The Spider Lily Turns into a Chrysanthemum
Ichimaku: Chapter 8
By the time they returned to the townhouse, Shouma had reached his limit for the day.
He parked the Kawasaki beside the kei truck, killed the engine, and sat there for a second.
Yoshino climbed off behind him.
“I’m starving again.”
“Of course you are.”
“You say that like eating is some kind of character flaw.”
“You’ve been hungry every two hours since you got back.”
“Maybe Tokyo was starving me.”
Shouma took the shopping bags from the storage compartment, “I’m going to sleep.”
Yoshino followed him inside.
“Already?”
“Yes.”
He kicked off his boots at the entrance, carried the bags into the kitchen, and opened a bottle of water.
“Can you go through the clothes and have mine ready?”
Yoshino looked at him.
“You trust me with your clothes?”
“You picked them.”
“True.”
He drank half the bottle in one go, set it down, and headed toward the stairs, “Wake me up if I’m not up by eight.”
“Okay.”
“And don’t go anywhere.”
Yoshino’s mouth dropped open, “Where the hell would I go?”
“I don’t know.”
“I’m not five.”
Shouma disappeared around the stairs, “Meh.”
“Stop treating me like I’m five!”
His voice came faintly from upstairs, “Go take your nap.”
“YOU’RE THE ONE TAKING A NAP!”
No response.
Yoshino stood in the kitchen.
“Dummy.”
She took the shopping bags upstairs.
The bedroom on the second floor had already begun feeling strangely like hers. Her suitcase was there. Her toiletries were in the bathroom. A few personal things she’d brought from Osaka had accumulated on the dresser.
Now she added clothes.
Yoshino removed her dress from the garment bag first, hanging it carefully in the closet. Then Shouma’s trousers, the sleeveless turtleneck and his jacket. She placed the Chelsea boots beneath them.
Yoshino stepped backward.
She pictured him wearing everything.
A smile spread across her face, “Yep.”
She was very pleased with herself. Then she flopped onto the bed; she was only going to lie there for a few minutes. Instead, she pulled a pillow against her chest. Her mind returned to the Kawasaki. Shouma’s back against her. Her arms around him. His hand briefly covering hers.
Hold on.
Yoshino buried her face in the pillow. Her feet kicked once against the mattress.
Then she stopped herself, “Get a fucking grip.”
She smiled into the pillow anyway and within minutes, she was asleep.
Nearly three hours passed.
Yoshino woke because her stomach hurt.
She opened her eyes. Darkness had begun settling outside.
“What time is it…?”
She checked her new phone. A little after seven; Yoshino sat up and her stomach growled.
I really shouldn’t eat before the party, but also, this might prevent me from getting so drunk.
Downstairs, she found the groceries they’d bought earlier and took a nectarine from the refrigerator.
That left Yoshino unsupervised. Which was usually when she found things. She went to the third floor. The unfinished master bedroom was darker than before, with evening light coming through the terrace doors. Several boxes remained scattered near the wall. Yoshino looked at them. She took another bite, “I’m just looking.”
Nobody had accused her of anything but she talked like she had an audience. She walked toward the first box and if was already open.
That made it fair… and inside were photographs.
Yoshino stopped chewing, “No way.”
She crouched. The first picture was old enough that Shouma hadn’t finished growing yet and it was when he was in Middle school. Yoshino was beside him, grinning at the camera while Shouma looked irritated about being photographed. She laughed. Another showed them sitting outside Renji’s house.
Another from high school. Another from a festival. One where Yoshino was asleep in the background while Shouma apparently hadn’t noticed whoever took the picture. There were tickets too, and old receipts. Random pieces of paper. Small things Yoshino would’ve expected herself to keep. Not Shouma.
Her chest warmed, “You sentimental bastard.”
She reached deeper into the box. At the bottom was a black journal.
Yoshino hesitated. This one was different. Pictures were one thing, but a journal was obviously private.
She stared at it and then…
She opened it.
“Sorry.”
The contents were nothing like a diary. There were dates; names; addresses and work-related reminders.
Things Renji had apparently told him to do. Most were written vaguely enough that Yoshino couldn’t understand what they referred to. Then one line caught her attention.
Continue discipline from the body, as trust is the greatest gift.
Yoshino frowned, “What the hell does that mean?”
She reread it. She thought to herself:
Yeah, I got nothing; dunno what this means…anyways
She flipped through several more pages. The rest returned to Shouma’s usual scribbled notes.
Pick something up. Don’t forget carrots and onions.
Meet someone. The one with the dog face.
Call Renji.
Fix a motorcycle.
Remember an address, and get Mango Lassi.
Yoshino closed it, and spoke to herself, “Okay. You’re still weird Shouma.”
She put it exactly where she’d found it.
Then moved to the next box. That one changed everything. There were photographs, two binders, another journal, and a short sword.
Yoshino’s nectarine stopped halfway to her mouth, “What the fuck…?”
She picked up the first photograph.
Kirishima.
Another.
Kirishima again.
Some were old, and some recent.
There were photographs Yoshino had never seen before.
She put the fruit aside, and then she opened one of the binders…her stomach tightened.
It was Kirishima…everything was Kirishima.
Known associates, addresses, businesses, travel, photographs, dates, and notes.
Yoshino flipped faster.
France.
She stopped and according to Shouma’s information, Kirishima was currently in France. There were tentative travel plans. Known movements. And— Yoshino leaned closer.
