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Chapter Text

Retsuko squinted and blinked a few times to readjust herself to the bright computer screen. Her legs itched to stand, but she had just had her break, and the boss wouldn’t be happy seeing her get up a second time in ten minutes. She shifted in her chair, crossed and uncrossed her legs, and clenched her fists to keep the caffeine-shakes at bay. It was her own fault—Retsuko had had a latte on the way to work, and still poured herself a second coffee once she’d entered the break room. Her brain was whirring, and her fingers trembled slightly over the keyboard.

“You got bees in your legs?”

Retsuko wrinkled her nose at Fenneko’s comment. “Bees in my…?”

Fenneko leaned back in her desk chair and stretched her small arms behind her head. “Y’know. Like when you’ve had too much caffeine and you’re all hyper? Feels like you got bees in your legs.”

“Well, I wouldn’t have chosen that phrasing, myself,” Retsuko replied, and joined her desk-mate in the stretch. “I had too much coffee this morning, but Haida said it was his treat, so I couldn’t say no—”

Fenneko, who had been letting her head rest on the back of her chair suddenly snapped up, like a wooden puppet with the strings pulled taut.

“How is the old boy?” she asked.

“We saw him last week, you know how he is.”

“But you two are getting coffee now?” Fenneko said, and the way she emphasized the word was infuriating. “Together?”

Retsuko knew exactly what Fenneko was thinking and was quick to discourage the thought. “We take the same train most mornings,” she defended, “because his new job is in the building a few blocks down. So if we happen to cross paths, we’ll stop by the kiosk outside the station.”

“Mm-hmm.”

Retsuko shot Fenneko a glare. “So this morning we just grabbed some coffee. That’s all.”

“And he bought yours for you? That was nice of him.”

“We’re friends,” Retsuko replied firmly. Sure, they’d gone on a couple dates back when things felt possible between them. Then Haida had to go chasing after his promotion, and under the wing of the new boss, nearly committed fraud.

So, things were complicated. 

He’d made things right, in the end, and left the company as a result. Haida was someone who had the capacity to do the right thing, and even lead though he felt more like a follower. He just needed the confidence, and that’s where things usually went south.

Fenneko kept her wry grin on her face as she turned back to her desktop. “I thought I saw some hearts in your eyes when we saw his band play last week.”

Retsuko swallowed her response and instead went back to filing expense reports. She hadn’t anticipated that his absence at the office would hit her as hard as it did. She missed seeing the scruff of his ears poking up from behind his computer screen. His seat had since been taken by another accountant fresh out of college, and it was strange to still feel Haida’s absence in her chest like a hollow snail’s shell.

*

“Date secured!” proclaimed Gori, her expression victorious in the glow of the karaoke machine. She tossed her phone down onto the table with a sigh of finality. “I cut it close this year.”

“Christmas is only a few days away,” noted Washimi, taking a sip of her wine. “You were almost eating alone.”

Retsuko smiled encouragingly, but inside she felt bummed. She was hoping her friends would be free for Christmas. “That’s great, Gori,” she said. “Um, do you have a date too, Washimi?”

The bird nodded her elegant head. “Of course. I plan these things at least a month in advance.”

Dang it. Retsuko took a big swig of her beer. Christmas seemed to come earlier and earlier every year, and Retsuko was convinced she was under some kind of curse that made it so she always went into the holiday single.

Washimi—hyper-discerning—clocked her silence and softened. “If your work friends are busy, you could consider asking Haida.”

Gori nodded encouragingly. “You two have been getting coffee, haven’t you? Just ask him tomorrow.” Retsuko’s silence made her pause. “Unless it’s still a sore spot?”

Was Retsuko so easily readable? “Um…not really sore, no. Not anymore.”

“He apologized for everything that happened before he left the company,” chimed Washimi, impossible to read. “And things seemed to have warmed up between you two, if you don’t mind me noticing.” 

Retsuko—red in the face—did mind, but didn’t say so. “It’s…it’s not like I haven’t considered it.”

“Have you considered picking up where you left off?”

“Gori, she may not be comfortable talking about it.”

Retsuko took a deep, steadying breath. More than anyone in the world, she trusted her friends. She just wasn’t sure she had to vocabulary to articulate her feelings. “No, I…I want to, I just…I don’t know if…”

“Here,” said Washimi, and handed Retsuko the well-loved karaoke mic. “I plugged in your song.”

Gori raised her glass. “Let it out, girl.”

The mic felt like it belonged there, clasped between Retsuko’s paws. Her friends knew that when she couldn’t express herself through words, there was always one catalyst that never let her down. Retsuko took a shuddering breath and felt steady. As the rumble of heavy metal shook the carpet, Retsuko closed her eyes and let her hurt and her rage bubble to the surface until she was scream-singing the words locked up inside, clawing for escape. And escape they did:

COWAAAAARD!!

COWAAAAARD!!

LOOK AT YOU, ALWAYS STANDING ON THE SIDELINES

HOVERING THERE, TOO SCARED

PUSHING ME OUT, PULLING ME BACK IN

HOW DO I KNOW YOU WON’T LEAVE ME STRANDED THERE?

COWAAAAARD!!

WHY NOW? WHY NOW?

CLOCK’S TICKING, BABY

OUT OF TIME

I CAN SEE THE FOOTSTEPS YOU LEFT BEHIND

COWAAAAARD!!

YOU COULD GIVE ME YOUR FEELINGS

OR YOU COULD GIVE ME AN EXCUSE

CAN’T RUN MUCH LONGER

FROM THOSE COLD, COLD FEET

FEELINGS, UGH!!

I CAN FEEL THEM CREEPING, CRAWLING IN MY VEINS

WHO LET YOU IN HERE, ANYWAY?

NO VACANCY!

NO SOLICITING!

WHY’D I LET THEM IN, ANYWAY?

COWARD!!!!

Retsuko stood panting, shoulders slumping, the sounds of guitar fading as her accompaniment came to a close. The soft, encouraging claps of her friends ushered her back to the karaoke room and she sunk into the black cushions of the couch. The space buzzed, and the air felt clearer. 

“I wanted us to work,” she started. It wasn’t worth crying over, so why was she holding back tears? “Maybe the timing was off.”

Gori and Washimi looked sympathetic.

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Gori began, “didn’t he confess his feelings to you?”

Retsuko nodded. 

“Did you tell him you returned those feelings?”

Retsuko started to nod again, then stopped herself. “I…I said I wasn’t sure if I liked him yet, but I wanted to get to know him better.”

“And that’s a good, honest response.” Washimi swirled the contents of her glass thoughtfully. “He seems to gain confidence when he gets validation from you, doesn’t he?”

Retsuko thought about it. “He’s always in my corner.” 

“He practically sprints to your side to help you out,” noted Washimi, swirling the contents of her glass. “Protecting you from that crazy fan, walking you home to make you feel safe…”

“But it never goes beyond that,” Retsuko huffed. “I don’t know if he’s lost interest or confidence, and I can’t just wait around forever.”

Gori reached across the space and patted Retsuko’s hand. “Your feelings are completely valid, Retsuko. I’m annoyed at your expense.”

Retsuko felt like that wasn’t the end of the statement. “But?”

Gori bit her bottom lip. “You gave him a chance, and you’re not obligated to give him another one. But, hon—and I mean this in the kindest way—you don’t always communicate your feelings, especially when they’re strong ones.”

Retsuko groaned into her hands. Through her closed eyelids she saw Haida’s goofy grin, his eyes and storm of freckles, and the thought of him sent her heart hammering in the cavern of her chest. “Why?” she moaned. She wanted to ball up her feelings and chuck them into the nearest trash bin. “Why now? It’s not like I tried to like him. If I ask him out and have a good time and he does what he did before…”

“You’re afraid he’ll bail on you again, just as the relationship is beginning,” said Gori.

“And now that you truly like him back,” said Washimi, “you’ve got something to lose.”

Retsuko let herself fall sideways until she was lying on the couch, her cheek pressed against the cold pleather. “This hurts,” she mumbled.

The cushions squeaked as her friends sank beside her, their arms embracing her in a very large group hug. 

“Maybe you shouldn’t ask him then,” said Gori after a hearty squeeze. “I just hate seeing you like this.”

“But,” Retsuko said, the word coming out muffled against Gori’s massive bicep. “What if I have been as cold as you said? What if I could actually do something to make things different between us?”

Washimi patted her head. “As the cliché goes, you will never know unless you try.”

*

The next morning dawned with the promise of snow, and Retsuko had an especially difficult time hauling herself from her toasty bed, even after all three of her alarms went off. Her head pounded with lingering drunk-headaches from the night before, and her temples pulsed with tension. Work can suck it.

But it actually couldn’t, and Retsuko couldn’t let herself be late. Her channel, Death Metal Voice was doing well—very well—but that didn’t mean she didn’t need her day job. So she dressed quickly and barely had time to brush her teeth before sprinting out the door, fumbling with her coat buttons on her way down the stairs. She made the last train just before the doors slid shut, and she could finally breathe a sigh of relief. She willed herself not to doze and miss her stop. Coffee. She needed it, or she wouldn’t survive the day.

Though she needed a brew like she needed air, she wasn’t sure how she was going to act if she and Haida crossed paths. Following the night with Gori and Washimi, Retsuko’s feelings were extra raw about Haida. She had definitely cried. It could have been the alcohol, but it was entirely possible that she’d been crying over him.

And then as Retsuko exited onto the street, he was there. He was hard to miss: a tall, speckled hyena wearing a rugged green coat over his dark suit. Haida met her gaze from across the sidewalk and when he saw her, his face broke into a smile. He closed the gap between them with long strides, and Retsuko could feel her cold cheeks warming as she smiled back.

“I wasn’t sure I was going to catch you today,” he said. 

“I overslept,” she replied, falling into step beside him. Had he waited for her?

Haida cast her a stern look. “Ton making you work late again? You need to tell him where he can stick his overtime Retsuko, I’m serious.”

