scars from the sun: This fire is going to burn slowly, lol. Thank you!
Lillyannp: Communication! Understanding! Honesty!
bored411: It's technically "Enemies to Friends to Lovers", but between "Enemies" and "Friends," there's the "Two Idiots Who Don't Know What to Do" phase, lol. Thanks so much!
bbymojo: Yep! It's the 'slow' part of the 'slow burn.' Progress will be made, but it will take a while.
Nana-san14: Lol here's one at least!
Wishfulhamadryad: It's definitely going to take a while, but pinky-promise this story isn't going to be chapter after chapter of awkward fumbling. This is what happens when two people who can't use their own mouths get into a relationship. We're in for a long one!
Nana-san14: Mmm...No comment ;)
"Wooooow. These are so comfortable!"
Kosuke rocks in place, farther and longer than she'd ever been able to in the stupid heels now tossed aside on the floor. They're simple walking shoes, white with Velcro straps. She's started to think more practically about her wardrobe—albeit most of it is still her mother's. Especially with shoes, she has to think about how many outfits she can match them with. These will go with many.
Looking up at Kyoya, though, she sees that he's pinching his chin between his fingers and is furrowing his brow at them.
"What?"
Kosuke tilts her head at him, curious. Kyoya deliberates.
"They don't...Well, they don't exactly match, do they?"
She turns to the mirror behind her, as if she'd forgotten the clothes on her body. From the calves up there's the glossy curls of her hair, her saltwater pearl earrings, her family ring, and the star of the show: the snowy white dress with the blue China print, every inch flooded with detail. Then there's...a pair of walking shoes. With Velcro straps.
Kosuke does not consider this for very long. "Well, it's just one night. And if someone is going to turn their head over mismatched shoes, that's on them, right?"
Kyoya says nothing. He looks to his left and right, scanning all the boxes. He doesn't seem to think too highly of the place. Just like every other place tonight. The only employee hadn't been very chipper when Kosuke and Kyoya came to the door not three seconds before he flipped the sign. Then he took a look at Kosuke's bare feet and decided to show some mercy.
From the right Kyoya pulls out a box, inspecting it. "What about these?"
Kosuke peers inside. They're a pair of white leather flats. And just like that, her soles are set ablaze with the memory of Himari Abhuraya's sixteenth birthday tea party. So many Band-Aids.
"Just because they don't have heels, doesn't mean they're comfortable." Kosuke pushes the box away gently. "If I wear those for walking around, I'm going to fill them with blood in ten minutes. Just trust me on this."
Kyoya doesn't protest anymore, but as she pays for them at the register, she can't shake the notion that he's embarrassed. She surprises herself when she doesn't get upset about that.
Kyoya is like…
He's like when she pitched up their tent at the camping grounds. The tiny gray one that Tamaki slept like a bunny in for the next two nights. (Nothing at all like the palace she and the children stayed in, the memory of which still haunts her, from the drawbridge to the four-poster bed. How did he take it down?) She had to read the instructions carefully, and backtrack sometimes. Once she caught the hang of it, she didn't have to double-check herself so much.
He isn't like her, and she can't expect him to be. It's like hauling someone off to a different country and expecting them to be comfortable in the language and culture right off the bat. Is it frustrating? Yes. But she has to remind herself of what Shigeo had told her after the party. What is weird to her is not weird to him, and vice-versa. She may not care so much for the opinion of the strangers on the sidewalk who she will never see again, but Kyoya does. So even if she's going to buy these shoes, she won't snap at him for this.
Not in the way she snapped at him earlier, which—
While she's taking bills out of her purse, Kosuke's toes curl in her new comfy shoes.
You went and got yourself conditioned to him, she scolds herself. It's like that thing with Pavlov's dogs and the bell. He says one incredulous thing, and you got ready for a fight.
Kosuke doesn't know why she's bracing for one, not when her mantra going into this date has been make it better, make it better, make it better. The rest of the camping trip had gone…fine. They didn't have another moment of solitude again, and yeah, they had to play up their romance around the others, but that thick tension was gone. More progress would have been preferable, but perhaps they needed some time apart after that conversation. The only thing she really, truly regrets is that the children never did meet him. Hitsuji just couldn't sit still long enough to be interested, but Minami shirked away from it. It was still too much, and what was Kosuke supposed to do, force her to talk to him?
So this date was something she was bracing for, and she still came up shorthanded.
It's so hard to talk to him. About anything. She doesn't know anything about art, or business, or designer jewelry! How are they supposed to make small talk when they can't even speak the same language?
And again, the fighting. The tension. It's like a damn muscle memory.
When they step back out into the night air, Kosuke steals a glance at him. He looks quite neutral. Not happy to be going back out. Knowing he can't just sulk about it.
Not only is he definitely not having fun right now, he probably thinks you have a millimeter-long temper.
As they start to walk, Kosuke tells him, "Hey, look, I'm sorry for snapping at you earlier. I know you were genuinely asking, not trying to be rude."
There's a brief flicker of surprise on her face as she says it—the same one he'd had in the bathroom back at the lodge. Does he not get apologized to often? He probably still thinks you're too childish to apologize…
"I wasn't," he agrees at last. "Though looking back, I can see how I came off that way."
