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PART II:

The next near decade was… odd. Shizune and I seemed to constantly teeter on a balance of more than friends/less than anything that could be truly defined as a relationship. Work and the state of our relationship kept things from boiling over for a very long time, and I started to wonder if I had gotten over my feelings, or if Shizune felt closer to me than she would admit. It was an odd balance, and I think both of us were too afraid to upset that balance by asking the other about the situation. So we left it alone, seemingly content with the status quo.

Though Shizune is quite the planner and plotter, she rarely takes other’s emotions into account when she does so. With me, though, she seemed to overcompensate, making sure our situation was carefully monitored and gauged before asking anything of me or suggesting anything. That was when we weren’t working, at least. For my part, I never questioned it, because it seemed to be working, and her newfound concern for my feelings was both touching and reassuring. What got us, in the end, was neither of us was willing to actually discuss our feelings –the why’s of things were often left unmentioned or discussed. It was a fine line that we worked around for nearly a decade.

Unfortunately, when you bury something, one of two things happens: it either decomposes and is no longer an issue, or erupts back to the surface to try and eat your brains. Okay, that's not the best example, but my point stands. I thought I was over my feelings, able to keep them at bay since our relationship was stable and as close as I thought we’d get to what I had originally wanted. I also thought Shizune felt the way she said she had felt when we met at the café, since I had no real reason to think otherwise. After a while, though, things became strained; work became tense, Shizune seemed like she was constantly on her period, and I was starting to remember how much I had loved her, and wondering if I still did. That lead-up made more sense in my head, honestly.

Well, one day Hisao and Hanako were over for a visit, and things finally came to the surface. Though Hanako is an excellent writer, I sometimes wonder if she missed her calling and should have been a therapist; I’ve never been so open and frank about my feelings with anyone else, sober or not.

After realizing how much I was sick with the status quo, Hisao and Hanako got Shizune and I into a room to talk things out. While the two wandered off to give us some privacy, Shizune and I started talking, using our living room to once again sort out our almost comically dysfunctional relationship.

[Well, we’re idiots], I was the first to say anything, since Shizune looked more fragile than I had ever seen her, and I still felt chatty from bawling over Hanako’s shoulder like Maki when she had seen a spider.

Shizune blinked and nodded, [I think we passed idiot and entered Setou-level insane.]

[God, I hope not,] I quipped, smirking slightly at Shizune’s reaction. My smirk died as I sniffed lightly and asked, [so, now what?]

Shizune glanced at me from over her glasses, her fingers twisting and twirling as she struggled to say something. Apparently she was twisting them too hard, because she winced and started rubbing one of her knuckles. After a moment she flexed it, then, content nothing was broking, said, [Well, as cliché as it sounds, how about a fresh start between us? No baggage from the past, no past agreements or emotions blinding us or guiding us. Just us, moving forward.]

I sighed and glanced around the room for a moment, though I had to stop as the array of Tezuka paintings threatened to give me a headache. Focusing on a nice landscape by someone named Takano that Shizune had bought because it matched the walls, I mulled the idea over. It was a good one, but it was also hopelessly fanciful.

[That would be great, but that doesn’t sound like something we can do,] I said, [there’s just too much history, baggage, and emotions.]

Shizune glowered at me, [You’d give up without even trying?]

I smirked at her expression and shrugged, [If it means I don’t end up having to cry on Hanako’s shoulder again, yes.]

Shizune’s frowned and looked down into her lap. After staring at her hands for a moment, she glanced up at me and asked, […what if you could cry on mine, instead?]

I blinked and sighed, thinking the question over. Though the two of us had confided to each other a great deal over the years, there had been some things neither one of us was willing to discuss with the other. That was what had caused the stagnation and tension in our relationship to fester. If we could overcome that barrier, and truly trust each other in all respects, then maybe there would be hope for us, whether as just friends, or something… else.

Having mulled the question over for a moment, I managed a weary shrug and replied, [That would be nice, though most of the things I complain about are you.]

Shizune nodded, not fazed by my statement as she said, [We’ve both been too afraid to talk to each other about our feelings for too long. That has to change, and it will change if we start over.]

[What if it turns out we can’t?] I asked, [What if we end up where we are now, or someplace similar?]

Shizune didn’t reply, which, if anything, disconcerted me more than any response she could have signed.

Sighing, I slowly stated, [It won’t be easy. After all, I seem to remember you rejecting me on several occasions.]

