Chapter Text
Quiet. That was all there was right now between her and him and Atsushi wished something could be said.
Her father wasn't who she thought he'd be —a rich Japanese businessman turned politician? Geez, what kind of luck did she have?
He cleared his throat and Atsushi observed him closely, wanting to see some of herself in him. They had similar hair, his being a shade or two darker than her silvery strands. They also had similar golden eyes, though his lacked the purple hue that tainted hers. But their face shape, slim and narrow, were similar and even their slender build was alike.
Atsushi could see the likeness. But…that was just in looks and honestly, she knew nothing of this man and who was virtually a stranger.
Fujiwara Hirohito he'd introduced himself as. The name sounded as regal as he looked. For all that she looked like him, she didn't feel related to him or looked like him in the sense that the two of them were as different outwardly than they were anywhere alike superficially. He was confident and cold and she was just a nervous, confused wreck.
Agreeing to meet with him had been a mistake. She shouldn't have come here, to come to see him. She didn't know what she had been thinking.
'I found your father. Do you want to meet him?'
Stupid, stupid Atsushi.
"You aren't…what I expected," he said simply, gazing at her and examining her with eyes that looked like hers but were unreadable. "But I can at least see the resemblance."
Atsushi wanted to laugh hysterically. Hadn't she just thought something similar to that? Ha! Maybe they were more alike than they thought, if even their thoughts came out the same (but who wouldn't think such similar observations?).
"Why did you agree to meet me?" she asked all of a sudden, wanting to know.
(A part of her still craved for her long lost family to come find her and want her and love and need her and —)
"I was…curious," he started slowly, narrowing his eyes that she now knew hers came from. "I wanted to know the person who claimed to be my daughter —and see for myself this person."
"And confront the fraud yourself?" she asked, masking the bitterness with amusement.
"Given the obvious, there is no doubt you are who you say you are, even without these documents," he lightly tapped the folder with all the proof that had been gathered. His gold eyes bored into her sunset ones. "You also have my family's signature hair color and eyes, hair and eyes that not even my children have inherited."
Hirohito paused and then continued in a softer voice. "You also look like…her."
Her. 'Her' as in…her mother?
"Oh," she said quietly, not sure what else to say to that.
A ringtone filled the air and knowing that wasn't hers, she assumed it was his. She was proven correct when he reached into his pocket and took his phone out, glancing at it blankly.
"I have a call," his lips turned down, not quite a frown. "Please excuse me while I take it."
He stood up from his chair from the table they'd chosen to sit at for their meeting at the café. She watched him leave silently, before swallowing down unbidden tears.
She stood up too and went for the entrance of the café.
The sound of water filled her ears and she entered her apartment to see the tall blond at the sink, quietly washing dishes.
She couldn't help the tears or the sniffles.
Always good with his hearing, Francis Fitzgerald had always been sensitive to her moods and turned halfway to see her miserable self standing at the door, watching him silently. He was quick to shut the water off and walk over to her, saying nothing as he took her in and shut the door behind her, pulling her into a close embrace.
Atsushi broke down and clutched at him, finally crying and letting it all out.
"I'm sorry," he murmured. "I thought you would have liked to meet your father. I shouldn't have looked into him."
She shook her head vehemently, but couldn't say anything past her sobs and tears. He carefully held her as he lowered them down to the floor, rubbing her head and holding her to him. When she finally calmed down and stopped crying, she just stayed slumped against him, feeling exhausted.
"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked and she almost shook her head. But…
She swallowed heavily and moved back from him, rubbing her eyes. She licked her lips before she started talking, not even sure where to start.
"You were right, you know," she said, obviously confusing him. "Back on the Moby Dick then —when you spoke about the reports saying my parents left me in the trash."