A possible return date. Almost exactly one year from now, “Holy shit.”
“Don’t you know it’s rude to go through people’s things?”
Yoshino screamed, “AH GUATDAFACK!”
She spun around.
Shouma was standing directly behind her.
“WHAT THE HELL SHOUMA!”
He reached around her and took the binder from her hands.
Yoshino pressed a hand against her chest, “You scared the shit out of me!”
“You’re going through my shit.”
“You walk like a fucking ghost!”
“Not my problem.”
Shouma closed the binder.
Yoshino gave him a sheepish smile, “Heeeey.”
His expression didn’t change.
She abandoned the smile. Then her eyes went to the binder, “Why?”
Shouma’s face hardened, “When I found out you were coming back, I assumed he was going to make it difficult.”
“How long have you been doing this?”
“A while.”
“Shouma.”
“I thought he’d follow you,” he put the binder back into the box, “Or try to stop you from leaving.”
Yoshino watched him.
Shouma shrugged, “yesterday, Tsubaki told me I don’t need to worry about him immediately.”
“Tsubaki?”
“She threatened him too.”
Yoshino sighed, “Of course she did.”
“She thinks he won’t come now,” Shouma’s jaw tightened, “But he’ll try eventually.”
“You don’t know that.”
“No,” he looked directly at her, “but that’s exactly why I need to know everything.”
His voice sharpened, “I WON’T LET HIM TAKE YOU AWAY FROM ME.”
Yoshino went still.
Shouma did too. The words seemed to remain between them. His expression shifted almost imperceptibly.
“Renji would have me skinned alive and I would gladly take it, because I would not be able to live with myself if I allowed for Kirishima or anyone to hurt you.”
Yoshino stared at him.
Shouma looked away, “I’m going to protect you.”
There it was; The correction and the safe explanation. Yoshino recognized it because she did the exact same thing.
She looked down, “I don’t think Kirishima would hurt me.”
Shouma’s eyes returned to her, “He doesn’t have to hit you to hurt you.”
Yoshino couldn’t argue with that. She glanced toward the first box, but then deliberately changed the subject. “I’m really happy you kept those pictures.”
Shouma’s expression remained flat, “Don’t.”
“You kept pictures of us.”
“So?”
“You’re sentimental.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Shouma.”
“No.”
“You kept receipts.”
“I forgot to throw them away.”
“For years?”
“Yes.”
Yoshino smiled, and the corner of his mouth moved but barely.
She caught it, “You’re smiling.”
“I’m not.”
“You totally are.”
Shouma sighed, “Go shower. We need to get ready.”
Shouma finished first. Yoshino’s choices worked considerably better than he’d expected.
The sleeveless black turtleneck fit close through his chest and torso, emphasizing his tall frame and leaving his tattooed arms exposed beneath the black leather motorcycle jacket. The tailored black trousers narrowed cleanly through his legs before ending just above the Chelsea boots he’d complained about earlier.
He’d even changed his usual earrings to gold. Yoshino’s jewelry was gold tonight and he didn’t intend to explain that decision out loud.
He waited near the entrance.
A few minutes later, he heard her coming downstairs. Then Yoshino appeared and Shouma looked up.
The black faux-leather midi dress fit close through her waist, with structured seams forming the subtle outline of a corset through the bodice. Her long gold earrings moved against her neck with each step, catching the light. Shouma’s eyes moved from her face downward.
This time, he didn’t hide it, and Yoshino noticed.
I don’t know why he’s looking at me like that but now I want to hide my face.
Her steps slowed.
His gaze wasn’t crude. He simply looked at her openly, allowing her to know that he liked what he saw. That somehow made her more nervous. Yoshino’s confidence failed for approximately half a second.
So, she did what she always did when she felt shy.
She got loud, “WELL, YOU LOOK SNAZZY.”
Shouma blinked.
Then smirked, “Snazzy?”
“Shut up.”
Yoshino looked him over. She’d been right about the sleeveless turtleneck. Very right.
The leather jacket worked perfectly with it, and the gold earrings;
She totally noticed, “Did you change your earrings?”
“Yeah.”
“To gold?”
Shouma shrugged.
Yoshino touched one of her own, “Copycat.”
“Whatever.”
He held out a pair of boots.
Yoshino looked at them,”Um…nah.”
“Yes.”
“I have heels.”
“I see them.”
“These go with the dress.”
“They’re going in the bike.”
“What?”
“The heels go in the compartment, and you can change when we get there.”
Yoshino opened her mouth. Then remembered the last pair of heels…and her ankle. Shouma catching her repeatedly, and the consequences he’d taken for it.
She closed her mouth, “Fine.”
He looked mildly surprised, “That’s it. No big protest?”
Yoshino narrowed her eyes, “I guess. I really don’t want gramps to fuck you up again.”
The ride through Kyoto at night was different from the afternoon. Cool air rushed around them as the Kawasaki moved through illuminated streets, past darkened traditional façades and newer buildings glowing against the night. Yoshino held Shouma tightly. Tonight, the cold helped. Every time her body became too aware of his, the wind seemed to strip the heat away again.
By the time they reached Akira’s neighborhood, Yoshino felt almost normal.
The penthouse sat along a quiet, expensive stretch removed from the densest tourist traffic. Modern residences stood behind stone walls and carefully maintained landscaping, with discreet lighting and private entrances that revealed very little from the street.
Music could already be heard from above.
