By the time they were ready to go downstairs, the bedroom looked as if getting dressed had taken much longer than it had. The bed was still a wreck behind them. Yoshino’s clothes from the afternoon hung, mostly folded, over the back of the desk chair. Shouma’s had already vanished into the hamper, because of course they had. Yoshino stood at the full-length mirror for a last look. She’d chosen a black jumpsuit with a halter neck that left her shoulders bare. It fit close through the waist and fell into long, tailored legs. Black open-toed heels gave her a little height, though not enough to close the distance to the man behind her. She’d put in small diamond studs with thin silver hoops beside them, and clipped her hair up, leaving a few loose strands at her face and the back of her neck bare. Shouma wore what he always wore when Renji expected the family to sit down properly: a pressed white shirt with a black tie, and black slacks with shoes he’d polished himself that morning before they left Kyoto. She looked at the two of them in the glass. She’d seen their reflections side by side more times than she could count. In the windows of train cars. In the dark screen of Renji’s television when they were teenagers fighting over the remote. She’d stopped noticing them years ago. She noticed this one. Their hands were joined between them, and not by accident. He wasn’t hauling her out of somewhere she shouldn’t be. She hadn’t grabbed him because a car was coming. Her fingers were laced through his simply because they wanted to be there.

Look at that, she thought. That’s us.

He saw her looking. “What?”

“You look so handsome.”

“And you look beautiful.”

Her eyes slid to his in the mirror. She turned her head slowly to face him.

“Who are you?” The corner of his mouth moved. “I’m serious. Where’s Shouma? What did you do with him?”

“Still here.” He stepped behind her. “I just get to do this now.” In the mirror, she watched his free hand settle at her waist. He did it so easily that for a moment she forgot how unthinkable it would have been three days ago. His eyes moved over her reflection, down to her bare shoulder, and then to the skin at the back of her neck. She saw exactly where they’d gone. Her smile got smaller.

“Shouma.”

“Mm.”

“What are you doing?”

“Kissing your body.”

He bent his head and pressed his mouth to the back of her neck.

It wasn’t quick, and it wasn’t a tease. One slow kiss against warm skin, and then he lifted his head. “You’re so beautiful.”

She went still. Heat climbed her face, and her eyes dropped to the floor. He saw that too. His hand left her waist, and one finger came under her chin.

“Don’t.” He tipped her face up until her eyes met his in the glass. “Don’t look away.”

“I’m not—”

“You are.”

She swallowed.

His voice softened. “You can be shy. That’s fine. Just don’t look away from me.”

She held his eyes.

His thumb moved once under her jaw. “You’re beautiful,” he said again. “Remember it.”

Yoshino felt butterflies under her ribs that pulled at her tummy, like fire. Men had used that word on her before, and plenty of others, whatever they thought would buy them a smile. None of it had ever stuck. This did, because he wanted nothing for it. He said it the way he’d tell her she’d left the stove on. He looked faintly irritated that she hadn’t known already.

He’s annoyed that I didn’t believe it, she thought. That’s the most romantic thing anyone has ever done to me.

She turned around inside his arms. For a moment, neither spoke. She reached up and straightened his tie. He looked down at her hands. “It’s straight.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you fixing it?”

“Because I want to.”

His eyes came up to hers.

Because I want to. She could say that now. She didn’t need a reason to touch him anymore. She didn’t have to pretend she was brushing off lint, or catching her balance, or pull back before someone in the doorway noticed. Not in here, at least. She laid her palms flat on his chest. “We need to go down.”

“We do.”

Neither of them moved.

She raised an eyebrow. “Shouma.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

“You’re holding me.”

Shouma sighed and said in a sarcastic manner, “Shit, you’re right.”

“I can’t walk off with your hands on my waist.”

“I’ve watched you do harder things.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You know, you’re talking a lot more than you usually do. Don’t get too cocky on me now..”

“What?”

“Yeah, you heard me.”

He looked at her.

She grinned. “hehe”

Something in his face shifted. The teasing went out of it. His thumb pressed once against her side. “Then get used to it.”

Her smile softened. He let her go and reached for the door. “Come on.” He opened it—and then she caught him by the belt. He stopped. His eyes went down to her hand, and then, slowly, up to her face.

“Yoshino.”

“One more thing first.”

“What thing?”

She pulled. He took a step back he hadn’t planned on, and the door clicked shut again as his shoulders met it. She stepped in against him and kissed him. His eyes went wide. He hadn’t expected that. Not from her, and not like this. One of her hands slid around the back of his neck and the other went into his hair, drawing him down. Her mouth moved on his with a confidence she hadn’t had that afternoon, and she deepened it before he’d caught up. For about two seconds, Shouma did nothing at all.

