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The new year means very little to Kyouka, much like every other holiday. The only way she will acknowledge one year passing on the torch to the next is fiscally, when the Hell Guard’s budget needs to be reevaluated and redistributed. Anything other than that is uneventful. Sure, there might be an uptick in public disturbance, but that's nothing her squad can't handle.
She's sitting at her desk, paperwork piled high for ongoing cases, when a knock sounds at her door.
“Come in.”
She really shouldn't be surprised to see him at this point. Arkha Corvus has been making more frequent visits as of late.
“I figured I'd find you here,” he says, one hand in the pocket of a dark gray suit she's never seen before, while the other is holding a long, thin gift bag. “Lemme guess: you don't like this holiday either?”
Kyouka rolls her eyes, refusing to let them linger on his new, well-fitted attire. “It isn't a matter of liking or disliking it. There's nothing to differentiate it from yesterday or the day before that, so why bother?”
“Oh, I wouldn't be so doom and gloom about it.” He crosses the room and leans his hip on the other side of her desk as if he owns the place. “Things have meaning because we make it so. A lot of people use the new year as a blank slate to set new goals. Isn't that also true of the Hell Guard?”
“Quotas and goals aren't the same thing,” she replies, refocusing on the reports in need of her signature. “Distant relatives, maybe, but the only reason we align them with the new year is because of the calendar change. You can pick any old day to set a new goal and it can be just as effective. Nice try, though.”
“Oh?” He chuckles as if they’re both in on some joke, when really it’s only him. “And what exactly am I trying to do?”
Kyouka gives him a dismissive wave of her hand. “You want me to go outside and enjoy the festivities, or whatever fantasy you’ve cooked up in that hopeless romantic brain of yours.”
“Hopeless romantic? Didn’t know you thought so highly of me.”
“Of course I don’t.”
“I disagree.”
She sighs. “Of course you do.”
His eyes are needles on her skin, each prickle another reminder of the fact that he won’t be leaving her alone until he gets whatever it is he wants. Shamefully, a small part of Kyouka doesn’t want him to leave. However, that side of her does not play into her refusal to indulge in his whims. It’s nothing more than a convenient side effect.
“So, how about it? How about you join me for dinner and some fireworks?”
“I’ll pass.”
He smiles with a lazy tilt of his head. “Don’t think of it as… What did you call it? Festivities? Think of it instead as a dinner break, which is required by the Hell Guard’s employee contract, while fireworks happen to light up the sky simultaneously. In that vein, it’s all just coincidence, don’t you think?”
Such a smooth talker. Somehow, him being so charming only irritates her further. “You sure love twisting words, don’t you?”
“I don’t see how anything I’ve said is incorrect.”
While he may be right, Kyouka isn’t about to admit that out loud. “Let me guess: you have no intention of leaving me alone until I agree to dinner?”
Arkha brushes the lapel of his jacket with a prideful smile. “Well, I would hate to break out this new suit for nothing.”
Rolling her eyes, Kyouka sets down her pen. “For the record, I do take meal breaks. Food is brought here.”
“Is that so?” He takes a seat in the chair opposite her desk, crossing one leg over the other and propping an elbow up on the armrest, his head leaning on one hand. “Fine by me.”
Kyouka’s lip twitches in the corner, more because of the traitorous feelings of relief settling in her chest. “Fine. Stay. See if I care.”
She does. And they both know it.
When dinner is brought to her office, Kyouka ensures that there’s enough for two, a request that surprises her subordinates to a degree that makes her pause and wonder if Arkha has a point. Not about holidays, but about her overworking tendencies. She sighs as she places the bag of food on her now cleared off desk. Her reports have been set to the side for now, tucked away on a side table that will glare her down as she eats.
Arkha eyes the spread of food once they’ve laid it all out and looks up at her with that easy smile of his. “You have quite the traditional palette.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“No, just taking note.” He separates their portions of rice and soup equally in the bowls provided before opening up the container of grilled meat. It’s not much in terms of flavor, just salted with some pickled vegetables on the side. With a job as complicated as hers, Kyouka likes to keep some things simple. “I have a feeling you would’ve gotten along with my grandfather. He ate this same meal almost daily.”
“Let me guess,” Kyouka says, handing him a fork and knife. “You found him to be an incredibly boring man? Overly harsh? Or perhaps even negligent?”
“Absolutely not,” he responds, refusing the silverware and instead opting for the spare set of chopsticks. “I loved my grandfather. He was a great man, one I have always looked up to. He was strict, but fair, and I never once doubted his love for me and my family. I have a lot of respect for those who share his qualities.”
Kyouka pauses and sets the unnecessary utensils down. She hates being wrong about people, but what she hates even more is the sudden feeling of relief to be wrong. Never in her life has she felt this way, but now the idea of being wrong makes her almost… happy? For fuck’s sake, this is ridiculous. “I see.”
Arkha sits back down and leans in on his chair, breaking his chopsticks apart in a perfectly even split. He looks more than a little pleased with himself. “Shall we eat?”
The more time passes between them, the harder it becomes for Kyouka to convince herself that tonight is just like any other - a fact that has nothing to do with the holiday. In a way, it’s frustrating. She doesn’t dislike Arkha, that much is clear, but she can’t seem to bring herself to settle down when he’s around. Yes, he’s a giver, which undeniably contributes to her reservations, but he’s also persistent when he wants to be, persuasive when he needs to be, and patient without her having to ask him to be.