Shouma parked.
He removed his helmet first, then turned around on the motorcycle so he could face Yoshino, “Hold still.”
He worked beneath her chin to release the helmet. His fingers brushed lightly near her neck as he lifted it away.
A chill ran directly down Yoshino’s spine. Her shoulders rose.
Shouma noticed, “Cold?”
“Yep.” Lie.
He fixed the pieces of hair the helmet had displaced, “There.”
Then he opened the Kawasaki’s storage compartment. Yoshino reached for her heels. Shouma stopped her.
“What?”
“Stay there,” he crouched.
Yoshino stared and Shouma began unlacing her boot. Her brain stopped functioning. He removed one boot, then the sock beneath it. His thumb briefly pressed into the arch of her foot before he slipped the heel on and fastened the thin strap around her ankle. Yoshino’s face remained completely neutral.
Inside—OHMAHFACKINGGOSH AHHH WHAT DO I DO???? Stay CALM.
Shouma switched feet.Yoshino bit the inside of her cheek to stop herself from smiling.
This must be what being a princess feels like. Why is he being so gentle? I feel like if I smile I’ll look creepy. OMG just finish Shouma T.T
“How’s that?”
“Perfectly normal.”
Shouma looked up, “What?”
“Nothing.”
Before they crossed the penthouse entrance, Shouma took Yoshino’s hand. She didn’t comment.
The foyer was enormous, with pale stone flooring and a wide entrance that narrowed toward an enclosed staircase. The stairs climbed to the main entertaining level before continuing upward toward the rooftop.
Music became louder with every step.
They emerged into a room full of people.
In another corner, a woman stopped mid-conversation.
Arisa Takamura stared.
She’d recognized Shouma immediately. Her long dark hair fell smoothly over one shoulder. Her dress was understated but expensive, the kind of look that fit naturally on the daughter of two physicians who’d grown up around people like Akira. But she hadn’t expected Shouma here.
Then she saw his hand, and it was holding another woman’s hand.
Arisa’s gaze moved to Yoshino.
Beside Arisa, was Ryuichi Minami and he followed her stare. His reddish permed hair made him easy to spot in the crowd. His eyebrows rose, “Oh.”
Arisa looked at him, “What?”
“That guy.”
“What guy?”
Ryuichi nodded toward Shouma, “I fought him a few months ago.”
Arisa’s head snapped toward him, “You fought Shouma?”
Now it was Ryuichi’s turn to look surprised, “You know him?”
Arisa didn’t answer immediately.
Across the room, Akira waved at Shouma and Yoshino, “Hey!”
He approached Yoshino and Shouma with a grin, “You made it!”
Shouma gave him nothing.
Yoshino smiled and bowed slightly, “Thank you for inviting us.”
“You both look great.”
“Thank you!”
Akira looked at Shouma.
Shouma stared back.
Akira waited.
And nothing.
“Cool. Love your energy man!” he laughed nervously, “well um, come this way, let me show you the bar!”
Yoshino laughed, as Akira led them toward the bar. The bartender was a young Japanese man with short dark hair, dressed entirely in black.
“Mojito for her,” Akira said.
Yoshino blinked, “You remembered?”
“Tsubaki told me.”
“Of course she did.”
“And whiskey sour?”
Shouma glared but then nodded.
Once they had their drinks, Shouma’s right hand reached automatically for Yoshino’s. They moved through the party together. Some guests danced, while others stood in small groups with drinks overlooking the city.
The rooftop had been arranged with low seating, heaters, bamboo furniture, and a large open area near the DJ booth.
The DJ, one of Akira’s friends, announced that he was taking song requests by raffle. Within seconds, people crowded around.
And then five minutes later, he unfolded the first slip, “Okay. First one—‘Matsuri,’ Fujii Kaze.”
He looked at the crowd, “Not exactly club hype, but you won.”
The opening filled the rooftop. For the first few seconds, nobody quite knew what to do. Then Akira raised his arms and began moving them from side to side.
Yoshino laughed and did the same movement, and then others joined. Soon voices rose with the chorus.
“MATSURI! MATSURI! MATSURI!”
Yoshino was already singing, and then she turned.
Shouma stood beside her holding his drink, face completely flat, “No.”
Yoshino grabbed both his wrists, “Yes.”
“No.”
“MATSURI!” she lifted his arms, and some of the alcohol from her drink fall down her arm and her hair.
“Yoshino.”
“MATSURI! MATSURI!”
Shouma stared at her.
She was laughing too hard to care. Eventually, he let her move his arms with hers.
Tsubaki spotted them from across the rooftop and looked delighted.
The playlist shifted after that—first “Wow,” by Post Malone then “Beautiful” by Snoop Dogg, Pharrell Williams, and Charlie Wilson.
Akira grabbed the microphone, “Sorry. I have foreign friends here. Thank you for dancing and keeping the party hype. Let’s GOOOOOOOOOO”
Someone shouted at him.
Akira laughed, and then the Latin track he’d requested began.
“Tu Con Él, “ by Rauw Alejandro.
Tsubaki recognized it immediately, and so did Yoshino.
She turned toward the speakers, “No way!”
Tsubaki was already smiling.
For those who didn’t know, Renji had paid for Yoshino’s salsa lessons years ago. And because Renji rarely believed Yoshino should learn anything alone when Shouma could learn beside her, Shouma had been forced into them too. At the time, he’d complained endlessly but he still learned.