She’s leading, he thought, stunned. She’s actually leading.

Then his eyes closed and his hands found her waist. She felt his fingers tighten in the fabric of the jumpsuit as he kissed her back.

He’s kissing me back, she thought. I keep expecting that to stop being surprising.

His hand moved around to the small of her back and brought her in against him. She smiled into his mouth. He felt it, and pulled away barely far enough to speak. “Are you laughing?”

“No.”

“Seems like it.”

“Maybe I’m just falling for you more every time you do that.” For once, she didn’t reach for a joke to cover it. “I’m happy, Shouma.”

He looked at her for a long moment. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “Me too.”

It came out quiet, almost too plain coming from him, and that was exactly what made her want to kiss him again. So she did. Her fingers tightened in his hair, and their mouths met. This time he was ready. His arm closed around her waist and brought her flush against him. The kiss went deeper, slow at first and then warmer, as years of holding back started to come loose between them. For years she’d wondered what kissing him would be like. She’d pictured it and been angry at herself for picturing it, and then pictured it again anyway. None of those daydreams had come close to this. In none of them had his hand stayed so steady at her back. In none of them had he kissed her as if he’d cleared his whole evening for it. Which was exactly why she had to stop. If she didn’t, neither of them was going downstairs.

She drew back an inch. He followed.

She drew back another. He followed again.

Her mouth curved as he opened his eyes. She looked at him with a big smirk on her face. He looked at her. “…What? Stop moving your lips away from mine.”

“I’m trying to stop us,” she said, “and you keep coming after me.”

His brows came down. “Yes. Is that a problem?”

She laughed softly. “Oh my God.”

“Shhhh, shut up.”

“You wanted another one???”

“We were in the middle OF one.”

Her grin spread. “You’re cute.”

His face went perfectly blank. Before he could recover, she leaned in. Instead of his mouth, she brushed her lips along his cheek, then closer to his ear.

He went quiet. “Thank you,” she whispered, “for telling me I’m beautiful.”

His hands stayed at her waist.

“You’re so handsome,” she murmured, “I don’t want to share you with anyone at that table.”

His fingers tightened.

“But for now—” she let a slow breath out against his ear “—we have to go downstairs.”

She started to step back. He caught her face in his hands, and before she could take a breath, his mouth was on hers again. This one was different. It came all at once and it wasn’t patient, as though he’d decided that if she was going to spend the next several hours tormenting him across a dinner table, he was going to collect on it first.

A sound escaped her against his mouth. “Shou—ma.” That seemed to be what he wanted. He let her go. She opened her eyes slowly and found him smirking at her.

He’s smirking, she thought. Shouma Toraishi is standing smirking at me.

“You freakin’, you you, YOU” Yoshino didn’t know what else to say as she pointed her finger at him. He kissed her cheek. “That’s for catching me off guard.”

She blinked at him as he opened the door. “Let’s go.”

She didn’t move.

He looked back. “What?”

She pointed at him. “You’re becoming dangerous.”

“I’ve always been dangerous. Are you just figuring that out??”

“Not like this.” She fanned her face with one hand. “Give me a second. I need to remember we’re about to see my grandfather.”

He laughed under his breath. She looked at him sharply, because it wasn’t his usual scoff. It was a real laugh, low and short, and she couldn’t remember the last time she’d heard it.

She walked toward him, smiling. “I like you like this, and I can’t wait to finish this dinner, so we can talk more about everything.”

He held out his hand. Yoshino warmly smiled as she looked at Shouma’s hand, then slid her fingers through his. They went into the hallway together. Halfway to the stairs, he slowed.

She looked at him. “What?”

His eyes went down to their joined hands, and she understood. Renji was down there. So was most of the gumi, men who’d known them since she was a little girl with short hair and he was a sullen boy who wouldn’t speak. And none of them had been told. She looked at their hands too. For a few seconds neither of them moved. Then she loosened her fingers. He didn’t.

She looked up. “We said we’d be careful.”

“I know.”

“Shouma.”

“I know.” He held on a moment longer anyway. His thumb crossed her knuckles once. Then, slowly, he let go. The loss of his hand hit her right away, a cool spot in her palm where the warmth had been.

She made a face. “Damn…I don’t like that.”

“Neither do I.”

She looked at him. It still caught her off balance, hearing him just say what he felt, flatly, without the shrug or the cutting remark he usually wrapped it in.

“We’ll tell him,” he said.

“Yeah.” She sounded smaller than she meant to.

“Not now, but eventually.” He looked down the stairwell. “Ideally before he works it out on his own.”

She snorted. “Gramps? Please. He’s oblivious.”

