Fruits Basket Fan Fiction ❯ A Bump in the Road ❯ The Princess and the Pooch ( Chapter 7 )

A Bump in the Road: Chapter Seven

 

A/N: Yay for updates! And yay for Aoi's super-excellent beta-reading skillz! And yay for the holidays being over! So, please enjoy the first chapter of the new year!

 

Chapter Seven: The Princess and the Pooch

 

The quality of mercy is not strain'd.
It droppeth as the gentle rain from heaven
Upon the place beneath.
It is twice blest:
It blesseth him that gives and him that takes.

~Merchant of Venice IV i

 

A steady, hard rattling, like pebbles against tin, nudged the Dog from the deep, content slumber that had wrapped itself around him. With a soft groan, he pried open one eye to glare at the window. The sky was foreboding and grey (and by this point he was an expert on grey), dark clouds gathering in a thick mass above. Frozen rain mixed with sleet pelted against the window; his first thoughts were of Kyou. He imagined the Cat was suffering through this; warm weather, cold weather, it didn't matter -- rain was rain.

 

He sighed. Well, that settles it. Things could always be worse. He was injured and stuck in his animal form -- he could have been injured, stuck in his animal form, and affected adversely by the weather.

 

Shigure stretched gingerly; the all-over ache was still annoyingly present, but it seemed - at least he thought it seemed - to have lessened somewhat, though that could have been nothing more than wishful thinking and the residual painkillers in his system. Lifting his head slowly, the black dog peered at the clock on the nightstand. It was, by his estimation, about fifteen minutes before hime-chan would wake for her morning run.

 

His eyes went to the window again. Correction. It's fifteen minutes before I hope she leaves for her run. It was cold yesterday and she went, but it wasn't cold, soggy, and slippery.

 

Exhaling softly, he dropped his gaze to the sleeping woman. She was still stretched out on top of the blankets, the novel propped open against her chest, her glasses still firmly in place. He shook his head slowly, breathing a silent chuckle. She's probably freezing. Shaking his head, Shigure nosed gently at her arm. If she wakes up, she'll at least get up and go for her run; then I can figure out where she keeps her phone and...

 

His thoughts stuttered to a stop as she rolled onto her side, snuggling against him, her glasses going askew.

 

It made perfect sense, of course. He was warm. He had fur, for heaven's sake. And she - well, she'd slept without any covers, and she was cold.

 

She was cold, and he was warm. Simple, really. A scientific matter of body heat that Ha-san would have explained perfectly. So, what he really needed to do was wake her up. Right. I need to wake her up, get her out, and then I'll call...

 

She sighed, pressing her cheek against his shoulder.

 

Dammit. Focus.

 

Uttering a low, whining groan, Shigure shifted slowly, prodding her neck with what he knew to be a very cold, very wet nose. She gave a soft mutter, slowly blinking awake and staring at him for several seconds as if she couldn't quite figure out what either of them were doing there. She twisted to examine the alarm clock and groaned again, pulling off her glasses and dropping them on the nightstand.

 

"It's too early, you little sadist," she yawned, pulling the blankets back and wriggling under them.

 

Too early? This from the woman who got even less dressed than she is now to go outside and RUN, of all things? Are you insane?

 

"S'raining," she pouted, snuggling against him again. "And it's Saturday. And I'm cold."

 

Dammit. If this was going to happen, why the hell did I have to be a dog for it?

 

Suppressing a mutter, Shigure nosed his way under the blankets. If she wasn't going for a run, he wasn't going to be able to phone Hatori. The dog situated himself on his uninjured side, keeping his back to hime-chan, who had reclaimed slumber with a speed that surprised him. She seemed to be sleeping quite soundly, and Shigure toyed with the idea of sneaking out of bed and at least attempting a phone call, but those thoughts were quashed once a soft, contented sigh tickled his ear. Maybe not.

 

It was a setback, yes -- a minor setback. Madame Opportunity had to present herself sooner or later, hopefully hand-in-hand with Lady Luck. He'd get his chance; he was sure of it -- he always got a chance. That's what Shigure did -- he seized opportunities. It wasn't a matter of if an opportunity would arise -- it was a matter of when. Satisfied, he let his body sink into the warmth of the bed and blankets before drifting off to sleep once more.

 

***

 

Yuki ran his hand over his face, taking another look at the printout. He and Kyou had started early, taking turns calling the numbers on the list while Honda-san was at school. She was due home any moment now, and while the Rat and Cat had nearly worked through the entire printout of veterinary clinics, pet stores, and animal shelters, the much shorter list of places that had a large black dog on record did not look optimistic.