Tsubaki took Akira’s hand, and they moved onto the floor. He spun her, ant Tsubaki came back into him, then turned outward again.
This time she caught Yoshino. Yoshino laughed as Tsubaki pulled her forward.
“Dance with Shouma!”
“Tsubaki—”
“Please. You’re the only other two here who actually know how.”
Yoshino looked at Shouma.
That was all the courage she gave herself. Then she held out her hand.
Shouma stared at it, and he put down his drink, and took it. The moment his hand settled at Yoshino’s waist, the joking stopped. Shouma knew how to dance. Yoshino knew that too.
She’d simply forgotten what it felt like to dance with him, and he took the lead without hesitation.
One hand held hers while the other rested securely at her waist, guiding rather than forcing.
Yoshino followed.
Forward.
Back.
Turn.
Their joined hands rose, and then Yoshino spun beneath his arm and returned to him. Shouma caught her easily, and her palm settled against his shoulder.
This time she let the weight of her touch remain there, and Shouma noticed. The rhythm brought them close before separating them again. Yoshino’s heels moved precisely beneath her. Shouma adjusted naturally to her steps, keeping her balanced as they turned together.
She twisted outward, and his fingers held hers, then he drew her back.
Her body returned close to his, and for one beat, their eyes met.
Yoshino forgot the crowd, and Shouma’s hand shifted slightly along her waist.
Not inappropriate, but not even unusual for the dance, but tender.
Yoshino felt it anyway, and she moved around him, their steps weaving together before separating.
Shouma turned her again, and his time when she came back, she placed both hands briefly against his shoulders.
He caught her waist, and their faces passed close. Neither smiled.
That was what made it worse, and Yoshino could feel his attention entirely on her.
Shouma felt the deliberate weight of her hands against his shoulders, the pressure in their joined fingers, the way she followed his lead without ever becoming passive beneath it. Their legs crossed and unwound with the rhythm. He guided her through another turn, then drew her back close enough that the space between them disappeared for a beat before the next step separated them again.
Every turn brought her back, and every separation lasted only seconds.
And every time she returned, his hand was waiting, by the final stretch of the song, Yoshino’s breathing had changed.
And so had his.
Shouma drew her through one final turn, and she landed against him.
Then the music ended; for half a second, neither moved.
Then the rooftop erupted in applause.
Yoshino blinked, but then she looked around and people were raving and yelling words on encouragement, some yelling KANPAI, while others nodded their heads in approval with claps. Yoshino smiled while looking around and accepting peoples compliments and cheer. Shouma didn’t move and kept holding her until her eyes were back on him.
The rest of the party returned.
Tsubaki looked unbearably pleased with herself.
She immediately grabbed Yoshino away from Shouma and lifted her arm.
“She is the best salsa dancer I know! Everyone, please applaud my sweet baby cousin again!”
“Tsubaki, no it’s ok!”
People cheered again.
Yoshino covered her face, “Oh my God.”
“And this whole party is for her! She’s back! And we’re opening a luxury medical spa together, first in Osaka and eventually Kyoto,” Tsubaki pulled Akira closer, “Akira will be joining us as a business partner, with help from our families.”
Then she reached for Shouma.
He immediately looked suspicious.
“And Shouma will be partnering with us too.”
Shouma stared at her, “What?”
“Yoshino, Shouma, Akira, and me.”
The crowd applauded again. People began moving toward them. A bunch of questions, congratulations, business talk.
Yoshino barely had time to respond. Then Shouma’s hand closed around hers, “Come on.”
He pulled her through the crowd and once they reached the quieter terrace, his arm moved around her waist.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“You sure?”
“Yes.”
Yoshino took a breath. The problem wasn’t the crowd.
It’s not the crowd, but I’m not ok, and you’re the damn problem.
Her body still remembered the dance; his hand at her waist…his eyes. The way he’d pulled her back every time she turned away. She could’ve sworn she’d felt something from him.
Longing?
Desire? Ugh I wish…
Maybe she was imagining it because she wanted it to be there.
But for those few minutes, it had felt as though whatever Shouma refused to say had moved through his hands instead.
Yoshino leaned into him.
Shouma steadied her immediately, “How many drinks have you had?”
“Four.”
“Yoshino, was this what you were doing between the song raffles?”
“Yes, and what? I’m not drunk.”
“You’re leaning.”
“I’m hot.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Hold me.”
Shouma looked down.
“Balance me.”
His arm tightened around her waist.
Yoshino rested against him. For the next twenty minutes, she barely moved away.
Every few minutes, she lifted her head. Once, their faces came close enough that Shouma saw her eyes drop toward his mouth. He noticed because his had done the same.
Yoshino moved a fraction closer. Shouma didn’t.
But he didn’t move away either.
Then she seemed to catch herself and rested her cheek against his chest again. Shouma exhaled slowly.
He wanted to kiss her. There was no point lying to himself about that anymore.
But she had been drinking, and that mattered more.
Eventually, Yoshino pulled away, “I have to pee.”
“Okay.”
She headed inside.
Shouma followed, “I don’t need an escort to the bathroom.”
“I know.”
He stopped in the hallway, and Yoshino disappeared inside the bathroom.
A minute later, another woman walked past him.
Shouma recognized her.
His expression immediately changed.
Takamura.
She entered the bathroom.
Shouma stared at the closed door, “ったく…” (dammit)
Yoshino was standing at the mirror making faces at herself. She pulled one cheek down. Then the other.
