Chapter Text
You got another day off of work.
You suspected maybe it was for the best that you'd stay away from the firm— it seemed like just about everything was causing you some kind of stress.
But even while at home, you struggled to relax. You tossed and turned in bed, but you were unable to find the strength to get up. All day you'd been sneezing and coughing.
You pulled yourself onto the edge of your mattress, sliding down its side and onto the floor. You lazily pawed around the carpeted floor for your briefcase.
When you caught it, you dragged it into your grasp, undoing the clasps and opening it.
You pushed past the messy papers and pulled your computer from your case. You had difficulty standing back up and getting into bed. Once you gained the strength to do so, you input your password and went onto the web, typing up the address for your office.
After clicking through various pages, sniffling all the while, you finally arrived to Hiromi's contact page.
You hadn't ever needed to contact him before, so it felt awkward to do so now.
For whatever reason, you didn't feel all too inclined to stay formal. You were sick— you didn't have the patience nor the mind.
Or maybe you should.
If you really wanted to befriend Hiromi, maybe you should take this seriously. He's always serious as well.
Maybe he'd understand. Or maybe he wouldn't mind. He knew you were unprofessional.
"Hiromi, can you check my mailbox please?"
You'd already sent the email without any thought behind it. You tapped the edge of your laptop, letting out a deep sigh.
You laid back and felt your eyes grow heavy. You assumed he wouldn't reply for another few hours, but the subtle warmth from the laptop relaxed the muscles in your thighs.
However, your eye was immediately caught by a reply.
"Why?"
You leaned forward, resting your forehead in your palm, squinting at the one-word response— only a few dark characters against the gigantic page of open, white screen.
You had half the heart to say "because I told you to," but you knew that would probably be grounds for you to lose your job.
Not to mention, you didn't expect Hiromi to be so blunt like you, nor did you expect for him to even reply that fast. Maybe it was because you were colleagues? Even if you did invite him out and even if you have had one-on-one conversations with him multiple times, it's not like that'd be enough time to act so casual with each other. And it didn't seem like it was Shimizu replying, either. You were sure if she read something like that, she'd call you out on your informality with more than a few paragraphs about workplace policy and etiquette.
"I was going to receive an invoice and I needed to make sure it was correct. There's also been some things I've had faxed to me and I'm not there to get it. If you need my key, it should be in my office. The office itself should be unlocked." You sighed, sending your own message back.
This back and forth was somewhat nice, even if he only sent you a single message. You waited with anticipation for a "got it," or a "sure," or even a "no." Any of those would've sufficed.
But no more messages came.
You sighed, closing your laptop once you realized you've been waiting an hour for a message back. You could've been spending your time doing something else— productive or not. You were already tired so you settled yourself back in bed, blankly staring at the ceiling.
You pulled your sheets up to your chin, your fingers clutching the edges as you watched the fan in your room depressively spin. You doubted that it even gave your room any air flow at all, but having it on emitted a soft hum that would’ve usually lulled you to sleep. Now, you found it to be annoying.
It felt like hours that you stared at your ceiling. You looked at your bedside clock, realizing only several minutes had passed.
Your eyes screwed shut with frustration, hoping that this would be how you could get to sleep.
Thankfully, it worked.
You felt yourself slip into rest.
You were back at the water cooler, holding an empty paper cup in your hand. Your colleague, again, was here. You never made the effort to remember his name. He was snide— forgettable— a leech.
"Have you heard? Higuruma's taken up another case again. How much do you want to bet he'll lose again? I'll raise you twenty-five-hundred yen!"
You felt hot with anger as he spoke. The way he spat the words at you made you feel undeserving of this gossip. But you were above him, and he knew it too.
"Higuruma lost… again. Not like that's a surprise, haha! How do you think that happened?"
You clenched your fists. How many cases has he won? You couldn’t recall ever hearing anything about his achievements. It was always about something else— someone else.
"Do you think Higuruma does this for fun or something? Maybe he just got lucky."
You raised your arm. Who was he to judge?
"He walks around like he doesn't care. So much for being the 'knight in shining armor!’"