“No, Ton is fine. I don’t have a good excuse,” she replied. “I think it’s the cold. Weather’s just making me sleepy.” That and last night hitting me like a freight train.

Haida nodded towards the small kiosk on the corner, and the smell of java was intoxicating in the bitter air. “Coffee, then?”

They stood in line, chatting lightly and bouncing to keep the warm circulation going in their legs. Retsuko wracked her brain for something to keep the conversation going—she feared if she let the silence drag a moment too long she would lose her nerve.

“Is your band playing again anytime soon?” Retsuko asked him, instead of asking the other question burning on her tongue.

“Yeah, I hope so,” said Haida. He blew into his gloves. “Our rehearsals are so few and far between, so I’m glad you and Fenneko caught us last week.”

“It was fun. You guys are good,” she replied genuinely, and looked away before their eyes could meet. It wasn’t the thought of sitting across from Haida at a restaurant that made her palms sweaty. They’d gone on casual dates before, and those dates always came with the good kind of nervous. What scared her was taking a step forward, only to have him shy away.

“Whipped cream and cinnamon on top, right?”

Retsuko realized that they had made it to the front of the queue, the barista was staring and Haida was addressing her. “Retsuko?” he repeated. “You like it sweet, right?”

“Oh! Um, yes! Sorry!” Retsuko said, flushing under her fur. “And I’m paying.”

He waved her wallet away. “Nah, it’s Christmas, I got it—”

But Retsuko swooped in before he could draw his card and swiped the machine, making sure to punch in a tip. When their order was in, they moved out of the way and shivered by the pickup counter.

“Thanks,” Haida said. 

“Well, you got me last time,” she replied cheerfully. Just ask him. Do you want to be all alone on Christmas or what?

Haida exhaled a breath that materialized in the cold air, and she didn’t know why, but watching his soft expression made her insides feel both warm and desolate. What if I scare him off?

“Man, it’s Christmas already,” Haida mused, as if he could read her thoughts. “Can’t believe it.”

“Yeah,” she said automatically. He had breached the subject of the holiday. “Crazy.”

Haida’s fingers came up to scratch his cheek.  “You, uh, seeing your family this year?”

“No,” she replied. “Usually I’ll visit for New Year’s, but my parents have been in the middle of moving to Hokkaido, so they’re a little preoccupied.”

“Oh, moving? That retirement life, huh?” said Haida. Was he fidgeting? “Um, well, if you’re not doing anything—”

“Vanilla latte with cinnamon, and a black coffee?” came the barista’s shout.

Haida grabbed the cups from the counter and together the two began the walk to work. Retsuko’s building was only two blocks away, so that meant she had two blocks to summon the nerve. She warmed her mittens on her paper cup. 

“I don’t usually get whipped cream on my coffee, there’s just too much sugar,” she said, more to fill the silence than anything else. Retsuko stiffened as they reached the crosswalk. There was only one block to go.

“I didn’t make you late, did I?” asked Haida, glancing at his watch. 

Retsuko dared not check the time, knowing full-well that she’d have to hurry to make it into the office before the boss noticed. “It was worth it,” she said, and quickly clarified, “The coffee.”

They slowed and stopped at her building, and there was a brief moment of silence between them. It swelled like an inhale, and Retsuko knew that her time was up.

Just ask. Just ask. Just ask.

Retsuko smiled. “Have a good day!”

Haida raised his cup. “Yeah, you too.”

I blew it.

Retsuko tried to appear cheerful as she turned and made her way up the concrete steps. Idiot. She should have asked. Even if he’d said no, at least she would have taken the chance. That was the problem, she expected, of two anxious people tiptoeing around each other.

“Hey, um,” came Haida’s voice from behind, and Retsuko turned in time for him to say, “Are you free for dinner on Friday?”

She blinked. “Dinner?”

“Yeah,” he clarified, though she had heard him the first time. She had definitely heard him.

“Friday, that’s…Christmas Eve, isn’t it?” she asked.

Haida nodded, and didn’t say anything more, only waited. Retsuko felt like a spotlight was on her, like all the men and women on their way to work had heard Haida’s question. But they continued clopping up and down the steps while Retsuko’s world slowed down around her, and she was locked only in the spotlight of Haida’s shivering hazel eyes. 

“Yes,” she said at last, the word coming out before she could stop it. “I’m free.”

Haida inhaled, as though to steady himself. “Good,” he said. “Then it’s a date.”

He waved and continued down the sidewalk, rounding the corner until he had completely vanished from Retsuko’s sight.

Chapter Text

Retsuko checked herself in the locker room mirror and wrinkled her nose. Her outfit looked drab in the cold light of day. In fact, she was pretty sure the last time she wore the dress was to a literal funeral. But it was the only thing she’d brought to work—the short-sleeved black dress and little silvery heels—and there was no time to catch an hour-long train ride home and change into something else.  She frowned at her reflection in the floor-length work mirror and felt undeniably plain. Christmas Eve had come all too quickly, and Retsuko did not feel prepared for a date, with Haida least of all. 

She’d sat at her desk all day worrying about dinner drawing closer with every sharp tick of the clock, and now that it was here, she wanted to dig in her high-heels.

“You’re afraid he’ll bail on you again, just as the relationship is beginning.”

“And now that you like him back, you’ve got something to lose.”

Aware that she was stalling, Retsuko bundled up and hit the streets. Christmas Eve, a time for couples to swing their hands and post about their romantic escapades on social media. Retsuko recalled a Christmas Eve where she was forced to work late, and in a desperate attempt to be a part of the holiday, posted a fake picture of herself on a date. The memory still made her cringe, but at least the night had smacked her back into a state of humbleness. And it reminded her that if this night’s date went poorly, she had her friends there to back her up, just like last time.

With all the stress leading up to the moment, Retsuko’s hammering heart slowed when she caught sight of Haida. He was standing at the crosswalk, the puffs of his breath reflecting red and green light. He wore black slacks and a black button-down under a thick winter coat. He looked groomed, and his eyes brightened wide when he saw her. “Hey!” he called.

He looked good.

“Sorry I’m late,” said Retsuko, stopping to catch her breath and rubbing her mittens together. 

“No worries. I know it was kind of last minute.”

“It was a little bit,” she replied, and Haida cracked a grin. “So, um, where did you want to go?”

Haida shifted his weight from one foot to the other, either cold or anxious. Retsuko could relate to both. “I sort of made reservations, if that’s okay.”

Retsuko blinked. Haida went to the trouble of making reservations. For dinner. With her.

They walked along the line of shops, getting bursts of warmth as the coinciding doors swung open to let patrons come and go. Retsuko had a thought that she should have gotten Haida a present. Maybe that was too romantic a thought.

The two walked a few short blocks side by side until they came to a building strung up with delicate lights that twinkled like stars. They entered the lobby and were promptly led to a table by the window. Retsuko had often passed the restaurant whenever she was in town, but had never gone inside herself. As she shed her coat and gazed around at the elegant decor, she noticed Haida staring.

“What?” She panicked, hands going to her fur. Had she mussed it up? “Haida, what?”

“It’s just,” he said, and cleared his throat. Was he blushing or was it the candlelight? “Your dress. It’s pretty. You…just look really pretty.”

Retsuko’s heart did a little flop.  “Oh…” Moments ago, she’d felt self-conscious about her plainness, but one look from him, and she felt anything but. Why does he have to say things like that? “Thank you. Um, you look nice, too.”

The waiter came then, and interrupted the encounter with glasses of lemon water and a wine list. Haida was quick to order drinks while Retsuko fidgeted with the hem of her skirt. When the waiter finally left, the hard lines on Haida’s brow softened. “Hey, uh, I’m really glad you said yes to tonight,” he said. “I was afraid you wouldn’t, if I’m being honest.”

“You thought I’d say no?”

He folded his hands, as if looking for something to do with them. “I, uh, I haven’t been great at asking you out in the past.”

“We still went out a few times.”

“Sure,” said Haida, “but not like this.”

Like this? Retsuko’s heart swelled, and she quickly squashed the feeling back down. Don’t get your hopes up. He’s done this before. She had to let him take the lead, prove he meant what he said, prove that his actions lined up with said things.

Then again, thinking about it, he had asked her out in the past. Multiple times. Retsuko was the one who had said no. She squirmed in her seat. “I’m glad I said yes, too.”

The awkwardness soon dissipated, which was a relief. Conversing was always easy with Haida, and as they talked about horrible bosses, shows they were watching, music and awkward exes, Retsuko found herself laughing until her cheeks hurt. With him, it was easy.

When their plates were clean (pasta and wine and some of the best breadsticks Retsuko had ever eaten) and Haida took care of the bill— “Retsuko, get your card out of here, I said it was a date”—they bundled up to brave the outdoors once more. Tokyo was glimmering, and Retsuko suggested they go see the Christmas lights. The night was still young, and she still had courage to summon. They went past the train station towards downtown, and marveled at the trees strung up with reds, golds, purples, greens, and pinks. Haida had long steps, as he stood a few feet taller than Retsuko, but he slowed down enough so they could walk in stride. They went down the promenade in a warm kind of quiet. It didn’t feel awkward not talking. Retsuko fought the instinct to pull out her phone and snap a picture like the other couples sauntering by.

“Wanna skate?” Haida asked as they passed the ice rink.

“No way,” Retsuko replied. “Last time I tried skating, I bruised the crap out of my tailbone.”

He snorted. “That’s cute.”

She jabbed his thigh sharply—the highest spot she could reach—and he let out a noise caught between a laugh and a yelp.

“It wasn’t funny,” she scolded. "I spent the rest of the weekend sitting inside while my family got to ski."

“It’s a little bit funny,” Haida cackled. “C’mon, I promise I won’t let you fall, okay?” 

“Nope.”

“It’ll be fun. If you’re so afraid of falling on your butt, I’ll hold your hand if you want.”