Kosuke crosses her arms, because she doesn't know what to do and it's a little windy out here, anyway. She doesn't know why she ever thought this would be a good idea. She just wanted to get out of that stuffy restaurant, but why would someone like Kyoya ever be interested in wandering the streets to look at cat cafes and window aquariums? She might as well drag him to a kid's toy store while she's at it.
I don't want to let this go, but I don't think there's any fixing this. Maybe next time.
"Maybe we should go ahead and call our chauffeurs," she tells him. "Before I ruin more of my clothes."
The joke doesn't land. Kyoya frowns at her. "Do you want to go home?"
She shrugs. "I'm okay to go if you are."
He frowns deeper. "That's not what I asked."
Touché. Kosuke tries not to sigh. "This probably wasn't a good idea to begin with. I don't know what I thought we were going to do, and I don't want to keep going if you're not enjoying yourself."
He protests, "I'm enjoying myself."
Kosuke doesn't know what to say. Because he clearly is not, but there is no way she can point it out without being condescending herself. Her face seems to say it all, because Kyoya averts his eyes, pushes his glasses up.
"I assure you, it's not because of any prejudice or judgement on my part," he tells her, and she's pretty sure he's lying, but it sounds like he wishes he wasn't. "I would like to do something enjoyable. I just haven't found anything yet."
Kosuke searches the streets. Maybe they'll get the same magic as the shoe store, turning up at just the right moment. Things are crumbling like old pastry in her fingers.
"Tokyo is too big of a place to not have something you would enjoy. Anything!" Kosuke peers around the corner just by the shoe store. It's another length of neon lights and storefronts. Stands and tents are popping up with more frequency. To Kosuke it's just a world waiting to be explored, but she finds nothing…classy. High-end. Kyoya. "I'm not going to demand you pick something, but do you want to look just a little longer? I want you to have something to keep this night from being absolutely miserable."
"This hasn't been absolutely miserable."
"I know. Just…" Out of words, she pathetically gestures ahead, begging with her eyes.
He sighs, but walks forward. Kosuke falls into step beside him with her Velcro-strap shoes and tries not to watch him like a hawk, for any sign of enjoyment.
Why can't he be more like Tamaki? Why can't he get over-the-moon about parking meters and vending machines?
The more they walk, the more hopeless Kosuke gets, and she's finally ready to wave the white flag. She should've just left it at the restaurant. A boring night is better than a miserable one.
As she opens her mouth to speak, though, Kyoya suddenly stills, squints, and changes direction. Kosuke feels like she zips after him like a cartoon character. Kyoya stops in front of a storefront like any other.
"What is it?!" Kosuke asks. Then she tries again, because she probably sounded like an excited two-year-old. "I mean…What is it?"
Kyoya pinches his chin again. "Are stores like these common in shopping areas?"
Kosuke looks through the front window.
She sees paper. And pens. Sticky notes. Filing cabinets. Pencil sharpeners.
It's an office supply store.
"I…guess so, yeah." Kosuke tries to cough the judgement out of her voice. She doesn't see what the big deal is, but…he's taller than her, right? Maybe he's seeing something else?
"Are they usually open this late?"
"Well, some have twenty-four-hour printers and photocopiers. You know, for nocturnal workers."
Kyoya hums. And keeps staring. Kosuke waits for something that never comes.
Then she remembers that spark that'd brought them over here, and asks, "Do you want to go inside?"
He seems to snap out of it, bringing his hand back down to fold over his chest. "I have no need for any of these things."
"I didn't go to a cat café so I could get a cat." Kosuke presses a hand to the metal bar of the door. A tiny bell rings overhead. "You really don't want to?"
Kyoya looks at her, then the window, then his watch, then the window again. Kosuke has never met someone who calculates so obviously.
"Only for a minute," Kyoya relents at last. Kosuke smiles, trying not to feel too giddy as they go inside.
The giddiness…fades. Sort of.
It's not that she's not happy that he's found something, far from it. Just watching him look at something, anything, instead of giving it an uninterested glance feels like a victory. Kosuke decides to give him some space, as he regards everything with a deep consideration that doesn't ask for conversation.
It's more that an office supply store doesn't stay interesting for long.
Or at all?
She's not being mean if she keeps her thoughts to herself, right? Kosuke does laps through the aisles, trying to steer clear of him while catching glimpses through the shelves. He reminds her of Emiko at the museum. Kosuke would blaze through all the boring displays and factoids on the walls, more interested in the aquariums and beehive exhibit, but Emiko would take her sweet time reading everything there was to read. Kosuke didn't think it was possible to be fascinated with paperclips, but here they are.
In her wandering she finally collides with him, stopping in front of a shelf of clocks (round clocks! Square clocks! Alarm clocks!) just as he rounds the corner. His museum-patron fascination vanishes when he sees the time.
"I said only for a minute. It's been half an hour!"
Kosuke puts her hands up. "You were having…fun. I didn't want to stop you."
Kyoya sighs, and Kosuke almost laughs, but she stops herself. She instead asks, "Are you sure you don't need anything?"
"If I need any office supplies, all I have to do is put in a notice," he insists.
