January 1: New Year’s Day.
The parade of well-wishers had waned, and no further hospitality duties were left in its wake. Today was Yoruichi’s birthday proper, but he’d already given his gift early, lest she opt to enjoy it in sunnier climes.
...but she hadn’t. She was still here; he’d noticed her reiatsu spiking some time afterwards.
He couldn’t land on a conclusion to draw from this. Other than the perplexed look he’d received from her when he gave it, he had little to go on. He’d surprised her — of that he was certain. —Which was fair, since he’d rather surprised himself with his forwardness. But for his part, he’d given up a burden he’d been carrying, and since then, he’d been feeling lighter than he’d felt in some time. So if she spurned his efforts, or simply shrugged them off, well — at least he’d tried.
Still, the shape and tone of that reiatsu...
He’d kept himself distracted for the most part, occasionally intruding on Jinta’s batting practice and Ururu’s Minecrafting, or wearing out his welcome with Tessai in the kitchen. He’d briefly encountered Kouta on his way to to give Yoruichi a gift, but if there were others, he’d managed to stay out of their way. He tried reading, but after the third time his eyes had traversed the same page without his mind absorbing any meaning, he slipped Soi Fon’s omamori into the trade journal for a bookmark and set it aside. Should he...? No, no... he’d said what he’d wanted to say; if she had something to tell him in return, she would... wouldn’t she...? He could make use of Shinji’s gift and spend a little quality time with Benihime, but he wasn’t certain he really wanted an earful from her just now... with a mental apology, he resolved instead to tinker in the workshop. He was certain some of his equipment must desperately want a thorough disassembly and cleaning. The ambience was quiet, save for the music playing on loop in his head. Many times I tried to tell you..... Let me build a bridge, for I cannot fill the chasm......
His Aifōn chirped an alert and drew him out of his reverie. He withdrew it from his pocket; lips pressed together as he peered at the notifications of Yoruichi’s movements... he’d forgotten he’d left those on for testing. Brows knit in a vaguely guilty frown, he opened up the settings and deliberately switched them off, then stowed the device.
Late that evening — family dinner long done, dishes cleared away, a kaiju movie double-feature finished — found him gone to bed, though sleep was eluding him. He was having nominal success reading through the earlier-attempted article, idly fingering the green and white silk omamori, when he heard the shop door downstairs slide open, and the thud of boots dropping to the adjacent mat. He rested the magazine on his abdomen for a long moment and listened to his own breathing, eyes boring through the ceiling. Finally his gaze turned to read the bedside table clock. It was still the first; not quite midnight yet—
Swiftly he swung his legs out of the futon and sat up. The success charm was thrust between the pages and and he tossed the journal to the floor, stood, hastily threw on his faded old striped yukata, and bounded downstairs, bent on an intercept course.
“Yoruichi, you’re back!” he greeted breathlessly, rounding the corner. “I hoped to wish you a happy birthday while it was still the day of—” His feet slowed to a halt as he apprehended her. She was still in her Celty helmet... a previous gift — if ‘gift’ could refer to something that had been demanded of him. It rendered her expression inscrutable, but her bearing was... anything but content. If she'd been like this all day— His tone flooded with warm concern. "Am I... too late?” Fingers fiddled idly with the sash of his yukata; his pulse filled in the silence ringing in his ears, and he belatedly realized that he’d prepared nothing further to say. Finally, his eyes alighting on the purple brocade clutched in her fist, he thought to add, softly: “That was left for you — probably Soi Fon; she gave me one like it... considerate of her, wasn’t it?”
@nightbeat-cat
