but we devour the ramen all the same.

Like second nature, he brings the dishes to the sink and starts washing them while I go stretch on the coach. I tell him to leave it for tomorrow, and he assures me it's the least he can do as a guest.

Few minutes later he joins me. The projector blares the 10 o'clock news.

I yawn and offer him to stay. Tomorrow is a weekend so we can stay up late, and secretly I did not want him to leave.

He seems conflicted so I promptly told him to change, dousing all uncertainty.

"We'll sleep on the coach. It'll be a sleep over," I grin, laying down sheets and blankets from the closet.

He stands a distance away, in sweats and a dark gold sleeveless sweatshirt. There probably aren't a lot of long sleeve shirts in Japan that fit his muscular physique, maybe that's why he often wears sleeveless tops and sweatshirts?

"Sleep on the coach? Sleep over?" The words roll strangely off his tongue, like a foreign language.

My enthusiasm could light up the room as I went to fetch snacks from the pantry. "Yes, like in college, when we go over to visit family or friends and there's a pile of us on the floor chatting, drinking, eating and staying up all hours into the morning!"

He's quiet for a moment.

"…Saigo I lived on the estate and was homeschooled my entire life until I joined Tokugawa financial holdings. Only recently did I move out on my own to Tokyo. This is my first encounter with a sleepover."

I bite my lip. His loneliness still haunts him years later as a man living in a massive, overpopulated city.

"So give it a try and sleep here," I encourage, patting on the empty makeshift bed.

I can change that.

"The coach?" His voice drowns in uncertainty.

My conscience screams how on earth I can have my BOSS, a multi-billionaire sleep on a budget recycled futon sofa too short for this stature. He likely sleeps on a mattress worth more than my apartment. His fans would have me crucified and burned at the stake!

I nod sweetly, deciding my conscience can suck it. What harm can a humbling experience do?

He scratches the back of his head before laying down on the miniature piece of furniture obviously too small for his frame. Aren't couches for sitting?

"I suppose there is a first for everything…"

Bags of chips and soft drinks are passed around as we talk about tonight's dinner. I tell him my family back in Fukouka has a traditional ramen broth made from pork bone that one day I will make for him. It's the stuff that warms your soul.

"Care to make it tomorrow," Ieyasu suggests, placing both arms behind his head.

Throwing the covers over him, I snicker from the floor futon. "My kitchen is far too small and there are not enough stoves."

He yawns. "Move in and use my kitchen."

Here we go again.

My eyes roll behind heavy eyelids. "If you can move everything in one day, I'd be glad to move whenever you'd like," I murmur the challenge, sauntering to bed.

The Tokugawa heir murmurs an incoherent reply in his sleep.

A/N:Saigo no Tsubone was the wife/consort of Tokugawa Ieyasu. She's not a paper-pusher, but neither is he a corporate billionaire. Her name was also Misako /Oai, parallel to Ieyasu's 'Takechiyo'. She hailed from humble beginnings leaving behind a son who would become second shogun and an influential legacy marked by her intelligence and charity.

OK enough of history. Hope it was a fun read. They're just so cute together- KYAAA!

xoxo

Gravism