He grimaced at that and shook his head. "No, back then I was trying to hurt you and I was being an asshole because I was your enemy —"
"Doesn't make it any less true," she said steadily, not looking away from him with her solemn gaze. "My father, apparently, never even knew about me…but my mother certainly did and had no problems leaving me behind as trash. The Headmaster…even if it was harsh or cruel, never lied to me. It might've been skewed truth or not the whole truth, but it was definitely his truth and he believed in it. And there are times…Sometimes I have nightmares of a small, cramped space that I was stuck in and couldn't get out and everything was dark…and sometimes I think it might've been memories before the orphanage," she bit down on her lip, averting her eyes away from him.
She could feel him tense up and allowed him to reach out to her and pull her close again, holding her close. She shuddered in his hold, closing her eyes and trying not to remember those images —'might-be' memories of her crying and screaming in the darkness, metal walls around her and not knowing what was going on or what to do…
"You know, knowing what I do about you and your family and hearing how you are about them, especially your daughter, I've always admired that," she murmured against him. "I wanted…I wanted something like that. To have my parents love me the way you loved Ellaria. The way…the way I wish he cherished me, like you cherished her. I guess knowing how you are about family, how you were as a father, made it easier to forgive you and let things go, because you were just so capable of loving your family so much."
She inhaled deeply, breathing in his scent like a calming balm. "I guess, as a father figure, you were perfect like that and —"
"Atsushi," Francis interrupted abruptly, his hand stilling on her head. She blinked slowly, waking up from her calming daze against him. She looked up at him hesitantly, seeing his intent gaze. He cupped her face with his hands, frowning.
"While that's nice and kind of you to say, I have no intention of being a father figure to you, darling," he said before he leaned in and pressed his lips to hers, kissing her thoroughly.
She felt his tongue run along her lips, slipping into her mouth and forcefully tangle with hers, gliding around determinedly. She lost the time as he kissed her headily, taking her breath away and clouding her mind. When they finally pulled apart, her face felt hot and he was watching her intensely, though his face was flushed as well.
"I don't think of you as a daughter at all, Atsushi," he said firmly. "And I have absolutely no desire to think so."
Atsushi blushed, nodding. "I-I know! I didn't mean it like that," she said in embarrassment and he cracked a grin at her.
Their relationship was new and all, and they hadn't yet told anyone about them…but she knew the two of them were content in their relationship and their feelings for each other.
"Good," he said, his voice turning into the familiar sweet, sultry tone it became around her. His hands landed on her waist, squeezing before sliding underneath the hem of her shirt. "This would be very awkward otherwise."
Her eyes fluttered shut as she focused on his hands sliding against her skin, upwards and pulling up her shirt while he was at it…
Sometime later, huddled together on her futon, she felt relaxed and sleepy against Francis, who had pulled her against him again and was petting her hair comfortably and lulling her into a daze again.
"I know I more or less interrupted you —not that I didn't enjoy doing so," Francis caressed her back languidly. "But I'm also realistic enough to know that that meeting with your father was important and upset you, and will probably continue to do so."
For a moment, she contemplated not answering and maybe even feigning sleep. But Francis had been trying to be thoughtful in finding out about her father and setting up the meeting between them.
"Nothing really even happened," she admitted. "And maybe that was the problem. I wanted…I wanted the whole Hollywood, emotional movie-styled reunion. Or maybe I just wanted him to acknowledge me as his daughter and be happy about it. Or sad about the time lost. Something. Instead, we were strangers and it felt like we were. He acknowledged I was his daughter, yes, but…everything felt cold and distant and…I don't know. I don't know what I was expecting."
She reluctantly pulled back a bit, so that they could face each other. "He wasn't…I just wanted him to care for me the same way that —"
Francis gave her a flat look, raising an eyebrow. Her cheeks turned red and she lightly hit his chest.
"Not like that," she grumbled. But then she hesitated. "But I did want him to be the same kind of father you are, and to love me the way you love your daughter."
Francis hmmed. "Well, I did try to burn down an entire city for my ex-wife and daughter, so I'm not really the typical family man, Atsushi." He sent her a teasing look afterwards though, her cheeks turning a darker red.