Shizune smirked at me, the glint of a challenge lighting her eyes as she said, [Nothing worth fighting for is ever easy, and do you really think that after over a decade my feelings for you haven’t had a chance to mature and change? Or have you not noticed that I haven’t dated anyone in a decade?]

I shrugged, [I just figured you were too focused on work to date… are you suggesting that…?] I paused, unwilling to finish the question.

Shizune glanced away at me for a moment, smirking lightly as she looked at one of the paintings. After a brief pause she turned back to face me, [I am suggesting that eleven years is a long time, and that denial is a powerful emotion. There is also the fact you’ve been by my side for years.]

[You make it sound like I’m a convenience, not a potential partner,] I observed.

Shizune shrugged, [maybe, but we won’t know if we don’t try, will we? Besides, how we feel or not, I believe you’re worth fighting for, whether as a friend, a partner, or, well, a partner. We’re good for each other; we balance each other, and we’re both better because of it. I don’t want to lose that, and I don’t want to lose you.]

[…You think I’m worth fighting for?] was all I managed in response.

Shizune nodded and stood up, sitting down next to me. Placing one hand over mine, she used her free one to sign, [Of course you are. You always were. We are linked to each other, and I wouldn’t have it any other way.]

==

That was around two years ago, and our house hasn’t changed much. Well, we have more of Miya’s paintings and photos around, now, and a couple sculptures from Mr. Tezuka. Our bookshelves are loaded with the writings of Kenji, Hisao, and Hanako –both the English and Japanese editions- and we have more things to keep the myriad of children occupied when they visit.

It was a long road, one that nearly destroyed me, and, quite honestly, probably not the healthiest relationship around. But we’re both finally happy and honest with each other, so I figure it’s worth it.

Still looking into the bathroom mirror, I heard a sporadic wrap on the open door. I turned to see Shizune standing in the threshold, sweaty from a workout in the basement. Tilting her head slightly, she asked, [What are you up to so late?]

Glancing at my long, bubblegum pink hair in the mirror, I replied, [I was thinking of going back to my original hair color.]

+++

Well, that may not be my best work, but by gum I dug this hole, so it was only fitting I dig myself out. Or deeper. Either way there’s resolution.

Hope you all enjoyed it, and sorry if you didn’t; my work is something of an acquired taste, after all. Either way, Happy Birthday Misha!

Part of it was me sorting through my thoughts and feelings, but another part, I think, thought that my closeness to Sizune had meant something more than friendship to her, and maybe, if she had time without me, she’d rethink her earlier position.

Shizune* You missed an H.

texted

Evidently the verb form of this word has made it into a number of dictionaries. I still don't like it, though...

Not agreeing would be like abandoning her, and my family had worked very hard to instill a sense of familial loyalty, and one thing a Mikado never did was abandon family (which explained why so many of them died to blood feuds during the civil war.)

I'm of a mind that thinks the parenthetical statement at the end would be better suited separated by an em dash, though either way works.

Okay, [that's] not the best example, but my point stands.

This seems to need a that's.

My only real complaint is that I'm not sure the ending has a resolution of conflicts. Leaving it open to further exploration may be intentional, but I'm a little perplexed by the vagueness. It seems to simply end where it began, with the two of them staying together almost because they can't function separately, and still without confronting the deeper intimacy problem they've battled since Yamaku; I'm not sure if that was your intention or if I'm just missing some subtlety in the language.

I still felt chatty from balling over Hanako’s shoulder

Bawling.

Hanako as a therapist would be... interesting. I think she'd have to specialize in something like couple's therapy (where she'd be less likely to be triggered by someone's childhood trauma), but there'd always be the risk of her being triggered by a patient.

Thanks you two for the edits; attended to .

Helbereth wrote: It seems to simply end where it began, with the two of them staying together almost because they can't function separately, and still without confronting the deeper intimacy problem they've battled since Yamaku; I'm not sure if that was your intention or if I'm just missing some subtlety in the language.

Subtext is a major thing, and i might have made it too subtle. The main clue everything's copasheshy is that Misha finally stops dyeing her hair.

As for Hanako as a therapist, a few fanfic writers have her pursuing work as a children's counselor, so I got the idea from that.

Hoitash wrote:“Damn nice of them not to space her and keep the salvage,” Akira remarked as she sipped her beer.

