Chapter Text
Fumi took a deep breath in. The steam from her cup of tea tickled her nose. It’s currently in that perfect little middle ground of being just beyond that tongue-burning temperature, and she could, in theory, drink it. But she didn’t want to risk it. Risk involuntarily twitching at the slightly-too-hot-for-comfort tea. To do so would ensure that she’d lost this little game— shown weakness of all things. And to show weakness in front of Ootori Michiru was a practically guaranteed death sentence.
“You know,” Michiru starts, and already Fumi curses her hesitance. Michiru’d gotten the first word in; she’d dictate the pace of the conversation going forward. Fumi would fight back if she cared enough to. And frankly speaking, she kind of didn’t. “Most people order coffee at a coffee shop.”
“No.”
“No?” Michiru’s lips curled upwards into a smile. Fumi seethes.
“We’re not having this debate again,” Fumi takes a moment to blow on her cup of tea. “Coffee or tea, like we’re an old married couple.”
“We acted as one before,” Michiru says.
“Not comparable. If we start to blend together our characters and ourselves—”
“As if we haven’t done a lot of that lately.”
Michiru’s interruption cost Fumi her train of thought. Damn it. “One conversation without interruption. That’s all I ask.”
“That’s quite a tall offer coming from me, you know.”
“Stop talking like Yachiyo,” Fumi says. “That’s somehow more unsettling than your inexplicable ability to just appear out of thin air.”
“I take that as a compliment, actually.”
Fumi glances at her tea. A nice chamomile blend, aromatic too, fruity, the traitorous part of her brain that sounded suspiciously similar to Ichie. Chamomile isn’t her favorite— that’d have to go to that one luxury black uva blend that Shiori was so fond of- but damn if chamomile wasn’t versatile as hell. Reduces stress, helps with insomnia, and even helps with headaches!
If only they could deal with Michiru as well. Fumi takes a sip of her tea.
“I was wondering if you were ever going to drink your tea,” Michiru drinks her coffee, plain black coffee, the heathen. Fumi would say something of the questionable decision of torturing oneself by drinking absolute bitterness in a cup, but Fumi, in her deepest, darkest moments, brushed hands with the dark side and bought coffee instead of tea. The jar of Nescafé coffee grounds was still filled to the brim, sitting at the back of the biggest ponzu bottles she had so she wouldn’t see the accursed thing. She really ought to give to away. Not to Michiru, though.
“Michiru, I’m going to be honest—”
“A novel idea, really.”
Fumi doesn’t know which one she’d want more: to bash her head against a wall, or Michiru’s. Not that she’d be able to get ahold of Michiru for long, anyways. She loves her... well, she’d hardly classify them as friends, but Fumi does care for Michiru. Which is why she can confidently and affectionately say that Ootori Michiru is a convincing snake. “Just. I’m confused. Why did you invite me for drinks?”
“Is it really too difficult to believe that after our previous admittedly tense conversation over drinks, I’d want to check up on you in a more relaxed setting?” Michiru almost seems hurt. Almost. Fumi would bet dollars to dimes that Michiru’s more amused than anything.
“No, I believe it. I’m just having a hard time believing that you’d be so... outright with it.”
“Not everything I do has to be inconspicuous. Believe it or not, Fumi, not everything I do has a hidden agenda.”
“I’d believe that from literally anyone other than you. Except maybe Yachiyo.” Fumi takes another sip of her tea, and it’s at just the right temperature. Nice. Fumi takes another sip. “Although sometimes I forget we’re still just teenagers, so I guess I can put a tiny bit of belief into the thought.”
“How kind of you.” Michiru deadpans, and Fumi preens. Michiru’s a person of facades and a much better liar than her. Fumi thought that spare moment of vulnerability was out of sympathy to Fumi; it’s pleasing to know that it’s more than that.
I know... because we once stood on the stage together as friends.
Fumi took another sip of her tea.
“Is your tea that enjoyable?” Michiru asks with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t think Starbucks tea was that good.”
“It really isn’t.” Yuyuko could make a better cup of tea than this, which is saying a lot considering how she avoids tea like how Fumi avoids Shiori. Fumi’s nose wrinkles at the intrusive thought. “But I’m admittedly running out of things to talk about.”
“It’s a wonder how you were in charge of general affairs in the student council,” Michiru says, shaking her head. “Half of the problems that were supposed to be reported to you got to me first, I’ll have you know. You and Akira are both ridiculous.”
“Sorry.” Fumi shrugs, unapologetic. “To be fair, I was much more personable than Akira.”
“Not by much.” And then, a strange thing happens that catches Fumi off-guard. Michiru gives a genuine smile. “I like the you that you are now.”
Fumi flushes. “Do the Edels talk about me behind my back or something? This is the third time someone’s said something like that to me.”
“Fumi. Just take the compliment instead of deflecting it.”
Out of spite (and partially out of embarrassment), Fumi rolls her eyes and crosses her arms in lieu of an answer.
Michiru clicks her tongue. “You’re being childish.”
“I’m being reasonably petty.”
“Attachment, emotional, clumsy handling,” Michiru muses, and goddamn it, Fumi turns red.
“Fine, fine! Thanks, I guess.” Fumi thinks about her old self, and how she and Michiru used to talk to each other. Casual and friendly, tied together only by their mutual love of Elysion. Michiru called them friends. Fumi had a hard time seeing them more than classmates- or something like coworkers. “And for what it’s worth, seeing you like this is nice. More open.”
“All thanks to you, Fumi.” Michiru gives a half-smile, taking a sip of her coffee. “In all honesty, I have to thank you. As terrible as this sounds, making you sound like a pawn or relegating you to a side character for the Edel’s character development, but I think it’s what we needed. Akira’s more empathetic, Mei Fan is more driven, if that’s even possible, and Yachiyo’s been more proactive as an Edel and as a senior to Shiori.”
“I can’t help but notice you left out two people in your little assessment.”
“Fine, if it helps your pride, you’ve helped me realize and understand others more. Akira especially.” Michiru pauses. “And you’ve helped me realize that if I always try to be an unmovable pillar of strength, I’ll only bring others down with me.”
Fumi raises a brow at that last bit. “I can’t help but think that was a double-handed compliment.”
“I wonder.” Michiru grins, and Fumi fights the urge to roll her eyes. “As much as you’ve helped us, I think you’ve done more bad than good regarding Shiori. Oh, she’s come out of her shell wonderfully and is a lot more confident in her abilities, but you’ve certainly not made it easy for her.”
Fumi winces as Michiru gives an apologetic smile. “Gee, thanks for sugarcoating it. But I suppose you aren’t wrong.”
“Only the best for Rinmeikan’s devoted samurai,” Michiru teases, and while Fumi’s thankful for the digression to a (slightly) easier topic, Fumi thinks this is it. She’s reached her limit. How the hell did Michiru figure that out? Pure guesswork, Fumi’s sure, but god if that wasn’t embarrassing. Fumi wondered if Michiru knew about her little comment after her little monologue. No, Fumi doesn’t want to consider that possibility right now.
Fumi sits up from her seat, the seat squeaking as Fumi moves it back. “Right, it’s been fun. I’m going to go now.” She pauses. “But we should do this again. I’m going to regret saying this, but it was nice catching up with you.”
“Likewise, Yumeoji Fumi.” Michiru smiles, bright and content. There’s a lot they haven’t talked about, and a lot that still weighs on them both, but it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly again. “I’ll be seeing you! Tell Temperance that the Heirophant sends her regards.”
Fumi rolls her eyes. “Of course.”