“Okay,” she squinted, “Not that drunk.”
A woman entered. Yoshino looked at her through the mirror.
Pretty. Wow she is very pretty.
The woman stared back.
What a weirdo, Arisa thought.
Then she remembered who Yoshino had walked in with at the party. How the hell did Shouma choose her?
“Hi,” Arisa said.
Yoshino immediately smiled, “Hi!”
“You’re here with Shouma?”
“Yeah,” Yoshino splashed cold water onto her hands, “Sorry. I’m a little tipsy.”
Arisa smiled, “How long have you known him?”
Yoshino brightened, “Forever.”
“Forever?”
“Since we were kids,” she dried her hands, “He’s basically my closest friend.”
Arisa’s smile changed slightly.
Yoshino didn’t notice, “Wait, you know him??? Did you date him? Sorry my brain is a bit fuzzy.”
Arisa blinked, “How did you—”
“You’re asking too many Shouma questions, “ Yoshino laughed.
“So?” Arisa leaned against the counter, “I dated him for a while.”
“Oh.”
“He was seeing other girls too.”
Yoshino’s smile faded slightly. Before she could respond, the bathroom door opened.
Shouma walked in.
Arisa’s eyes widened, “Shouma!”
“Takamura.”
Shouma immediately yanks Yoshino, and Yoshino turned, “HEY! I’m almost done.”
“You were taking too long.”
As Shouma pulls Yoshino out of the bathroom and into the hallway, Arisa follows them.
He turned to Yoshino “And I watched her go in there.”
Arisa frowned.
Shouma’s voice went flat, “I knew you were going to try to pull some shit. And stop following us.”
“What?”
Shouma stops pulling Yoshino, and snaps around and glares at Arisa, “Don’t fucking act all innocent and shit.”
Arisa folded her arms, “Then what is she to you?”
Shouma answered immediately, “My fiancée.”
Yoshino stopped breathing.
Arisa stared with eyes wide.
Shouma stepped closer to Yoshino, and without looking at Arisa, he shrugged and said, “she’s off limits.”
His voice was cold now, “She’s my boss’s granddaughter. She’s going to be living with me. If anything happens to her because of you, consider yourself dead.”
Arisa’s expression hardened, “You’re engaged?”
“Yes. Isn’t that what I just fucking implied.”
Yoshino looked at him. He didn’t look back.
Across the party, Tsubaki sat comfortably in an armchair that had effectively become hers within twenty minutes of arriving.
Her drink rested between two fingers, and her eyes were on the hallway. She knew Arisa.
Not particularly well, but Ryuichi was an old friend of Akira’s, and the two had occasionally done business together. Arisa had begun appearing beside him more recently.
Tsubaki had noticed her, and she’d also noticed Arisa looking at Akira. That alone had irritated her.
Then she’d learned something considerably more entertaining.
Arisa had dated Shouma.
And now Yoshino was home. Tsubaki took a slow drink.
She knew Shouma. She knew Yoshino.
And she knew exactly what Shouma felt for her baby cousin even if the two idiots involved seemed committed to taking as long as humanly possible to admit it.
And Arisa? Arisa would hate Yoshino on sight.
Tsubaki hadn’t needed to arrange much beyond putting the correct people in the same building.
People were remarkably good at creating their own disasters.
She smiled.
Back in the hallway, Arisa looked directly at Yoshino, “I don’t believe you Shouma.”
Yoshino’s expression changed.
Arisa continued, “Actually, I’m better than her.”
Shouma’s eyes narrowed, “You fucking wish. You are nothing.”
Arisa held her tears back, and looked at Yoshino again, “If he really is marrying you, it’s probably because he doesn’t have a choice.”
Yoshino went still.
“Your grandfather has him by the balls.”
“Shut your fucking mouth. If I marry her, it’s because I chose her, and only her,” Shouma warned.
Arisa ignored Shouma, and kept looking at Yoshino, “and he could never love you… you’re just work to him.”
That one landed. The alcohol seemed to evaporate from Yoshino’s bloodstream. Her jaw tightened.
She stepped forward.
Shouma caught it instantly, “No.”
He grabbed Yoshino around the waist and pulled her backward.
“SHOUMA—”
“Nope.”
“Let me fucking—”
“No.”
He physically moved her through the doorway. Then he looked back at Arisa, “Takamura.”
His voice was quiet, “If she gets hurt and I find out you had anything to do with it, I’ll fucking kill you myself.”
Shouma walked away with Yoshino. He looked around the party.
Tsubaki and that dumbass left huh?
Shouma looked around again, and then rolled his eyes.
Yoshino was sobering quickly now.
“You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Can you ride?”
She thought about it, “Give me thirty minutes.”
“Taxi?”
“No.”
“You need to be able to hold onto me properly.”
“I know.”
Shouma spotted an empty curved bamboo loveseat near the edge of the rooftop, “Come on.”
They sat and the party had begun quieting. Music lowered while several men farther along the terrace prepared equipment for a drone show. For the first time in a while, Shouma and Yoshino could hear each other without shouting. It was hard to talk inside the main room with the DJ blasting music up 5 more decibels.
Yoshino stared ahead. Then—
“Fiancée?”
Shouma leaned back, “We’re not.”
“I know.”
“But at this rate, I’m just going to start saying that.”
Yoshino looked at him.
“A lot of my past likes to pop out at random times and random places,” he rubbed his face, “The frequency was pretty low when you weren’t here.”