“I’ve always thought that, too,” I commented, “makes me wonder what would happen if Joss Whedon had wrote this instead.”

“It’s called Aliens: Resurrection,” George stated, “and the less spoken of that abomination, the better.”

“Indeed,” Kenji and I concurred, both shuddering lightly at the memory we had been unable to drink away (probably for the best, though.)

Meh, I thought it was alright at least. Better than Alien 3, that's for sure.

Lianam wrote:

Hoitash wrote:“Damn nice of them not to space her and keep the salvage,” Akira remarked as she sipped her beer.

“I’ve always thought that, too,” I commented, “makes me wonder what would happen if Joss Whedon had wrote this instead.”

“It’s called Aliens: Resurrection,” George stated, “and the less spoken of that abomination, the better.”

“Indeed,” Kenji and I concurred, both shuddering lightly at the memory we had been unable to drink away (probably for the best, though.)

Meh, I thought it was alright at least. Better than Alien 3, that's for sure.

My main issue with Resurrection is that Joss Whedon worked on it. Whedon is a fine writer and all, but the Alien franchise is not the kind of thing he should be working on. Now, for a Whedon work, it's okay. For an Alien movie...

To this day, if you speak to Whedon about Resurrection, he will burst into tears of sorrow.

I'm not really much of a horror person, so Aliens is my favorite cuz its more of an action film.

Hoitash wrote:

Lianam wrote:

Hoitash wrote:“Damn nice of them not to space her and keep the salvage,” Akira remarked as she sipped her beer.

“I’ve always thought that, too,” I commented, “makes me wonder what would happen if Joss Whedon had wrote this instead.”

“It’s called Aliens: Resurrection,” George stated, “and the less spoken of that abomination, the better.”

“Indeed,” Kenji and I concurred, both shuddering lightly at the memory we had been unable to drink away (probably for the best, though.)

Meh, I thought it was alright at least. Better than Alien 3, that's for sure.

My main issue with Resurrection is that Joss Whedon worked on it. Whedon is a fine writer and all, but the Alien franchise is not the kind of thing he should be working on. Now, for a Whedon work, it's okay. For an Alien movie...

To this day, if you speak to Whedon about Resurrection, he will burst into tears of sorrow.

I'm not really much of a horror person, so Aliens is my favorite cuz its more of an action film.

I felt Resurrection was more of an action film too...

Yeah, but it didn't have quite the same aesthetic as the previous three.

Hmm, maybe I should do that for my next movie special... after the one I have planned for St. Patrick's Day.

Hoitash wrote:Yeah, but it didn't have quite the same aesthetic as the previous three.

Hmm, maybe I should do that for my next movie special... after the one I have planned for St. Patrick's Day.

Better yet- have Kenji, Hisao, Hanako and everyone else return to Yamaku for a class reunion only to find it infested with Xenomorphs. You already wrote story with a predator in it, so you might as well do Aliens.

Lianam wrote:

Hoitash wrote:Yeah, but it didn't have quite the same aesthetic as the previous three.

Hmm, maybe I should do that for my next movie special... after the one I have planned for St. Patrick's Day.

Better yet- have Kenji, Hisao, Hanako and everyone else return to Yamaku for a class reunion only to find it infested with Xenomorphs. You already wrote story with a predator in it, so you might as well do Aliens.

The problem there is that a xenomorph would more than likely kill everyone. Hisao barely beat a Predator once using prototype tech, and Kenji and Jigoro received a big advantage from the short-circuited equipment. I don't think the Duo could survive an encounter with a xenomorph, and I'd rather not make Miya or Hanako widows if I can help it.

Hoitash wrote:

Lianam wrote:

Hoitash wrote:Yeah, but it didn't have quite the same aesthetic as the previous three.

Hmm, maybe I should do that for my next movie special... after the one I have planned for St. Patrick's Day.

Better yet- have Kenji, Hisao, Hanako and everyone else return to Yamaku for a class reunion only to find it infested with Xenomorphs. You already wrote story with a predator in it, so you might as well do Aliens.

The problem there is that a xenomorph would more than likely kill everyone. Hisao barely beat a Predator once using prototype tech, and Kenji and Jigoro received a big advantage from the short-circuited equipment. I don't think the Duo could survive an encounter with a xenomorph, and I'd rather not make Miya or Hanako widows if I can help it.

Still though, it would be interesting if you found some way to pull it off...