"Do you want anything?"
Kyoya considers it. He shakes his head. "I see no use in buying something I do not need."
"Oh, no, mister." Kosuke points a finger at him. "If you don't want anything that's fine, but that is not an adage for you to use." Kyoya is silent. He takes it. "And really, Kyoya. It's just pens and highlighters. Don't stress over it."
He looks away from her, and she realizes her slip-up.
"Not that I'm trying to tell you what you what you can and can't be interested in! This is some cool stuff. Like…uh, like…" Kosuke leans over to the closest thing to her, smiling as widely as she can. "Highlighters! Look at how many colors they come in!"
Kyoya only stares at her, with a look that could either be annoyance or amusement. Or both. Kosuke's mouth goes dry, but somehow it can keep rambling. "And—and—these erasers! Look, these are all shaped like animals! That's cute. There's printing paper, and construction paper, paperboards, uh…"
Finally Kosuke spots something that she can actually take interest in. "Oh, look!"
The typewriter is set up in the spotlight of a florescent bar, a sleek mahogany color with black detailing. As Kyoya comes up behind her, Kosuke tries her hand at it, using one hand to spin the roll and the other to type. Her gibberish joins the other gibberish that customers before have left behind. She feels like a little kid, pawing at anything interactive, but hey, she's never seen one of these things in person and it is a little cool.
"Here." Kosuke steps aside for him. "You try."
Her encouraging smile vanishes when Kyoya takes her place and goes at it like lightning. The little buttons become a spinning blur, the needle darting to and fro so quickly she thinks it's about to break. Kyoya manages to type My name is Kyoya Ootori in less than fifteen seconds.
Kyoya catches her staring at her fingers and smirks. "I'm a skilled typer."
"Yeah, I can see that." Kosuke huffs in disbelief and looks at the other items around them. It seems strange for an ordinary office supply store to have a devoted vintage section, but it somehow makes her nostalgic for a time she wasn't alive to see. There are desk lamps with little dangling strings, a rotating flip chart, a phone with a spinning dial.
Kyoya has his eyes trained on something, and Kosuke comes closer to see for herself. There's a tiny section just for calligraphy. On the shelves there are pens, their nibs, the ink wells. What Kyoya is looking at, though, is an entire set. The box is open to display 25 inks, four pens, six nibs, and more than Kosuke cannot name. The price tag makes her flinch—over six thousand yen just for some pens and ink?—but the fascination on Kyoya's face keeps her from voicing it.
She instead asks, "Do you like calligraphy?"
Kyoya glances at her as though he'd forgotten she was there. "I practiced it when I was younger, but now almost everything I write is on a keyboard. What I do write by hand is just with a simple pen."
She nods, but only to confirm she's listening. She's not buying his dismissal. "Do you…want to buy it?"
Again he pauses, and again he shakes his head. "As I said, I have no need for such a thing."
Kosuke purses her lips at him. She wants to go on and on about why he keeps pulling that, when she knows full and well his mansion is probably filled with overseas art and imported foods, and his clothes probably cost thousands and thousands of yen just for the person who made them, but she doesn't. But it's tempting.
"It's okay to buy something if it genuinely makes you happy." Kyoya finally keeps his eyes on her, and she continues, "I mean, I'm not going to throw all my money to the wind, but if it's something that you'll actually enjoy for a long time and not just a shiny thing you'll forget about, then I see no harm in buying it."
Kyoya looks back at the set, then his watch, then her, then the door. Then the set again.
"Are you sure you've got it? I can carry it for a while if you want."
"No, it's fine. It's not as heavy as it looks."
Sounds like a lie, but okay. Kyoya had instantly peeled off the plastic as soon as the purchase was done ("Why does it need plastic? It's already in a case." "Yeah, it's dumb. I agree.") so now the black wood can give off the soft glow that the streetlights cast upon it.
Okay, you have accomplished something, Kosuke thinks with a little sigh. Only took you close to three hours to do it.
Kyoya is not clicking his heels, but Kosuke thinks he's pleased. She makes a note that he's not ever going to be the heart-on-his-sleeve sort. He emotes slowly through tiny cues and inflections. So, she thinks that the slight raise to his chin is a "pleased" indicator. She thinks.
"So," she says. Dammit. "Why'd you stop doing calligraphy if you liked it?"
Kyoya considers his words. "It was only a basic subject I was taught when I was a child."
"Like how to read a clock, or the different kinds of coins?"
"Something like that." He stops on a final note, but then reconsiders. "Mostly my private tutor taught me, but there were classes for it at Ouran, alongside dining room etiquette and ballroom dancing."
Kosuke's brow instantly knots together. "Ballroom dancing? For children?"
"Yes."
"Wha—Why would children need to know how to ballroom dance? I haven't even been to a party where a child was present yet."
"True, but it's better to already have the skill than to have the time come around and not know what to do, isn't it?"
"I suppose." Never in her life would she think that dancing would be considered a necessary skill. It occurs to her that…oh god. "Oh god."
Kyoya turns to her, startled.