“Wow.”
“But since you came back, I think you conjured them from hell.”
Yoshino laughed, “That’s not my fault.”
“Apparently it is.”
She thought about the convenience store girl, Kanomiya, and then Arisa. These women hadn’t suddenly developed feelings because Yoshino returned. They’d probably always kept some awareness of Shouma.
Yoshino’s presence simply triggered them.
“Fine.”
“What?”
“I’ll say I’m your fiancée.”
Shouma looked at her, “If it makes things easier.”
He shifted slightly to give her more room.
Yoshino immediately frowned, “No.”
“What?”
“Why are you pulling away?”
“Giving you space.”
“I don’t want space.”
She moved toward him, “Let me put my head on you.”
Before he could answer, Yoshino tucked herself beneath his chin and placed one hand against his chest.
Shouma looked down, “They’re doing a drone show anyway.”
“Right.”
His arm settled around her. From across the rooftop, they looked exactly like what Shouma had just claimed they were.
Arisa saw it. Her face tightened. Seconds later, she grabbed Ryuichi and told him they were leaving.
Yoshino waited. Then quietly— “Are they gone?”
Shouma glanced toward the exit, “Yes.”
He looked down at her, “You can let go if you want.”
If you want.
Yoshino’s fingers remained against his chest, “No.”
Shouma waited, “…It’s cold anyway.”
She nestled closer, “Keep me warm.”
“Okay.”
The first drones rose into the Kyoto night. Small points of light climbed above the neighboring rooftops before spreading into formation. Conversation around them quieted, and Yoshino watched from beneath Shouma’s chin. His hand rested against her upper arm.
Other couples sat several feet away, wrapped around each other beneath the open sky. Nobody cared.
Nobody was watching them.
So, Yoshino lifted her head. Shouma looked down.
The drones shifted overhead.
Blue became white, white became yellow, and neither was watching anymore.
Their faces were close. Yoshino’s eyes lowered, and Shouma’s did too.
A centimeter disappeared between them.
Then another.
Yoshino could feel his breath. Shouma raised one hand.
His fingers moved gently down the side of her face.
Yoshino leaned into the touch.
Then— “Hey, silly,” his thumb brushed her cheek, “You’re drunk.”
Yoshino’s expression immediately changed, “No…”
Shouma almost laughed, “Yes.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You’ve had four drinks.”
“I am awake.”
“That’s not the standard.”
“Shouma.”
“Yoshino.”
Her brows lowered, “Continue.”
He stared at her, “What?”
“Whatever that was.”
“Nothing was happening.”
“Bullshit.”
Shouma looked toward the drones. Yoshino caught his jaw and turned his face back, “Don’t do that.”
“Do what?”
“Pretend.”
His eyes sharpened, and Yoshino’s courage nearly disappeared.
Nearly. But Yoshino continued, “I know what almost happened.”
Shouma was quiet.
Yoshinos hand was still on Shouma’s face, “So do you.”
Shouma looked at the ground, “Yes.”
Her heart jumped. It was the first time he’d admitted even that much, “Then why did you stop?”
“You know why.”
“Because I drank?”
“Yes.”
“That’s stupid.”
“No, it isn’t.”
“I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t care.”
Yoshino stared at him.
Shouma gently removed her hand from his face, “If you still want something tomorrow, tell me tomorrow.”
The answer irritated her… and it also made her chest ache for an entirely different reason, “You’re annoying.”
“Yeah you say that all the time.”
She put her head back beneath his chin. Shouma’s arm returned around her.
Above them, hundreds of lights spread across the sky.
By the time they left, Yoshino was considerably more sober. Shouma made her drink water.
Then more water, and then he made her walk a straight line across the terrace.
“This is humiliating.”
“Do it.”
“Trust me, I won’t let go of you.”
“Prove it.”
Yoshino walked perfectly straight.
Then turned around.
“Happy?”
“Moderately.”
“Asshole.”
At the Kawasaki, he changed her back into the boots. Yoshino didn’t tease him this time. She simply watched his hands.
When he finished, he stood, “Helmet.”
“Yes, sir.”
He secured it beneath her chin, and Yoshino climbed behind him. Her arms immediately went around his waist.
Shouma looked down at them, “ You good?”
“Good.”
“You feel dizzy, you tell me.”
“I will.”
“Anything feels wrong, tap me twice.”
“I know.”
Shouma started the motorcycle.
Yoshino pressed closer.
This time neither pretended not to notice.
The townhouse was quiet when they returned. The moment the door closed behind them, Shouma began stripping off the outfit Yoshino had chosen.
The leather jacket came first. Then he hooked his fingers beneath the hem of the sleeveless turtleneck and pulled it over his head, “Finally.”
Yoshino looked up, and Shouma rubbed his neck.
“Those fucking people at the party pissed me off. But I’m glad you enjoyed yourself. That’s what matters.”
Yoshino wasn’t listening. He was shirtless.
The tattoos covering his arms continued across his shoulders and back. When he turned away, the dragon spread across him moved with the muscles beneath it.
Yoshino stared, and it was ridiculous, but for one tipsy second the dragon seemed to be looking back at her.
Mocking her.
You don’t have the balls.
Yoshino narrowed her eyes, “Oh yeah?”
Shouma turned, “What?”
“Nothing.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Balance me.”
“ok.”
“My shoes.” She put one hand over his shoulder and neck. Shouma automatically caught her waist.