 

And Shigure still hadn't called.

 

Damn it.

 

***

 

Goddammit.

 

It wasn't fair. It really wasn't fair. In fact, just when it seemed that the situation's unfairness had reached its absolute peak, something else happened. And now, now, after all that had already transpired, Shigure was absolutely, positively beside himself.

 

How could a person not have a telephone?

 

Scratch that -- how could a person's only means of verbal communication with the outside world be a little chunk of plastic and metal, folded in such a way that he could never, ever open the godforsaken thing?

 

Shigure glared at the tiny piece of accursed technology lying innocuously on the living room couch. The only way he could open it was to use his teeth, and damned if that wouldn't be interesting to explain. And even if he did manage to open the flip-phone, there was still the matter of the buttons. They were miniscule rectangles clearly not made for canine paws.

 

"Okay," he breathed. "Pull yourself together. There's a way out of this - you just have to find it." Shigure pushed himself to his feet, swearing and sitting immediately as a sharp twinge came from his wrist. Closing his eyes, he kept one ear was trained on the soft rush of water; hime-chan was still in the shower -- good. "Think. Just think. All right. I can't call Ha-san. I can't stay here. What am I supposed to do - walk home?" Shigure gave a brisk, disgusted shake of his head. "Fantastic idea. Because the possibility for exposing myself in public is so much more appealing..."

 

He closed his eyes and uttered a low, frustrated whine. Dammit, Ha-san, I'm trying to do something here, but I'm stuck!

 

No. No, he was not stuck. This wasn't the time or place for self-pity. There was a way out of the situation; there had to be. He was a writer, for God's sake! He'd created more difficult problems than this! The fact that he couldn't think of a single one was neither here nor there. And, again, the novelist felt a sharp craving for a cigarette.

 

He gritted his teeth and closed his eyes, concentrating. "All right. What would Ha-san do?" Though Shigure never would have admitted it to the doctor freely -- or without a great deal of liquor involved -- he privately considered Ha-san something of a gold standard for integrity.

 

What would Ha-san do? He would've looked both ways before crossing the damned street!

 

"No," he growled, shaking his head again. "Not helping." Ha-san would... he would ... do the safest thing possible. Which... which in this case would probably be to wait for someone to notice him gone and come collect him. Hime-chan said she was going to put up flyers, so... logically, someone's going to have to see them. The children on the way to school, maybe. Someone will see them. All right. Now - transformation? Of course, if Ha-san were here and he transformed, water issues aside, well... well, he'd take care of that, too. So. I cross my fingers -- figuratively speaking -- and hope someone's observant enough to -

 

At this point, the novelist's canine body began to complain - heartily. It had been too many hours since his last dose of painkillers. His train of thought effectively cut off, he lowered himself to the living room floor with a heartfelt groan. Ow! I hurt. And I'm a dog. And I hurt!

 

He stayed like that, sprawled out on the floor, eyes closed, a litany of soft whines forming in the back of his throat. Shigure's sensitive ears picked up a series of light footfalls and when he forced his eyes open and looked up, hime-chan was standing there, her hair damp and combed back, her body swathed in a robe. She was looking down at him, her eyes wide.

 

She looked... concerned. Worried. Afraid?

 

"What are you doing way out here, big guy?" Dropping to her knees, she leaned forward, touching his nose softly. Her frown deepened. "Hm. Dry. A little warm," she murmured to herself. Sighing deeply, she did the only thing she could do at that moment - she brought her hand to his head and petted him. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I'm sorry you hurt. I'm sorry Taka didn't listen. You're gonna be all right, okay?" Blowing out a deep breath, she shook her head and stood, quick steps taking her to the kitchen. She returned a few seconds later, something clutched in her hand. Shigure sincerely hoped they were painkillers.

 

The canine watched intently as she lowered herself back down to her knees, holding her hand out flat, a piece of - he sniffed - pork was in the middle of her palm. He lifted his head and took the offering willingly, ignoring the bitter, powdery taste that clung to the meat.

 

"Come on, you," she urged gently. "This can't be comfortable."

 

Shigure let her hands guide him to his feet. What had been a dull ache was growing more insistent now, and his steps were slow, but steady. He didn't entirely care where she led him, as long as it wasn't a long trip.

 

"That's it. That's a good boy..."

