Chapter Text
Belle’s patience is a fickle thing.
Staying seated in an acceptable manner while out in public is a trial with no reward. No treasure chest, no controller jingle, no wonderful immediate gratification for all her efforts. Just fewer stares in this direction and more unpleasant knee-bouncing.
Pulling her index finger across the darkened glass of her phone screen, she makes a frowny face in the oil it leaves behind. The subtle touch is enough to stir the sensitive machine, and it lights up to show the current time in a big bubble font.
11:13, Thursday. Behind that is a picture of Wise and her opening the video store together, recreating a movie’s most iconic pose, a supermarket's unveiling gone wrong in ‘Lucky Number 17’. It was her favorite movie these days, so nostalgic and corny. It was the kind of thing her date would love, if he were here.
There were no new messages. She pulls down to see for herself that her patience hasn’t been rewarded. Then she checks again immediately and finds it remains the same.
When the screen goes dark again, she takes a sniff of her overpriced latte. It is sweet, with a taste like rosemary and mint, but that’s the subtle flavor. It mostly tastes like milk. The cream has gone cold, and the micro foam has popped like peanut-brittle and sunken into little moon craters.
Looking out the window, the bustle of the street is a welcome distraction from her growing despair. Fashionable teens walk past wearing chunky tennis shoes from a store she frequents herself when she’s feeling drawn to spend a lot of money in one place. Corporate-slaves with matching suits and briefcases seem to appear from every direction as the minutes tick by, each looking no more distinct than the last. These two groups of people were complete opposites, not at all paying each other any mind.
But they both live in one of the only cities left, sharing air and mutually praying that no disaster swallows them up today. Many people are that unlucky.
When her phone suddenly vibrates and shakes the table, Belle nearly coughs up her next swallow as she frantically clears her airway of any lingering sweetness. It is painful how hard she gulps, taking in more air than the actual beverage. As she expected, the caller ID reads “Asaba Harumasa”.
“Hello!” she speaks first, voice forcefully cheerful.
It takes an agonizing moment for him to reply. “... Hi, Belle.”
He sounds hoarse, and his voice comes through deeper than normal. He doesn't match her energy, which immediately deflates her current approach. Without anything else to work with, the entire call goes from something she’d anticipated and wanted for over an hour into something quite awkward that she’d like to end quickly.
She didn’t want to ask something direct like [‘Where even are you??’] when he at least called her first. Wasn’t that kind of rude? It felt extremely rude.
“Asaba, you just missed the fattest cat. I mean, he was massive. Literally half the size of the concrete flower pot he was jumping across. You should have seen him.”
“Whaaat, really?” Asaba goes along with her avoidant direction, and he sounds playful and sweet and so much more like himself. “What color was he? Was he a stray? Did you at least pet him? Tell me you pet him.”
“Not a stray, he had a blingy collar. And he was all white except he’s got black ears. So, so precious. I didn’t get to pet him because he was on a fast-paced mission carried by the wind, but if I see him again, I’ll offer him a treat in exchange for a picture!”
“Sounds like I am missing more than our coffee date," Asaba says with a laugh, sounding off again.
She bites her lower lip, raising her brows and humming along. She couldn’t deny it, even to spare his feelings, but she didn’t want to scold him until she’d heard his explanation. Maybe he was sick.
“Belle, I just— I literally just woke up and looked at the time, and it was meant to be 10:30, wasn’t it? My alarm– I don’t remember, I don’t think I even set one. I just passed out last night after I got home from work. I didn’t mean to stand you up… well, again.”
“It’s okay!” she strains her voice to keep it level, swirling the last of the milk in the bottom of her cup. “I just wanted to see you. If I picked a bad time or a bad day, we can just do it at a later date. It isn’t like we had a reservation; it is just a cafe, so it isn’t a big deal. I just worried you… that you— had an accident at work. Or something. Glad you were just tired again.”
He goes silent, and Belle wonders if he is sighing with the phone held away from his head. Hearing concern from anybody seems to make him more distant, but she’d thought they’d moved past this. At least with each other. Her concern wasn’t pity, surely Asaba knew that.
“It isn’t okay, I feel like I just yanked you into oncoming traffic by being my lazy self again. Let me make it up to you, my treat this time. Let’s try to plan for a different day, and maybe– something in the evening would be best. I’m beyond sorry about this. You’re— I know this was irritating, even if you don’t say it out loud.”
“No, no!” She exclaims while her grip tightens around her phone. “And you’re not lazy, Asaba. I know you get tired. Your medications have that listed as a side-effect.”
“... Wait, when did I tell you that?” Asaba asks, sounding surprised.
“I may have read the bottle when I picked it up last time? Sorry about that.” She admitted awkwardly, shifting uncomfortably in place. “And even if nobody realizes it, you have to train twice as hard to stay in shape, so of course you’d be tired! It’s no biggie, really!”
“Wow, so understanding, you’re making me blush.” Asaba murmurs, perhaps half-joking. “Isn’t reading somebody’s medical prescription when you’re not next of kin like that illegal? Am I obligated to arrest you now?”