"I don't know how to ballroom dance." Kosuke looks down at her feet—not at her Velcro shoes, but her feet, that used to stand atop Marti's when they danced in the kitchen to a song on the radio, while she swung on his arms like a monkey from a vine. "I'm going to have to know that, right? When we go to a party, we're supposed to do that together? Or am I supposed to do that with someone else?" Kosuke leans closer to whisper, but she's sure the pounding of her heart can be heard from streets away. "Can I ruin a partnership between our companies if I step on someone's toes?"
Kyoya ponders this for a moment, and the hand not holding his new calligraphy set comes up to pinch his chin again. "I suppose it is possible. It would be considered highly rude."
Kosuke clenches her jaw until she thinks her teeth are going to break. What the hell kind of world is she living in? She could make a company pull out of a partnership, just like DomenMed did with Ootori Medical, because she stepped on someone's foot in a ballroom dance? Are the filthy rich just that conceited, that they would take something like that as a great offense? She opens her mouth to speak again, to ask what kind of dances she should learn, when will she need to know, who should she not dance with…
And then she notices the ever-so-tiny smirk on the edge of his mouth.
Kosuke glares at the street ahead, because she feels like slapping him upside his skull. "That's not funny."
"I disagree."
"Well, it wouldn't surprise me at this point. Considering how much you go on about how important it is to kiss people's butts all the time."
"A partnership between two empires is not going to collapse over stepped toes. I promise." Kosuke just refuses to look at him, still burning with embarrassment. And he's eating it up. "If you're worried about being the only person in the ballroom who can't dance, don't."
"Sure."
He tips his head to the side. "Do you honestly think our egos are that fragile?"
"Yes. No." Kosuke kicks a pebble of concrete across the pavement. "I'm not trying to be mean, but we've been raised into two different cultures. No one use to care if you used a big spoon or a little spoon to drink soup, they were just spoons. If you needed a dress for a party, you'd just go to a store to buy one, not find a Parisian designer to hand-sew one for used to be considered nice to thank the server for bringing your food, not tacky."
Ah, crap. Kosuke bites her tongue as soon as the words slip out, because Shigeo is the absolute last thing she wants to discuss. She doesn't even want to hint at his existence.
Thankfully, instead of pressing further, Kyoya considers what she's said. "I suppose those things may sound rather strange at times. Though people buying expensive jewelry from a random street merchant also sounds strange. As does a business comprised of letting customers pet cats."
"Touché," she concedes. She could argue (and she wants to, because cat cafes are spectacular and she loves them), but she knows Kyoya could argue just the same. It's not about whether it's right or wrong, but if it's "normal.
Then she thinks of "arranged marriages," and remembers—as though she'd forgotten—that the man standing next to her is her future husband. She wonders how he'd be able to argue for that, sacrificing love and the hope of it for business relations. It hurts to think that is "normal" to him, that he would see no issue in the expectation to give up his own happiness.
Kosuke doesn't ask about it. She doesn't think anything else would bring down the lightening atmosphere so fast, like a boulder in water. So she keeps talking, light and casual.
"I'll try to stop complaining so much. As long as no one's getting hurt, I guess it's…no big…"
She stops.
Because that home décor store across the street looks quite familiar.
Kosuke turns, and sees a red canopy hanging over the dark front of a restaurant. The swirling font of a children's clothing store. Tiny little things, but they are stirring memories in her. Memories that make her stomach toss and twist.
"Kosuke?"
She blinks back at Kyoya, who is watching her quizzically. She hadn't realized she'd just frozen solid like. She realizes now that she can no longer feel her feet on the ground, and wonders if her legs are shaking.
"Is everything alright?" Kyoya asks. Kosuke almost feels guilty for acting in a way that worries him.
"Yeah, yeah. Everything's fine. I just…I feel like maybe I've been here before."
She tries to stop it, but it's like pressing pause on a remote that has no batteries. She's sitting in the back of a taxi cab. She passes by a store with a red canopy, a children's clothing store with swirling font. A home décor store right in the middle of Tokyo, which she finds a bit curious. When she keeps going, she notices how the pedestrians' clothing changes, and it reminds her of how the trees pattered out when she left Karuizawa. Jeans and shirts change into sparkling dresses and pressed suits. Finally the taxi cab stops, and Kosuke steps a white heel out onto the pavement, straightening out the pink dress that she wore to a classmate's birthday party, and she's looking up at a tower that spears up into the sky in a neon blue blade.
The Blue Tower is just a street away.
There is one spilt second where, though she knows it's just her panicked mind being dramatic, everything freezes. Suddenly she sees some of those dresses in suits, like they were hiding from her before. If she and Kyoya turn right here, then the Blue Tower should be right in view. If they pass by, she will see that pool-sized fountain and those mirrorlike floors. She may see young women standing in wait, putting on masked smiles as a group of men approach them and sweep them away for the evening. They will pass by the exact spot where the Blue Suit grabbed her and dug his sweaty fingers into her arm.