Lianam wrote:

Still though, it would be interesting if you found some way to pull it off...

Joker is best ME character.

I have thought about it. It would certainly be a good Halloween story. I have next year's thought up (unemployment is a double-edged sword) but after that...

Well, I seem to remember promising someone a Thanksgiving Special. Something about the Nakai’s and the Setou’s getting acquainted after Kenji’s wedding, or somesuch.

Well, ‘ere we go! This story takes place not long before Mystery Eight, sometime around Early/Mid-October, according to the statement in Mystery Ten regarding Miya.

I really need to make a timeline for myself. And a family tree. Anyway, on with the show!

Oh, you want a quote? Um… Uh… I got nothin’.

Wait…

…Nope, nothin’. Sorry ‘bout tha’. Have an internet turkey to make up for it; no calories or tryptophan, but it makes you want turkey.

Mmm… turkey…


Welcome to the Family- A H&K: MD Thanksgiving Special


If you had told me back in high school that Kenji Setou would marry and start a family, I probably would’ve laughed in your face. A lot. Then again, I also thought the world’s economy wasn’t the plaything of Secret Societies and werewolves were a myth, so there you have it. In any case, one day in the middle of autumn Hanako, myself, and our two older children, Akio and Satomi, were having dinner at the new home of Kenji and Miya Setou.

Hanako was walking behind the kids, holding a carefully made green-bean casserole in a well-used crock dish. I was in front of the kids, leading the way down the hall to the two’s apartment. We’d been invited over for dinner, but Hanako was worried Refia might be coming down with something, so I had managed to convince her –eventually- to have Shizune and Misha babysit for us so we didn’t have to reschedule.

“Now,” I stated to the children as we neared our destination, “Kenji’s like a brother to me, and that makes Miya family, so make sure you treat her just like all your other aunts and uncles.”

“Yes, Dad,” the two kids chorused. Satomi, our four year old daughter, had my brown eyes and her mother’s hair, while Akio, who was six at the time, had light brown hair and the purple/blue flecked eyes that Hanako said were just like her mother’s.

“Does that mean we can call her Aunt Miya?” Akio asked.

I glanced behind me to look at Hanako, as she had broached that subject with Miya earlier.

“Miya would like that,” Hanako replied, “She comes from a small family, and doesn’t have any nieces or nephews of her own.”

“Sounds kinda lonely,” Akio remarked. He had an observant nature that reminded me of his namesake when it came up.

“You have no idea…” Hanako mumbled, gazing down at the casserole.

We reached the proper door a few moments later, Hanako and I on either side of the children. Hanako was still a little down, so I lightly patted her hat and ran a hand through her hair. She smiled and glanced up at me.

“Thanks,” she muttered.

“No problem.”

I moved to rap on the door, but Hanako was eyeing me oddly, so I glanced at her and raised an eyebrow as Satomi started bouncing on the balls of her feet.

“You’ve never admitted how close you and Kenji are before,” Hanako declared.

I shrugged, keeping my voice low as I replied, “We’ve been best friends for a decade, and while I admit he can be a bit of a pain, he’s also one of the most loyal and determined people I have ever met.”

Hanako nodded, smirking lightly as I rapped on the door, since the doorbell tended to make Kenji anxious.

After a brief pause the door swung open, revealing Kenji’s wife, Miya. A relatively short woman, she had brown eyes that seemed to shift between placid pools and blazing orbs of energy, depending on her mood. Her brown hair went slightly past her shoulder blades, and she tended to wear it in a ponytail. Today she had braided it, however, with two bands of hair intertwining down her back. She was also smiling brightly as she greeted us.

“Hi!” she chirped, “C’mon in, dinner’ll be ready in a bit, I think.”

Hanako glanced at me, since she never liked entering someone else’ home first, so I stepped through and inside the new home of Kenji and Miya Setou.

“Thanks for having us over,” I stated, then glanced around to examine their apartment.

Despite having moved in relatively recently, things looked pretty much where they should be. The front door led into a long hallway, the walls of which were lined with color photos of various landscapes, and several landscape paintings as well. The hall ended in what appeared to be the kitchen, while several other doors on the left and right led to other rooms. The apartment seemed neatly organized and brightly lit, which made sense.

“Thanks for bringing the casserole,” Miya stated, taking it from Hanako as she stepped into the apartment after the kids, “I spent a semester studying abroad in the States and developed a fondness for them.”