 

She was carefully guiding him onto the couch, which would have allowed Shigure to get an even closer look at the cell phone he'd been cursing earlier. Kneeling by the sofa, she ran one hand lightly over his bandaged ribs. "Poor thing," she breathed, half to herself. After a moment, she looked at him, frowned, and shook her head. Without another word, she stood again and left the room, returning shortly thereafter with a blanket. Had Shigure not been so uncomfortable -- though that was slowly changing -- he would have laughed.

 

"Just for a little while," she said as she shook out the afghan and placed it over him.

 

Exhaling a careful breath, Shigure settled under the afghan. When he inhaled -- also carefully -- the unique scent of fabric softener, tea, and eucalyptus filled his nose. Breathing deeply, Shigure's limbs relaxed as the world blurred. The Dog let his eyes slide shut, eased to sleep more quickly by the gentle scratching behind one ear. He exhaled in a soft sigh as his discomfort slowly faded.

 

And the princess rescues the prince one more time.

 

***

 

Time had passed.  Shigure wasn't sure how he knew, only that he knew. He'd fallen into a comfortable, dreamless doze, but even in his current state, he could tell that minutes had passed, or possibly hours. Something was warm against his cheek. Shigure's mind still felt like it was wrapped in sopping wool, but consciousness teased at him, and he slowly eased his eyes open. He was still on the couch. A black and white movie -- at least he was pretty sure it was a black and white movie -- flashed across the television screen, the volume low. He couldn't tell how much time had passed; frozen rain and sleet still pattered against the windows, and the house was quiet aside from the television. Yawning widely, Shigure shifted, feeling blissfully heavy, and rubbed his face contentedly against a warm, denim-covered leg.

 

...What?

 

The Dog blinked once and turned his head. Sure enough, hime-chan was curled up in the corner of the couch with his head resting heavily in her lap. Her hand drifted lightly over his head, fingertips tracing the line of his ears with a slow, lazy motion as she watched the movie playing out on the television. Shigure blinked, tilting his head slightly, and took this moment to watch her unnoticed. Her dark hair was short, barely brushing her shoulders, and looked as if it was still damp from her shower. No longer wrapped in a bathrobe, she now wore jeans and a sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo of what looked like a university, but he wasn't curious enough to stretch and shift to get a better look.

 

Smothering another yawn, Shigure's eyes went back to the television. His first guess had been right -- it was an older movie she was watching. American. This made his eyebrows knit together slightly; she didn't seem like the type to watch foreign films -- particularly older foreign films. Assuming she is a "type," and assuming I'd know what type she is. I wouldn't have taken her for the type to bring a strange dog into her home, either. I also wouldn't have expected her to be the type to date a man with such awful driving skills. So she is clearly a woman whose judgment is, at best, questionable.

 

Turning his attention back to the screen, Shigure watched for a moment, trying to place the actors. Katherine Hepburn glided across the screen, eventually followed by Cary Grant, and Jimmy Stewart. There were no subtitles transcribing the rapid-fire dialogue, and he found he couldn't quite manage to apply what English he did know -- his head was far too fuzzy. But after watching for a few moments, it dawned on him that he'd seen this one once before. It had been on late one night, and while the dubbing had been laughable, the movie itself hadn't been bad. He searched the stores of his admittedly muddy memory, searching for the title, but coming up empty. It was something like The Story-Something, or The Something-Story, or The Something-Something.

 

Closing his eyes, he shifted sleepily, letting the nonsense words wash over him, lulling him back into the comfortable haze he'd been pulled from. He rested like that for a while longer, fading in and out of consciousness, aware of the warm leg under his head as well as the slow, soothing ministrations along his ears. Before long, the dialogue stopped, and the only sound was of the sleet hitting the roof and windows. Shigure cracked open one eye long enough to see hime-chan pick up the remote control and switch off the television and DVD player before leaning back and stretching leisurely. He lifted his head a bit as she shifted, and when she looked down at him, she seemed almost surprised to find him awake. That surprise slowly melted into a small smile and she rubbed his ears gently.

 

"Feeling better, I hope." When Shigure nosed her hand by way of answer, she nodded to herself before slowly easing off the couch. Shigure lifted his head as she moved, the better to let her get to her feet. He closed his eyes again, listening as she yawned and stretched, joints popping. After a moment, he felt her kneel next to the couch, touching his nose lightly. Blinking his eyes open, the Dog regarded her from bad-breath distance. Perhaps she was still uncomfortable with the idea of a strange animal in her house -- although that didn't quite explain how at ease she seemed around him -- but Shigure had grown to appreciate the woman's careful touch.