Retsuko hesitated, and Haida seemed to realize the connotation of what he said because he went quiet.

They did not skate. Instead, they sat side-by-side on the lip of the wall outside the rink and watched the skaters glide by. Retsuko pulled her scarf more snugly around her neck and felt her own breath hot on her chin.

Haida stretched out his legs. “Good idea, coming to see the lights. Can’t remember when I did this with someone.”

All evening Retsuko had fought past the lump in her throat with surface-level questions like “how’s the new job going?” and “watch anything good lately?” But the urge to go deeper with Haida intensified as they sat in the silence. With deep questions came deep answers, and Retsuko wasn’t sure how willing she was to break down her walls just yet. If she did, she knew her feelings would come flooding out.

“Your updated channel looks great, by the way,” said Haida, nudging her with an elbow. “And that new cover you did? Chef’s kiss. Your vocals are killer. Queen of Metal, over here.”

“I have to admit, some ad revenue isn’t bad.”

“You love it,” he teased. “It’s so metal to keep doing it even after you had a bad experience once. You’re just…strong like that. ”

They were sitting close, almost so their thighs were touching, and she didn’t want to disturb the moment with the feelings bubbling up inside. Then, he turned to face her, and she felt swallowed in his eyes—those big hazel eyes flecked with green. He was so close she could feel the little exhales of his breath on her cheeks. She didn’t feel strong, not with him looking at her like that.

“Retsuko, can I ask you something?”

“Um…sure.”

He bounced his knee—she remembered him doing that a lot at work when he was stumped, and the movement always shook her desk. It came with a sinking feeling, a feeling that screamed “Why didn’t I ever notice?” All the signs had pointed to him liking her: the niceties, the favors, the times he’d sit next to her at work functions. Retsuko had never seen it, too caught up in her own stuff—and, quite possibly, because she’d been so self-absorbed those years. 

She braced herself as Haida cleared his throat and went on, “This is probably awkward but…I wanted to ask if you—”

Something buzzed, jolting Retsuko out of her stupor. Her phone, which she thought she’d left on silent, buzzed again at her hip. She grabbed it to click it off, when she happened to glance at the screen:

5 missed calls, 6 missed text messages, 3 voicemails from Mom.

Retsuko’s hands went cold. Either Mom just had to wish her a “Merry Christmas”, or something was terribly wrong. “I-I’m sorry,” Retsuko muttered, fumbling with her mitten so she could unlock her phone screen.

CALL ME! demanded the first text, followed by increasingly panicked others: 

EMERGENCY. 

DAD COLLAPSED. 

CALL ME.

“I…” Retsuko grasped the phone in both hands. “Haida, I’m sorry, my mom…”

“It’s fine,” he said quickly. “You better call her.”

Mom picked up on the first ring. “Hello? Retsuko?”

“Mom, what happened? Where’s Dad?” Retsuko leapt off the wall to pace, unable to sit still. She felt like this was what it felt like to have bees in her legs, and it was about a hundred times worse than a caffeine rush.

“He collapsed, honey. He went outside to chop wood, just like any other day and he just—” A pause, as if she was collecting herself. “—we’re in the hospital now. You know he has his heart problems.”

“Is he…?” Retsuko swallowed against the lump in her throat. “Mom…?”

“He’s with the doctors now. He’s alive, sweetie.”

Retsuko bit her lip hard until she tasted iron. “I’m coming,” she said. Retsuko hung up the phone and felt the concrete shift underneath her feet. Dad…no…

“Hey!” came the voice of Haida, yanking her mind back to the ice rink, to the lights twinkling softly in the trees, to reality. He was eye-level with her, grounding her. “Retsuko?”

“I need…” she started. Think! What did she need? She needed to get to Hokkaido, and fast. Were flights still available so last minute? Would a train take too long? Oh, she wished Tadano was in town, or she would bother him for a ride. What was the point having wealthy friends when they weren’t even around to give her private jet rides? “Hokkaido,” Retsuko managed to say. “I need to get to Hokkaido. The Medical Center.”

Haida looked at her once, and nodded. “Then come on,” he said, and grabbed her hand.

The next hours passed in a blur of panic. Retsuko was hardly aware of getting on the train back to her place, or of throwing things haphazardly into a suitcase, or of Haida scouring the internet for last-minute transport to Hokkaido at 11 o’clock at night. Retsuko hardly registered any of it, driven only by a single thought: Dad, please be okay.

“I might need to catch a train,” she called out from the bathroom, tossing her dress aside and hopping into yoga pants. “Could you look at what’s leaving tonight? I’ll take anything.” A train ride wasn’t the ideal choice—it would take all night to reach Hokkaido with all the stops, and she didn’t want to think of what could happen to Dad by then—but it was probably all she could get on such short notice. “I think my laptop’s on the counter…”

Retsuko stumbled out of the bathroom and into Haida, who had her laptop balanced on one hand. “Here, open your phone,” he commanded gently, and Retsuko did. A document popped up with a little ding. “That’s your boarding pass,” he said.

Retsuko stared at the phone screen until her eyes burned. “How did you…?”

“I could only get you a seat on the back of the plane, but it’s going out tonight. You should make it if you leave now, but you have to go, like, now. I already called a cab.”

There wasn’t time to thank him, to ask how he had afforded a last-minute ticket, and no time to come up with a plan to pay him back. Laptop packed and her suitcase in tow, they raced down to the curb to catch the taxi, then she climbed in and held the door before Haida could close it. “Haida, wait.”

He bent over to look inside. There was something desolate in his expression that made her chest ache. Why did it feel like she was leaving him for good?

“Thank you,” was all she could say.

He drummed on the roof of the car. “You should go,” he said.

“Airport, miss?” said the driver.

Retsuko closed the door, and watched as Haida disappeared on the curb behind. 

*

The blue jaws of the mountains told Retsuko she was in Hokkaido. The sounds of the night were muffled under a fresh blanket of snow, and in the quiet Retsuko could hear her heartbeat hard in her ears. 

Dad…

The reception in Hokkaido was terrible, and Retsuko cursed her phone plan as she hopped off at the hospital. Just as well, her phone was dying anyway. It was 3 AM when she burst into the waiting room, realized she hadn’t gotten the room number, and spent the better part of ten minutes going back and forth with the receptionist. At last, Retsuko’s mother appeared to see what the commotion was, and took her up to the room.

When Retsuko, exhausted and jet lagged and sweating, laid eyes on her father in the hospital bed—alive and breathing. The dam broke and, sick with relief, she cried facedown into his blankets. 

*

Retsuko awoke the next morning to movement in the cool, bright room, and sat up to straighten her fur and wipe drool from her mouth. Her shoulders ached—had she slept in a chair?—and it took her a full minute to remember where she was, and how she’d gotten there. The last twelve hours felt like a dream.

“There she is,” came her father’s low, soothing voice from the bed, and he graced her with a crooked smile on his tan face. Her dad looked tired, like someone had vacuumed the warmth right out of his usually fluffy cheeks, but at least he looked glad to see her. Retsuko rushed over to hug him. 

“Dad,” she said on a sigh of relief. “How are you feeling?”

“Never better,” he said with a wink.

Mom rolled her eyes from the other side of the bed. “After a heart attack, dear? Really?”

He returned her look with one of humor. “I’m always better when both of my girls are in the same room.”

Retsuko could tell her mother was trying hard not to smile. “Retsuko, would you get your father some water, please? The doctor said he needs to stay hydrated.”

Retsuko went to the water pitcher to fill up a cup, and Mom continued a steady stream of chatter.

“Of course this happens as soon as we’re settling in,” Mom said huffily. “There’s still so much left to unpack—you would not believe how much clutter we had to get rid of—and there is absolutely no way I’m letting your father lift anything until he’s one-hundred percent better. But you should see the house, Retsuko. You’ll love it. It’s on a beautiful little lake, like where your grandparents had their summer home.”

“Sounds great.”

“I know the circumstances of you being here aren’t good, of course, but oh, you have to see what I’ve done with the front sitting room. I mean, the place was drab when we got it—wasn’t it, honey? All that paneling, yick—but you’d be surprised what a few curtains can do to open up a place. Anyway, you’ll have to see it. It’s right off of Willow Street. I sent you pictures of the place, didn’t I?”

“Yes, Mom.

“And work is going well? Did you make sure to call out sick? And how many days can you take off? You don’t want to be missing too many, you know, that certainly doesn’t look good.”

“Okay, Mom.”

It came as a welcome relief when the doctor walked in to check Dad’s vitals and scribble some things on his clipboard. Retsuko allowed herself to relax as her mother turned her chatty attention right over to the handsome doctor.

“How does he look, Doctor Ito? I think he’s much better than yesterday don’t you think?” Mom said.

The doctor—a tall dog with a sleek, golden coat—checked something off of his clipboard. “Your color is looking better, Mr. Panda. But according to the test results, I’m afraid we will have to operate.”

“Operate?” Mom gasped.

“Now, I know that’s a scary word,” said the doctor in a voice infuriatingly calm for Retsuko’s taste. “We are dealing with blocked arteries here. I can schedule it for as early as this afternoon. It could help in the long run with that chest pain you’ve been experiencing, too.”

Retsuko hardly registered anything of what the doctor said after “operate”. At least her mother was looking more calm as he explained it to her. 

As Retsuko tuned back in, the doctor adjusted his glasses and continued, “So I’ll go ahead and schedule for one o’clock, all right?”

Mom nodded enough for her and her husband. “Of course, doctor. Whatever he needs.”

The doctor kept his eyes on Dad. “And this will also mean a lifestyle change. Diet and exercise. But that’ll wait until after your recovery.”

Dad grunted something, and Mom turned on him to snap, “Of course we’ll make whatever changes necessary to keep you alive! What kind of wife would I be if I let you eat the way you’ve been eating, hm? I’m sure Doctor Ito doesn’t let his wife neglect her health. You did get married, didn’t you, Doctor Ito?”