“Is that them?” called Kenji’s voice from the kitchen.

“Yeah, it’s them!” Miya called back. Turning back to Hanako, she said, “Sorry about Refia; I hope she gets better soon.”

“Thank you,” Hanako replied.

“Hey!” Kenji called, appearing into the hallway. He waved once and headed over to us.

“Hi, Uncle Kenji!” the kids chirped.

“Hello,” Hanako said.

“Hey, man,” I said, grabbing Kenji’s proffered hand to shake it, “Looks like you settled in pretty quickly.”

Kenji nodded, “Yeah, turns out between us we don’t have all that much stuff, and we did get a decent sized place anyway, so it wasn’t too much trouble. Dinner’ll be ready in a bit, so feel free to wait in the living room until then.”

“Can I take your coats?” Miya offered.

Once Miya had placed all the coats in the nearby closet, she turned to us and asked, “How about I give you guys the nickel tour? I’ve got photos from all over the place, so it’ll be more fun than sitting around and waiting.”

“Make sure to the show them the Amazon photos!” Kenji called from the kitchen, “Since they’re your favorite.”

“They were my favorites,” Miya called back, “The ones from the Ryukyu Islands are my favorites now.”

The Ryukyu’s had been where Miya and Kenji had gone for their honeymoon; Miki had recommended a place.

“I thought you were an artist?” Satomi asked.

“Photography is an art,” Miya declared, “even if those arrogant so-and-so’s in school were too pompous and self-absorbed to realize it. Seriously, what’s the bloody point of art if the only people who understand it are other artists!?”

“Ahem,” Hanako coughed, glancing down at the children.

“Oh, sorry,” Miya muttered, grinning sheepishly as she stated, “You travel as much as I do, you pick up a few things. Anyway, let’s start with the hallway, it has the oldest stuff.”

“But you paint, too, right?” Satomi pressed, with the single-minded persistence of a child with nothing better to do.

“I mainly studied art in college, but also studied photography and business,” Miya replied, “Painting is my passion, but photography pays the bills and gives me an excuse to declare my travel expenses as tax deductable, since I freelance for travel agencies and international resorts that like pretty landscapes to drum up business or sell on the side.”

“So you paint landscapes?” Satomi asked as Miya indicated several paintings hung along the hallway.

“Uh-huh, here are the ones I did when I was still in high school,” Miya said, pointing to oil paintings of various natural landmarks around Japan. They were rough and lacked the photo-like quality of her later work, but were still nice.

“I take it the paintings are mostly for décor in the resorts?” I asked.

Miya nodded, “If I sell them at all. Mostly I do them in between jobs so I have something to do besides sit on my tuchus waiting for another commission.”

Part II (gobble, gobble):

“Your what?” Akio asked.

Miya blinked and chuckled, “Sorry, I picked up some Yiddish on my way to Niagara for a job a few months back.”

“We’ve been meaning to go there so she can put it back,” Kenji quipped from the kitchen.

Miya turned to call a retort, but something rattling in the kitchen stopped her. She physically tensed up and took a step toward the kitchen, but stopped in mid-step. Frozen in place for a moment, she seemed torn between heading to the kitchen, or not.

“I’m okay!” Kenji called.

Miya gave a relieved sigh and relaxed before pivoting on her heel to face us.

Hanako smiled at Miya, “It’s not easy not getting involved when you think they need it, but don’t.”

Miya nodded, “Our first fight was when I wanted to help him with something and he refused. I felt like…” she trailed off with a glance at the kids, who were too busy looking at paintings to pay attention to the mysterious ways of adults.

Hanako nodded in mutual sympathy, “I still get nervous sometimes when I see Lilly with a knife.”

“I wish I could help,” Miya sighed, “but I grew up with my grandmother while my mom was working, and I stopped trying to learn to cook when I nearly burned the place down. Fortunately Kenji’s a decent cook, and my grandma taught me to bake, so I can at least do that.”

I wasn’t sure how to respond to that, and I don’t think Hanako was, either. Deciding a change in topic was in order, I asked Miya about her Amazon trip.

“Huh?” Miya asked, blinking in confusion. Since she apparently hadn’t heard me –she tended to get too absorbed into her own head sometimes- I repeated the question. Twice. “Oh, right! That’s my favorite work trip, took it on my first job after my internship expired. It paid well and no one else wanted to do it, and if there’s anything I learned about business, it’s that beggars can’t be choosers. That stuff’s in the living room.”