 

Of course, her darling Taka had been the one driving, so perhaps gentleness was one way of making up for her beloved's negligence.

 

"You worried me for a bit there, pup," she murmured, stroking his muzzle. She watched him thoughtfully for a moment or two and then stood and padded into the kitchen. He could hear her moving about, opening and closing cabinets; the clink of glass and a metallic clatter followed. The scent of cooking meat soon filled the air, and, despite the fact she'd already fixed him his customary breakfast of leftovers, Shigure wondered -- hoped, really -- if she was planned on sharing her dinner with him again.

 

It wasn't long before she returned, carrying a wide dish that was, by this point, happily familiar to him. Shigure sat up slowly, the blanket falling away as he eased himself off the couch. She set the dish on the floor, and while he was somewhat surprised that she was letting him eat in a room other than the kitchen, that surprise was short-lived as he dug into the dish of meat, rice and eggs she'd prepared. After a few bites, he realized she hadn't stayed in the room with him. The Dog frowned a little at that, but shook it off. There was no reason for her to stick by his side constantly, after all, so he turned his attention to his meal. A polite guest eats his dinner before it gets cold, after all.

 

After Shigure had licked the dish clean, he straightened, taking cautious, limping steps out of the living room. He heard her voice coming from the study and, ears flicking once, he turned and headed that way. The world was growing less fuzzy, but his steps were still fairly uncertain as he favored his forepaw. After what felt like a long, exhausting trek, Shigure found his hime-chan in her office, her meal cold and untouched as she spoke into a cell phone.

 

The dog stopped and blinked once. When had she become his "hime-chan"?

 

Certainly he appreciated the fact that she hadn't abandoned him at the vet's office, and he was definitely grateful for a warm place to sleep in a home completely void of dog food. He was also thankful that she was genuinely worried about him. Shigure was all too aware of the various ways this scenario could have worked out. But... his?

 

It's not as if we have any sort of claim on each other; she is a kind woman who took in an injured animal. She is not "mine." She's not mine any more than I'm hers. The very idea was positively ridiculous. Shigure certainly belonged to no one. He was his own man... most of the time, and when he wasn't his own man, he was his own dog.

 

But then he was reminded of careful hands petting him, gentle fingers tracing the triangular ears atop his head or touching his nose to check for fever; he thought of the unmitigated concern she showed for him -- when she didn't even know him. Not really, anyway.

 

Ah, but it was still ridiculous. She wasn't his, and he wasn't hers. To suggest otherwise... well, it was as absurd as to suggest that Tohru-kun "belonged" to Kyou-kun and Yuki-kun, and that they, in turn, "belonged" to her.

 

Shigure blinked once. Somehow, without his permission, his mind had wandered into uncharted and unwelcome territory.

 

He gave the woman a long, considering look. The heroic princess, rescuing her disguised prince -- a few times over? I think by this point, I've earned the right to call her "my" hime-chan. He let out a silent breath of a laugh. Either that, or that thong is getting to me. Tilting his head for a moment, Shigure called up the memory of hime-chan dressing for work the previous morning. The mental image was clear and sharp, his mind supplying its own palette of color; he imagined her skin was fair -- milk and honey -- a faint pink blush at her cheeks. He was nearly certain her hair was black, but her eyes... Shigure tilted his head, his writer's imagination providing her with grey eyes -- the more fanciful part of his imagination suggested that they were the color of snow-heavy skies. After a moment's consideration, he decided that indigo probably favored her, and soon he had a particularly vivid mental picture floating around in his mind.

 

He indulged in the fantasy for a moment or two before shoving it from his mind -- to save for later, perhaps -- and turning his attention to the one-sided conversation.

 

"... I know, Mama," she was saying, her elbow propped on the low desk, her forehead pressed against her hand, fingers slowly massaging her temples. "I'm not putting it off..." He could see her grimace at the voice on the phone, but when she spoke again her tone was cheerful. "Of course I think Kobe sounds... nice." Pause. "Sure we could." A pause, followed by a slight wrinkle of the nose. "Well, honestly, I think I prefer Kyoto." Another pause, a little longer. "Yes, I know Taka goes there frequently, but--" She rubbed her forehead again. "A dress? No... no, I hadn't really thought about it." Another pause. "Well, yes... I know I'll need one. But I... well, actually, Mama, I was thinking that I'd like something more... traditional." Her gaze went to Shigure and she smiled a moment before turning her attention back to the cell phone. "Well, you know, I thought kimono might be nice, rather than something Western."