The doctor smiled politely. “I am not married as of yet, ma’am.”

“Honey,” warned Dad.

Retsuko, who had been listening quietly, suddenly felt her mother’s attention on her like a floodlight.  

“Oh, so rude of me. Ito, do you remember my daughter, Retsuko?” Mom asked, then paused and added very unnecessarily, “She’s still single.”

Retsuko hid her shock with a loud cough. “Mom—!”

“Retsuko, do you remember Ito? His mother and I are very old friends. You two used to carpool when we spent that semester here with your grandparents?”

In fact, Retsuko did not remember someone she’d met almost two decades ago, but to be polite—and to gloss over her mother’s audacity—Retsuko smiled at him. “Oh, wow. Nice to see you again.”

The doctor seemed amused. “You look much different, though at the time we must have been eight years old.”

When Doctor Ito finally left, Retsuko buried her mortified face in her hands. “Mother,” she moaned. “Why?”

“What do you mean ‘why’? You are single. And it’s nice to rekindle old friendships, isn’t it?”

Dad rubbed his temples. “Honey, it’s Christmas. I’ve already got to go in for surgery and you’re dumping this on her too…?”

Mom placed her little arms on her hips. “Exactly. Christmas. The clock’s ticking. He’s a doctor, Retsuko. And I’ve been dropping your name since yesterday, and he seems like he could be interested.” She stopped mid-sentence, her little black eyes casting a judgmental look from Retsuko’s boots to her unbrushed fur, and in a sudden change in tone she asked, “Did you want to change? Or brush your teeth, perhaps?”

Retsuko slapped a paw self-consciously over her mouth. She hadn’t brushed her teeth or washed anything all night, at least ten hours. “Mom, did I really just talk to the doctor with my breath smelling like dead things?”

“Then go get washed up now,” Mom said. “I’m sure the relationship isn’t spoiled just yet.”

“‘Relationship’,” Dad grumbled. “Ridiculous.” 

Retsuko grabbed her purse and overturned the contents when she remembered that she’d packed her toiletry bag elsewhere. “Mom, did you move my suitcase?” she asked, checking under the chair she slept in and running a paw under the bed.

“No. I don’t remember you coming in with one.”

“I did. At least…I think I did.” 

“Well, where’s the last place you left it?” asked Mom, in typical Mom-fashion. But it was a good question. Where had she had it last? She’d definitely brought it into the taxi back in Tokyo—she remembered bouncing her feet on top of it the whole car ride to the airport. And then…

“I left it in the cab,” she said numbly. She’d been so distraught to get to Hokkaido, she hadn’t even brought it into the airport. Her phone charger was in there, her clothes, her toothbrush, her makeup. Most importantly, it had her laptop. If she was going to miss work—if she could even get ahold of work with such bad reception and a dying phone—she needed that laptop. Her suitcase was probably still on the floor of that taxi cab, somewhere off in Tokyo.

“I’m sorry, kiddo,” said Dad, reaching across the bed to give her a weak pat. “If you need to get back home for work, you go right ahead. We’ll help with train fare or whatever you need.”

She shook her head hard. The thought of her dad—such a quiet, gentle man—lying unconscious in a hospital bed made Retsuko sick to her stomach. “I’m not leaving,” she told him decidedly. 

Chapter Text

There were hours yet before the surgery, and that gave Retsuko some time to set her muddled mind straight. She went down to the hospital shop for essentials and picked up a travel-sized toothbrush and face wash. At least she hadn’t left her wallet in the taxi, though she couldn’t imagine getting far without it. 

Retsuko’s phone was dead, and she scoured the tiny shop for a charger to fit with her model. She still hadn’t called work to let them know she wasn’t coming in, and dreaded opening her phone to a hundred missed calls from the admin. Retsuko even showed the cashier her phone to inquire about the chargers, and they said they “didn’t carry older models”.

“Crap,” she snarled.

“What’s your model?” asked the customer standing in line behind her.

“Seven-something,” Retsuko muttered, stepping quickly out of line. “Sorry, you go ahead.”

When she turned to face the man, it took her a moment to realize it was Doctor Ito, wearing a polite smile. “Miss Retsuko.”

The realization that she still hadn’t brushed her teeth hit Retsuko like a semi. Luckily, the cashier jumped in with a cheery, “Good morning, Doctor Ito! Did you want your usual coffee?”

Ito nodded a greeting. “Thank you.” He glanced back down at Retsuko, and she was struck by how blue his eyes were. He was young for a doctor. “Miss Retsuko, I believe my charger may be compatible with yours. You’re welcome to use it while I take my break.”

Retsuko gripped her dead phone in her paws. “Really?” She’d always pegged doctors as insanely busy individuals without a moment to spare—especially not for girls thick-headed enough to leave their chargers in Tokyo. “Um, thank you. That would be great.”

Doctor Ito smiled and turned back to the cashier. “Make that two coffees, please.”

They sat at a sunlit table by the windows, the mountains big and bright with snow. Retsuko let the coffee steam rise to her face, and watched as the green bar on her phone screen crawled forward. She fiddled with the white cord, imagining what her mother would say if she saw Retsuko sitting across from Doctor Ito in her ratty hoodie and yoga pants.

“I’ve left my laptop charger in an airport once,” Ito offered, sipping his own coffee. “And because I’m such an old-fashioned dog, I had one of the oldest models still legally allowed on the market. Took weeks to order a replacement that was compatible with that old relic. By then I had to bite the bullet and buy a new model, for the sake of my work. What a nightmare.”

Retsuko laughed along. “So you get where I’m coming from. I left my whole suitcase in Tokyo. I didn’t even notice I didn’t have it with me on the plane. So, um, please excuse my…” She made a lame gesture to her scruffy attire. 

He flipped through one of the files he had open on the table. “No need to apologize.”

Retsuko nodded her head, unsure if she should speak or not. She had a tendency to misread or miss signals entirely. Then again, he had bought her a coffee.

“Certainly is a small world, seeing you and your mother here,” he said.

Retsuko fiddled with the strings of her sweatshirt. “I’m sorry, I’ve got to be honest, I don’t think I remember you that well.”

To her surprise, he laughed. “That’s all right. You didn’t notice me when we used to carpool, either. You, on the other hand, are not easy to forget.”

“Oh…” Hiding a blush, Retsuko racked her brain. Come to think of it, she may have remembered a very shy boy sitting beside her in the back of her grandmother’s mini-van. Was she just that oblivious? “I’m sorry. Ito. I think I vaguely remember.” He smiled patiently. It gave her the courage to go on. “I’m just worried about my dad, that’s all.” She cast a glance at her phone as her battery climbed to 25%. “And I really don’t want to talk to my boss right now.”

“Ah. That would do it.” Doctor Ito tilted his head with amusement. “You have nothing to worry about with your father’s operation. It’s a simple procedure. And I don’t mean to make it sound like I’m boasting, but I am a very good doctor.”

She nodded, not trusting herself to speak. 

“Miss Retsuko,” said Ito, and his sudden soft tone made her blood warm. “I understand that this is not the time for it, but I wondered if you were free for dinner one of these nights while you’re staying in Hokkaido, to catch up.”

“Um…” 

He chuckled, then added, “I’m not asking because your mother asked me to, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Dinner. It seemed harmless enough, but she couldn’t think much of anything besides her dad at that moment. “Thank you,” she said automatically. “I’ll…have to get back to you.”

He nodded. “Of course. I just wanted to extend the offer. It’s not every day you run into an old acquaintance.”

At last, Doctor Ito indicated that his break was over and, on cue, Retsuko unplugged her phone. “Thank you again,” she said, handing the charger back. “I was about to go adventuring through the snow to find one.”

“Glad you didn’t,” he chuckled, and tucked it in his coat pocket. “I hear there’s a storm on the way, and it would be a shame if you got lost in that. And…please, let me know about dinner.”

Doctor Ito gave her a bow goodbye, and Retsuko returned it. His white doctor’s coat disappeared down the linoleum hallway, and Retsuko couldn’t shake the awkward feeling that her mother would be very happy to hear that she and the doctor had shared a coffee.

With her charged phone in hand, Retsuko retreated to a corner of the hospital lobby. It took her a few solid minutes to psyche herself up enough to turn on the phone—ignoring the mountain of messages in exchange for her sanity. She dialed the office’s number and braced herself for a berating. 

She talked for a few minutes with the HR rep, explaining at lighting-speed that she was absent because of an emergency and she didn’t have her phone until that moment. Then she was transferred to Ton—she braced herself harder—and had to re-explain that no, she was not skipping work to go on vacation, that her father was due for a surgery and she wasn’t coming into work, end of story.

“And you see, I don’t have my laptop with me,” Retsuko said, her nerve growing steadily weaker, “so I would send those spreadsheets, but I um, actually left it in Tokyo by accident…no sir, I don’t know when I’ll be back to…well, like I said, it was an emergency…sir, it’s my dad…” Retsuko held back a small sob, though sadistically she wondered if some emotion might help her case. Ton sometimes caved when fragile, feminine emotions were involved.

At last she was given the go-ahead to use a vacation day, and that would have to be enough. Retsuko thanked the boss, hung up, and sank into the nearest chair. If she just hadn’t forgotten her laptop, the boss would be more keen on letting her work from home. Then she could stick around after the surgery, help her dad as he recovered. The image of him lying weak and pale in that sterile bed was burned into her mind, and she wanted it out.

Retsuko wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. Get it together. The surgery was in less than an hour, so she’d have to haul herself up eventually. She raised her head, and stopped. There was someone at the end of the hallway carrying a rectangular, red suitcase—a suitcase that looked suspiciously like the one she owned. The carrier seemed lost, and even from this distance, even amongst all the faces bustling around the lobby, Retsuko knew that heavy green coat and scruffy, freckled face anywhere.

“Haida?” 