Yoshino tried removing one heel. Her ankle rolled, “Whoa—”
Shouma caught her. Her weight pulled both of them sideways. Yoshino slapped one hand against the wall while Shouma braced his feet, his strength stopping the fall before it happened.
For a moment they remained caught at an awkward standing angle.
Her arm was around his neck. His hand was firmly at her waist. Their faces were close again.
Yoshino slowly pushed herself upright, but she didn’t release him, “I want to continue.”
Shouma knew immediately what she meant, “Yoshino.”
“Whatever that was outside.”
He shook his head.
Her confidence cracked, “Is it because you don’t find me attractive?”
Shouma’s face changed, “Yoshi—”
“I’m the opposite of all those girls.”
“Yes, but not in the way—”
“Kanomiya was pretty. Arisa is pretty. They’re all—”
“YOSHINO.” His voice stopped her, “Don’t worry about them.”
She stared at him.
“They could never have a place in my heart,” Shouma’s hand remained at her waist, “They never did.”
Her heartbeat accelerated, “Then make a move.”
He stared at her.
“I’m not drunk.”
“You’re tipsy.”
“Yes.”
She stepped closer, “And I really want you to kiss me.”
Shouma’s jaw tightened.
“It’s fine,” Yoshino’s voice dropped, “Even if your eyes are open.”
His expression changed immediately; he wasn’t sure if it was anger, desire, and something almost sad beneath both, “No.”
Yoshino’s heart sank. Especially because she has never seen Shouma make that face before.
Shouma looked directly into her eyes, “I would never do that to you.”
She stopped, “Then what the hell?”
His voice softened, “We can’t do this tonight.” Shouma gently moved her face with his right hand, and held it there, “you need to understand that.”
Yoshino looked away to hide the tears building up in her eyes but went ahead and sighed, “But I want you to know something… I actually want you, and I would never keep my eyes open with you.”
She knew that she couldn’t take it back. She said it partly to see if he would take her seriously. Partly because of what he’d told her at the izakaya…that when other women kissed him, he never closed his eyes.
Shouma looked straight to the 2nd floor stairs, “Go get ready for bed.”
“Shouma.”
“Yoshino.”
“So… do you mean it? That was can try tomorrow.”
He sighed, “Yes.”
Her heart felt too large for her chest.
Upstairs, Yoshino stood beside the bed.
Shouma lingered near the doorway.
“Help me.”
“With what?”
“The zipper.”
He hesitated, but then walked behind her.
The zipper ran down the back of the dress.
He caught it carefully between two fingers., “Ready?”
“Yes.”
He slowly lowered it. The structured dress loosened around Yoshino. His knuckles brushed the bare skin of her back once.
Both of them felt it.
Shouma stopped.
Yoshino looked at him through the closet mirror.
“Keep going.”
He did. The zipper reached the bottom. The dress loosened completely. Shouma’s eyes lifted toward the mirror before he could stop them. Yoshino was still holding the front of the dress in place, but as she carefully stepped free of it, the reflection caught the vulnerable line of her bare shoulders and torso before she crossed her arms over her chest.
Shouma held his breath. It was the most exposed he’d ever seen her. And the first thought that came to him wasn’t what he could take. It was how badly he wanted to be allowed to touch her someday.
Tenderly and when she was sober. He would kiss her when she asked him and there was nothing between them that could make either of them question it afterward.
He immediately turned his eyes away, and Yoshino noticed. The confidence she’d carried downstairs disappeared. She crossed her arms more securely, “Don’t look.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were for like half a second.”
“Sorry.”
She looked at his back, “ Don’t apologize… I want you to see all of me.”
Shouma remained facing away while Yoshino pulled the sheet from the bed around herself, “Okay.”
He turned, and her shoulders and face showed above the sheet.
Shouma reached for the door, “Goodnight.”
“Where are you going?”
“My room.”
“No,” she brought down the sheet and exposed some cleavage, “Stay.”
“Yoshino.”
“Please.”
He looked over his shoulder.
“Just lay with me.”
Shouma sighed, “Let me get a shirt.”
“No need.”
His eyebrows rose.
“I’m covered. I have this sheet. It’s enough”
“That isn’t the point.”
“I don’t want you to leave.”
That silenced him.
Yoshino crawled beneath the covers, keeping the sheet wrapped around herself, “Lay behind me.”
“What?”
“Spoon me.”
Shouma stared at her, “You’re making this unnecessarily difficult.”
“I’ll keep the sheet between us.”
“That doesn’t magically fix everything.”
“It fixes enough.”
“Yoshino.”
“I’ll keep myself covered. You stay on top of the sheet if you want.”
Shouma stared at the ceiling for a few seconds, contemplating life.
Then he lay down behind her, and very carefully. Ridiculously carefully. He left enough distance that it barely qualified as spooning.
Yoshino frowned, “Closer.”
“No.”
“Shouma.”
“No.”
She moved backward herself, and he stiffened, “Yoshino.”
“Fine.” Yoshino stopped pursuing, she crossed her arms and started sulking.
His arm eventually settled around her, over the sheet. The heat returned instantly.
Shouma closed his eyes; her hair was near his face. Her back rested close to his chest, and he could feel every place he was trying not to notice.
He concentrated on breathing, on the sheet between them, on the fact that she trusted him enough to ask him to stay. That trust mattered more than anything else.