“Excuse you, I walked all the way to the pharmacy on my day off in the summer heat. You expect me to have done all that and not opened the bag to make sure it was the right one? What if it wasn’t and I had to walk all the way back? Keep dreaming, Asaba. I hate walking too much for that!”
“I should have known,” Asaba sighs, a smile in his voice. “You can’t be trusted not to be curious. You’re so much like my kitty, getting into anything that seems off-limits. Two criminals, running circles around me.”
“That’s me! The devil you know is better than the devil you don’t!” Belle replies, twirling a hair.
Then, they lapse into another awkward silence. Trying her best to move on before this one can settle, Belle clears her throat.
“So, I know your schedule is stricter than mine. Let me know what day to reschedule to. I’ll be busy at the store until Sunday, and then again until Thursday. Whatever works, just send a text.”
“I’ll do that. Thank you for not being too mad at me!” Asaba laughs nervously, and the line crackles as it transfers the noise. “Be safe getting home, Belle.”
“I’m always a safe driver. I’ve only nearly died once from a car, and I wasn’t even the driver.”
“Wait, what did you say??” Asaba exclaims, and Belle shrugs for an audience of none.
“That’s all, bye for now, and get some more sleep, Haaarumasa~! ” she hurries out, before ending the call abruptly with a tap of her thumb.
She lowers it to set back onto the table, staring at her reflection. Though her chest feels heavy, her expression is dull. Hard as metal, robotically forced to be neutral. Her smile, as it drops, looks so fake, especially to her.
The moment the phone wasn’t right on her ear, all of her wound-up energy oozes out like oil. The tension in her posture could relax at last, but not for the reason she wanted. Asaba stood her up again. Promising to meet but ending up having an excuse to not show up, wasting her time and her money as she waits for an offensively long time just to hear that once again he wasn’t coming.
Of course, she mostly believes him. She wants to trust him. He did sound groggy over the phone, but Belle knew that it didn’t take much to fake that. Flip over in bed and let the blood rush down… she’d done that trick several times to her brother Wise to get what she wanted. And this was the third time in a row Harumasa had cancelled, and each meeting he’d found a reason not to make an appearance more pitiful than the last.
This is how every friendship dies. No more meetings, calls sent to voicemail, texts read but not replied to. What had she done wrong? They’d gone from thick as thieves to this nothing-burger in no time at all.
Finishing the last of her coffee, Belle drops off the dine-in cup (a real dish, not plastic) at the counter and apologizes for taking up two seats in their shop. They’d turned people away, she noticed, while she waited for nobody. It was good that they were so busy, but the building didn’t have enough tables for its sudden popularity. This used to be her favorite study spot, and now it was as crowded as a restaurant.
She couldn’t ignore the drip-down of anxiety poisoning her heart, which told her she had hurt their business by being in the way. So she stands in line just to buy a dessert to both console herself and give them a little more money, as if paying for two people instead of just one.
Twirling her car-key about on her pointer finger, she shields her eyes with the pastry-bag as she slips into the breezy morning. It was getting chilly, more than enough to make her shiver, but the only jacket she owned she’d lent to Nicole. That was probably going to be a problem once the temperature dropped even further, but asking for it back was just going to get her another betrayed look and a sheepish apology.
She could almost hear Nicole’s voice in her head, slightly whiny as she said sorry and insisted she keep it for a while longer. It was whatever. Belle had the finances to afford a new jacket. She just liked that one the most, and everything in the world was so overpriced these days.
Rummaging around in her tote (printed with a death-metal album on the front), she pulled out her headphones, smacking them onto her ears and hitting play with an exasperated huff. When she thought about her friends in that order, it really did seem like they enjoyed taking advantage of her. But it was more of a coincidence; they were usually less frustrating to be around.
The walk to the car is spent listening to the deeply emotional live performances of a metal band she loved, singing a ballad of revenge, and biting her way aggressively through a warm and melty chocolate-filled baozi.
Traffic is heavy now that the city is awake. On top of that, their work car's heater isn’t doing well and probably needs to be fixed. There are several detours around road work, just to really poke the bear. Before long, she’s biting at her lip and drumming her fingers on the steering wheel in ice-cold fury.
Maybe the caffeine wasn’t helping matters either. But she was upset. It was just heightening the anxiety she felt.
By the time she turns into the parking lot behind the video store, she’s put a few new splits into her lips and nibbled all the white off her nails. The store is open today and doing adequate business for a Thursday, but she is in no mood to handle customers or the loud chatter bouncing off the ceiling.
Wise is sitting behind the counter for once, and he glances up at her in surprise, his eyes naturally gravitating towards the clock on the computer. She was home way earlier than he’d been led to expect, and he gave her a hesitant wave.
Waving back with no joy or excitement, she sneaks past the customers and shuts the door of the workroom. ‘Staff-Only’ printed in big melty letters on a magnet pinned to both sides like the equivalent of crime-scene tape, it is there as if to remind them both, before they leave, that they’re technically employees the moment they walk out of here, and they need to act like it.