Kosuke is terrified, of many things. That somehow she will be recognized—and surely no one would say anything about her, but how well-known is Kyoya, and will rumor spread that he was on a date with a girl known to charge for them? What if Violet is there, and waves to her, and Kosuke can't pretend like she doesn't see or know her? And what if, what if, the Blue Suit is there, too, and sees her, and starts walking towards her—
Even if none of that happens, though, Kosuke is still scared. Her stomach is twisting into a wretched knot that has the back of her throat going dry. She can't feel her legs and she knows her hands are starting to shake, so she grabs the skirt of her dress and clenches handfuls in her fists, not caring a second more for how much it may cost. If they keep walking that way, she doesn't know if she's going to faint, or vomit, or suddenly stop breathing, and she has no idea what she could possibly tell Kyoya.
The second passes. Kosuke opens her mouth and speaks.
"You know what? I remember where we are." She starts tugging him towards the crosswalk, and Kyoya doesn't protest. "Down that road there are a lot of those people who hand out tour bus brochures, you know the ones? They get right in your face and don't leave you alone until you run for it."
Kyoya hums in what sounds like mutual distaste, but he sends a look back over his shoulder anyway. "At this time of night?"
"Better safe than sorry." Kosuke tugs him to the next turn they come to, and is relieved when it's flooded with vendors. It seems funny, to have it so close to a pish-posh luxury resort, but she's not complaining. She'd think that the smells wafting up into the air would finally tip her stomach over the edge, but they instead invite her, promising not just good food but a good distraction. "Do you want to get something to eat?"
Kyoya peers at his wristwatch again. "It wasn't very long ago that we ate dinner."
"Don't get me wrong, the food was amazing, but…" Kosuke shrugs. "Fine-dining restaurants around here serve such small portions. Even after several courses, it doesn't really fill you up, you know?" Kyoya looks down at his own stomach, as if asking it if that's true. "Do you ever eat street food that often?"
Kyoya looks ahead of them, at the tiny stands and wafting steam, the paper boats instead of plates, how customers suck their fingertips as they eat without utensils. "Not if I can help it."
"It's really good," Kosuke insists. She tells herself not to be offended, to see from his point of view. He's probably used to eating tar tar and caviar every day of his life; this wouldn't look appetizing to her, either. "Cheap food can taste just as good as expensive food. Money is not a seasoning."
"If you see anything you want, by all means," Kyoya says, gesturing ahead.
"I want you to try it." She may be pushing it, she may be annoying right now. But: "My dad used to tell me I'd miss out on a lot of good food in my life if I never tried it to begin with. So can you just pick something? Just to try it, and if you don't like it, okay."
Kyoya's eyebrows raise on his forehead just a fraction. Kosuke notes that as a "you've made a good point" cue. "Fine. What do you want to buy?"
"No, no, you pick. I don't care."
He sweeps his eyes over the vendors ahead, lips still a bit pursed but not sneering. At last he points to a standing cart selling takoyaki. "What about that one?"
Kosuke takes a step towards it…and stops.
"Um…Can you pick another one?"
Kyoya looks again, and now points to another vendor selling yaki tomorokoshi. "That one, then?"
Kosuke looks. And winces. "Another one…?"
His jaw clenches, but he searches a third time, and spots an ikayaki vendor a ways down the street. "That one?"
Kosuke grinds her teeth and grimaces. "Another…one…?"
Kyoya clicks his tongue, but he is remarkably calm as he says, "You obviously do care what we get, so why don't you—?"
"I'm not trying to be picky, I promise! It's just…um…" She grinds her teeth again. She doesn't want to contradict what she'd just said about street food being worth it, but she doesn't want to lie to him, either. Plus, she may be giving him some pointers. "Just watch the vendor there for a second."
She points back to the takoyaki cart, and Kyoya watches, brow furrowed. The cook on the other side begins a new batch, pouring the batter into the round molds in the trays. Once he's done he slides on a pair of plastic gloves, reaches into the small cooler, and withdraws the octopus. He gives each mold two or three pieces, then he does the same with the tempura, the green onion. One of his sauce bottles tips over, and he sets it upright. Then comes the next round of batter.
"What?" Kyoya finally asks, brow only furrowed more.
"He's just now taking off his gloves," Kosuke says, and almost points. The vendor takes them off right on time, but she still shakes her head. Her stomach is both growling for delicious takoyaki, and turning at what she's seeing. "He grabbed the sauce bottle, the cooler door, the batter container, all with the same gloves. He just spread raw octopus everywhere!"
Kyoya's head snakes back on his neck. Now he sneers, and Kosuke doesn't blame him. "Oh…"
"Then there's that one…"
Now they look to the yaki tomorokoshi cart. The vendor flips the ears of corn on the grill, and begins to brush the seasonings along them. Kosuke instead points to the work station beside him.
"They're just leaving their stuff everywhere," she sighs. "Look, he just put the seasoning right next to a bottle of sanitizer. That's food contamination 101!"
Kyoya's lips curls up even more. "I see." Warily, he looks to the ikayaki vendor. "What about that one?"
The woman smiling on the other side of the grill is doing everything else right, but her booth is packed to her elbows with her supplies. Kosuke looks on her with pity as she flips the squid over atop the coals. "That entire stand is just a fire hazard. I'm scared that she's going to knock something over while she's cooking for us, and the whole thing is going to burn down."
Looking almost queasy, Kyoya takes a step back, like they're going to flee in the other direction. "Are you sure street food is 'really good'?"