And somehow, though the chaos and the people, he saw her, too. Haida made a beeline for her, muttering apologies as he wove through bodies, and stopped a foot in front of her. She must have looked too shocked to speak, because he placed the suitcase at her feet and said, “Hey.”

“H-hey…”

“I’m sorry to just show up here, I know it’s totally weird. I tried calling and texting but…”

Retsuko took the suitcase, still shocked it was there at all—that he was there at all. “M-my phone died, and my charger…”

“…was in your suitcase?” Haida finished. “Yeah, I figured you’d need it.”

Retsuko cracked it open and there, tucked away, was her laptop and chargers amongst the bundled up socks and shirts. Moments ago she thought she’d have to jump through hoops to stay with her sick father in Hokkaido, but the bag Haida dropped in front of her was real and tangible, just like him.

“How did you find me?” she asked dumbly.

“I took a train,” he said. “And when you weren’t answering your phone, I remembered you saying something about the Medical Center, and it was within walking distance of the train station so I thought I could just drop it off for you and…well, I’m glad I caught you, anyway.”

Retsuko let herself get a good look at him then. His appearance was disheveled: the fur on his face was smooshed flat on one side like he’d fallen asleep against something vertical. His wool beanie seemed to be the only thing keeping curls of brown fur in check, and there was still flakes of snow gripping to the fibers. She felt like she hadn’t seen him in weeks, though it had been a little less than twenty-four hours.

“Thank you,” she said numbly, paws gripping the suitcase handle.

“The cab driver called me and said you’d left it, and I figured you wouldn’t know how long you’d be in Hokkaido, and…” He waved his hand, stopping his own ramble. “Anyway, how’s your dad? He okay?”

Retsuko started to nod, started to shake her head, then gave up somewhere in between. “He’s…going into surgery soon.”

Haida uttered a curse. “I’m sorry.”

Retsuko put on a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Then Haida became blurry, like she was looking at him through a rain-soaked window, and she didn’t realize she was crying until she felt hot tears burning her cheeks. Oh, she didn’t want to cry in front of Haida, and now she had tears soaking her fur. “I’m sorry,” she said “I don’t mean to…ah, this is embarrassing…”

Haida went to his knee so they were eye-level, and the concern in that scruffy, weary face only made her sob harder. She clapped one trembling hand over her mouth.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” said Haida, his voice dropping low and gentle. “Come here…”

Retsuko was too tired to resist, and fell headfirst into him. His arms enveloped her, and the warmth was like being wrapped in a blanket. Haida held on, even when Retsuko sobbed into his shoulder, no doubt wetting his coat with her tears and runny nose. He only let go when she pulled away first, swiping at her eyes with her sleeves.

“I have to go up,” she said at last, the loss of his warmth like a cold front. “See Dad before the…before they take him in.”

“Okay.” Haida didn’t take his hands off her shoulders. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

She almost told him no, simply because it was the automatic, polite thing to say. But she felt so steady with his hands bracing her that she couldn’t bring herself to refuse him.

*

Retsuko and Haida sat in the waiting room across from her mother. Normally the situation would have caused great distress for Retsuko, but Mom was uncharacteristically quiet, and only asked Haida a handful of questions before settling back into the hard, grey chair. It was certainly not the interview Retsuko expected from her nosy mother, and she almost would have welcomed Mom’s usual intrusiveness. She was at least glad Haida didn’t try to fill the silence. He simply sat there like a sentinel, elbows resting on his knees. 

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Retsuko was only aware of time passing because of the annoying ticks from the wall clock behind her head. “How long did Doctor Ito say it might be?” she asked aloud.

Mom’s eyes flicked to the spot behind Retsuko’s head. “He said it could be as short as thirty minutes,” she replied. “Or as long as hours.”

Retsuko rubbed her throbbing temples. 

“Do you two need me to grab anything?” Haida offered. “I could track down a coffee machine somewhere.”

“Actually,” her mother said, and Retsuko could practically see the gears turning in her head. “Tea would be wonderful.”

Haida nodded, then gently tapped the arm of Retsuko’s chair with a knuckle. “How ‘bout you? You look like you could use something.”

“I’m all right. Thanks.”

He left his coat slung beside her and went to brave the hospital hallways. Retsuko braced herself for it, and as soon as he was gone her mother noted, “He’s handsome.”

Retsuko felt her face warm. “Mother. Not now.”

“Well, physically he looks like he slept on a train—sloppier than the first time I saw him—but overall he’s quite rugged. And he came all the way here to—what was it he said? Just to drop off your bag? Isn’t that a six-hour train ride?”

Retsuko narrowed her eyes. “I thought you wanted me to get with the single doctor.”

Mom leaned her head back. “It’s nice to have options.”

“Was Dad ever an option?”

Mom sat up straight. “Retsuko, your father was always the one. I never so much as looked at anyone else.”

Retsuko fought not to roll her eyes. Of course her mother was allowed to have her one true love, but Retsuko? It was all about getting married before her eggs dried up. “Mom,” she said, “how did you know…it was Dad?”

Mom smoothed her fur, and there was a ghost of a smile on her lips. “It was easy. I knew right away.”

Despite herself, Retsuko leaned forward with curiosity. “How?”

“Our parents didn’t approve of us, but despite all the obstacles, all the stress even leading up to our wedding day, I always felt so safe with him. At peace. There were butterflies, certainly. But there was never any doubt that I could tell him anything, even the ugly things, and it never seemed to scare him, I suppose. Even when my life didn’t feel safe, he always did, and that was enough.”

Retsuko stared at the tips of her boots.

“And the passion, between us! That’s important too, of course. Let’s just say your father always knew how to push all my right—“

“Ah! Shush!” Retsuko interjected, a little louder than she intended. “Never come back to that story again.”

When Haida returned with styrofoam cups and handed one off to Retsuko’s mother, he placed the other in Retsuko’s hands.

“They had hot chocolate, and you looked a little chilly,” he said, sitting back down beside her. “You like it sweet, right?”

Retsuko pointedly ignored her mother’s raised eyebrows and drank her cocoa in peace.

At long last, Doctor Ito entered the waiting room and Retsuko and her mother sprang to their feet.

“He’s doing fine,” Ito said, answering before they could ask. “We’ll know in about twenty-four hours what the next steps ought to be.”

“Next steps?” repeated Retsuko. “What does that mean?”

“He may need another surgery, if this tube doesn’t take. I would like to observe him overnight.”

Mom inhaled slowly. “Is he awake, doctor? May we see him?”

Doctor Ito started to lead the way back through the doors, and stopped Haida as he started to stand. “I’m sorry,” Ito said. “Are you family? ”

Haida froze halfway between standing and sitting. “Uh, no.”

“He’s with us,” Retsuko interjected. “Isn’t that okay?”

Ito’s razor blue eyes flitted down to her. “It’s immediate family only. You’ll have to wait here, sir.”

Haida sank slowly back into the chair, his brow stern. “Sure. I’ll be out here if you need, Retsuko.”

Retsuko felt Doctor Ito’s hand ghost her shoulder. “This way, please.”

She and her mom hurried into the hospital wing, down a hall, and into a little room. He was hooked up to a few machines that buzzed and whirred, and his eyes fluttered open when he saw them. “All right,” was all he seemed to be able to say, so quietly she barely heard him. “M’all right, my loves.”

Retsuko and her mother sat on either side of his bed, listening to his soft breathing for what felt like another hour.

“You father will be sleeping all night, with what they have him on,” Mom said, brushing a finger along his brow. “Retsuko dear, why don’t you go to the house and get some rest yourself?” Retsuko started to protest, but her mother was just as stubborn. “I want you to go to the house and sleep, you truly look awful, and I want those bags under your eyes gone.”

Retsuko grunted. “Always encouraging.”

Her father’s hand trailed across the white sheets and grasped Retsuko’s paw. His grip felt so frail. “Go home, honey,” he breathed, casting her a slightly loopy smile. “Go…sleep…you look…worse than me.”

“Ha, ha,” said Retsuko dryly.

“If you really want something to do,” Retsuko’s mom continued, “You can go grocery shopping if you want, or make sure we’ve got firewood for when we come home tomorrow, hm?”

“Will they let him come home tomorrow?” Retsuko asked.

Her mother smiled, but didn’t give her a straight answer. 

Retsuko didn’t like the idea of leaving her dad at the hospital for another night, but her mom may have been right. Retsuko was no good to anyone fretting about, and now that Haida was around…

…wait, what was she thinking? Haida wasn’t staying. He came to drop off Retsuko’s bag—an above-and-beyond type of gesture sure, but there was no more reason for him to stick around Hokkaido.

Unless…

It would be a shame to make Haida turn around and go right back to Tokyo, especially when he’d come all the way out. She could always invite him to stay just a while longer, come back with her to the cottage, help her get that firewood her mother talked about (though Retsuko didn’t know a thing about starting a fire). The fact that he’d come out at all meant something, didn’t it?

Retsuko walked back to the waiting room, her mother’s car keys warming her palm. “Haida?” she said, but he wasn’t where she’d left him. She peeked around the corners of the hallways, expecting to see his eager ears perked at the sound of his name.

“Your friend left.”

Retsuko faced Doctor Ito, who was flipping absently through a set of files at the reception desk.

“Haida’s gone?” she asked. It was unlike Haida to leave without saying a goodbye. “Did he say why?”

“He had a train to catch, I expect.”

No, he couldn’t have been gone. “Doctor Ito, please.”

Ito tilted his head in her direction. “I thought you’d be staying tonight with your father, and advised that he should get ahead of the storm.”

Retsuko shrugged into her winter coat and grabbed her suitcase. With her mother’s car, she could catch him. “So he’s heading to the train station?”

“I hope you’re not considering driving, Miss Retsuko. The snow—”

Retsuko waved an abrupt “thank you” and went after him.

*

Snow came down in flurries from the mountains, and wrapped Hokkaido in a storm of white. Retsuko drove as slowly as she dared, the windshield wipers turned up to full speed. Even that couldn’t stop the ice from crystalizing on the edges of the windowpanes.