Going upstairs and wallowing seemed like a terrible waste of time, and stewing in her emotions wouldn’t help either. So she might as well work on some of their real client' commissions. Nothing too serious, she wants Wise to be there too for the hard stuff, but a few simple hacking jobs were nothing to break a sweat over.
Likely intrigued and worried by her early appearance, Wise gives her some space for a couple of hours. But eventually, he slips into the room after her, tapping her shoulder to pull her out of her own head and offering a steaming mug of tea.
“Earl Grey for the lady?” he asks, setting it down on a bamboo coaster.
Removing her headset, she gazes down at it and snorts.
“Wow, my favorite without me even asking? Do I really look that bad?”
“You may have looked a little upset when you came in,” he whispers back.
Blowing across the ebony surface of the drink, she leans back in the chair with an annoying creak, staring up at the stars on the ceiling that they stuck on when they moved in just to piss off the future owners.
“Yeah,” she sighed. “Harumasa didn’t come. Said he overslept, and I don’t know. Maybe he did. I’m just starting to get really worried. Or mad. I feel both, I guess.”
Pulling up his own chair, Wise takes a seat and blows more softly than she does on his own drink to avoid splattering even a single drop. Probably something lighter to the taste because he didn’t like his black or green.
“I’m baffled. He was in here every other day, and now he won't even meet you for coffee. He didn’t seem like a heart-breaker to me, but maybe he wasn’t as good a guy as I thought…” Wise trails off, sounding pissed off on her behalf.
“Maybe he really was just tired? I don’t know, I’m trying not to be angry. The timing is just a little scary. He got hurt enough to die, and now he won't even talk to me. It makes me feel as though— as though he’s the one that’s angry with me. Like I did something that turned him away. Maybe he’s just scared of his mortality now that his condition has gotten worse, but then why won't he see me before it's too late? Shouldn’t that be his first impulse?”
Humming, Wise thoughtfully steals little sips from his drink. Contemplating her options and poking at the problem with a metaphorical needle in his head. Rotating the growing storm like popcorn in the microwave.
“Have you tried inviting him here? Maybe pretend it is just a regular offer like anyone else would get?”
“No good, I’m afraid he’d see right through it. And he’s been here too often to be given that casual treatment.”
“Maybe you could send him a gift? Like a get-well-soon card? Or a ‘please stop avoiding me, you stupid man’ card.”
Chuckling, Belle shakes her finger.
“Oh, he’d definitely block my number if I did. We talked just once after that near-fatality, and when he explained everything the doctor told him about his condition he was incredibly tense and awkward. I think he wants to avoid any reminders that he’s sick.”
“... Huh, so do you think he’s avoiding you because you have become a reminder?”
“I don’t know if he’s avoiding me. It just seems kind of like he might be passively trying not to be near me.” Belle taps the power button on the computer, shaking her head. “Like you said, he used to be over here all the time. Like, all the time, all the time. Once every single day, some weeks. You didn’t even see how often he was here. And he’s spent more time in my room than he has in the actual store lobby.”
“Trust me, I do know, actually," Wise mutters, glancing away when she gives him a frowny face.
“Why he stepped back and stopped coming and also started avoiding me feels like it has to be connected to the mission I went on with him.” Belle decides, going over the events again in her head.
Two coffee dates and one lunch plan down the drain. At first, it was just work calling him in, and now it is oversleeping as if he never had to go to work in the first place. Suspicious, like a cheating partner, this concerningly blatant dodging of talking to her.
“Nearly dying usually makes people cling harder to what they care about rather than turning away from them. But some people are the opposite. Maybe he just needs the space?”
“But he’s dying, Wise," Belle argues, squeezing a fistful of hair. “I just, I know. He should know that I know. And since he isn’t going to live that long, I feel like patience isn’t as easy as it would be otherwise. What if– what if he stops talking to me for a few months and during that he just…”
They both share the next exhale, a sigh split between them.
“I know he doesn’t want to be seen differently, so I feel bad getting caught up on these thoughts, but he isn’t normal, and he’s already shown that to me. I was so worried when he got discharged from the hospital, and we finally saw each other again, and then after that one quick chat, he became more like a ghost. Makes it feel almost like he did die, and I’m imagining he’s still here now.”
“If you’re that worried, then why don’t you try bringing him a treat at work? Maybe that’ll cheer him up. And no pressure to stay and talk, he is supposed to be working after all. That way, he doesn’t feel too anxious, and you don’t have to feel like his keeper.”
Wise works it all out with a snap of his finger, and Belle opens her mouth to shoot the idea down, but the more she thinks about it, the wiser it seems to be.
“Yeah, you know what? That’s not a bad idea, Wise. My brother is smart sometimes!”
“Hey,” he huffs. “I was an honors student. You didn’t even pass gym.”
“Anywayys,” Belle crosses her arms over her knees. “I know his schedule for this week and the next, he told me it when we were planning for our coffee date. I'll wait a couple of days before I act, then I will bring him something. Make it super casual, like red-bean buns. That way, Yanagi and Soukaku can enjoy the snacks too. And it doesn’t feel too on the nose that I went to see Harumasa.”
