Chapter Text
i.
She bit her tongue as she tried to concentrate, an involuntary reflex she probably didn’t notice she was doing. For such a simple task as trying to figure out which granule was appropriate for her ordered beverage, she looked like she was in the middle of solving a scientific breakthrough that could change the fate of humanity.
Earlier she took a little of what was labeled salt onto the back of her hand, tasted it with a flick of her little tongue, and sat there for moments, her expression in deep, deep ponder. Then she did it again, now with the one labeled sugar.
Whilst the dilemma that led her to this point…
Was it sugar or salt that she had to mix in her coffee?
Surely no one could be that naïve, he thought dryly, as he sat by the glass panels of the bustling coffee shop, waiting for his order.
Maybe she came from the rural part of an underdeveloped country. That was highly unlikely, judging from the designer-label clothing she had on. Or maybe she was this rich kid who was used to having everything spoon-fed to her…
Even the amount of sugar on her coffee?
He shook his head.
Maybe one of those dumb tiktokkers. Who knows.
“Triple shot for Mr. Yukishiro!” The barista announced his name, and he stood up and proceeded to the counter. The barista, a young woman in her teens, flashed him a grin.
He only nodded in acknowledgement, before taking it from her and slipping away. He stole a brief glance at the printed label on his drink and chuckled, on the blank space was a scribbled phone number, and a short “You’re really hot! Call me?” added in red ink.
He snorted, sardonically.
He had to give the hapless girl the benefit of the doubt. She was probably new.
Making his way out, he passed by the plighted woman he was observing earlier, still in the middle of her conundrum. She was staring… no, glaring at her coffee, and the two additives before her.
With an exasperated breath he reached out for the sugar packet on the table, and chucked it before her cast-down face. “You might want to add it gradually until you reach your flavor preference.”
She looked up at him, and for a while he stood there, stilled:
Her impressive sapphire eyes looked at him, wide and disabling.
“Oh,” she said softly, a hint of pink rising on her cheeks. She took the sugar packet on his hand, and deftly looked away in embarrassment.
Not wanting to subject the poor woman to further shame he walked away, only to stop by the doorway to look back. Her little tongue had darted out between her lips again. She was engaged in the seemingly impossible task of opening the little sugar packet and pouring it into her cup. With a hesitant pause and a definitive breath, she raised the coffee to her lips and took a sip.
Those impressive sapphire eyes widened, and a blush crept up her cheeks. She stared into her coffee, her face filled with wonder, as if she had just tasted coffee for the first time, as if she just discovered the meaning of life.
Then she caught herself, and she looked around to make sure that no one had seen her apparent ignorance. Seeing that no one noticed, (at least she thought so,) her lips finally curled up into a smile.
All around her, people were engaged with their phones, their laptops and digital readers; connected to the world, yet at the same time, severely isolated. Yet the young woman was smiling to herself as she enjoyed her simple cup of black coffee with one packet of sugar, and she watched the view of the pacific coast off the glass panel windows with a quiet contentment.
He left the bustling shop, unaware that he was wearing a rare smile of his own.
She was not from here, that he was sure of. He grew up here, in this idyllic, multi-million dollar resort town, and this was where he had moved headquarters six years ago, when he had gained complete control of the family business, so he knew most of the locals, and recognized the returning tourists.
That, and from what he gathered from his accidental eavesdropping.
He had a grueling day. They were in the verge of reaching a deal that would have opened another branch outside the US, and if they did, they would hit their 38k mark. He decided to de-stress in his favorite place when a group of women just decided to sit a table across him.
“I was looking for some writing material for my next novel, and I came across a legend from your place. It’s the one about selkies...” A female said.
He glanced slightly only to see three women sitting close to each other, and much to his surprise, the blue-eyed woman from yesterday among them.
“What about selkies, Megumi?” A smaller girl said, almost too nonchalantly. The woman named Megumi shrugged,
“You haven’t heard of it? Misao, I swear. You two probably lived in a cave. It’s a mythical being, the seal-folk, who can change from seal to human by shedding their skin. They are remarkably attractive, legend says. You need to shed seven tears to summon your selkie-man, though, but imagine having a hot, gorgeous mer-man as your husband?! And selkie men can give children to barren women. I wouldn’t mind having little mer-babies of my own!”
“Aren’t you already married, though?” Said Misao.
“Darling, he doesn’t have to know!”
The blue-eyed woman childishly coughed out her coffee, scandalized by her friend’s bluntness.