He gave her a long look. “Your grandfather runs a criminal organization. He’s one of the greatest Yakuza’s of his generation.”

“Yes.”

“He notices everything.”

“Not everything.”

“Yoshino.”

“He still thinks I don’t know where he hides his emergency cash.”

“Everyone knows where he hides it. The plumber knows where he hides it.”

A burst of laughter came up from below, and over it, one of Renji’s men shouting something about the beer. Through the open windows drifted the smell of charcoal and grilled meat from the garden. Downstairs, the house had filled. Doors banged, and somebody was loudly accusing somebody else of burning the chicken. Yoshino stopped at the top of the stairs. He came back up a step to stand beside her.

She glanced at him. “So.”

“We act normal,” he said.

She looked at him as he looked at her. Several seconds passed.

She started laughing. “This is so much harder than I thought.” She pressed her hands to her cheeks, as if she could push the heat back in. “I have no idea how to be normal around you right now..”

“Just take a deep breath and count to three..”

Her mouth fell open. Yoshino was going to protest, but instead, she sighed and took a deep breath. “Ok… I feel better.”

“Good. Anytime you feel this way, take a deep breath and center yourself. I will also do my part and not give any signs of wanting or loving you.”

“You can’t just start saying things like that.”

He glanced over his shoulder. “Why not?”

“Because that is doing the opposite of calming me down.”

“For me talking?”

“For you saying what you just said.”

He stopped on the step below her. It put their faces nearly level.

“I mean, I do love you and want you.”

“Oh my gosh, I’m just going to delete that from my memory until we’re back to Kyoto. And don’t give me googly eyes or flirt with me in front of everyone because I don’t know if I’ll be able to hide my face.”

He thought about it. “Huh.”

She stared. “Don’t huh me.”

“Didn’t know I was flirting. I’m just telling you exactly how I feel.”

“You’re doing this by accident? That’s worse. That’s so much worse.”

Before they could say anything else, a voice bellowed from below.

“YOSHINO!”

They both froze.

Gramps, she thought. Oh no.

She stepped away from Shouma so fast she nearly missed a stair. “Yes?!”

“ARE YOU TWO COMING DOWN, OR DID YOU FALL OUT A WINDOW?”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Shouma looked at the ceiling.

Yoshino yelled, “We’re coming!”

“THEN COME!”

She leaned toward him and whispered, “See? Oblivious.”

“We’re fucked,” he murmured. She pressed her hand harder over her mouth to keep the laugh in.

He went down. This time, she followed a step behind and kept her hands to herself, and kept her eyes on the back of his collar instead of his face. They came out through the open doors into the garden. The evening air was warm and the yard was crowded. Long tables ran down the lawn, covered in platters and bottles, and far more meat than the number of men present could reasonably eat, though they would certainly try. The smoke drifted off the grills, with conversation and laughter overlapped under a sky going lavender at the edges. Every face she looked at was one she’d known most of her life. Renji stood in the middle of it all, a pair of tongs in one hand. He spotted them at once. “There you are.”

Yoshino smiled. “Sorry.”

His eyes narrowed. “For what?”

She stopped. “…Taking so long?”

Beside her, Shouma coughed. She drove her elbow into his ribs without looking at him. Renji looked from her to Shouma and back. Yoshino’s pulse kicked hard against her collarbone.

Shouma’s face, beside her, had gone completely smooth. Not a muscle out of place. He met Renji’s eyes the way he’d met them every day for the last ten years, steady and respectful, giving nothing away.

Of course he’s good at this, she thought. He’s been doing it his whole life. He’s been doing it to me.

Renji looked at them a second longer. Then he pointed the tongs at the grill. “Come eat before these idiots burn it all.”

She let her breath out. “Okay.”

She walked forward and Shouma followed. As they passed each other at the end of the table, the backs of his fingers brushed hers, so lightly that no one watching would have seen it. She felt it. She glanced sideways. He was already looking ahead, his face giving nothing away. Her mouth threatened to curve.

Act normal, she told herself. Act NORMAL. Honestly, after this, I’m kicking his ass. I’m going to reem his ass. I don’t care if we know how we feel about each other, he’s still same old Shouma, and those parts of our relationship haven’t changed. OOH I’M GOING TO REEM HIS ASS.

That was going to be a problem. For the first time in years, she didn’t have to wonder whether he wanted her. And when they’d sat down, and the men had started passing plates, and Renji had begun a long story about a fish he swore had been the size of a child, she felt Shouma’s hand find hers under the edge of the table and close around it. He didn’t look at her. He went on listening to Renji with the same flat, attentive face he always wore. His thumb moved slowly across her knuckles, and kept moving, all the way through the story.