Kiyoshi sighed, adjusting the tie around his neck. He'd learned how to that a little more proficiently after Mika had taught him, among other things. It was a dark purple in color, and it contrasted against the light grey suit he wore. Another thing Mika had taught him. He smiled softly to himself as he shifted his ponytail behind him. Today was a special day, as his father had called it. Kiyoshi couldn't exactly remember why, but he suspected it had something to do with him. They were all gathering in the foyer for some kind of dinner, but Kiyoshi would have much preferred to do it here.
He couldn't exactly refuse, though. His father had planned it out months in advance, and he'd rather not let Ichikage down. Kiyoshi might not have always been fond of Ichikage, but he was still his father. Pursing his lips together, he made sure everything was in place before leaving his room. The walk to the foyer was quick, and indeed, everyone was already waiting for him.
“Well look who's handsome today," Ryoka stated, grinning in his direction. She was dressed in a spaghetti strap v-neck red chiffon dress, and surprisingly not in her uniform. Considering where they were going, it made some sense to Kiyoshi. She'd also started wearing red more often, but it was a nice color for her, he supposed. Her hair was left down, but it wasn't as unruly as it usually was. It was a little straighter, but Kiyoshi wasn't one for such things. Fashion, hair, clothes, those were not exactly his forte.
“You look nice as well, Ryoka-san," he simply stated. Etsuko snorted softly, causing Kiyoshi to tilt his head. She was dressed in a more modest halter dress, though the color was a deep sapphire blue. It almost looked black if not for the sheen. “As do you, Tsu-chan," he stated, the subtle quirk of his lips giving way to his teasing nature. He almost chuckled when her face turned pink, and she pursed her lips together at him.
"Ne, is everyone ready?" His father chose that moment to appear, looking basically the same as he always did in human guise, only this time in a suit. It was fairly straightforward as they went, and he'd elected for a cream colored silk tie rather than anything brighter. The suit itself was black, as was Satoru's.
The younger Yukimura looked much less comfortable in his, tugging a bit awkwardly at the cuffs of his shirt and then his black tie. It was knotted very neatly, but obviously he wasn't used to wearing one as part of anything fancier than his school uniform. Clearing his throat, he glanced around at the others, pressing his lips together and gamely trying to suppress his discomfort.
"We look weird, is how we look," he grumbled. It was hard to tell, but he seemed to be making an effort not to look directly at Etsuko. Though classes had started for both of them at the university by this point, they both still lived on the grounds, and their summer break was quickly approaching. Still—it seemed like Kiyoshi saw less of both of them than he used to, so they probably saw less of each other than before as well.
"Anyway, uh, Sakuragi-san said she was going to go have someone pull the car around and just meet us all there, so."
“We do not look weird, Satoru," Ryoka spoke in a nearly hushed voice, pursing her lips in his direction. Kiyoshi just raised a brow, and said nothing. He supposed both of the Yukimura hadn't really dressed nicely, or in any kind of fashion before. Perhaps because of their lifestyle as taiji-ya. Did they do what his family did, go to important meetings in formal attire, or dinners and lunches? Probably not, but the thought did not linger long. Instead, they made their way to where Mika was, indeed, waiting, and Kiyoshi merely blinked in her direction.
“You look lovely, Mika-chan," he spoke before he registered what he'd actually said. He could feel a smile inching across his face as well, and his eyes softened for just a fraction.
“Of course she does; Mika-chan always looks lovely," Ryoka chimed in, but there was no hint of teasing in her voice. It sounded more matter-of-fact and obvious than anything else. Kiyoshi just furrowed his brows and did his best not to sigh.
Mika, typically, frowned slightly at the commentary. It was hard to say why she did that, but she was consistent about it, at least—outright compliments, especially about her appearance, tended to produce that reaction in her.
"We are attending dinner at a very formal restaurant," she replied, adjusting her pale sleeves slightly. She'd chosen to wear a kimono rather than a dress—come to think of it, she'd never worn a dress that he knew of. The garment was black and white, with a pattern of pale golden flowers on a branch, and the same color and silver on the obi. "I am merely dressed appropriately for the occasion."