“What drew you to advertising?” Hanako asked as Miya led us from the hallway toward the room.

“Career counselor in high school,” she replied, “he knew how much I loved painting, travel, and photography, and he figured that’d be my best bet to make a career out of my passion, especially since college’s let you travel a lot and get good experience if you know what hoops to jump through –part of the reason I studied business was for the internship, but also so I wouldn’t get hoodwinked by execs and their big words and double-talk, or their bull about google earth being as good as I am –when a satellite can pour its heart and soul into getting the perfect picture, then I’ll leave the business, and not before.”

Hanako raised an eyebrow at me, and I just shrugged; when Miya got going, she went. By the time Miya was done with her infodump we were all inside the living room, the kids eye’s wide as they looked around. Bookshelves lined the wall closest to the front door, and were loaded with books and spare art supplies. There were two shelves dedicated to Kenji and Hanako’s books, and another three were crammed with everything ever written by Jim Butcher. A sofa and several chairs were arrayed around a very large television, an old coffee table placed between two of the comfy looking chairs. A worn chess board that looked as old as Kenji’s office desk was placed on the table, and it looked like a game was in progress.

“Are you and Uncle Kenji playing a long game?” Akio asked, pointing at the board.

“Huh?” Miya was busy glancing at the walls, and took a moment to focus on what Akio was talking about, “Oh, that. I’m playing myself, to improve my game.”

I nodded at that; Miya was one of the worst chess players I had ever met, though she seemed to have fun regardless. After she had answered Akio, Miya went back to looking at the walls. All except the one with the TV against it were practically loaded with photos and paintings, and while it looked like total chaos, a pattern did emerge after a moment’s observation. The wall to the right of the doorway -facing into the room- had images of the European continent –she explained the order as we looked around. Images on the left wall were from Australia. Those on the wall around the bookshelves were the United States and Canada, and the only open wall space left was filled with images of South America and Asia. Honeymoon pictures had a prominent place on that wall.

“Why was the Amazon trip so special?” Satomi asked.

Miya smirked and eyed one of the relevant paintings, which depicted a rickety riverboat chugging its way down the massive river at dawn, “Well, besides what a huge pain it was to get there –I had to get a million shots, and an interpreter because I don’t speak Portuguese or Spanish- and I only had a few days to get enough images of the river for the resort chain that hired me –they got a cut from a local boat tour company if people went through the resort, but they wouldn’t let me use one of their boats so we ended up chugging along an old PT boat from the Vietnam Conflict – then the jerks tried to jip me on the payment, because I was delayed there for three days because despite all the shots I still got malaria and nearly died –that was my favorite part,” Miya finished, grinning excitedly at her final statement.

“Um, what was that last part?” Hanako asked.

“Oh, I nearly died. It was pretty cool, too- I had a fever so high I hallucinated I was playing Go with William Randolph Hearst.”

“Who?” Satomi asked.

“The guy who caused the Spanish-American War!” Kenji called from the kitchen, “Dinner’s almost ready!”

“Okay!” Miya called, then resumed her original tangent, “No idea why it was him, but he ended up winning,” Miya said, then sighed lightly, apparently more upset a hallucination beat her at a strategy game than the fact she nearly died before her mid-twenties. Brightening back up, she continued, “But I got a ton of great photos and I spent the next four months doing paintings based on the trip, so I’d call it an even trade.”

I raised an eyebrow and remarked, “You seem awfully cavalier about your near-death experience.”

Miya grinned and shrugged, “The only things certain in life are death and taxes. Besides, I am way too unfocused to achieve immortality, so why not just accept it when the time comes?”

“Try not to rush it if you can help it,” Kenji remarked, startling us because he was behind us in the doorway, rather than the kitchen, “Dinner’s ready.”

“Shoot, I forgot to set the table,” Miya stated, and bolted for the kitchen.

“You did that an hour ago,” Kenji reminded her as she darted past him.

“Then I’ll get the food out!” Miya called back.

“Thanks!” Kenji called after her. Turning back to us, he grinned and remarked, “Hope she didn’t freak you out with that whole near-death thing.”

“Its fine,” I stated, glancing at Hanako, who seemed unfazed for the moment.

Hanako nodded in agreement and mused, “She seems a bit more… excited, today, than I remember her getting.”