“Sounds clever, I doubt he’ll even see it coming.” Wise agrees, lifting his mug like they’re making a toast. “To that idiot's good health, and his own safety if he stands you up one more time!”
“Wise!” Belle scolds as she clinks her mug together with his anyway.
But, when they lower their cups, she drinks hers quickly to mask her mounting anxiety. It was easy to get lost thinking about what could still go wrong. Would he kick her out? Call out the day of? Be disgusted by her forwardness?
There was no way to know. And that was what was worst of all. Patience, until the day she would know for certain. Patience, patience, patience.
No, she couldn’t be patient. That was Wise’s role. Instead, she was built to be spontaneous. Harumasa likes that about her; he likes her in general. Or so she thought. But he’d appreciate this kind of gesture, she knew he would.
He really, really has to. Because it was the only idea she had left.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
Standing outside H.A.N.D. Headquarters, Belle is enraptured by the size of the building. All that government-moolah really made a difference, she had to admit it intimidated even her to see it in daylight.
It is a big metal box, modern as modern can be. Hundreds of windows tall, the cost of the wax floors alone must be more than an entire year of rent at their store. It looks to have sixty levels, if not closer to a hundred. Boxed in on both sides with concrete privacy walls and given the highest level of security of all government-affiliated offices. She realizes after a moment that she will have to get through at least two different security checks to so much as hand off a crumb to Section 6, and Harumasa couldn’t get her in if this was to remain a surprise.
Going through those sorts of checks was a little scary. She is an actual criminal after all, even if she wasn’t evil. One wrong answer and they’d start investigating her too closely. But there was no warrant out on her, no evidence of her crimes, and her personal record was squeaky clean. Still, if they checked her residence in person, the evidence was right there out in the open.
Stepping up to the first window, she gives the gruff-looking old woman an awkward smile. The com crackles for a second, then the lady's voice comes through loud and clear.
“Your business?”
“I– um, I’ve brought something for the members of Section 6.” She gestures to the brown bag and four cups of coffee wobbling in a paperboard drink carrier.
The lady looks down at the collection with a stern eye and irritated scowl.
“And do you have permission from anyone to come in? I’ve heard nothing from any of them about a visitor today.”
“Yes, it was meant to be a surprise.” Belle realizes in a flash how unsafe this would look. “But I bet that you probably get pranks like this a lot. Let me quickly give Tsukishiro Yanagi a call. She’ll vouch for me, I’m not a criminal, ha-ha!”
The lady waits while she nearly drops everything she is carrying to extract her pesky phone from the bottom of her bag. Tapping with her pinkie finger and holding the drinks a little too close to tipping for comfort, she nearly calls Harumasa by accident. Breathing a sigh of relief when her finger obeys and lingers above his name. She scrolls down and taps Yanagi’s profile instead, immediately putting the call on speaker so that she doesn’t have to move her phone up to her face.
It rings just once, then Yanagi’s voice comes through on the other end.
“Belle? Is something the matter? You don’t usually call me while I’m at work,” she responds, and Belle thinks she can hear the sound of muffled conversation behind her voice.
“Oh no, nothing serious. I’ve brought you all a few snacks and goodies! I thought you all could use a pick-me-up, right? But, I wanted it to be a surprise… so, surprise! They won't let me in the door. I didn’t really think about that. Security is a lot tighter now after Bringer went nuts.”
Yanagi is silent for a moment, then she hears gentle laughter. Belle can imagine her covering her mouth with her hand to keep herself from being heard and thought of as impolite, but the sound is caught by her phone all the same.
“That’s so sweet of you! Hold on, is it Hana there today? Let me give her permission to let you in. I’ll meet you downstairs.” Yanagi explains, and Belle can hear the elevator dinging from Yanagi moving in her direction already.
“Okay, thank you!” She half-yells into the screen, and the phone goes dark before she even has a moment to reach for the button.
Not a minute later, the lady at the desk checks something on her end, then the gate is swung open, and Belle hurries inside before anyone can change their mind.
There’s a large courtyard separating the official entrance and the building itself, and as she walks past, she sees there are a lot of regular-looking people alongside soldiers and members from the other sections in H.A.N.D. loitering about. They stare at her as she walks past, not unfriendly, but certainly curious about her entry. She ducks her head down, feeling far too seen by important and dangerous officers of the city. None of these people were on her side except for the members in Section 6.
The large bronze statue at the center of it all gives her the hibbie-gibbies, so she doesn’t linger on the man's imposing figure. She doesn’t recognize him, but maybe it was someone who provided funding. Or Bringer, which would be awkward.
Yanagi is there as promised, pushing open the door and letting out some of the building's heat. She takes the drink carrier from Belle’s hands without asking, laying her other hand across her back and shepherding her gently indoors.
“I hope I didn’t bother you while you were in a meeting,” Belle blurts out, and Yanagi pushes up her glasses, glancing down at her.