"And armed appropriately, too, right?" Mirth glittered in Ichikage's eyes; he was clearly teasing her.
She probably knew it, even, but responded seriously all the same. "Of course, Motoyami-sama."
The car pulled up, then, Abe-san at the wheel as usual. Mika opened the door for the rest of them to pile into the back of the limousine, which for once was just about the right size for all the people that needed to fit in it. Ichikage immediately pulled Ryoka over to sit next to him, nodding Satoru into the seat across. When Mika herself entered last of all, the only spot left was the one immediately next to Kiyoshi. She took it, folding her hands neatly into her lap as Abe-san pulled out of the driveway.
Kiyoshi felt something pull in his chest when she did. He couldn't help but smile a little more. The ride to the restaurant was relatively quiet—about as quiet as it could be with Ichikage and Ryoka, anyway. When they arrived, everyone filed out of the car, and almost instinctively, Kiyoshi stood next to Mika. He wasn't quite sure why he did, but he put it down as something natural. She was, after all, his guard, and he had to be within her sights at all times. He blinked slowly at that thought.
They approached the stand where the hostess was, and she smiled brightly at the large group. “Welcome," she greeted, glancing at the party of six. “Name on the reservation?" she asked, flipping the book open in front of her.
“Motoyami," Kiyoshi spoke first. The woman, Aiko, from her nametag, nodded and flipped through the book, frowning slightly when she did.
“It looks like I have two reservations for the name of Motoyami. One is for a party of four, and the other for two," she stated, glancing back up to meet his gaze. She looked sincerely confused, and perhaps she was. Kiyoshi sighed heavily.
“Is there a table available for the size of our group?" he asked, watching as she gave an apologetic bow.
“Unfortunately all of the tables that would have been large enough are booked for the evening," she stated, causing Kiyoshi's expression to fall flat. He glanced towards Ichikage and furrowed his brows lightly.
His father hummed; crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "That can't be right," he said, brow furrowing in much the same way Kiyoshi's was. "Micchan, you made the reservations, didn't you?"
Mika looked slightly perturbed, which was saying something since little ever made it past the stoic expression she so often wore. "Yes, sir. I'm certain I made it for a party of six."
Aiko was beginning to look a little nervous, like she expected to be yelled at or something, but Ichikage forestalled any such worries by waving a hand. "It's quite all right. We'll take this as it is. Since Ryoka-san has to be with me and Micchan should stay with Kiki, we'll stay in separate groups. Cricket, Satoru-kun, would you like to come with us?" It made some sense to do it that way, since Satoru was Ryoka's brother.
But then again, Satoru and Etsuko could have taken the table for two instead of Kiyoshi and Mika. Oddly, though, Kiyoshi didn't mind. Etsuko, however, nodded her head. “I don't see why not," she stated, shrugging lightly in the process. Kiyoshi pursed his lips together, but he allowed his shoulders to relax. Aiko waved another hostess over, and handed her two menus.
“Mizuki will show you to your table," she spoke, smiling still in an apologetic manner. “If the four of you will follow me, I'll show you to your table as well," she stated, ushering the others away. Mizuki, however, motioned for Kiyoshi and Mika to follow her. He glanced over his shoulder for a brief second towards his father, and narrowed his eyes. He had a feeling Ichikage was behind this, however; he allowed a small smile to cross his features. He supposed it wouldn't be that bad.
“Can I start you off with anything to drink?" Mizuki asked once Kiyoshi and Mika were seated. Kiyoshi pursed his lips together, flipping open the book to glance at the selection. He didn't see anything that caught his immediate attention, though.
“Water will be fine for now, thank you," he spoke, glancing in Mika's direction. He'd order something else if something popped up.
Her own reply was immediate. "Water for me as well too, thank you." No doubt she considered herself to still be on the job, to some extent, which meant she'd never let herself drink anything.