You smashed your fist into his face. To your horror, his head eroded into some sand-like substance, the granules sticking to the edge of your hand.
"Come on… it's… funny… don’t you find him pathetic, too?"
His voice dissipated as he melted away. You flicked your hand a couple times, trying to get rid off the substance that stuck to it.
You stared at your palm, and no longer was there sand— but rather, a spatter of blood.
You stared up, spotting Hiromi, staring at you, a cut on his lip.
You were startled awake by a ringing. It was not a ringing in your head, no, it was the ringing of your doorbell.
You were gasping for breath. You sporadically stared around your room. You were uncomfortable. Your mouth was dry, heart pounding in your ears, drenched in sweat.
The doorbell rung again.
You groaned, rubbing your temple as you pulled yourself from your bed. You shakily stood, less dazed now that you were on your feet.
You lurched toward the door, moving towards your bathroom to grab a facemask. You pinched it to fit your face, pulling each strap around your ears.
You returned to the door, slowly unlocking it and opening it a small fraction.
Your eyes widened.
It was Hiromi.
He met your eyes with his own bored, large ones. He hung his own briefcase in one hand and held a small Manila folder in his other, hugged close to his chest.
You quickly realized how silly you must’ve looked. Between his pressed suit and your own simple t-shirt shirt and shorts, you grew wary.
"Hey," you said softly, your words muffled by the mask.
"Hello," he greeted. He nudged the folder from his grasp and flipped it in his hand to offer it to you. "Here are your papers. I made sure to lock up your box and put the key back before leaving," he said.
You slowly extended your own arm past the door and took the folder from him.
"I… uh… thank you," you mumbled. "I didn't know you were going to actually get it."
"I thought it was the least I could do," he responded. "I suppose I was too late to help you yesterday.”
"No, no, it's fine," you wagged your free hand, using your foot to hold the door open, tucking the folder under your arm. "Really, you've done a lot for me, and I’m sure that it was just someone else that got to me—" you shrugged. Mindlessly, you offered, "would you like to come in?"
Hiromi paused.
"Alright," he agreed.
Your eyes widened. But you attempted to put on a strong front. You pulled the door further open, pushing your back flush against the wall to make room for his entry.
Once inside, Hiromi plucked off his shoes, placing them tidily against each other by his suitcase. He then paced a couple steps further into your apartment, surveying it from where he stood. He quickly glanced back at you.
"I'm surprised you didn’t have someone else to do it," he said, "you should have an assistant to help you with these things."
"I— no," you shook your head. You moved further into the flat, and he joined you. You lowered your face mask and wiped your nose. "I don't really need the help. It was just a one-time thing," you shrugged, "and by the way, you came all this way to get it to me, didn't you? You're the only person I could've trusted." You froze, realizing how sad that must've sounded. You pulled the mask back up your face and cleared your throat.
"Well… I'm flattered you think that way." He said with his usual blank, wide-eyed expression.
"Flattered?" You asked. "You say that, but you look pretty unmoved, if I'm being honest," you joked.
You passed the entrance of the kitchen, motioning a hand to a small side table with a couple seats.
"Chair?" You offered, turning your head to peek at him.
"Sure," he nodded. "But as I was saying— really, I am," he insisted, continuing your conversation. "I've… not heard that a lot recently."
Oh. Right. You outwardly sighed, but internally winced. You felt a reply coming to your lips, but you trapped it between your teeth. His cases were surely a sore subject.
You pulled out one chair for him to seat himself on and walked past the table to place yourself on the other.
You remained stuck to your chair. You stared at the many discarded bottles, boxes, cups, and all the miscellaneous things strewn about your flat.
Your eyes gravitated back to him. His eyes pierced you, and you awkwardly fiddled with your hands in your lap.
"Would you like something to drink?" You asked.
Hiromi perked up, and shook his head. "Ah, no, It's quite alright," he said. "I didn't think I would be staying for very long at all— and I shouldn't be bothering you if you're ill. Although I'm sure the company is nice, I don't want to get in the way of your recovery— and I should be careful of not getting sick, myself."
"But…" you protested without thinking.