Yoshino relaxed, and for several quiet minutes, neither spoke. Then Shouma’s body betrayed the calm he was trying to maintain. He went rigid.
Yoshino noticed the change behind her before she understood it. The unfamiliar pressure made her pause.
She’d never been this close to a man like this before. For a second she simply registered the strange physical reality of it, confused more than frightened.
Then she understood. Her face heated. Shouma realized at the exact same moment that she had noticed.
His eyes opened, and he was out of the bed almost immediately.
Yoshino turned, clutching the sheet securely around herself, “Shouma?”
He stood several feet away. His expression was almost wild. Not with desire for her, but with disgust at himself.
He ran both hands through his hair, “I am not like him.”
Yoshino understood immediately.
Kirishima.
Shouma stared at the floor, “I am better than him.”
“Shouma.”
“I shouldn’t have gotten in the bed.”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“I shouldn’t have—”
“You didn’t do anything.”
“You told me yesterday to stop you from doing stupid shit. This is one of them,” he looked at her but with pain in his eyes.
Yoshino’s voice softened, “Your body reacted. You didn’t.”
That silenced him.
She adjusted the sheet around herself, “You got up.”
He said nothing.
“Shouma, you didn’t hurt me. I’m ok”
Still nothing.
“You’ve spent the entire night refusing to kiss me because I’ve been drinking.”
Shouma’s jaw tightened, “That’s different.”
“How?”
“It just is.”
“No, it isn’t,” she held out her hand, “Come back.”
“No.”
“Please.”
“Yoshino.”
“I trust you.”
That was worse; his eyes closed for a second. Yoshino shifted farther across the mattress, “This time we’ll face each other.”
Shouma looked at her.
Yoshino gives him a reassured look, “And there’ll be more space between… that part of us.”
He stared.
Yoshino’s face went bright red, “You know what I mean.”
“Unfortunately.”
“We’ll angle our bodies outward.”
Shouma narrowed his eyes, “That sounds ridiculous.”
“It is ridiculous.”
“This feels like a first-timer being trained to be celibate.”
Yoshino burst out laughing.
Shouma stared at her, “Don’t laugh.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not.”
“No.” She was still laughing, “Come on,” she patted the mattress, “I just want you here.”
That was the problem. He wanted to be there too.
Eventually, Shouma returned. He lay facing her this time. Yoshino kept the sheet wrapped securely around herself, and they deliberately left space between their lower bodies.
Their legs angled away from each other. It was awkward, and it was ridiculous, but it worked.
Yoshino looked at him, “See?”
“This is stupid.”
“You came back.”
He stayed silent, and she smiled.
Then she reached across the space between them, and Shouma looked at her hand.
He took it.
Yoshino moved closer only from the shoulders upward, resting her forehead against his chest. His arm went around her, carefully.
The sheet remained between them, and she could hear his heartbeat…it was still too fast.
“Shouma?”
“What?”
“If I ask you tomorrow…”
He already knew, “Ask me tomorrow.”
“And you’ll answer?”
“Yes.”
Yoshino smiled against him, “Okay,” and then few seconds passed, “Your eyes will really be closed?”
Shouma groaned, “Go to sleep.”
Yoshino laughed, “I’m serious.”
“I know.”
“So?”
His fingers moved gently through her hair, “Yes. They’ll be closed.”
Yoshino closed her eyes, “ok.”
Shouma looked down at her. He had spent years convincing himself that wanting her didn’t matter. That being beside her was enough. That whatever Renji expected from him, whatever Yoshino needed from him, whatever strange shape their family had taken over the years, he could live inside it without asking for anything else.
Tonight had made that lie considerably harder to maintain.
Yoshino shifted closer. Not enough to cross the boundary they’d deliberately created. Just enough that her cheek rested against him, “Shouma…are you comfortable?”
“No.”
She laughed softly, “Liar.”
“You’re naked, I’m half naked, you’re tipsy, and we’re sleeping like idiots because neither one of us knows how to act.”
Yoshino smiled, “That sounds comfortable to me.”
Shouma looked down at her, “Sure it does.”
She lifted her head slightly and their faces were close again. This time neither moved closer.
Yoshino remembered what he’d told her downstairs.
My eyes would never be open with you.
She wondered what his face would look like when they finally closed. Her stomach flipped. She could ask him tomorrow. The thought made her smile.
“What?”
“Nothing.”
“You’re doing that face.”
“What face?”
“That weird happy face.”
“I don’t have a weird happy face.”
“You do.”
“Shut up.”
Shouma’s mouth curved slightly.
Yoshino caught it, “There.”
“What?”
“You’re smiling again.”
“No, I’m not.”
“You are.”
“Go to sleep.”
Yoshino tucked herself beneath his chin, “Okay.”
His arm tightened around her just enough to hold her securely. Their hands remained intertwined between them, and the sheet stayed in place. The deliberate space remained where it needed to. And neither tried to change it.
Yoshino’s breathing gradually slowed, and Shouma’s thumb moved once across her knuckles.
Neither of them had gotten what they’d almost asked for tonight. No kiss, and no confession. Nothing they couldn’t take back in the morning. But for the first time, the distance between them wasn’t there because they were pretending they felt nothing. It was there because they both knew they did.
Yoshino tightened her fingers around his. Shouma held them back.
Tipsy, exhausted, and carefully intertwined beneath the sheets, they eventually fell asleep facing each other.
And this time, neither of them pretended it was because they were “like family”.