“Alright, two waters," she spoke, bowing slightly before leaving. Kiyoshi frowned just, though, as he glanced through the menu. He didn't understand why the reservation was made here. His father knew Kiyoshi was never one for such places, but today had to have been something a little more special. Knowing Ichikage, though, today could have just been something his father did on a whim. Even if the reservations were made a head of time, his father had some pull to do things on a whim like this.
“Mika-chan," he spoke, turning another page before glancing up at her. “Are you well?" he asked, tilting his head just slightly. He never knew what to say to her, or why his throat always seemed to dry up when he tried. He could sit in silence with her, and be completely happy, however; he also wanted to know her. More-so than what he already knew about her, at least.
She was looking at him strangely, one eyebrow raised slightly over the other. It was a frequent expression of hers, when she expressed anything at all. "I'm quite fine, sir, though considering what day it is, that should probably be something I ask you." She cracked open her menu, scanning the items on offer dispassionately. She'd never seemed to take particular pleasure in the atmosphere of an expensive sort of place—but it was nonetheless obvious that she appreciated quality in basically everything, including food.
He supposed he was the same. He didn't particularly like these kinds of places, but he didn't mind them so much when he was with his family, or her. He blinked a little slowly at her comment, though, when it registered what she said. Tilting his head slightly, he furrowed his brows in her direction.
“Is there some particular event going on?" he asked. He wasn't too sure what today was. Did he forget a meeting of some sort? Was today someone's anniversary? “Why would you be asking me, that?" because he didn't quite understand. What was so special about today?
Mika snorted, a tiny smile flickering across her face for just a second. Mizuki came back with their water before she could answer, though, and the smile disappeared into her glass when she lifted it to her mouth. It was only after the waitress had left again with their dinner orders that she answered his question.
"Sir, it's your birthday. That's the entire point of this dinner." She set the glass back down, letting her hands rest below the table in her lap. Even in a relaxed setting like this, her posture didn't slump even slightly.
Kiyoshi didn't register what Mika had said. He'd seen it, that small smile. He felt like he couldn't breathe at the moment, as if all the air had been sucked out of him, and his heart rate increased. It wasn't until he realized that he was smiling as well, and staring, that he cleared his throat awkwardly. He took a sip of his water, trying to get some moisture in his throat. It felt dry all of a sudden.
“My birthday?" he finally questioned. Was today his birthday? “Oh," was the only thing he said. He'd forgotten his own birthday. This was not the first time it happened, he knew that. He should have known, however, that Ichikage would have remembered it. “Otō-sama's idea," he spoke out loud. It was more of a statement than a question, and he sighed softly.
“How are things with you, though," he asked. Even if it was his birthday, he didn't have anything in his life worth mentioning at the moment. Mika, though, had days off that she spent doing other things. He wanted to know how she was faring, and what she did. He wanted to know her because he still wanted to talk to her. Here, he knew, would not be the best place to do it.
But if he could at least glean some things from her personal life, of things she did outside, then the talk would be easier. That was what he was hoping for, at least.
"The two are not entirely unrelated, you know," she told him, perhaps referring to his birthday and also the answer to her question. That had to be what it was, though the connection was not at first immediately obvious. "I suppose I can understand not really finding your birthday too significant—I don't either. But..."
She exhaled through her nose, dropping her eyes to regard the glass of water in front of her. There was a strange expression on her face—her brows were knit, forming a little line above her nose, but she looked more puzzled than anything. "This marks twenty-five of your birthdays since we met," she said at last, the furrow deepening. Mika's tone betrayed some level of uncertainty, like she wasn't sure she really wanted to say that. "I'm sure it's not a very significant amount of time for you, but for me... that's most of my life, by a lot of years."
That was right; Mika had been taken in when she was about seven years old. She had been but a young girl out on the streets, pick-pocketing people in order to survive. He'd known that much when she tried stealing from him. The thought brought a solemn smile to his face, though. She'd grown up in his care, under his father's care, and the care of the household. Unlike Etsuko, however, she wasn't raised as a ward. She wasn't a daughter to the house of Motoyami, like Etsuko was, but that didn't stop Kiyoshi from feeling like she was still family.