Enishi tried to hold in his amusement.
“Well the women, though, its another deal.” Megumi continued, “More often than not their fur-skin gets stolen by a man, and the selkie maiden is now forced to become his wife. If she finds it she will go back to the sea, if she never does, she will forever be gazing, longingly at her home, never being able to return.”
There was a buzz to her phone, and Megumi stood up, grabbing her iced latte. “Sano’s calling. It was nice seeing you around, Misao.” She gave her a quick peck on the cheek, “Kaoru, darling,” she wrapped his blue-eyed woman in a fond hug, “Don’t be a stranger and come here more often!”
“Bye!” they waved at her as she exited the coffee shop. The two women settled back into their table.
He glanced at his clock, ten minutes left. Enough to listen to a short podcast. He tried to lift his noise-canceling headphones on to his ears when—
“Edina wanted to know how you’re doing,” the woman named Kaoru spoke, and he paused. Her voice had a melodic lilt to it, and it inflected a heavy foreign accent.
The man put his headphones down.
“I’m fine,” Misao sighed, with the same foreign accent, but significantly lighter. “Is that why you came all the way from home, just to see me?”
Kaoru bit her lip. “Well, hearing all these stories about such marriages—”
His cellphone vibrated in his pocket, probably for the hundredth time now. Perhaps it was his assistant, or one of his bumbling subordinates. Gods, he couldn’t even get a peaceful lunch break...
“Those are just romanticized tragedies, big sister! Besides, even if those were the circumstances Aoshi and I started with... he did give me back my freedom. It was I who decided to stay.” Misao reached out and patted her sister’s hand. “Look at Sano. He’s married to Megumi ten years now...”
Kaoru gave her a skeptical look.
“Hey,” Misao tried, “I do visit home once a year, don’t I?”
“But don’t you miss us?”
“Sure I miss you, but I can always pay a quick visit whenever I want to. Big sister, no one is holding me back. I love my husband, and I’m happy where I am right now. I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else.” She paused, and sighed. “So how is everyone?”
“Still the same. Haven’t really changed for—"
The cellphone that was beeping finally blared. He checked his phone and realized he was five minutes over his break.
“Mr. Yukishiro, where are you?!” His assistant squawked over the phone. “The meeting starts in ten minutes!”
Shit.
Taking his black coat he rushed out of the coffee shop. He passed by the counter, the young barista flashing him a smile again, and even dared to wink.
He made a mental note to approach the manager about this little annoyance.
“Excuse me, excuse me!” a feminine voice called out, as he exited the glass doors.
The blast of the chilly coastal wind met his person, and he wrapped his coat tighter around him.
“Excuse me?” The unknown female tried again, and there was a tug to his coat. He stopped.
Probably that teenage barista.
Enishi paused. He knew how to reject politely, he had already done so many times in his life before, from women (and even men) in all classes of social standing.
But today he did not feel like being anywhere near polite.
“I’ve no time for this,” he muttered, irritated, under his breath.
Gein was still ranting in his ear, (he had not turned the phone off.) But the moment he spun around, he found blue doe-eyes, gazing up at him expectantly.
A flock of seagulls took flight from overhead, the sound of their flapping wings overlapping with the crashing waves from the shore.
The white-haired man blinked.
“I... I think I was being rude, the last time we met.” She said.
A gust of seaside wind blew their way, bringing in the characteristic coastal breeze. He was never the attentive type, but he shifted, about to offer his coat to the woman. But she already had one on her shoulders:
An odd, white, fur-like shawl of some sort... it looked foreign, she looked ridiculously out of place, but it looked warm enough to wrap her entire body.
He shut his phone off, effectively silencing his assistant. “You weren’t.”
“Thank you,” she beamed, “For the sweetener.” She stepped forward. She took his hand and dropped something light on his palm. Knowing that the wind was blowing rather ardently, she wrapped her two hands around his, prompting him to grasp the item.
“What’s this?” he raised a brow.
She only smiled at him as she released. “Bye,” she merely said, waving at him as she turned to run.
For reasons unknown to him, he took an unconscious step forward, when his smartphone rang again. The next thing he knew, she was gone... melted into the sea of people.
The man continued to stand, unmoving in the middle of the crowd, when his phone blasted again.
“Something came up. I’ll be there in five.” He dismissed curtly, not even listening to the other line.
He opened his palm to look at his little gift,
And his lips curved to a downward frown.
Sugar packets.
Not her number.
Dammit.
*****