She’s a really beautiful woman with soft pink skin and even pinker eyes and hair. Her outfit is professional, not a hair out of place or a crease unironed. She goes even further than most employees of H.A.N.D. and wears stilettos every single day to work. Belle grimaces just imagining the state her ankles would be in if she tried to do the same at her own desk job.
“There was a meeting, but Chief Miyabi was in there too. She’ll give me any important notes. Don’t worry about it," she reassures her, tapping her foot as they wait for the elevator. “Are you perhaps hoping to see Harumasa? Luckily, he actually showed up to work today.”
Belle bends the brown paper bag in her hands tensely. “This visit isn’t for anybody specific! I hope these things are to everybody’s liking.”
“Soukaku will be pleased with anything,” Yanagi says with a smile. “I like most things too. Chief… I think she’s a little more picky, but anything sweet will win her over. Harumasa, on the other hand– well, he’ll drink anything if it's hot, so even if he doesn’t partake in the snacks, he will probably steal a sip from our cups once he runs out.”
“Oh, I know. He likes sour drinks but avoids sugar. They didn’t have anything exactly like that, but they did have a sandwich instead of a pastry. I got that for him. The drinks are all the same except this one, which is a miso latte. It should be more savory and less sweet, so probably best to give it to him, too. With the sandwich.”
Yanagi pauses her heel-tapping, giving Belle a funny look. It’s almost amused.
“Ah, I’ll be sure he gets those things before Soukaku eats them.” She agrees to the terms easily, smile widening.
When the elevator reaches their floor and they start their ascent, the door opens to a greeting with none other than Hoshimi Miyabi. She gives Belle an inquisitive look, red eyes narrowing at her unplanned arrival, but she isn’t unfriendly when she steps aside to let them through.
She’s a fox-thiren, and a dark-haired one with pointy ears. Her outfit is especially important, with more layers than even Yanagi’s, and she has always carried the same ancestral heirloom. A katana with a cursed spirit held inside.
“I wondered why you walked off in such a hurry. Here are your papers and billboard,” she says, offering them to Yanagi.
“O–oh, thank you so much, Chief!” Yanagi seems like she’s going to bow, but she realizes halfway that she can’t get around the drinks in her hands. Straightening, she pushes up her glasses again, looking flustered.
“Are these gifts for us?” Miyabi gestures for them to follow behind with her hand, and Belle straightens to attention at once, hurrying after her quick pace.
“That’s right! They’re for everyone in Section 6. There are a few pastries, some donuts, and four coffees for all of you. I thought after what you’ve done for me and my brother, and how hard you work to protect the city, it was the least I could do. You really have saved my skin a lot recently.”
“All of us?” She looks surprised, even with four cups of coffee right in front of her. “Not just Harumasa?”
Awkwardly, Belle glances at Yanagi, who pretends to sort her papers as best as she can with one hand instead of meeting her eyes.
Why did everyone think she was here just for Harumasa? Was it him— had he mentioned their current awkwardness to his coworkers? Were they expecting her to do something like this??
It wasn’t that he wasn’t close with the people he worked with, but she found it hard to imagine him sharing such personal details . He confided in her, but the moment another person entered the room, he’d immediately fall silent. Not to mention, on his last secret mission, he had not told any of his coworkers where he was going or what he was doing. He hadn’t told them the whole time they worked together that he is terminally ill, in fact. They only knew because Belle panicked and let them in on his location. He probably hadn’t willingly shared the details of his childhood yet, either.
Oh, maybe that was why. She was clearly close enough to Harumasa to be told the things they weren’t and warn them on his behalf. And she must care about him, since she went out of her way to make sure he had the backup he needed.
“I– I mean, there is one for Asaba. But no, it isn’t just for him. Would you like a coffee as we walk?”
“Sure, but how come there’s only four if there are five of us?” Miyabi asks, taking one of the cups out of the carrier (not the one for Harumasa, thankfully) and popping off the lid.
“Oh, I had one already. I left it in the car. I did get enough pastries to snatch one for myself, though. Nothing is poisoned, I promise!”
“This isn’t a prank Harumasa dragged you into, is it…?” The fox-thiren asks darkly while sniffing at her coffee.
“Huh, what?” Belle almost can’t process that Harumasa teases his coworkers often enough that they expect his friends to join in on the fun. “No! No, no, no, I swear on my life this was all my idea. He doesn’t know about it either. I wanted to surprise him!”
“Well, at least he’s at work today.” Miyabi echoes Yanagi’s previous comment, and the pink-haired woman sighs behind them.
“At least we know now why he took off all that sick time. And now he really is under the weather. Not all of those days were a stretch, and he’s still in recovery– so maybe these new requests are genuine. But he doesn't officially have any more sick leave left...”
“We can only hope he means it now when he calls out of work,” Miyabi says before trailing off as they enter the room.
Their shared office is really quite beautiful, in Belle’s opinion. As the most important member and the leader, Miyabi’s desk is in the center against the back wall, larger and wider than the others. The four smaller desks sit parallel to each other in two neat rows, one being well organized and clean (aside from towers of paperwork), and the other being– quite a disaster, presently.