“Despite the circumstances of how we met, I'm grateful that we did," he spoke gently. She might not be, but Kiyoshi could not claim to know her thoughts. He wanted her to know this thing, though. This one thought and emotion he'd always felt from meeting her. “I hope... it hasn't been an unpleasant life for you Mika-chan," he continued, pursing his lips lightly. That was the last thing he wanted for her. If it had been... he couldn't finish the thought. It brought an unpleasant restrictive feeling in his chest where his heart was.
"Upleasant?" she echoed, face hard to read.
Unfortunately the waitress chose that moment to reappear with their food, and Mika paused to thank her and pick up her utensils. The restaurant was a western-style one, with forks and knives and such—most of the food was Italian, though there were some Greek dishes available as well. Mika spent several moments winding her linguine around her fork, pausing with the utensil still on the plate, held still as she studied him with compressed lips.
"Sir, my life has been—" She stopped, shaking her head slightly; he could see the subtle movement where she swallowed. "What could ever make you think that anything about it has been unpleasant for me?"
Mostly because he'd never seen her smile. He'd seen it twice, now, that he could think of. The first time he'd seen her smile was when she was speaking with Oda-dono. That thought produced a foreign feeling in his chest, one he knew was the same as displeasure but also something else. Something that felt... sad? He couldn't quite place it. The second time she'd smiled was only moments ago, despite how small it was.
“You have spent most of your time as my guard with hardly any time to yourself. The days you do have off I've..." he paused momentarily to stare down at his own plate. He hadn't touched it yet, though he could smell that it was particularly pleasant. Maybe that was because there was a different smell he was focused on. He couldn't be too sure.
“I've never really made it easy for you, either," he finally spoke, glancing back in her direction. He'd tried not to do that any longer, but it was hard when he felt like something was missing. Like he missed her, for some strange reason. He'd never felt that with Sakura. She wasn't around as often as Mika, and though he spoke with her on a daily basis and went to dinners with her, he didn't quite miss her the same way he missed Mika.
“I have said it plenty of times before, but I want you to be happy, Mika-chan. I... am not good at noticing things like that when it comes to you, and all I ever seem to do is cause you great pains and headaches," he confessed solemnly. Even though he was currently trying to learn things on his own, he felt like he was burdening her by taking away some of her free time. If Ryoka could notice that Mika was happy with her job, with her current state, why couldn't he?
"That's..." Mika sighed, taking a bite of her dinner and chewing slowly. It gave her a moment to gather the words she wanted; at least that's what it looked like she was doing.
She met his eyes deliberately, something she did not do that often, given her strict observance to most of the norms of traditional servitude. "If it seems to cause me trouble, sir, that's only because it is hard work. I would feel the same as anyone's assistant about that. Also, it's... important, to me, to maintain professionalism at all times. But—but the work I do—it's the most—" She struggled for a moment, dropping her eyes back down to her plate, the certainty and ease leeching out of her tone and leaving it soft.
"What I do—helping you, protecting you and the things you care about—I don't care if it's easy. I don't care if it gives me headaches or means I don't have a lot of days to myself." She gripped her glass hard enough that the pads of her fingers began to whiten, seemingly only then realizing she was in real danger of breaking it and easing her hold. "I don't care about any of that, and I wish you wouldn't either. Because it's..."
She very visibly forced herself to reinitiate eye contact. "It's all I've ever wanted. For me, being able to do this—it's an honor, and a privilege. My whole life, I've done everything I could to be worthy of it. Of being the person who is allowed to help you achieve the things you want to do. And every time you ask me if I'd rather be doing something else, or if I want to leave for the day... it feels as though I've failed in that."