He tilted his head a fraction.
"I… er…" you stumbled. "You don't think you could use a break from that case, do you?" Your lips curled into a halfhearted, chagrined grimace, trying to play it off as a sly smile. You hoped he could see it based on how your eyes furled.
"Well, if you'd like for me to stay, I do have some free time on my hands," he proposed.
Your heart felt lighter at the words. "I— yes," you nodded. "If that wouldn't be an issue, of course."
"Sure," he nodded.
"I'll make some tea, then," you sprang from your chair, but Hiromi matched your motion and slid to your side— his hand cautiously grasped your shoulder and urged you to seat yourself.
"I can make it," he said.
"No, no, let me do it," you insisted. Hiromi protested with a shake of his head.
"You should be resting," he pushed back. Before you could make room for your argument he had already fled for your kitchen.
You rested your head in your palm. Your leg bounced under the table, mind drifting back to the unchanged, sorry state of your kitchen.
You heard clattering, then the hiss of water, followed by the hum of your stovetop heating.
After remaining all but deaf to Hiromi's antics, he returned with two cups of tea for the both of you to enjoy.
"It's hot," he warned. He nudged your cup onto your side of the table. He grunted as he sat himself on his own side, crossing a leg over his other, his hand cradling its tibia.
"I know it's hot, it's tea," you snidely remarked.
Hiromi rolled his eyes.
"Don't roll your eyes at me!"
He regarded you with silence.
You drew back, falling into silence yourself. You would say it was comfortable— if you were a good enough liar. You grit your teeth.
"Did I miss out on anything at the firm today?" You asked.
"No," Hiromi shook his head. His hand contemplatively planted itself upon his chin. "But there was something odd that did happen to me."
Your eyes lit up, curious. "Continue," you urged.
"Kōsei spoke to me, strangely," he droned.
"Who?"
Hiromi's brow canted. "Kōsei? Your friend? The one you speak with almost every day by the water cooler."
You arched your own brows. "Oh, him!" You mused. "Right… right… Kōsei," you nodded murmuring. Your eyes shifted elsewhere.
"Am I mistaken?" He asked, "are you two not friends?" Hiromi asked.
"Ehm— no, we're totally friends!" You swiftly replied, your mucusy throat clearing with a few gauche laughs. "I just have so many, it's hard for me to keep track," you unconsciously boasted, your hand blooming with a matching, stiff arrogance.
"Uhuh," he huffed.
You paused, and your hand fell to the table, your eyes doing the same, watching the small leaves in your cup bathe and stare back at you. Your gaze shot up when you recuperated whatever little hubris you could.
"But, er— as were you saying?" Your head hung aslant.
"Oh," Hiromi's posture rectified itself, "Kōsei came up to me and asked me why I don't join the rest of the office members for lunch today," he said. "He told me that they were having a small office party to congratulate one of their friends for winning a hard case and someone else had something significant happening, but he was being rather vague about it all," he hummed. Your brows furrowed. Hiromi caught your glance.
"Absurd, isn't it?" He urged you.
"That's ridiculous," you shook your head. Your fingers gingerly grasped your cup and raised it to your face. You pulled down your mask with your other hand, stealing a modest sip. Your words faltered a moment as you spoke, still clogged with phlegm. "Why would they only ask you when I'm not there?" You muttered mostly to yourself.
Hiromi subtlety smirked. "Do you think you needed to be present for something like that?" He asked, taking a sip from his own glass. His eyes traced themselves on your now-flustered face.
"No," you deflected, "I just… I think that’s weird.” You brought a fist to your lips and tried clearing your throat, finding little success. "I think that the second I manage to begin speaking with you, all of the sudden they're all over you, and now only when I'm not there, they think that you're suddenly best buddies or something—" you rambled, "they don't even like you!"
Hiromi's smile instantly faded, and you felt a stinging in your heart.
"But it's true,” you floundered, “I don't think that you should be around them," you took another sip of your tea. Hiromi put down his cup, a frown decorating his face.
"Well, it's not like I have a choice," he said.
