Five Years
Sayuri has heard oversea, in the north of Europe, stories about seals and pelts and beautiful wives from the sea.
The situation couldn’t be any more different, but she supposes it must feel a little like this, to meet a selkie.
“Excuse, ma’am.” his voice is like chocolate; warm and sweet that makes her head light. “What are those exactly?”
He’s smiling at her, a gentle figure, and Sayuri’s heart skip a beat. Jaw strong, face thin, eyes like embers in the hearth, he is absolutely the most beautiful man she has ever met.
He is also not wearing shoes.
“That… is a donut, sir.” Some deep, primal part of her weeps for this man’s attention, to please him, to get him to smile at her again. But a more coherent, and increasingly louder voice at the back of her mind scream that this situation doesn’t make sense . Regardless of beauty, unless this man had grown in a literal cave, there is no way he shouldn’t know what this is, or should be dressed like this, or-
“I see.” He smiles again, wonder in his eyes, successfully derailing Sayuri’s thoughts. God, he’s so cute, what the fuck. “Thank you very much.”
Much like a mirage, he walks away, and by the time Sayuri has blinked he’s already vanished.
She almost think she’d dreamed the encounter, honestly.
At least the next time she sees him, he’s actually wearing shoes.
“Hello there,” she says, with as much professionalism as she can muster. “I don’t believe we’ve met?”
She’s sure he recognizes her, she can see it, in the light crease of his brows, in the hesitance in his handshake. Sayuri has learned early how to read people.
“We haven’t.” he blatantly lies. His smile is as blinding as she remembers. “I am Daimon Suguru. Honored to meet you.”
Daimon Suguru. Born and bred in Kobe, graduate of a prestigious university in Tokyo, then got recruited from some smaller research company into DATS.
Quite an interesting path. Especially considering that by all accounts the man does not exist.
“We’ve looked everywhere .” Miki huffs, arms crossed over her chest. “This so-called company doesn’t exist. The university has no trace of a Daimon Suguru. Even the municipality has no records on him.”
Megumi nods emphatically. “None of the other yakuza groups have heard of him either. Didn’t even recognize his face! So it’s not something less legal either.”
Three of Sayuri’s fingers tap on the table with annoyance. This… is quite troublesome.
“Keep an eye on him.” She says. It might be useless, considering it’s already Miki and Megumi’s job to report anything unusual within DATS, but it never hurts to clarify orders, she’d found.
Besides, Sayuri has her own investigation to start.
“You’re missing a finger.”
Most people would be ashamed by such a scar. Sayuri only raises her hand to give Daimon a better view. “I lost it a while ago. It’s okay though, it’s not like I really used it.” Vague enough to be the truth, precise enough to be harmless.
The man is a lot better at hiding his emotions compared to before, Sayuri thinks. That doesn’t stop her from spotting the glimpse of excitement in his slightly-too-sharp inhale, but he’s better. Almost looks like a regular person now.
Sayuri is glad she knows better.
“You’re more than meet the eye, aren’t you?” blunt as ever. Good to hear!
Sayuri flashes him a grin of her own. “I could say the same about you, you know?”
His eyebrows shoot up. Something flickers.
Sayuri squints quickly. For a second, she… it… he… nevermine, she probably imagined it.
“You’re a very interesting… person, Sayuri.”
...why an hesitation here? What does he mean, under his honey words and almond tone?
Woman? Coworker?
(...Human?)
It becomes a little of a game for them from now on. A game where they’re both cat and mouse.
Of course, Daimon doesn’t ever find anything substantial on Sayuri- she’s a professional , thank you. Her hands are clean and her friends loyal. Whatever is left behind her decisions disappear quickly enough.
As for him… Sayuri has to admit, whatever is up with him, she has a hard time cracking it. Whatever string she pulls end up in a dead end, and the man has a talent for serving half-hidden truths.
(Sayuri thinks of selkies again, of trickster foxes and tanukis. She tries not to focus on it too much.)
Most rivalries slash life challenges don’t evolve to warm lips over warm lips, she supposes. But then again Sayuri was never one to do things conventionally.
His legs dangle over the branch. They’re both too old to climb trees, but whatever, his garden, his rules. Suguru has always had a fondness for trees.
“I”m gonna have to go home soon.” he tells her.
Their game never really come to an end. He never told her, and she never asked, why he wasn’t wearing shoes that day at the donut store. But Sayuri has gathered enough; wherever “home” is, it’s nowhere he can come back from.
“How long?” she asks, leaning against his shoulder.
“...Five years.” Five years? Alright. She can work with that.
“Sayuri.” he calls gently. “I have five years left.” softly, he runs a hand through her hair. Looking at him doesn’t make her dizzy anymore, but his touch still makes her think this is what touching a star must feel like. “Will you spend them with me?”
Five years. So much, to give someone who will leave. So little, to get from someone you want you spend your whole life with.
Of course Sayuri says yes. Of course.
They have child.
Masaru is a dynamic, healthy kid, always running about and seeking action. Sayuri calls him her beautiful little boy, and Suguru calls her his amazing little girl.
(Suguru never really understood what was so important with genders. Sayur supposes it doesn’t really matter, since with a father like that there’s a good chance Masaru will end up as neither anyway. At worst she supposes Masaru will tell her to stick to one set of pronouns growing up and move on.)
Masaru is a wonderful kid, full of tumble and passion, and both parents love their child very much.
(Sometimes, when Masaru sticks the tongue out with humor, Sayuri thinks she sees a glimpse of a forked tip, but it’s gone in a blink.)
Sayuri is pregnant, and it has been five years.
“It’s just a trip for work,” Suguru tells a sobbing Masaru. “I’ll be back before you know it!”
This might be the first time Sayuri has ever seen her husband outright lie.
“Take care of yourself, okay?” she tells him with a kiss on the forehead. (A last kiss from her to him)
“Right back at you.” God, she’ll miss this. Those arms around her, this voice like the first ray of sun in winter. God, she’ll miss him.
She waits for Masaru to be asleep to start crying that night.
She names the new child Chika.
Miki and Megumi stop by to help her with the kids sometimes. She supposes they must be feeling sorry for the loss of Suguru.
The help is welcome. Masaru is a small but powerful thing. Sorrow and anger and so many emotions of new intensity course through the veins, and the only thing Sayuri can do is hug the kid when he comes home and patch him up where the skin was scrapped and scales show through.
The help is welcome. Sayuri just has to collect the stray feathers on Chika’s bed before they show up.