 

There came then a very long pause, and the Dog's sensitive ears could hear a great deal of chatter coming through the small earpiece.

 

Hime-chan colored slightly and looked down. "Yes, Mama, I know I don't..." She sighed and rubbed at her forehead slowly. "I just thought it might be nice," she said again, her voice softer now. "Sydney? Don't you think that's a bit-- no, of course I like Sydney, Mama."

 

Shigure blinked. So "Taka" was not her reckless, careless boyfriend. Rather, he was her reckless, careless fiancé. Interesting.

 

"What -- flowers? The wedding isn't for a year. I don't know. I... I guess something simple..." She grimaced again. "Listen, Mama, the dog's awake. I should check on--" Her brows drew together in annoyance. "The dog Takashi hit. I've got him here, remember?" She closed her eyes and gave her head a brief shake before bringing her hand up to her neck and rubbing slowly. "Right. Yes. That's the one. I need to call Sho and find out when's the best time to..." There was a brief pause and hime-chan rolled her eyes. "Mother, I'm sorry -- I really can't talk now. I'll phone you later. Give my love to Papa." She flipped the phone shut and stood up immediately, striding out of the study, taking her cold, unfinished dinner with her. There was a clatter as he heard her set the dish in the sink.

 

Tilting his head, Shigure followed, finding hime-chan in the living room once again, sitting on the floor, her back pressed against the couch. Her eyes were trained on the window, watching the rain beat against the glass. Her features were set in a tight scowl, her arms folded across her chest. He sat about an arm's length away, watching her silently. The scowl held for nearly a full minute before hime-chan blew out a deep breath, rubbing at her temples again.

 

Curious, Shigure nudged her shoulder gently with his nose, pulling her attention away from the window. She looked at him for a few seconds, a thoughtful frown etched on her forehead, and then she brought her hand up and mussed the fur between his ears. "You're a good boy. You know that?"

 

After a few moments, she got up again and retrieved her plate from the study. But instead of reheating her dinner and finishing it, she went into the kitchen and, from the sounds of things, put the plate away with the rest of the leftovers. Afterward, rather than returning to the living room, she went down the hallway to her bedroom. Curious, he followed with slow, limping steps, half-wishing she'd simply stay put. I'm in no shape to follow her all around the house -- doesn't she realize that?

 

When he reached the bedroom, he was faintly surprised to find her curled up on her bed, novel in hand again. He went to the bedside and sat, watching her for a moment. When she'd been reading last night, she seemed completely absorbed in the book. Now she had the look of one trying to become absorbed in her reading. There was a frown at her forehead, and she was grinding her teeth softly.

 

Pursing his lips, Shigure crawled onto the bed, lying down and resting his head on his left forepaw, looking up at her. After several moments, she felt his gaze and looked up from the book. She laughed softly and shook her head. "I guess you're a people-dog, eh?"

 

He didn't answer, but instead nudged her hand with his nose. She took this as tacit encouragement, and brought her hand to his head, petting him slowly. Setting the book on the bed, she rolled onto her side, running her hand across his smooth head.

 

"It's just cold feet," she said, closing her eyes. "Taka's good for me. And... aside from what happened with you -- aside from that, he's..." A tiny frown formed. "He's smart. And stable. He's a good guy." There was a long pause. "Mama's right; I'm just being silly," she finally said.

 

What Shigure couldn't ignore was the lack of enthusiasm in her voice. She sounded very much like a child who's been told to finish her vegetables because they're healthy. He allowed himself a soft huff of a sigh. Yes, that all sounds very lovely and very boring, my dear hime-chan. But, you know, as many times as we tell Kyou-kun leeks are good for him, he still doesn't like them.

 

***

 

She had dozed off.

 

Akemi opened her eyes slowly, rubbing tiredly at her face. Her novel was face down on the bed, Kuroi's dark head lying heavily atop it. The large canine seemed to be sleeping peacefully, from what she could tell in the dim room. A small smile flickered at her lips and she brought her hand to the dog's head, smoothing the fur back slowly.

 

To say she'd been hesitant to bring a dog into her home would have been an understatement. The place was small, and she was seldom home during the week. But she wasn't about to let Takashi drive off and leave the poor animal at the side of the road -- that was needlessly cruel, and it didn't settle well with her that it hadn't bothered Takashi in the least.

