"Shisui, what do you think of me on first impressions?"
There is an unpleasant sensation that resonates heavily following Itachi and Izumi's departure. Honoka is unable to fathom the discomfiting levels of unease, yet she is sure her words were as genuine as she believes it to be.
"How do you mean?"
Shisui appears sceptical, and it seems she may have asked another socially inappropriate question.
"I feel I spoke the right thing, but I get this strange feeling it did not go so well," she answers softly.
"You had good intentions and they know that," Shisui says kindly.
"Do you think I said too much? About assuming that we may become friends?" She gives a brief pause and inhales deep, "I did try changing the way I introduce myself but I feel it may have been a bit overwhelming."
She shifts uncomfortably.
"It's a different approach I won't lie, but I do think you came across more opened to being friends."
Shisui's answer is comforting. It always has been, and the more she is in his presence, the more she discovers social interactions not found in the most adept of books. Honoka considers this to her advantage - the knowledge Shisui provides and the skills he embeds into her. But she is also grateful for his friendship.
"Thank you, I will accept that answer," she replies appreciatively.
When Shisui turns for the door, she automatically follows, an act she considers pragmatic given their steady conversation and the absence of a dismissal.
But he gives a sudden look of surprise that expresses nominal emotions in Honoka's mind. And she disregards such feelings whilst persisting with her actions.
"I'll be getting back to report writing," Shisui says firmly, "Considering the promise I made Izumi tonig-"
He stalls abruptly.
"I mean, there's a lot I need to do," he adds hastily.
Still, Honoka's response is minimal. Though she is vaguely aware of his intentions to return to report writing, her rigid belief that an exchange of goodbyes is necessary to part ways is perhaps lending an unsettling ambience to their surroundings. Shisui it seems, appear to be the only one receiving and processing such discomfort.
"I see. Would you like to play a game of chess with me?" Honoka asks, and she stands unnaturally taut, as if awaiting obediently for an order.
Shisui frowns and for a fleeting moment, she almost senses a look of frustration burrowed deep within his watch. But she is always doubtful of her ability to decipher emotions. In order to counteract such inadequacy for social complexities, she has set rules that only permits realistic, logical and rational judgements to persevere.
When Shisui's expression eases, she is unsure of the sudden change in aura and where it originates from.
"Honoka, do you not have work?" he asks carefully.
"I have completed my work for today. I decided to arrange my schedule in accordance to your availability. I figured your mission hours do not necessarily align with my work hours, and if friendship is a maintenance thing, I would need to alter the times. I therefore, have completed my daily task in the early hours of the morning so that it may coincide with you being in the village," she replies promptly, almost didactically.
Shisui's frown lingers, but she detects a component of softening from him.
"Just because I'm back in the village, it does not necessarily mean I am always free," Shisui says.
The revelation sends a surge of disturbances through her. This is the first time she has not accounted for contingencies.
Flustered with disappointment and exasperation, Honoka steps away in disgruntlement.
"I apologise, Shisui. I did not account for such events when re-creating my schedule."
And as if she did not want to believe her mistake, her fingers dart to her bag. She pulls out a scroll of paper that contains neatly drawn tables detailing daily tasks and programs.
She spends her weekends scheduling, a comforting factor that gives meaning and routine to her life. Yet unaccounted events send a deluge of stress and escalating agitation throughout. The puzzlement and confusion manifests in the physical form of headaches and shakiness. The only way to vanquish such uncertainties is to check.
As she begins her perusal, Shisui takes her arm and halts her mid-action.
"Honoka, lets not worry about that for now. I'll account for your contingencies, considering I didn't inform you about my volatile schedule earlier," he says resolutely.
She surveys him closely, as if to catch an ulterior motive. But he continues to give the same offhanded smile she finds difficult to comprehend.
Honoka has never had anyone take accountability for her contingencies before. In normal circumstances, she would protest. Her control over her own situation is undoubtedly violated, however the signals for such anguish and alarm remains abnormally composed. Perhaps because there is an element of responsibility on Shisui's part?
"Let's go," he continues, and he steps aside so that she can proceed through the door.
Instead of chess, Shisui proposes something different. Having recently memorised the rules of chess, Honoka makes a futile attempt at persuading him from the new game. But Shisui is insistent, and when he explains the benefits it has to her social awareness, she immediately drops the assertive act.
They sit at the corner table where the windows overlook a vast, luscious greenery of misshapen hills and bold yellow-blue symmetrical flowers. The afternoon sun brings a sweet ray of warmth and contentment to their surrounding space.
In the presence of such a beautiful, modest home, together with the pleasantness that comes with friendship, there is a small flame that ignites an overwhelming feeling of safety within her.
When Shisui takes a stack of blank paper and begins drawing idly, Honoka watches on with heated intensity. Perhaps not at the remarkable portrait of different faces he is brusquely sketching, but at his concentrating expression that is suffused with insurmountable determination and sincerity. An odd sensation she feels, and for the first time ever, she realises the inquisitiveness that Shisui regularly draws from her.
"Honoka, lets play guess the facial expression game. I apologise for the terribly rough drawing but at least you can make out an expression," Shisui says.
He shows her several drawings of faces with extraordinary realistic expressions, and though hesitant at first, Shisui's amicability tranquillises her tentative disposition.
"What do you think this expression is?" He asks patiently.
She sees it all the time, perhaps when people are not in her direct presence. But she has memorised it rather than intuitively tried to understand it. Yet Shisui is the very first person to give her that warming impression.
"Happy," she answers vacantly.
The bright smile he gives resonate strongly with wistful memories she cannot recall. The bittersweet emotion confounds her physically, as if there is a jolt of anxiety coursing through and intermeshes with the serenity that is the present.
"You smiled," Shisui says in astonishment.
He blinks rapidly, as if he has never seen anything so phenomenal.
"I did?" She says dully.
"Smiling makes you more approachable and friendly. Why don't you try it again?"
She does, and this time, Shisui gives a look of disconcertment.
"Maybe not so forced like that, a bit more natural," he says uncertainly.
She tries again. And again. And again.
"Maybe let it happen naturally," Shisui sighs, "What made you smile before?" he continues curiously.
When he watches her attentively, that same nostalgia floats by in soft waves of gracefulness. The enigmatic feeling is fleeting. It grips to her chest like the fragility of a butterfly, then disappears in a mild rhythm.
"When you smiled, I smiled too," she answers honestly.
She cannot pull the words for a better explanation. It is the first time she is finding it difficult to concoct a basic sentence that translate feelings into a comprehensive sentence.
At her reply, there is a brief moment of impassivity, a wisp of regret that emanates from Shisui. But Honoka may have imagined it all.
He gives her a small, forceful smile that is unlike the genuineness he has been exuding.
"Let's keep going then, shall we?" He says nonchalantly.