Kenji nodded, “You’re used to what she calls her ‘action without action’ mode. This is her action with action mode.”

Hanako tilted her head and blinked a couple times, before things clicked and she ended up raising an eyebrow at Kenji.

Kenji smirked at Hanako’s reaction, “Surprised?”

Hanako shrugged, “Honestly, not much surprises me anymore.”

“Same here,” Kenji and I declared.

“Although,” Kenji mused, glancing at the assortment of photos and paintings around him, “She’ll be the first to admit that she has issues with the ‘without action’ part.”

“And you wouldn’t have it any other way,” I quipped.

Kenji grinned sheepishly and didn’t say anything.

“Does Aunt Miya know a lot of languages like you do?” Satomi asked, apparently having waited for a chance to pipe up.

“Just English and French,” Kenji replied, “But she’s much more fluent than I am.”

“Food’s out!” Miya called from the kitchen.

With that pronouncement, Kenji led us to the dining room, which was to the right of the kitchen and partially separated by a counter. Once we set ourselves, we started eating. I knew Kenji was a passable cook from long years of living alone, but I was a bit worried if his skills were up to feeding two families. Turned out they were, and even Satomi, who was going through a picky eater phase, seemed to like it.

Miya seemed a little woozy before we sat down, and had winced when she sat to eat. When Kenji, who once again surprised me with what he did and did not notice, asked if she was okay, she said her back was still aching from moving in.

“You seem a little nauseous again, too,” Kenji remarked.

“It’ll pass,” Miya replied, “I was a little off yesterday, too, but it went away after a bit.”

Hanako raised an eyebrow at Miya’s statement, “Is it your lower back that hurts?”

Miya nodded, “Yeah, probably all the lifting.”

“Probably…” Hanako mused.

Part III (gobble, gobble, gobble):

Miya plated some casserole, and, for reasons that I’m sure made sense to her, remarked, “You two travel a lot, don’t you?”

I shrugged, more used to Miya’s thought processes than Hanako, “We get around. Scotland, Hokkaido, and the Philippines –we have a timeshare there- are pretty regular trips, and we like to go here and there every now and then, but for now we’re trying to stay close to home. At least until Refia is a bit older.”

Mine and Kenji's forays into Thailand and Russia notwithstanding, of course.

“Nothing compared to your travels, though,” Hanako remarked.

Miya shrugged as she swallowed her food before stating, “Doesn’t matter where you go, as long as you have fun.”

“We haven’t gone to Scotland in a while,” Satomi declared, “I miss Aunt Akira.”

“You saw her three months ago,” Hanako reminded her.

“But that was a long time ago!” Satomi insisted.

“Have you ever been there?” Akio asked Miya, before Satomi could get going.

“Oh yeah, the Lochs and Moors are great images for resort chains, and Loch Ness is always an easy sell. I haven’t gone just to play tourist, though.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever gone anywhere to just see the sights,” Kenji mused.

Miya shrugged, “Not my style, though if you want to, we can.”

Kenji shrugged in response, and conversation petered off as we continued eating. When dinner was finished, Miya went to the kitchen to start some hot cocoa and get the dessert ready.

“I made a cherry pie for dessert,” Miya said as she readied the kettle, “Hope that’s okay.”

“That sounds great,” Hanako said, “and thank you.”

“I’ll serve it when the cocoa’s ready,” Miya declared, “And we can eat it in the living room while I go over some of my other trips, if you want.”

“Can we, can we?!” Satomi asked us.

“…I was wondering,” Akio piped up, “If maybe we could play a game of chess?”

Miya glanced at Hanako, who nodded, before beaming and saying, “Sure, I forget sometimes you two know how to play, although if I recall you don’t like playing much?” she asked Satomi.

Satomi shook her head, “I prefer checkers, although Aunt Shizune is teaching me Othello. I’m not very good.”

“Neither am I,” Miya said, “my Grandma would play me all the time, but I never beat her.”

Kenji interjected at that point, “I can get the board set up for you two and show you some of my personal favorite photos –there’s this one from Melbourne that’s practically beyond description in its awesomeness.”

Miya went to work in the kitchen, so the rest of us headed to the living room. On my way back to the living room, she tapped my shoulder and jerked her head toward the oven. Curious, I stepped aside with her while Kenji led the rest of my family down the hall.