 

Sighing, she sat up and rolled her shoulders before swinging her legs over the side of the bed and standing. Akemi stood for a moment at her bedroom window, looking up at the moonless, starless sky. A headache had been thumping in her head all day, and while the nap had given her a brief reprieve, her temples were beginning to throb again -- a lovely counterpoint to the ache in her neck and shoulders that didn't seem to want to leave. At least there was more of the same grey, cold weather forecasted for Sunday -- another slow, quiet day ahead. It was rather nice, actually, given the pace in the office lately. There were mornings when she awoke half-surprised to find that she hadn't dreamt in HTML code the night before.

 

And, strangely, the day didn't seem quite as empty as days off often did. She'd already grown used to the companionship the large black dog provided. Maybe -- maybe after he was claimed, she'd look into getting her own dog. Something smaller, maybe.

 

Mm. Great idea. Because you're home so much. And Takashi -- well he's clearly a dog-lover. A flawless plan.

 

Blowing out a breath, Akemi padded into the kitchen and fished a small mug out of the cabinet, pattering quietly about, making a cup of tea. When the delicate blend finished steeping, Akemi disposed of the soggy green tea leaves and picked up her cup. When she turned to leave the room, she found Kuroi, sitting on his haunches at the entryway to the kitchen, watching her intently. Starting slightly, Akemi let out a long breath, shaking her head ruefully. "You're going to give me a heart attack that way, mutt. And, dammit, you're supposed to be resting. Go lay down, or something."

 

He only tilted his head at her, as if contemplating her words before deciding to ignore them. He seemed to do that a lot -- watch her as if he comprehended every word. But then, she'd heard that about dogs; that's why they were such popular companions: they made you feel as if they were listening, as if they understood.

 

Cradling the cup in her hands, she went to one of the living room windows, resting her forehead on the cold glass as she stared out, her eyes seeing past her reflection in the glass. It was still sleeting, and she could just make out the trees' branches rustling in the chilly February wind. She hated this weather -- spring was fighting to break free of winter's icy grip, and just when it looked as if it was going to succeed, they got days like this one, with weather as wintry as mid-December. Spring had seemed nearly upon them earlier in the week, but the memory of those days was buried under sleet and frozen rain. The wind howled beyond the glass and, shivering, she sipped at the hot tea and closed her eyes. She let out a long, deep breath, listening to the wind and trying to dispel the uneasiness that had been tugging at the back of her mind for most of the day.

 

Even though the wedding was still a year away, her mother had been phoning her nearly every day, reminding her of appointments with wedding planners, dressmakers, caterers, florists -- appointments Akemi hadn't made, but had no choice but to keep. The wedding planner, definitely. She had so little time as it was -- any help in planning a wedding was going to be a blessing. Unless that help came from her mother, whose enthusiasm for the event was overwhelming and more than a little intimidating.

 

Privately, Akemi considered herself lucky that her mother wasn't insisting too strenuously on having the wedding in Sydney. Her father had taught Japanese there, while her mother had taught history at the same university. They'd met there and were married there, moving to Japan only when Matsushita Sarah had discovered that she was expecting. Sydney held meaning and memory for both of her parents, and while it was where Akemi herself had gone to university -- and she'd enjoyed it -- that kind of wedding simply wasn't what she wanted.

 

Of course, that prompted the question of what she did want, and Akemi didn't know the answer to that, either.

 

She took another sip of the steaming green tea before blowing out a thoughtful breath. Two years -- after two years, two people should start discussing marriage. It was logical.

 

Okay, so maybe she wasn't as excited as she should have been, but...

 

"I want to get married," she said quietly, nodding once. "I want to be Takashi's wife."

 

Something flattened inside of her, and she wrinkled her nose. He was a well-known and admired professor -- her father adored him. Why shouldn't she want to be his wife?

 

She sighed once, rolling her shoulders. I just need some time to get used to the idea.

 

Akemi knew the practical side of marriage -- it made many things easier in the long run. And she was... well, practical. Usually. She took another long sip and closed her eyes as the warm liquid traveled down her throat, soothing her from the inside, out.

 

The biggest disappointment she'd had to deal with so far was that every last romantic movie she'd seen in all of her twenty-seven years had lied. That heart-pounding, palm-sweating, cheek-flushing giddiness of being in love didn't last. It faded into complacency and comfort. She wondered just how much would change when she and Takashi moved in together. They barely saw each other as it was -- she worked, and he was either teaching or giving guest lectures at other universities. From where Akemi sat, very little would change aside from the fact that she'd no longer have the bed entirely to herself.

 

She snuck a glance at the large black dog lying silently at her side, eyes closed, oblivious of the wintry weather outside. A tiny, wry smile tilted her lips. Not that I get it all to myself these days.