But her embarrassment immediately turned back into being morose.
"I just wanted to be loved," she mumbled, looking down.
He immediately tightened his arms around her before he tilted her head up so that they were looking at each other again.
"I don't enter into relationships lightly and haven't been with someone before or after my ex-wife," he told her seriously. "Not until you, Atsushi. So I can safely and definitively say you are important to me."
He hesitated before kissing her lightly and gently cradling her face.
"It may not be the love you're currently looking for and wanting right now…but I do love you, Atsushi."
Her heart thumped loud and fast in her chest and it was all she could do to kiss him back and try to tell him through it how much she echoed him.
Going to work the next day meant facing the events again, no matter what she wanted. As much as she wanted to put it out of mind, there was no way she could forget the failed meeting with her father just like that.
"Get through the day," Francis encouraged her. "I'll see you back here after."
He pulled her in for several more kisses before he left first to head to work. She missed him already.
Especially as, with the rough day and estranged meeting with her father the day before, Francis had taken care to not only take her mind off of it, he'd also made sure to make her feel as good as possible. She almost wished she'd asked him to stay with her for the day and that the two of them could've taken the time off.
Shaking her head, Atsushi headed towards the Agency to officially start her day. Managing a smile to herself at everyone's usual antics when she got there, she lost the smile as she found her desk and sat down.
She wondered if her father was currently at work too.
"What's with that face? Is my cute little protégée sulking about something?" Dazai's face was suddenly right in front of hers, unblinking.
"Gah! Dazai-san!" Atsushi flung herself back in surprise. He straightened up, smiling widely and rocking on the balls of his feet while he kept his arms locked behind his back. "N-no! I'm fine," she said, trying to act normal.
Dazai eyed her closely, making her nervous and wondering what was up with him. And then he suddenly smiled gently at her.
"Fukuzawa-shishou would like for you to join him in his office right now, Atsushi-chan," he told her, oddly serious.
Definitely nervous and a bit confused now, she slowly got up and headed to the door that would lead to where Fukuzawa's office was. She looked around but everyone seemed normal except for Dazai, who kept watching her.
She made the trek all the way to Fukuzawa's and knocked, coming in when she was told to. In the attached washitsu room to his office, Fukuzawa looked relaxed as he sat seiza on the zaisu chair and sipped at his tea. Uncertainly coming over, she carefully removed her shoes and stepped onto the tatami flooring. Fukuzawa opened his eyes then and watched her. He gestured to the equally legless chair opposite him and she moved to sit there, echoing his formal seating. The zabuton cushion helped to soothe her knees.
While she waited, she watched him in turn, seeing him turn back to his tea. Seeing a second cup placed in front of her, she poured herself some as well and tried to not fidget in place.
"You do not have to sit in seiza as well, Atsushi-kun," Fukuzawa told her, face as stern as ever, but his tone managing to sound a bit amused. "Feel free to be comfortable."
Sighing in relief, she let her legs lay out under the low table and sat back against the legless chair. Still, he was keeping quiet and focused on his tea, so she couldn't help her mind wondering what was wrong while she sipped at her own cup.
"…Fukuzawa-shishou?" she asked hesitantly. He looked at her and waited. "Is…is there a reason you asked for me?"
Fukuzawa set down his tea and gave her, incredibly, a slight smile.
"I believe it is a nice day to relax and thought it'd be nice for us to sit here and drink tea," he said simply, like that explained everything.
It really didn't, but Atsushi didn't think he'd say anything else and let her know what was wrong.
"Are you enjoying the tea?" he asked suddenly.
She blinked and gave a hesitant smile to him. "Yes, I love jasmine!"
He nodded calmly. "I'd heard."
That gave her pause and she wondered why he knew and why he'd cared to know —for that matter, having it made for this time.
"Atsushi-kun," he started and she straightened up and focused on him, thinking maybe now was the time for him to tell her what this was about. "I wish for you to know that for whatever reason, you may come to me. If you are feeling upset, you may always feel free to come talk to me. Or even if you do not wish to talk, you may come here and simply have some tea and quiet time with me," he told her.