“Idiot,” Retsuko hissed, squinting against the flurry. What in the hell had possessed Haida to leave without saying goodbye? Could it be possible that Haida had seen Doctor Ito and had gotten jealous? It would not have been the first time he’d lost his nerve when another guy was…

Retsuko shook her head hard. No, it wasn’t his fault. She couldn’t keep blaming him for the miscommunications, for the lack of confidence. It was possible that she suffered the same flaws as he did—okay, not possible, she definitely suffered the same flaws. Anxiety was one hell of a driver, and Retsuko couldn’t let it win, not again.

Retsuko gripped the wheel of her mother’s car until her knuckles paled, and in the white swirls, she saw something moving in the snow: a dark spot like a blot of ink on paper. She squinted ahead, her eyes burning like they did when she stared at her computer screen too long, but there was definitely someone walking in the snow. The person was tall and lanky, and they were cutting across the snowy field.

Retsuko wasn’t entirely sure why she did what she did next. It could have been a healthy concoction of past regrets and panic, but she yanked the keys out of the ignition and exited the vehicle into the snow. “Haida!” she called, her voice lost on the wind. She ventured a few more steps into the field. The snow piled up fast and already reached her knees. “HAIDA!”

She thought she saw him hesitate, but then he kept walking. Retsuko growled and picked up the pace, trudging through the snow and closing space between them. “HAIDA!” she tried again, challenging the screaming wind. “DAMMIT, TURN AROUND!”

Then, miraculously, he did turn around. Retsuko caught a glimpse of his befuddled expression before something moved under the soles of her boots. She hadn’t noticed that she was walking on something flat, and stopped mid-stride as the realization hit her like a ton of bricks: she was walking on ice, and it was thin.

There was a crack, a shift, and Retsuko didn’t have a moment to utter even a noise of surprise before she was falling.

The shock of cold water was immediate. Retsuko gasped as her legs were submerged, and a pang like icy needles shot through her system. She reached wildly out on the surface of the pond to grab onto something, anything, nails scraping slush.

“RETSUKO!” 

She lifted her head in time to see Haida barreling over the crest of the hill, his hot breath making frenzied clouds in the air. He screeched to a halt beside the lip of the frozen pond, eyes darting this way and that. He wouldn’t dare take a step forward.

“H-Hai…” Retsuko grit her teeth. She could feel the undertow of ice water grasping at her legs, pulling her through the hole she’d fallen through. Water creeped up her waist, soaking her through.

Haida’s eyes bugged. “Hold on!” he shouted, and ducked out of sight for a moment. When he returned, he had a long branch clasped in his hands. 

Retsuko could feel her body trembling fiercely, trying to keep itself warm. She tried to pull herself up onto the ice, but it felt like her legs weren’t receiving the signals. She kept her sights glued on Haida, the only thing that steadied her, reminding her to keep breathing. He had dropped to his belly, flat on the pond to distribute his weight, and was inching closer. The branch slid forward, but she didn’t know if she had the strength to reach for it.

“Grab it!” Haida pleaded, and she couldn’t bear the look of desperation on his face. “Come on!”

Retsuko grit her teeth so hard her temples hurt. Come on… 

She wrapped her fingers around the proffered branch, and it felt like it took everything in her might to hold onto it as Haida dragged it back. At last her legs broke free from the pond and her body found solid ground.

“S-so…s-stupid,” she said, wanting to laugh, too weak to. There was a flurry of movement, but her vision was too bleary to tell what was happening. “I didn’t…d-didn’t even s-see where I was going…like, w-walk much? Ha-ha…”

Haida did not laugh, in fact, he looked something close to distraught. “What are you doing out here?” He shrugged off his coat and wrapped it tight around Retsuko’s frame before she could object. “I mean…shit, Retsuko, you’re soaked through!”

“M-me?” she retorted. “I was g-going after y-you! You c-couldn’t take a cab like a n-normal person?”

“Well, I didn’t know it was gonna be this bad when I went out, and anyway, the station’s not far and I didn’t want to spend the…argh, forget it!” Haida reached down and in one motion, scooped Retsuko clean off the ground. She squealed in surprise, and instinctively reached upwards to snag him around the neck. She assumed his arms were holding her up, but she could barely feel anything below her waist. 

That probably wasn’t good. 

“That the car?” Haida asked, kicking back some snow. It was coming down harder now, pinpricking all exposed skin and fur.

Retsuko nodded shakily as they came upon her mother’s van, already covered in an inch of snow. The image wavered in front of her vision.

“I’m taking you back to the hospital,” Haida growled, flinging open the door and setting Retsuko in the passenger’s seat. Her whole body numbed.

“N-no, the way back is b-bad and u-uphill,” Retsuko said.

“Retsuko, we need to get you warm now.”

“The house is j-just around the c-corner…” Home meant warmth, a fire, and no doctors. “Please…”

A violent shudder overtook her body then, and it shut up Haida quick. “All right, all right, you win.” He turned the key in the ignition, his jaw set. “Please…just hold on, okay?”

“O-okay,” Retsuko replied, and promptly fell out of consciousness.

Chapter Text

The house was freezing.

With the storm raging in full-force outside, the cottage was plunged in darkness, the hearth sitting empty and cold. Haida exploded over the threshold, the small lump of a barely-conscious Retsuko clutched in his arms. Warmth. She needed warmth. He sprinted through the unfamiliar hallway of Retsuko’s parents’ house, found the bathroom, and flicked the light switch. Nothing.

“Damn,” he hissed. No power. He went to the tub and cranked the hot water dial until the place surged with steam. At least the water seemed to be working, and it was hot, for now.

“Hey, stay with me,” he uttered, giving his coat a shake. She didn’t move. Panic rose tight in his throat. “Retsuko?”

She made a noncommittal noise, blinked once, and closed her soft eyelids again. She looked so…weak. Her once-shiny fur wilted with the weight of snow crystals. Was her nose turning blue?

Haida quickly unraveled her from his wet coat, grabbing every towel on the racks to dab the snow off. Her clothes were completely soaked, hard and frozen to the touch, blocking her skin from receiving any sort of heat.

Haida prodded her gently. She rolled over, as if she was just sleeping. “Retsuko, I, uh, I don’t know how to say this but…we need to get you out of these clothes. Like, now.”

She didn’t respond. Had she heard him? The bathroom mirror was fogging up with hot condensation, the tub was filling with warm water, and Retsuko still lay shivering on the bathmat. 

Haida ran a flustered hand down his blushing face. 

I have to get her clothes off of her. While she’s near unconscious. Shit.

But what else could he do? She would freeze to death. He hesitated, paws hovering over her damp boot laces. He wished he’d taken her to the hospital. “I’m taking off your boots, okay?” he told her, figuring that at least he was giving her fair warning. “Okay—geez, your toes are like frozen peas—um, all right, I know this is bad, but I really need to get your pants off now because I’d rather you didn’t die. I know how this looks, trust me, but you need to get in the water quick before something actually bad happens. It’s warm, not hot, because my dad skis and he said that with frostbite it’s better to slowly warm up than to…Could you please say something so I know if you hear me?”

Again, she made a noncommittal sound, and the softness of it scared him. He wished she would spring up in protest, call him a pervert, give him a good, hearty slap across the face. Anything but this silence. He didn’t like silence on the best of days.

Haida gripped the ice-encrusted fabric of her leggings— “Shitshitshitshit”—and yanked them off her thighs. She stirred. The knit of her sweatshirt was heavy with water, so Haida gripped it at the base and tugged it over her head. She was left with her damp fur, her underwear, and bralette, and he left those exactly where they were with a flustered aversion of his head.

That would have to do.

“C’mon,” he said, and gingerly wrapped his arms around her. Holding her, skin-on-skin and fur-on-fur, made him think about all the times where he’d looked for excuses to touch her. Not touch her, just…accidentally bump against her shoulder or brush hands when he handed her her coffee on work mornings. It made him think about all the opportunities he had to hold her hand: the walks from the train station to the business district, when they went together to see the Christmas lights, before he watched her disappear in the taxi…

But when he held her at that moment, Retsuko’s fur didn’t have the usual fluff, the usual warmth. It was like she had no heat of her own to give off. Holding her made his heart both race and fall with worry. He’d messed up too many times already, and just when he’d gotten the courage to ask her on a date and let her know how he felt…

She had to be okay. She just had to.

There wasn’t time to leave her exposed for one moment longer, and heart slamming in his ribcage, Haida guided her to the water and slowly—very slowly—laid her in.

The effect was surprisingly immediate. Retsuko’s eyes shot open and she let out a gasp, thrashing as if she’d been awakened suddenly from a nightmare about falling. Haida recoiled, showering himself in water.

“What’s—where—?” Retsuko’s eyes went from Haida, to the tub, then down at herself. Her face burned an angry shade of red and she let out a mortified squeal.

At least she was awake.

“Well, you said you didn’t want the hospital!” Haida defended, blushing furiously, stumbling back into the porcelain sink. “And I had to do something!”

Retsuko thew her arms over her damp chest and cried, “You looked!”

“I didn’t! Well—” he coughed, “—it was either that or I let you freeze and die, and you were so quiet and you weren’t even shivering anymore and…” He suddenly had the urge to laugh—at her huffing angrily at him—and laugh he did. It came out more like a bark. He was mortified and embarrassed and relieved all at once.

“It’s not funny!” Retsuko squeaked, lowering herself back into the privacy of the tub. “Stop laughing.”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just,” Haida wiped his eyes with the back of a paw, “I seriously thought I’d lost you for a minute there.”

Retsuko let her chin rest moodily on the surface of the gently steaming water. Haida shouldn’t have been looking at her for so long—he knew that—but the sight of her dark eyelashes fanned along her pink, glowing cheeks made him feel relieved and in awe. She was so lovely. And she was okay.

“I’m fine, Haida,” mumbled Retsuko.