Two huge windows let in sunlight so the employees don’t feel too caged, and though the style is modern, there is at least is a little bit more life to be found in here. Some indoor plants and more use of color than outside brighten up the accent walls. Muted blue and slate grey were at least better than white.
Glancing back and forth, Belle decides to set the bag of pastries on the cleaner-looking desk. Although the moment she does so, she realizes that the room is empty of the very person she’d come to see.
Soukaku, who is hogging the chair Belle assumes is for Yanagi, eyes the paper bag with wide eyes.
“You’re back! And you brought snacks?” She asks, mouth visibly watering. “Hi there, Belle! Didn’t expect to see you today!”
“That’s right, but wait until I get a napkin.” Yanagi scolds as the blue-oni reaches her hand out to peek inside the bag.
“Hi Soukaku. There are some red-bean buns, I hope they’re as good as the ones Yanagi buys for you.” Belle explains, pushing the bag a little closer conspiratorially.
Miyabi walks past them to get to her own desk, giving a curious glance towards Asaba’s currently empty seat.
“Where is Harumasa?” She asks.
“Oh, he said he needed to use the bathroom!” Soukaku exclaims, no dignity in her words. “And then he walked in the wrong direction! Maybe he got lost? It was after Yanagi picked up the phone during our meeting.”
Belle’s heart does a funny flip, and she squeezes the strap of her bag absentmindedly.
“He might just prefer the privacy of the bathrooms downstairs,” Yanagi explains, already returned with napkins in hand. “I’m sure he will be back soon. Until then, Belle, you can sit anywhere you like. You should get a sweet treat for coming all this way!”
“Yeah, I guess I will just sit…”
Walking over to Harumasa’s desk feels different without him sitting at it. Strange, yet some piece of her mind seems to harden the memory like it is something concrete. A sight she hasn’t known before but needs to adapt to seeing. It takes her a long while to realize why her mind had photographed it so solemnly. His desk was here, but the day he dies, it will look something a lot like this. Until they clear away all his belongings, removing every trace of him to make room for his replacement.
Stepping around slowly, Belle pulls out the swivel chair and tenderly takes a seat. It feels too intimate to lean back, so she keeps herself poised on the edge. It feels different to look at the office from this angle. She’s only ever looked at the wall behind Harumasa’s head.
Soukaku rips into the bag and starts eating a red-bean bun without any more delays. Yanagi scolds her, then brings over a napkin and gently pushes aside some of the things Harumasa had in the way to give Belle a little spot to eat on his desk.
“Would you like anything in particular?” she asks, and Belle silently shakes her head.
Giving her another unreadable look, Yanagi returns with a powdery donut and then steps back to do the same for Miyabi.
With their attention elsewhere, Belle feels suddenly overwhelmed by a desire to touch. To be nosy was normal, but she felt so disconnected from Harumasa all of a sudden in a painful way. Like a circuit that’d been cut. Had they even known each other, or was she just a spectator? Watching his life from the outside, never truly being allowed to come closer.
Running her hand across the folders, she glances over at the other members, understanding that touching official work documents would be wildly against protocol and could get her kicked out, or worse, arrested. But once she starts, it feels like the reward is too good not to take the risk.
Opening the first drawer, she sharply inhales when several bottles of different pills roll around, jostled by the motion. Picking one out, she looks at it numbly, not able to read the label. She just holds it in her hand, her heart heavy. Each container has been dotted with a different colored marker on the center of the lid, probably to make sure he didn’t take them together and risk an unpleasant reaction.
There’s also the usual office supplies, a handful of pencils with most missing their erasers, but still having lead left. Beneath that drawer is one with a few things that look like they’re for his weapon. A canister of grease and a sharpening stone for his arrow tips, alongside a half-used powercell. The final drawer is larger and taller than the rest, and it contains files, which she doesn’t dare to touch. Those had to be related to work.
Giving a long sigh, she starts moving things around on top of the desk instead. Tidying, which was very unlike her. Wise would be shocked to see her be the one to clean up a mess by herself, whether she was responsible for it or not. It wasn’t as bad as it looked on first appraisal, maybe there was some organization to the chaos that she was messing up, but she couldn’t stop her twitching fingers from lingering on these— small details.
The little part of his life that he spent so long trying to achieve, working so much overtime to be considered amongst all other applicants, even with his illness, yet he paid so little attention to now that he had seen success. She supposed that after all that schooling and physical training, he realized that the years he had left weren’t as long as he’d expected. He still got the job, but why work hard when he’s not going to see a meaningful promotion?
Swallowing, she tries to stop thinking of him that way. Putting folders together in one pile, she stacks up papers that were sitting out in the open into proper alignment. Then she starts to pay more mind to the little things on the desk that have nothing to do with the job.
Harumasa had brought a few decorations; it seemed to make the desk his own. Though she’d seen every member of Section 6 working at different desks around the room, it appeared they were assigned specific ones at the beginning, which caused them to have a few belongings that spoke only to them.