She didn't know if it was his words or it was the fond look and genuine care in his eyes, but she felt her eyes grow wet and her heart strangely both light and heavy. The tears came on unbidden and she buried her face into her hands.
There was rustling and she felt a hand touch hers, and she took them away from her face to look at him again. Though his face was solemn again, the care in his eyes was still there.
All this time she already had the perfect father figure in her life to look to.
When she returned to her apartment, she saw Francis already there and relaxing on her couch, going through coupons. She plopped herself onto the couch and sidled up to him, cuddling into his side as he automatically lifted his arm for her so she could do so. She closed her eyes and took deep breaths, coincidentally smelling his calming scent of lavender and sandalwood and making her feel even better.
"Feeling a little better? Productive day? Lots of paperwork? Had some good tea?" Francis asked her while turning the page, his voice unaffected and sounding normal.
Her calmed breaths stuttered and she stilled, before she turned her head and looked up at him. Francis ran a hand through her hair, eyes still on his coupons.
"I may not care for you as a father, darling, but I do care for you."
When he finally looked down at her, his eyes were sweet and loving and her heart felt utterly full.
"I really, really love you," she told him, sitting up and kissing him.
All her life, she'd just wanted to have a father be there for her and love her —
Francis had been the ideal father, someone who'd matched all her ideas and hopes of what a father would be like. Her own father didn't match that at all and maybe she'd put Francis' love for his family on too high a pedestal or maybe it was just the lackluster meeting or the distance between, but she'd been so let down by it —by him.
And then there was Fukuzawa, who she hadn't even thought of, but had always been someone who was there and unknowingly the father figure she'd always needed and wanted all along.
Francis just apparently knew that already and set out to give her a little nudge to remind her.
Hours later, dressed for bed and cleaning the kitchen, she was confused by the sudden knocking on her door. Answering it, she almost wished she hadn't.
Oddly disheveled and awkward-looking, her father stood there at the door.
"Can I help you?" she asked just as awkwardly.
"You…you left suddenly yesterday," he cleared his throat, growing even more awkward.
She stayed silent a moment. "I didn't think either of us really wanted the meeting in the first place, much less felt like there was anything else to add after what had already been said."
"…That's not true," his lips firmed and she was surprised by the sudden vehemence in Hirohito's voice. "I didn't even know I had a daughter. I didn't think that was fair to me, when I could've known you for all these years. I didn't get that chance…and neither did you. I don't think that's fair."
Then he was back to being awkward, though he was just as hesitant.
"Yesterday didn't go the way I'd wanted. Do you…do you think we could try again and start over?"
Her breath hitched and she felt uncertain as she stared at him; she felt scared and didn't know if she could do this. What if it still went wrong? What if they just couldn't connect? What if he ended up disappointed with her after all?
"Tomorrow morning, we could meet for breakfast?" she bit her lip, feeling terrified and like a little girl all over again.
"Tomorrow then," he said quietly, just a little less awkward but not at all any less hesitant.
They both hesitated before stepping towards each other for a very brief hug that they immediately stepped away from. Then he was turning and walking away and she was watching him leave.
"How did you know where I lived?" she found herself asking, curious how he'd suddenly showed up out of nowhere.
He paused and turned halfway to her. "A mutual acquaintance of ours let me know."
And then he was gone and she was pondering that.
'I found your father. Do you want to meet him?'
She shook her head as she closed the door, turning towards her bedroom where the shoji door was already slid open. Francis' long body was already laid out on the futon and his face was buried against an arm, but she doubted he was asleep.
Heading his way, she lightly toed his arm, getting him to lift his face slightly and tiredly peek up at her.
"You meddle too much," she told him in fond amusement.
He just hmmed and rolled to his side, patting the spot next to him that she made to occupy then.
"But thanks for the meddling…"
Started 3/29/21 — Completed 5/28/21