“I’m sorry for what I said earlier,” Miya stated, “It wasn’t right for me to be so flippant about death, after what you and your wife have been through.”

I blinked and raised an eyebrow, not sure how to respond for a moment. After a few seconds thought, I said, “It’s fine. Death is a part of life, and we all have to deal with it in our own ways. Hanako wasn’t bothered, so I’m not bothered.”

Miya gave a relieved sigh and smiled, “Good, I was worried I had let my mouth run ahead of my brain again.”

“No worries,” I remarked.

Miya nodded once and went to fiddle with the cocoa, so I headed back to the living room. Kenji had already set up the board and was regaling Akio and Satomi with a story about how Miya nearly broke her leg to get the perfect ocean photo while in Melbourne. Satomi and Hanako were eyeing her book collection, which was certainly impressive. While they looked over the shelves, I stepped next to Hanako and she turned toward me, clearly curious about my delay.

“Everything okay?” she asked.

I nodded, “Miya was worried she had upset us. I told her she hadn’t. Had she?”

Hanako shook her head, subconsciously tracing the scars on her right hand as she replied, “Life and death are a cycle; trying to fight it just makes things worse.”

I nodded and turned to the bookshelf, admiring the book collection myself. After a few minutes Kenji left to help Miya bring in dessert. A bit later the two entered the living room, Miya holding a tray of mugs of hot chocolate, and Kenji a large platter with the pie, some plates, napkins, and forks. It took some maneuvering for them to safely place the trays down, but the two didn’t seem to have any trouble. Once the trays were safely down, we got our drinks and pies and sat where we could.

While we ate, Miya and Akio played chess, and Kenji, Hanako, and I made smalltalk, Satomi settling into Hanako’s lap so she could stroke her hair every now and then. Kenji dashed off at one point to clean our casserole dish, over Hanako’s protests. A little while later Satomi had started to doze off, so with the brief chess game concluded we decided to head out.

“Thanks for having us over,” Hanako said, carrying a snoozing Satomi in her arms while I held the now empty and cleaned casserole dish.

“Thanks for the casserole!” Miya chirped, “We’ll have to do this again when Refia is feeling better.”

“We’ll keep you posted,” I said, “See you tomorrow, Kenji.”

“See you, man!” Kenji said from behind his wife.

Miya bolted forward to open the door for us, and closed it with a wave after we left. When we were a seemingly respectable way away from the door, Hanako, who was behind Akio and next to me, caught my eye so she could mutter something.

“That was quick,” she mused.

“Yeah, she is a really bad chess player,” I remarked.

“She’s a lot of fun, though,” Akio interjected.

“Pancakes,” Satomi grumbled.

“Time to get up, Sleeping Beauty,” Hanako stated, ruffling Satomi’s hair and setting her down, “I don’t want you up all night.”

Satomi yawned and quipped, “I thought I was Village Beauty?” before stumbling next to Akio and shaking her head to get her hair resettled.

Hanako seemed to slow her pace a bit, so we were slightly further from the children, before she muttered, “That wasn’t what I meant.”

“Huh?” I asked, distracted as I kept my eye on the kids.

“Lower back aches? Nausea?” Hanako asked, then jerked her head toward our children.

I blinked at her dumbly for a few moments before it clicked, “Wha… Wait, are you suggesting….?”

“We’ll know soon enough, I imagine,” Hanako mused.

“If you’re right… Well, I hope they're ready, is all.”

“I don’t know if you ever can be ready for that,” Hanako remarked, “But I think they can handle it.”

I nodded, “I’d say those two could probably handle anything if they set their minds to it. I know Kenji can, at least. Like you said though; we’ll find out soon enough.”

Hanako nodded. Smirking lightly, she mused aloud, “You know, I still can’t quite comprehend the idea that Kenji got married.”

I chuckled and nodded, “Yeah, threw me for a loop, too. Then again, at this point in my life, I should know to be ready for just about anything.”

+++

I seem to have a thing for dinner scenes. I should probably stop that before I break the internet.

“Village Beauty” is one of the ways to read the kanji that make up Satomi’s name.

So, that just happened. Since Miya has barely a dozen lines in her three previous appearances, I had some leeway with her characterization. Action without action might be a bit of a stretch, but my idea was someone who knew when to fight, and when to just sit back and relax. Hopefully I did okay with that, and if I didn’t, I’m sure you lot will let me know .

Until next time: /smokebomb.