He had a replica of Newton’s Cradle, a special-edition soda bottle from a vending machine, and he even had a pair of glasses that Belle wasn’t convinced could be used and weren’t just to mimic Yanagi. Picking them up, she sticks her fingers and wiggles them. No glass, so no prescription. She can see it then, him putting these on and mimicking Yanagi in front of Soukaku, pretending to have it all together and working the hardest of anyone in the room.
It would be funny, but only because it was him, and Belle smiles at his terrible sense of humor.
Gel pens, regular vitamins anyone might take in a glass bottle, lotion, and bandages set together as a set, a small tool-kit missing the smallest screwdriver, a Polaroid camera with a scratch on the top. Belle picks up each item and stares holes into it like she can freeze them in place, keeping them there for good. When she returns them to their rightful place, it feels like she’ll never see them again.
She sways a little, gravitating towards the back of the chair.
“Belle?” Miyabi’s voice cuts her out of her reverie, and she looks up at her in surprise.
It hurts to breathe, and Belle can feel the tears stinging in her eyes. Standing up suddenly, she forgets all about her intentions, and hurriedly tries to babble out some excuse about needing to get back, apologizing for bothering them, and then hurries out the entryway.
Everyone exchanges glances, a look of understanding passing between Yanagi and Miyabi. Even Soukaku, who isn’t the best at picking up on emotions, can feel the tension left in the air and eats a bit more quietly to match the heavy mood.
Belle walks right past the elevator and decides to take the stairs, too embarrassed to be seen crying in a public space filled with all these important people, and especially not in a cramped elevator full of people just trying to do their job like it was another regular day. Because for her, it wasn’t.
Leaving was much easier than entering, she found. Looking back at the center just once, she rubbed at her cheeks and sighed once the air was no longer that same stagnant, corporate film. Then she hurried to leave, not wanting to stay a moment longer in a place that she was growing to resent more and more by the moment.
❛ ━━━━━━･❪ 🎕 ❫ ･━━━━━━ ❜
Belle, who had no idea that if she’d taken the elevator that day, then at that exact moment she would have run into the very person she was hoping to see.
Harumasa, having splashed some water onto his pallid face and worked down the nausea, feels brave enough to come out of hiding. Having sat directly next to Yanagi, he’d heard when she said Belle’s name, and putting two and two together, he figured they’d either be seeing her here or they’d be going to help her elsewhere. Either way, he needed to get himself together and breathe.
Hurrying to the bathroom came after getting some fresh air. Breathing in the cold breeze on the rooftop helped him calm down, and once his anxiety settled, he went back and tried to make himself look presentable. He’d not even bothered to comb his hair that morning; going to work was already exhausting enough.
Using the elevator was obviously vital because the stairs were far too tiring for too little reward. He needed to save his energy for something real. Harumasa approached the office with careful steps and took in a deep breath, pointlessly trying to smooth down the wrinkles in his work shirt, and putting on his most playful smile.
But when he rounded the corner, it looked like a regular workday. Aside from Soukaku, who had powdered sugar all over her hands and cheeks, the other two were silently doing paperwork while sipping matching cups of coffee.
He’d overreacted. Of course he had. Belle wasn’t coming here. She was too busy for that. Maybe she just had a question for Yanagi. That’d make just as much sense, so why did he assume?
Clearing his throat and letting his face fall back into a frown, he quickly moved to take a seat at his desk. But when he reaches for the paper he’d been working on before their earlier meeting started, he finds it isn’t where he left it. Then his attention is grabbed by something else. A napkin with a donut on it.
“Aww, for me?” he asks, glancing over at Yunagi. “Was this you? That was very kind of you, dear colleague! I’m touched!”
Even though he didn’t really like anything with a gooey filling covered in sugar, he takes a performative bite and forces himself to look pleased.
“Oh, that? That wasn’t me.” Yanagi says, sounding standoffish. She doesn’t even take her eyes off her paper.
“Yeah, stupid! And that donut wasn’t yours either! This was for you, Yanagi said I couldn’t have it!” Soukaku jumps in, leaping from her seat and bringing him a hot cup of coffee and a deli sandwich. Which looked both healthy and more suitable to his own tastes than the donut.
He takes both items wordlessly, his heart pounding a little painfully in his chest. His gaze flicks over to Miyabi, who meets his eyes with one eyebrow raised. As if testing him to see if he will ask aloud, or put the pieces together himself.
“Oh, that— is that what your call was about? Belle dropped off these goodies for us?” He guesses, feeling a bit childish for his prior reaction.
“Not dropped off, no. She came inside. Brought them upstairs and waited in here for a while for you to come back.” Yanagi says, turning a page quite sharply. “Then she got upset after seeing how messy your desk is.”
“I don’t think that’s why she was upset…” Miyabi quietly amends.
“You– you mean, she was in here? Wait— she came here, waited in here, and then, so this–” Harumasa looks down at the sudden organization of his desk and the donut in his hand, suddenly feeling sick for reasons entirely different from the norm. So it wasn’t a prank on him.