You continued to stall by sipping from your cup. You felt your throat clear up once you set down your glass, swallowing the tea that warmed your tongue.
"Well, don't take it too personal— they're all jackasses anyway," you casually shrugged.
Hiromi nodded again, yet still unamused. "Thanks," he murmured.
"No problem," you smiled, "honestly though, you don't give yourself enough credit— you should really just focus on what you're doing. You're a great lawyer… and…" you trailed off as you observed Hiromi's eyes grow lidded, his brows flattened.
Lips pursed, you turned away to awkwardly cough into your elbow.
"Are you… uh…" your voice wavered. Hiromi eyed you blankly. "Nevermind," you whispered.
"No, ask me," Hiromi insisted. Your lips dropped.
"You’re not one for praise, I assume?" You questioned.
"Well, if you're asking if I appreciate it, I could say that I do, to some degree," he shrugged. "I just find it very hard to believe— and no, it’s not that I doubt myself, but simply the implications."
You sighed. Hiromi partly glowered.
"I know what you're going to say, and no, it's not that simple— at the very least, for me. You can say whatever it is you want to say, but at the end of the day I'll still doubt it, no matter how you spin it." He cocked his head at you. "And what you believe I deserve to be praised for is not worthy of praise. What I do is simply what the system is supposed to do."
You stared, then slowly nodded, staring at the floor diagonal to you, brows furrowed.
"Do you doubt me when I say that?" He asked.
"No— no, no," you shook your head, "not at all— the complete opposite, actually," you conversed. You leaned forward in your chair, resting your elbows on the table. Your eyes focused solely on him.
"Ever since I met you, I feel like…" you paused, "like I've been completely shaken up," you said. "I mean, you know, I would take up cases that didn't even require me to be there. Anyone could've known the verdict from just a glance. I did it all for money," you took a deep breath before continuing, "I knew you probably hated the way I operated," you nervously laughed, but quickly, your grin died, "but now, I mean, I…" you swallowed.
"I want to change," you admitted.
"I need to change," you corrected. "And I don't know what I should do to take that first step— but whatever it is, I want to do it."
Hiromi's lips parted, but he refused to speak. You leaned back in your chair, arms falling back to your lap. His Adam's apple bobbed. Rather than meet your glare, he shied away from it.
Hiromi stood from his seat and stepped towards you. He raised his knuckles to your forehead. They were cold.
"Hm. You really are burning up," he muttered. Hiromi's hand fell. You weren't sure if it was intentional, but his hand grazed the side of your face as he let it down. You subconsciously shivered. "Maybe I should leave you to rest," he mumbled.
You grabbed his hand and he flinched, but he did not pull away.
You did not speak, holding it while staring up at him. His own eyes found hesitation in searching through yours. Once you glanced down, you slowly released his hand. The span of both your palms met the entire way through, down to your fingertips. As soon as they parted, his arm fell to his side, fist now clenching. Partly hidden, his fingers fidgeted behind his leg.
"I'll see you tomorrow?" You asked.
"Maybe," he shrugged. "I still think you should stay home for a couple more days," he said, shoving his free hand in his pocket. He rubbed the handle of his briefcase with his thumb— the hand itself still overactive.
"Well, I can't slack off too long," you smiled. "And I don't think you'd want to be the one to deliver me all my papers."
"I wouldn't mind it," Hiromi mumbled, "but you know how to handle it."
"I'm flattered," you mocked.
He idly hummed, shooting a glare to the side, uncomfortably shifting on his feet.
"I'm just joking with you," you spoke, leaning your chest against the door's width.
"I know," he said. "I'll see you around, then."
"Tomorrow," you corrected.
"If you say so."
You waved him off, watching him walk down the hall and turn the corner towards the elevator.
You haplessly shut the door. You turned and trudged back into the stillness of your apartment.
Peering into your kitchen, you spotted the kettle on the stove. You grabbed the cups from the side table before sauntering to the sink. You blinked in surprise, noticing that both basins were empty. Dishes were set aside on the rack next to the sink, and your counters were clear and wiped down.
You placed your cup in the hollow, wandering back to the stove to pour out another helping of tea in the other.