"You just have to pick the right place," she hurries out. She frantically looks between the other vendors, and feels like some kind of robot, scanning for every safety and sanitization hazard. At last she takes a breath, and gestures out. "I would pick something from that one, that one, or that one."
He deliberates, and takes a wary look at her. Seeing how sure she is has him relaxing some, and though he sighs, he at last points out to a large stand wafting steam up into the air. The woman inside hands two boats of okonomiyaki to a pair of smiling teenage girls. "If you're sure, how about that one?"
"Great!" Kyoya steps forward, and Kosuke hurries in front of him. "No, no, I'll get it. You can grab us a place to sit." Looking down the street, she finds exactly one bench still vacant. Any earlier in the day, and this place would be packed. "There. I'll be back in just a minute."
Kyoya only looks minimally more at ease when she returns, and does not exactly perk up when she hands him his boat. Kosuke rather likes the tasty chaos of it, but she knows it's a polar difference to the food of the restaurants they've visited, where every morsel is artistically arranged on the plate. He watches Kosuke take a bite first, but other than a little squeak at the heat, she does not gag, she does not choke. Finally he takes a tiny bite for himself.
His eyebrows go up again.
Kosuke grins. "Good?"
Kyoya hums, digging out another bite. "Good."
She stuffs another bite into her mouth just to stop herself from preening. She's surprised that she's eating so well after the nausea. But the reality of the Blue Tower fades the more that they sit, eating their food and listening to the symphony of meat sizzling on grills, steam ghosting into the air, footsteps tapping on the pavement. No one really spares them any glances, Velcro shoes or not.
Halfway through their okonomiyaki, Kyoya asks her, "Do you always look for stuff like that when you go out to eat? I don't think I would have noticed, myself."
"Force of habit." Kosuke dabs a napkin on her lip and explains, "Mom and Dad were really vigilant about health codes when they were running the restaurant. Mom would have nightmares of getting shut down. Even if I never went into the kitchen, they made sure I knew everything. I only think it's interesting now; back then I couldn't care less. But I guess it came in handy, huh?"
"Indeed. You've certainly made me more scrutable of where I eat now."
Kosuke laughs despite the mouthful of food. She kicks at a little pebble beneath the bench. "I know it's probably dumb to read books on health codes and food history. I remember how confused Tamaki was when I read The Complete History of Sushi for fun. I just…Well, I just think it's interesting."
Kyoya doesn't say anything at first, which she takes to be silent agreement. Yeah, it is dumb. But that's fine. She's used to getting odd looks by now, even from the people in her class. She made some heads turn when she asked someone to hand her Duchess, and had to clarify that Duchess was a knife. Moreso when she recited Article 49 of the Food Sanitation Law by memory.
However, after a pause, he says, "I don't think it's dumb. I may not understand it, but that doesn't mean it's stupid for you to be interested in it. I have several interests myself that not many understand."
"Like what?" Kosuke asks, desperate to hear something personal about him. "Calligraphy?"
"Yes, but more so the work that I do at Ootori Medical. Calculating budgets, reviewing invoices, estimating projections." Kyoya stabs off another piece of okonomiyaki. "It's not exactly thrilling, but I enjoy doing it. It simply interests me."
Kosuke nods. "Yeah. Like you said, I don't really get it, but if you enjoy it, then that's all that matters."
There's another pause, and though she can't read his mind, she thinks he might be grateful. Kosuke tries to imagine working an office job, stuck in a cubicle, typing away at a computer and signing papers day in and day out. It maker her cringe to think about such a fate, but to each their own. Being in an office may be to Kyoya what being in a kitchen is to her. Though it does lead her to wonder…
"So you like your job at Ootori Medical?"
For just a fraction of a second, Kyoya's hand stills. Then his fingers tighten, and he states, "Yes, I do."
She's taken aback by the sudden steeliness to his voice, but…Okay. Maybe she was asking for it, because that was a loaded question. She turns her body back forward—when did she turn to face him?—and digs back into her food. "Okay."
He sighs, and his shoulders sink just so. "I didn't mean to snap, I'm sorry. I do enjoy my job. It's just not exactly the position I hope to be in."
"What do you do? Are you an accountant, or something like that?"
"I suppose you could consider it an…apprenticeship." Kyoya looks back at her, just to check if she's really listening. She is, forgetting her food for the time being to give him her undivided attention. "It's preliminary work to prove to my father that I am capable of a more demanding position in the future."
"Ohhhh, okay. While you're still in college, though? I mean, it sounds like you're pretty busy between that and school."
"I requested it."
"Oh." Kosuke taps a toe on the ground. "So did your brothers do the same thing? They work at your family's business too, right?"
"They do. It's not quite the same situation." Kyoya lets out a tiny breath, frustrated at himself, but Kosuke listens patiently. "Obviously—"
"Kyoya!"
He stops. "What?"
"Are you blowing on your food? It's steaming. You're going to burn your mouth."
Kyoya looks down at the bite on the end of his fork. It is still wafting up steam. Kosuke does not stop staring at him until he blows on it and then eats it. Good. Hitsuji once spent a whole night crying because he burned his mouth at dinner.
"Okay, go ahead."