“Yeah, she just left. Your timing was so bad!” Soukaku says, kicking up her feet.
Without another word, he stands and rushes back out of the office, not even caring how ridiculous it might look to them. If he moves with purpose, maybe he could still catch up. He hadn’t meant to upset her; he hadn’t known she’d go so far just to see him.
But that was probably the point. It was a surprise. To make him feel better. Or, just to see him at all. A way to confirm he was doing alright.
Heart squeezing in his chest, Harumasa pulls out his phone, typing frantically, then deleting the message a few times over as he jumps down the stairs and tries to multitask. When he reaches the ground floor, he settles on a slightly playful but entirely apologetic message asking her if she’s still in the area, and that he doesn’t want to miss her.
Letting the message send, he rushes out the door and looks frantically around the lobby and courtyard, hurrying down the steps.
It isn’t quite right to say he walks, as it isn’t a run, but it is close. He glances up at the bronze statue with repulsion, disgusted with the bureaucracy of it, but there is no sight of Belle inside the courtyard' sprawling concrete walls.
Rushing over to the security checkpoint, he scans his ID and slips out, stopping to speak to the guard.
“Excuse me, excuse me!” he calls, waving frantically until the woman glances up, flipping a switch to allow his voice to come through.
“Excuse me, have you seen a woman? She’s about this tall, has short hair, and really big blue-green eyes. She likes wearing a bit of orange, too.”
“Yeah, I’ve seen her,” the lady says. “What of it? Was she a criminal after all?”
“No, no, nothing like that. I just— has she left?”
“Yes, probably not five minutes ago.”
Tightening his hand into a fist and touching his forehead, Harumasa grits his teeth.
“Did she walk or take a car?”
“I believe she drove. She showed up with a lot of stuff in her hands. That would be a lot to walk around carrying without spilling.”
Checking his phone to see no new messages, he scanned down the street and saw little of note except regular mid-day traffic.
“I see. Well… thanks anyway.”
He lingers for an awkwardly long stretch of time outside the gate, refreshing his phone over and over. But no reply comes. Only after he starts to shiver does he realize he can’t wait forever, and he lets out a slightly anguished sigh. He has to admit it to himself. He’d messed up. Like, really messed up this time.
Letting himself back into the building, he drags his feet as he makes his way back to the office, eyes glued to his phone as he tries and fails to get a response. How funny, he’s probably done this a lot himself to her. Now that the roles were reversed, he realized it really did feel awful beyond comparison.
Sinking into his chair in an aggrieved slouch, he stares up at the ceiling.
“Did you catch up to her?” Miyabi asks, though she can probably guess the answer.
“No,” he says. “I just missed her.”
“Well. That’s what happens when we run away from important meetings.” Yanagi murmurs, and Harumasa shoots her a tired glare.
“I’m sorry my bladder is of such concern to you, ma’am. And Soukaku uses the bathroom during meetings all the time. This is transparent favoritism on display.”
“Soukaku asks first and doesn’t take twenty minutes, but I have no authority to take away your bathroom privileges, so we’ll leave it at that.”
“Hush, both of you, drink your coffee and focus. We got a little distracted, but we have a lot to get done today.” Miyabi reminds them, scratching her signature on a document. “If we don’t get these done, we won't be able to do any field work next week. Nothing sounds worse than more paperwork, don’t you think?”
Harumasa and Soukaku both groan, while Yanagi just shrugs her shoulders lightly, giving an awkward smile.
And he does work, just to distract his mind, and the way he keeps swaying back and forth in his chair, nervous. Biting at his pencils to self-soothe. He has to put his phone away when he realizes his attention isn’t just split, but overtaken by its empty presence. After a boringly long stretch of reading documents, his hand absentmindedly reaches for his coffee.
Taking the first sip, his eyes widened with surprise.
Holding up the little hole for drinking to his nose, he breathed in the smell. Miso… a miso latte. He’d never had such a thing, but the distinctive, slightly musky flavor is unmistakable. It wasn’t sweet like he was expecting, but the change is welcome. He liked his coffee plain, normally.
“Wow, what are our thoughts on the miso lattes?” He asks loudly, taking another sip.
“Hm..? Oh, that.” Yanagi pushes her glasses up on her nose. “Ours are caramel.”
“Huh?”
“I said our lattes,” she gestured towards her own cup. “They’re all the same. Caramel, at least I think it's caramel. It tastes sweet, so it could be vanilla, but I think it is too strong.”
“... Why’s mine different? Was this also not for me?”
“No, it was. She said so herself. The sandwich and the specialty latte. Because you’re such a picky eater, she got these specifically for you.”
Harumasa stares down at his paperwork in a blur, his lungs feeling suddenly too constricted to form words.
Head thudding onto his desk, Harumasa groans, exhaustion suddenly weighing down his bones.
“I’m such a horrible person,” he whispers.
He didn’t get much more work done that day. Or much more sleep. But considering everything, that almost felt like exactly what he deserved. Another horrible night to lead into another long, unforgiving day.