“Mika..." he began, though he paused and kept his gaze on her. Didn't she know, though? Everything he was able to do was because of her. For everything she was able to do, for every task she was able to handle, if it wasn't for her, Kiyoshi would not have achieved as much as he has. He might have years of life under him, but it wasn't until he'd met her, had her as a guard had he realized how much more he could do. He took a deep breath, slow and agonizing. He ached, and he wasn't completely oblivious as to why.
He lowered his gaze for a moment, before clearing his throat softly. “Mika, you have not failed in anything," he spoke the last word with a bit more emphasis, and slowly. “You have done more for me in the last two decades than anyone else ever has. Because of you, I have learned new things. Because of you, I no longer have to feel useless when it comes to tying my own ties, or something so simple as clothing choice," he offered her a small smile.
“I apologize if that is how I have made you feel. That was never my intention," he stated. If he had known that doing that was making her feel like that, he wouldn't have suggested it so often. “I only wished for you to be more than just a guard," he spoke, though he was unsure of what he meant by that. “I only wished to be your friend," though that wasn't quite the word he was searching for.
He could not name what it was.
Mika curled her fingers back around her fork, lifting it deliberately and slowly making her way through half her plate of pasta. She had heard everything he'd said—that much was clear from the way she'd listened with obvious attention while he was speaking. But anything by way of response was a long time in coming. She'd always been like this: slow and careful where others were flippant or hasty.
She ate with the sort of meticulous neatness that came with needing to fit into his social circles. In a lot of ways, she did, at least as far as her behavior and mannerisms were concerned. But in other ways, she would only ever be able to be an outsider to it, an auxiliary to him. Mika was habitually a lot more conscious of station than Kiyoshi himself; she enforced polite distance even with someone as personable and gregarious as his father.
"It's not that I don't like you, sir. Or that I think our personalities are incompatible in some way. It's just... relationships like this aren't the same as friendships. They can't be. Already, people—" she grimaced slightly. "They say things. They see our situation from the outside and assume things about us. You're a daiyōkai and a prince, and I'm a very young, female hanyō. They don't believe I could possibly be of use to you at my job, and so I must have obtained my position in some other way." Mika set her fork down on the plate, tines facing downwards. "Many of the possibilities are damaging, to your reputation and standing. And so I protect those things by behaving in a way that makes it very clear that I am here to do a job, and that I am excellent at it. My conduct must be above reproach, because this is a form of protection as well. If I were to act like your friend, then I would be worse at this part of my work."
Kiyoshi did not bother to hide his expression from her. His lips pursed into a fine line and his brows furrowed deeply. People said things like that about her? He was unaware of such things, and knowing this all now, made him upset. It made him angry, almost. He could feel his throat constrict in an unpleasant way, and he could not lift the sudden mood change. Mika was, as she said, excellent at the things she did.
She was talented, graceful, and so many other things he could not say. “I am sorry," he apologized, instead. He knew the others would not stoop to that, and he knew that she would not accept his apology, however; it was something he wanted to say. “I am sorry that they say those things about you. You are... regardless of my station, or where we stand, I still consider you my friend, Mika. A dearest friend, nonetheless." How could she be anything less than that?
“I want to make those things easier for you, to make them understand that you are good at your job, and that you have earned that because of your skill. I am afraid I would not know how to make them understand, though." He couldn't just force people to do that. Customs were hard to change; he would know that for as long as he lived. And not many houses were not like House Motoyami who embraced that sort of eccentricity.
She shook her head faintly. "I appreciate your support, sir. Truly, I do. But this isn't the kind of situation that can be solved by simply telling people that they are mistaken. It is something I have to deal with in the only way available to me: by being professional and competent and doing my job well. They will see, and some of them will change their minds when they do. That's all I can hope for."
“You deserve more," he stated softly, shaking his head. She deserved so much more, more than what he could give her. “I am thankful that I get to spend this day with you, though." Of all the people he could of spent it with, he was glad it was with her. He chanced a glance towards his father's table, and smiled lightly. He'd have to thank him someday, though he was not going to do it today.
For now, this would have to do.