He averted his gaze. “Good. I’m glad. That’s good.”

He shifted his weight from foot to foot. Now what did he do? He didn’t like the idea of leaving her alone in a dark bathroom when she had been nearly unconscious moments before. But he didn’t want to make her even more uncomfortable than was necessary, either. “Do you feel like you’re gonna pass out on me again?” he asked, trying to keep his voice light.

She seemed to consider it. “I don’t think so.”

“Good. That’s good.” Why don’t you say “good” a few more times? Idiot. “How do you feel? Still cold?”

Retsuko massaged the space between her eyes. “I…don’t know. Kind of hot. Probably just the water…”

Haida, almost without thinking, knelt by the tub and pressed his palm against her forehead. She was burning up. “Feel feverish?”

She moved her head slightly, but didn’t recoil from his touch. “Yeah.”

“Damn,” he breathed. He didn’t want to take his hand away. “Should I call a doctor?”

She shook her head from side to side, against his fingers. She must have been loopy. “No,” she mumbled. 

He hesitated. He didn’t want to leave. “Well…I can be right outside the door if you need me. Just, uh, I guess let me know if you need a hand or—well, if you’re not feeling good and need me to—”

“Can you,” Retsuko cleared her throat, ardently avoiding eye contact, “can you stay?”

Haida blinked. He must not have heard her correctly. 

“I just…I don’t want to be in the water again, by myself,” she continued. “I know that sounds dumb, but…”

“No! No, that’s not dumb at all. ‘Course I’ll stay. And you know, it’s probably better I don’t leave you alone. I don’t want you to drown or something.”

“Just…don’t look. Please.”

Haida kept kneeling dumbly for a second—the steam wafting from the tub must have been going to his head, for he felt quite lightheaded—but he finally gained the courage to nod. He settled on camping with his back against the side of the bathtub, eyes fixed squarely on the door. He sat and twitched his ears to the sounds of the water gently swishing: signs that Retsuko was awake and okay. 

He forced his mind wanderings to stop there.

Chapter Text

It was growing dark by the time Retsuko felt okay enough to leave the warm confines of the bathtub and get dressed. Whatever daylight was left didn’t make it into the powerless, internet-less, heatless cabin.

Retsuko settled deeply into her dry clothes and the wooly throw blanket Haida had grabbed off of the living room sofa. She felt weary, like she’d just tried to climb a mountain, and she felt a pressure headache building at her temple. Her toes were numb as she wiggled them in her two pairs of socks, but she told herself that at least she could still feel them. Haida was busily scrolling on his phone, trying to look up how to start a fire. His jaw was set with concentration, and she could see his unresponsive phone screen reflected in his eyeballs.

“Any luck with the power?” Retsuko asked. 

He shook his head from side to side. “I tried the fuse box downstairs, but it seems like the storm knocked out everyone’s power on the block.” He shot her a confident grin and added, “But don’t worry. If worse comes to worse and my city boy ass can’t get this fire started, I’ll just pile more blankets on you.”

“And suffocate me?” she teased.

“I’ll leave a little breathing hole.” Haida tossed his useless phone aside and rolled up his sleeves to get at the cold fireplace. “Think I saw my dad do this once…”

Retsuko watched him play with the matches. When he was concentrating hard, his brow furrowed hard over his eyes, casting them in a little shadow. His lips parted slightly, and she could catch a glint of a canine poking out through his underbite. She subconsciously bit her bottom lip. She couldn’t believe she’d asked him to stay with her, in the bathroom, with her state being very close to naked. She convinced herself it was because she’d been loopy, feverish. She was afraid she’d pass out again, so of course she’d wanted him there just in case—

Not true, she thought with some humiliation. He makes me feel so safe, I just…I wanted him there.

“What about you?” she asked him, to break the silence.

“What about me what?” He struck a match, and it was surprising how such a tiny thing lit up the whole living room.

“Well, if I’ve got all the blankets, how are you going to stay warm?”

Retsuko only realized how suggestive her question may have sounded after the fact. Haida’s hands hesitated over the matchbook, and she wanted to put her foot in her mouth.

Then, mercifully, Retsuko’s phone buzzed. It was too often she and Haida’s important conversations got interrupted, but at that moment she welcomed it. She left her spot at the fireplace to grab her cell off the coffee table, the blanket still wrapped like a kimono around her shivering body. 

“Hello?”

“Retsuko, dear, are you all right? They say it’s just awful out there. Did you make it to the house safely?”

“Yes, we’re fine, Mom.”

A pause. “We?”

Retsuko shuffled quickly to the other side of the large living room while Haida continued to fiddle with the kindling. "Um…me and Haida. He couldn’t get to his train. The storm, you know.” Retsuko shoved her forehead against the cold glass of the sliding doors, praying for release. “Is that okay if he stays, too? You mentioned the guest rooms are—”

“Oh, that’s fine by me!” said Mom, sounding all-too cheerful about it. “I’m glad you have a man hanging around. I never liked the idea of you living alone, so to have someone rugged around really puts my mind at ease. You never know what could happen to a single woman out in the country, you know.”

Retsuko wanted to melt into the carpet. “Mom, please stop saying ‘rugged’,” she hissed.

“What? He is.”

She imagined Haida stomping through the woods with an axe slung over his shoulder. The image was almost comical. “He is not. You’re thinking of another word.”

“What word?”

Retsuko could see Haida fidgeting in the glass door’s reflection. It looked like he was trying very hard to make it seem like he wasn’t eavesdropping. She quickly shuffled away, into the kitchen. It was cold and dark in there, but hopefully she’d have some privacy. “I don’t know! He’s…a techie. Like, he’s good at computers and he’s nerdy and funny and sweet and...anyway, yeah. Not rugged.”

“Yes, that’s what I said.”

It most definitely wasn’t, and Retsuko knew her mother still didn’t grasp the meaning of the original word and didn’t care enough to argue further. 

“Though let me say, Doctor Ito has been very attentive about you. He’s been asking about your safety and such. Isn’t that nice of him?”

Retsuko lowered her voice, “Tell Doctor Ito thank you for me.”

“Now when did you two decide you’re going to dinner? I thought the storm might let up by the evening, but I suppose you two might have to wait another day.”

“Mom, I…I never said we’d go to dinner,” Retsuko hissed. “I can’t even think about that right now.”

“Well, he hasn’t stopped asking about you since you left. Made me wonder if you two were talking, that’s all. I really think you should call him, tell him you’ll go to dinner. I really think Ito is—”

“Mom, please,” Retsuko had to stop the Mom-train before it derailed. “Yes, okay, he’s nice and everything, but I barely know him. I don’t feel that way.”

“Are you in love with your friend, then?”

Retsuko’s eyes widened. Even though Haida was in the next room, she swore he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. “I…”

“Doctor Ito is a good man. But your friend there,” Mom went on, “I saw the way he looked at you. It’s good to have options. He’s a good option.”

Retsuko felt her fever return, either that or she was flushing at the thought. “He’s not an option,” she said forcefully, probably too much so.

“Then maybe you should tell him that before Doctor Ito calls you.”

When the conversation ended, Retsuko went back to the living room to see the fire lit, crackling merrily in the hearth, and Haida was nowhere to be seen. 

Retsuko stood there, too far from the fireplace to catch any of its warmth. She gripped the ends of her blanket until her nails pressed like needles in her palms.

It was like she’d left Haida standing on the curb all over again.

*

Retsuko wished she’d stayed at the hospital, then Haida wouldn’t have had to go to all the trouble he had. With the last-minute flight to Hokkaido, to coming all the way out to drop off her suitcase, and then fishing her out of a frozen pond…it was all too much. He was infuriatingly, always, unwaveringly there. She didn’t like that she came to expect it, that she knew Haida would always be in her corner. That meant he was at her mercy, and she didn’t know if she could stand ever hurting him again.

She sat by the fire with her toes pointed at it, watching the orange and yellow flames climb frantically upwards, and just as quickly disappear into starlike sparks. She fought against the urge to go and look for him in the dark house, telling herself that giving him some space was the best option. 

Unless he’d left.

No…it’s too bad out there, she thought. He wouldn’t risk the storm. The trains to Tokyo probably aren’t going out anyway.

Her belly swirled with angry, anxious butterflies. She was mad that he’d left without letting her explain. He did that. But on the other end, she had the horrible, destructive tendency to make excuses, to avoid confrontation because it was uncomfortable. 

She’d told herself over and over again that Haida needed to tell her how he felt, but that wasn’t necessarily the problem. He’d expressed himself through his actions, even when it was hard, even when she rejected him. If anyone was brave, it was him. She had to be brave in return, or lose him. Retsuko hauled herself to her feet, swaying on the spot. Her fever burned, and the winter froze her down to her bones. But more than anything, she had to make sure Haida hadn’t left.

I hope I’m not too late.

Retsuko hurried along the dim hallways of her parent’s cottage, past rooms with unpacked boxes in the corners. Shadows of snowfall left patterns on the rugs. She called his name a couple of times, too quietly, but weirdly she didn’t want to disturb the quiet. It was only when she’d scoured the first floor and looped back around to the fireplace, she found him. Haida was loading it with another log, wiping perspiration from his damp brow. He blew gently on the embers, and the fire sprang back to life. He must have sensed her presence shivering on the single step, because he faced her without meeting her eyes. He usually had a quip locked and loaded in times of awkward silences, but he was quiet. She knew that he’d heard her phone conversation, that he was hurt, but she felt a rush of relief that he was still in the house.

“Where’d you go?” she asked.

He patted his ashy hands on his pant legs. “To the shed I saw on the way in. Wanted to get more wood.”

She looked past him through the sliding glass door. She couldn’t even see the mountains through the storm. “Outside?”

The corner of his mouth quirked in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. His fur was damp, his clothes soaked through with melting snow. “Wasn’t far.”

“My parents say hi,” she said lamely.

“They’re okay?”