Kyoya blinks at her two, three times. He continues, slow and baffled.
"…Obviously, my brothers were not instantly given their positions the moment they graduated from school, but they didn't advance in the same pattern that I am now."
"Is there a reason for that?"
Finally Kyoya stops, and his eyes lift up from his food to nothing in particular, debating. Kosuke considers backing off, telling him not to worry about it and just changing the subject, but finally he sighs again and turns to her.
"I won't go into detail about it, but simply put, something occurred that made it particularly important that I prove myself worthy of joining Ootori Medical. It wasn't anything to worry about, but it was by my own doing."
Well, that's not making me worry at all.
Kosuke dabs at her lips again, because otherwise he's going to see her lips pursing. She's not going to press him, but her notion that there's something he's not telling her only deepens. In the end all she says is, "I see."
It's a simple enough answer, but it also sends them into another bout of silence. So Kosuke goes on, "So why did Fuyumi not join the family business? Did she just not want to?"
"No. I don't think she ever did. She's a socialite like our mother. Tetsu works at Ootori Medical instead."
She nods, and bites down jealousy for her future sister-in-law. How nice it would be, if her job could just be to go to parties and make friends, instead of running an entire company. Realizing what Kyoya had just said, Kosuke pipes up, "Your mother is back in Japan, right?"
Kyoya fumbles with his chopsticks for a moment. "Yes."
"Was she on a business trip? Part of the socialite job?"
"Yes. It was very—important. She's very apologetic that she hasn't been able to meet you sooner."
"Oh, no, no. It's fine." Kosuke doesn't press about the trip, because if it kept Mrs. Ootori from meeting her new daughter-in-law, then Kosuke imagines it must have been dire. She's not sure why she feels a sudden eagerness to meet her. Her hope that she will be different from the walking block of ice that is her husband seems naïve. "Do you think I could meet her soon?"
"I think so. She has a gift for you. I'll bring it the next time we see each other." Before Kosuke can ask after his mother any further, Kyoya asks, "What about your apprenticeship? Is it going well?"
Kosuke's happy that she took a bite when she did, because now she can chew to buy herself some time. She can't be too chipper; he'll see right through her. But neither is she going to vent to him about her frustrations, especially when they caused him frustration.
"It's still a lot to take all at once, especially with school, but it's going fine. Sometimes I just have to remind myself I'm not going to be taking over tomorrow, you know? I have plenty of time to learn how to be the best leader for Amida Health."
That last bit is more true than she can say. It's only the knowledge that she has time that keeps Kosuke from losing it. Even if she's doing well in her classes, and even if she memorizes everything about Amida Health Shigeo tells her, Kosuke is no closer to becoming a CEO than she was when she first agreed to this.
But, assuming she's only going to be taking over once Shigeo has passed, then she still has plenty of time unfortunately. She may dream of owning her own restaurant, but not tomorrow, not even next year. Passion she may have, but knowledge she does not—she would only do so when she was absolutely sure of her abilities.
The problem, of course, being that she has neither passion nor knowledge for Amida Health. Somehow she's remembering and forgetting everything she learns at the same time. Nothing sticks, it just leaves a residue. And when that occurs to her, she reminds herself that it isn't the end of the world. Just because she's not clicking her heels at the thought of leading Amida Health doesn't mean she won't be good at it one day…it just means she's going to be good at it and miserable.
Kyoya nods at her words. Perhaps not enthusiastically, but he's not holding onto that outrage anymore. "I suppose it must be overwhelming, to be given it only recently. I've been learning about my family's company since childhood."
"Ah, well. It's not that bad when I take it bit-by-bit." Kosuke taps her chopsticks against her lips, thinking over her words. "It's hard to explain, but there's a unique kind of pressure in taking over a business that already exists, you know? You can't just build everything yourself, you have to adapt to what's already there and do your best to maintain it."
"So you think it would be easier if you were starting your own business?"
"In some ways. I mean, I'd get to establish my rules, who I was going to work with, what I was going to do…I just want to keep Amida Health as strong as my father left it."
She eats more to get rid of the bitter taste in her mouth. Kyoya has already finished his, and drops his empty boat and chopsticks into a nearby garbage can. "Would you start a restaurant business?"
Kosuke laughs, and it somehow feels genuine and fake at once. "What makes you say that?"
"I think you would be good at it." Kosuke looks back at him. He's utterly sincere. "You clearly have a passion for it. I can't speak from experience, but I know for a fact that your cooking is delicious, so I think you'd be very successful."
She smiles and pokes at her food, hoping she's not blushing. She's heard it before, but it's a little different from him. Maybe because he knows so much about the importance of running a business. "Thank you. It does sound fun, but it may be for the best that I don't. Restaurants are pretty notorious for being risky. Not to mention, I'm scared if I make cooking my job, I'm going to get tired of it. I don't have to worry about either of those things now."
Lies, all lies. Well—the risk isn't. Restaurants are more likely than not to close within their first five years, but that's for a number of factors that Kosuke has never worried for. She knows what she wants to do, and knows that she'd never grow tired of it. Emiko and Marti ran the Lily Bowl for years, and despite the typical frustrations, they never let go of their love for food, let alone considered throwing in the towel.