Why does someone like that insist on spending his limited free time with her? Kyouka has never once made their interactions easy on him, completely by choice, and yet he keeps coming back to her side as if he enjoys being there. Either that, or this is all some elaborate scheme to uncover classified Hell Guard reports, but he should know that there are better officers to target than her for such information. Besides, she has nothing to hide. Everything she’s ever done has been by the books, above and beyond the Hell Guard’s standards.
No. While she can’t rule out any suspicious activity in its entirety, she feels confident that Arkha is not here on some covert mission. Then why? Why does he keep coming back?
“You know,” he says, finishing the last of his soup and drawing her out of her thoughts. “When it’s just the two of us like this, it almost feels like we're on a date. Especially with you ignoring me.”
“Hm?” She looks up to find his gaze warm and infuriatingly patient, as always. “And what do you suggest we talk about?”
His question comes without a moment’s hesitation. “How’s your brother doing?”
“Goka's fine, same as always.”
“Have you spoken to Zanka lately?”
“No.”
“Would you like to?”
Yes. “No.”
He frowns, but it’s short-lived. “A shame, really. He’s turning into a fine young man. Mature, reliable, he even-”
“How’s the Sphereite?” Kyouka doesn’t acknowledge the sharp twist in her chest. She never does whenever Zanka comes up in conversations. Instead, she does the only thing that helps soothe the ache: she changes the subject. “Is he acclimating to his new environment?”
Arkha sets down his chopsticks and folds his hands together. “Yes. Rudo is an exceptional Cleaner. He’s helped save many civilians from trash beasts in such a short time, and he’s even planting roots here on the Ground. I think he might end up choosing to stay here, regardless of whether or not a path back to the Sphere opens up for him.”
“I see.” She fixes her eyes on his, searching for something she can’t quite name. “And when do I get to meet him?”
“All in due time.”
“I’m not too fond of your vague attitude.”
Arkha laughs, a warm, hearty sound that eases her anxieties despite her desire for them to stay on high alert. “You’re fond of me well enough, I should think.”
“Think harder.”
He laughs again, his smile coaxing out the crow’s feet from the corners of his eyes. “Never a dull moment with you, huh?”
Kyouka doesn’t respond to that, resuming her meal in silence, but the heat rising to her cheeks seems to satisfy him.
Once they’ve both finished, Arkha reaches down into the bag he brought with him and pulls out a bottle of wine. “Care for a drink?”
Kyouka raises her brow and looks down her nose at the dark, glass bottle. “Are you trying to seduce classified information out of me?”
She knows the answer to that, and he knows that she knows the answer to that, but still he responds in an even tone. “No, of course not. Well, I’m not looking for information, at least. I’d be more than happy to seduce you, though, if that’s what you’re hoping for.”
In an equally level tone, Kyouka turns the tables back on him. “I’m not the one who brought alcohol to my place of work. Wouldn’t it be fair to say that you are the one with high hopes here?” As she says this, she also calls for two wine glasses to be brought to her office as soon as possible.
The wine is a crisp, dry red, about twelve years old, and it’s smooth as it passes through Kyouka’s lips. Impressed, she doesn’t notice when her voice softens an octave or two. “Since when are you a sommelier?”
Arkha chuckles into the rim of his glass. “I’m glad you like it. You didn’t strike me as the sweet, bubbly type of drinker, so I had to make a guess.”
“And here I thought you were fond of sweets,” Kyouka remarks in between sips. “Or have you finally come around?”
“Heh. Don’t worry, my sweet tooth hasn’t gone anywhere,” he says, taking a noticeably smaller sip than hers. “But I like to try and keep my lady happy.”
Kyouka almost chokes on her wine, her face erupting in flames that have nothing to do with the alcohol. “Your what now?”
This time, his laughter rings like a bell, clear and uncomplicated. There’s a simplicity to it that makes her feel at ease. “What exactly would you call us, in that case?”
Her heart is hammering in her chest, loud enough that she’s worried he can hear from his side of the desk, but she can’t let any of it show. “We are two civil servants who work for adjacent entities.”
“Kyouka, be reasonable.”
“I am always reasonable.”
He takes another sip of his wine, larger this time. “Of course.” Another sip, more like a gulp. “Well, well, look at that,” he says, motioning his glass towards the window behind her desk. It’s a good view of the city, but she’s usually inclined to keep the curtains drawn. Tonight, however, she has kept them open for one reason or another.
A flurry of smoke and bright, colorful lights trail up into the night sky, splattering the clouds like splotches of paint. She looks to the wall clock on her left to confirm: it's midnight.
“Happy new year,” Arkha says, his voice low and as smooth as the wine, coming up behind her with one gloved hand on the small of her back. “They really are beautiful, aren't they?”
Kyouka leans into his touch and clutches her wine glass close to her chest. “They're also a fire hazard. But,” she amends and looks up to his face, handsome in a way that reminds her of chiseled marble. “I suppose it's a nice view.”
He kisses her then, softly, slowly, like he's hoping for time to stop, and despite the dryness of his drink, his lips taste pleasantly sweet.
Kyouka doesn't care for the new year and all the festivities surrounding it, that much is certain, but moments like this? With Arkha? Well… perhaps moments like these are worth celebrating.