Chapter Text
Having chosen to live in the past you had made peace with the fact that there were certain luxuries and phrases that would be lost. Modern terms and modern inventions would all have to be given up upon. It proved itself to be a hard feat, as they were hard to avoid despite their absence in the era. It surprised you how dependent your language had grown upon these modern developments and how unnatural it sometimes made you sound.
But not all agreed upon your belief. That the merchant named Kichou had always let you know. You had figured it from the moment he mentioned ‘phones’ in your presence, at first thinking that it was because he tried to test you. But the truth was different. Kichou simply had no qualms mixing future-speech into his every day conversation, not minding the confusion, neither attempting to explain it either.
But you did. And how you minded each time he mentioned another modern word.
“This would have been much easier with an excel program.”
The words uttered had been a thought you frequently carried ever since you started to do the accounts, just one you never expressed out loud. And you would have continued to think that if you hadn’t met Kichou.
“Spoiler alert!” The sound of your voice sounded in contrast to the calm way in which Kichou spoke.
“Spoiler alert?” he repeated the irritation clear in his voice as he faced you. His haunting beauty falling over you as you wondered how one could look like a porcelain doll running on the schedule of a working university student in the middle of exam season.
“Spoiler alert, yes. Excel isn’t a 16th century invention!” you had boldly declared, thus starting a tug-of-war with the man who could honestly give less than –put in modern terms– two shits about any type of spoilers.
“Your arrogance knows no end. Even fifth–,” with the delivery of one of his infamous insults you came to interfere once more.
“Spoiler alert!”
The heave of a sigh. The blinking of another pair of eyes. “Spoiler alert?” his client had repeated, at once flabbergasted out of his earlier mood of conflict that was threatening to brew.
“Nothing you should concern yourself with,” was Kichou’s quick dismissal, to which the other quickly assumed it to be western diction, having already forgotten the near insult delivered at his address.
But Kichou didn’t. Not when you persisted at his every turn of mentioning the future. And when the client had left he had turned towards you, hand on his hip as he glowered you down with those deep set eyes that rarely earned any sleep.
“Have we landed in a comedic sketch?” he questioned you sharply, “or is this your idea of a romcom?”
To this flurry of modern genres mentioned you were forming the words once more, ready to spill them:
“Sp–” the first syllable out, but the realisation dawned as you watched the other hover over you, still glaring, the frown between his brows burying his eyes even deeper into the shadows of the dark circles forming. Yet, he maintained a handsome sight and a temptation formed as you suddenly felt an urge.
“Well?” Kichou had pushed, as you so clearly fought yourself. And you knew that within another moment you would have lost him, so you had to act fast.
And thus you reached, hands pulling at the collar of his shirt as you leveled him with yourself, surprising the other once more as you threw him off balance. It wasn’t as graceful as you had hoped it to be, your life unfortunately not being a perfectly timed filmed scene meant to land in a romance, but the bump of your noses and the rough landing of your lips could be a comedy when you quickly turned away and ran off with yet another term to annoy him with:
“Plot twist!”