Though, between Marti and the loan shark, she's no longer so sure of that last one…
She could tell Kyoya about her binder, about all her ideas for her restaurant that will never be, but she knows that will only contradict everything that she's telling him.
"Besides!" Kosuke waves a hand. "It's not like I'm never going to cook again once I'm running Amida Health. I'll be cooking for my friends and family all the time. I could write recipe books, or teach classes. Or maybe it can just stay as a hobby, who knows? Anyway—all my attention is on running Amida Health, don't worry."
"I know. As you said, you still have time. It's understandable that you aren't ready at just this moment." Kyoya hesitates, deliberating. "Also, we will essentially be business partners, so you won't be alone."
Kosuke nods, even though she hasn't the slightest idea of how to feel. She does get the solidarity Kyoya intended. She had forgotten that she wouldn't be by herself—since Kyoya would not be the CEO of his own company, he will more likely be spending more time with Amida Health as her husband. Still. It's the closest they've come to acknowledging their marriage all evening. The permanence and inevitability of it.
Kyoya looks down at his watch, but says nothing. Kosuke asks, "What time is it?"
"Almost ten thirty."
Kosuke grimaces. "I hadn't realized it was so late. Maybe it's time we both head home. We were probably expected back by now."
"Are you sure?" he asks. "There's nowhere else you want to go?"
"Nothing that isn't going to be here later. Besides, I'm getting tired. Let's call our chauffeurs."
After she and Kyoya do so, they walk a bit until the streets clear of vendors and pedestrians. Standing in the quiet, Kosuke now thinks of all the questions she didn't ask, and chews on her cheek for them.
She could've asked him about his brothers, or his mother. His classes at Ouran. His friends.
"This was fun," she says in the quiet. "I'm sorry for dragging you around, though."
"No, no, it was fine." Kyoya looks down at his calligraphy set. "Enjoyable, even."
She nods, and looks down at her shoes. Only now is she starting to feel insecure. She didn't realize how chunky they looked with her dress. "Well, when do you want to do this again? Not—not this, but when do you want to go out again? We could go to a museum, or a show, we could just meet up for lunch one day. And you just let me know when I can meet your mother, I'll clear my schedule whenever. Oh, and you still need to meet Hitsuji and Minami, so I can see about getting something together so—" She bites down on her lip until she almost tastes copper. "Just tell me when."
Kyoya looks amused, which is not helping. "I'll see about doing something else soon. We don't just have to revolve around my schedule, either. You can let me know if you want to go somewhere."
"Right. Right. And we'll probably be seeing each other around school, anyway." Kosuke opens and closes her mouth. Finally, she spits out, "I want to keep talking to you and getting to know you. I should've been doing that all night, it's just—"
"I feel the same. We'll get something arranged." Kyoya suddenly stops, and sets his calligraphy set down by his feet. He pats at his breast pocket. "Actually…"
His fingertips close around something, but he stops himself.
"What is it?" Kosuke asks.
At last he shakes his head, draws his hand back. "It's nothing."
"Okay…?" The limousine finally pulls up to the curb, not far from them. Kosuke turns to him, unsure if she should curtsy, bow…Finally she settles for a wave and a simple, "Bye. See you soon."
"Goodbye."
Even as she ducks into the dark interior of the limousine, Kosuke tries to keep her eyes on him for as long as she can. The night and the tinted glass make it so hard, until finally his hazy blob fades away. Kosuke sits back down, alone with nothing but her thoughts, which haven't been great company lately.
Kyoya Ootori. Who are you?
She drives the palms of her heels into her eyes, not caring if her stupid makeup gets ruined now. She tells herself she did good tonight. He got enjoyment out of their date; they didn't get into a shouting match. She learned stuff about him that she didn't know before.
But did you learn ENOUGH? Is he not still a stranger to you?
To calm her nerves, Kosuke opens her phone, intending to send a text to the nanny (babysitter? What word is correct?) that she's on her way back. Her eyes linger on Kyoya's contact number, however. If she selects it, the first thing she'll see will be their planning for this evening, agreeing on a time to meet. Above, though, there is her apology for not forgetting the date. It makes her stomach curl just to think about it.
Even still, she feels…comfort? It takes her a second to realize why:
That Kyoya that she apologized to, who was so angry at her for forgetting their date-turned-double-date, wasn't truly real. He was just like her, the stress and the change of everything had changed him out of his control, like a werewolf under the full moon. He'd apologized and he meant it, and he meant it when he said he wanted to know her more and see her again soon.
What she does know is this: her future husband has a lot of pride, and sometimes that can make him seem patronizing and condescending. But, he is not too proud to apologize. She thought he didn't wear his heart on his sleeves, but she was wrong. Actually, it seemed he didn't know himself how transparent he could be, of when something disgusted him or when it interested him. He has an eloquence to his words that would sound so robotic for anyone else, but for him sounds so natural. He can and probably does throw his money at anything but what would make him happy. He is like her. He loves his job but can be swept up in it.
There is more. Much more to learn.
Kosuke hits the DELETE CONVERSATION button. Now under Kyoya's name there is just blank space waiting to be filled.
You have time, she reminds herself.