“Seems like it. I bet they at least have power at the hospital.”

His gaze was fixed onto the fireplace. “You better sit here,” he said, prodding the carpet with his foot. “You need to keep warm.”

Retsuko could feel the heat of the fire blazing on her legs. She walked towards him, but didn’t sit. “Haida,” she said.

“It’s okay,” he replied, and at first she couldn’t determine what he was referring to. “You and that doctor. Seriously.”

Retsuko pulled the blanket more securely around her shoulders. “No,” she said. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“That thing. He’s no one.”

Haida’s eyes flashed with skepticism. “He seemed like someone at the hospital. And it sounded like I’m ‘not an option’, right?”

Retsuko felt that jab deep in her gut. “First of all, you shouldn’t have been eavesdropping.”

“It was a little hard not to hear.”

“You heard it wrong. It’s not what I meant,” she retorted.

Haida smiled in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. “You’re allowed to like whoever you want, okay? I don’t want you feeling sorry for me or anything.”

“Haida, I didn’t mean it like ‘you’re not an option’. I meant it differently.”

“You don’t have to do that. I’m not here to make you feel guilty.”

Retsuko let out a growl of frustration. “Could you stop being so agreeable for one second? Please? You’re…” She gestured with her hands wildly, trying to express herself, unable to unearth the words that clawed at her throat. “You’re being too nice. You’re always too nice. Coming all the way here…”

An expression grew on his face—a cross between hurt and indignant. “You don’t owe me anything, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“That’s not—” She knew he didn’t think that. Maybe when she first met him she had suspicions, but he’d proved her wrong. He almost always did. “Of course that’s not what I think. All I’m saying is I feel bad that you’re here. It’s my fault you’re stuck.”

“Hey, it’s not like you made me come out. I wanted to.”

“Why did you, then?”

He looked baffled. “Why?”

“Yes! Why?”

“You needed your suitcase.”

“So what if I needed it?” She stepped closer, challenging him, her blanket falling in a heap behind her. “You should’ve just let me go on without it. You shouldn’t have lost any sleep over it. You went too much out of your way—way too much! It’s just something that…” she pressed her palms against her burning eyelids. 

He stepped towards her. “It’s just what?”

“It’s just something boyfriends do.” Retsuko felt like she should have regretted saying it—it was an embarrassing sort of thing to say—but she didn’t. She felt a childish sort of satisfaction as she brazenly went on, “So why did you come?”

Haida’s chest rose and fell. “I did it,” he said, “because I care about you. Is that a secret?”

Retsuko pressed her thin lips together, unable to dig up a comeback. Haida tossed a stick into the fire, and the flames licked it up. “Is it so bad to let someone care about you? To let me care about you? Because I do. I care so much it hurts, Retsuko.”

She wished he’d stop looking at her like that, the way that made her blood run hot. It definitely wasn’t the fever making her feel off-balance.

Haida ran a disheveled hand through his scruff. “I didn’t do it because I wanted you to owe me—hell, that’s the last thing I want. And maybe it is too much of a ‘boyfriend’ thing. Maybe it is. But maybe that’s…what I want.”

Retsuko felt the sudden loss of his closeness as he retreated backwards a step, out of the circle of firelight. “Look, I don’t want you to give me anything back if you don’t actually feel it. I just…I need you to tell me whether or not you feel the same way, because I can’t keep doing this. I can’t keep hoping, and asking, and wondering, and trying. It just hurts too much.” His eyes were shivering hazel and gold, but his stance was quite steady as he peered at her from the dark. “But you say the word and I’ll never mention it again.”

Retsuko felt some unknown source brush her with frigid air—maybe a gust from a vent or from under the sliding glass door. She shuddered. It was her turn to be brave.

“I said on the phone that you’re not an option,” she started, heart hammering in her throat, “because you’re the only one I want.”

At first she was afraid he hadn’t heard her. He didn’t move, save for his chest rising a little faster. Firelight grazed the outline of his hands hanging limply at his sides. It wasn’t often that the anxious hyena was still.

“Haida,” she said, feeling how the syllables of his name grazed her tongue. “You’ve been too patient with me. Through everything, through my indecisiveness. I’m the coward. I should have told you how I felt from the beginning, but I guess I was scared to.”

Haida showed the first signs of life and visibly swallowed. “Why?” he asked, voice cracking.

She shrugged her small shoulders. “I didn’t want to want you, then lose you.”

“You wouldn’t have.” Haida closed the space between them, his wide expression bathed in the fire’s glow. “You won’t.” He was so close, she could feel his frantic breaths brush her forehead. He was always consistent. He was always the one to rush ahead and close the gap. Haida: sweet, unassuming, patient Haida. Special people like that only came around every once in a lifetime. She hoped she hadn’t yet lost him. She stood in his shadow for another few seconds, soaking up his presence like she needed air, dreading the moment where he pulled away again. “Did I wait too long?” she whispered.

Haida crashed to his knees, his hands ghosting the sides of her face. “No. You couldn’t have,” he said, swallowing her in his shivering eyes, his mouth parted slightly as he formed a question. “But I…I need to hear you say it. I don’t want to mess this up again.”

Retsuko inclined her chin forward, ever so slightly brushing the tip of her nose against his. He flinched, as if she’d shocked him, but he didn’t pull away. He was someone who needed her validation, and instead of resenting him for that, she wanted to give it to him. “I think,” she said, the words new and exhilarating on her tongue, “I’m in love with you.”

He looked positively shocked to hear it. His fingers closed more securely around her face, and she trembled as his thumbs grazed her cheeks down to her bottom lip. He gazed at her as though he was seeing her for the first time. “You…I…” he stammered. Then, at last, he smiled—a smile that turned his cheeks red, a smile that stretched his face and made his eyes water. When he spoke again, it was in a hushed voice. “Can you say it again?”

She gave his chest a soft slap. “No, you have to say it now.”

Haida didn’t skip a beat, and to her surprise, he came in close and pressed his forehead flush against hers. He’d needed her permission, but after she’d given it, he took it and ran. “I love you,” he said on an exhale. “I love you more than anything, Retsuko.”

Her whole body ignited as he came ever closer, her nerves sparked like matches striking their strips. Love. Why had that been so difficult to say? But now that she’d said it, she wanted to close the space between them until there was none left.

“Geez, I can feel your fever from here,” Haida said, and stretched his arms past her—abandoning her face—to grab the blanket that she’d left in a pile on the carpet. “Here, put this back on and I’ll—”

It didn’t matter what he was about to say, because Retsuko cut him off with her lips against his. He froze with his arm still outstretched, but after only a moment melted wholeheartedly into the kiss. It was slow and soft and his lips were hesitant on hers. Their breaths mingled, and shivers ran up and down Retsuko’s spine as Haida’s fingers returned with more confidence and caressed her furry cheeks, down her jaw and tickled her neck. Her hands went to the collar of his still-damp sweater and she pulled him deeper still. He gave a tiny moan of surprise, and she smiled against his mouth.

Now that she had him, she wasn’t about to let him go.

Chapter Text

Dawn broke the night’s silence, and morning light stretched soft fingers over Hokkaido’s fresh blanket of snow. Retsuko turned over in her sleep and blinked from the floor of the living room. She hadn’t had a chance to see the inside of her parent’s new home—both because of the power outage and her fever—but in the daylight, it was a cozy space. The place was bathed in a pale glow, from the stone inlays in the fireplace to the sharp frames of family photos peppering the wall. 

Retsuko sat up on her elbows, trying to recall what had happened the night before. She had a strong memory of Haida, of a confession or two, of a kiss. She also wondered if she’d dreamt him cuddling beside her right before she drifted into sleep.

He wasn’t beside her now. Retsuko wondered where he could have gone, but was actually quite relieved that he wasn’t there. She had no idea what she would have done if she’d opened her eyes to see him, staring at her, waiting for when she was awake. Retsuko shook off the thought and grabbed her toiletry bag. She slipped into the bathroom before Haida made the discovery that she had woken up, wherever he was.

The house felt warm, the light switch flicked on, and it was a comfort to know that even if they were snowed in, at least the power had returned. Retsuko brushed her teeth and washed her face, and dug into her red suitcase for a change of clothes. As she undressed, she felt herself blush at the memory of shivering in wet clothes, of Haida slipping them off of her, of him sitting there as she blushed in the bathtub…

“Agh,” she said aloud, yanking on a clean pair of leggings and a sweater. She couldn’t believe she had asked him to sleep beside her—separate pillows, separate piles of comforters, but still. Retsuko had jumped awake at multiple times during the night with chills or sudden bursts of fever-sweats, and every time she did, she was nose-to-nose with Haida’s gently snoring face. Some of those times, she couldn’t remember how he had gotten there, and fought the urge to reach out and wrap her arms around him.

Retsuko leaned into her reflection in the mirror. Her eyes looked sunken and her face was puffy. She wondered if she could have imagined the kiss from the night before. It was possible. Her fever had been bad.

Retsuko saw a blush creep over her warming face. She and Haida had kissed. Kissed. She’d fantasized about kissing him a lot when she was sitting at work or alone in her bed at night—more than she cared to admit—but when it had actually happened, part of her thought she’d dreamt it. 

She found Haida in the kitchen and stopped short when she looked at him. The sun had broken and the house was fully lit, in the morning light she could see how messy his fur still was, like he hadn’t bothered to groom himself. He was at the round wood table, his chin resting on his hand as he gazed out the frozen window with eyes at half-mast, looking at something beyond the house and the surface of the lake glistening outside.  He seemed relaxed, slowly blinking in the early light. She didn’t know why she’d been afraid to see him in the cold light of day. The sight of him had an immediate effect, and instantly calmed her racing heart.

He glanced at her when she entered, and she could see flecks of green, gold, and amber in his eyes where the sunlight hit. He almost stood up, hands bracing the chair and tabletop, but then he seemed to change his mind and he sank back down. “Oh, hey. Uh, morning. I made coffee,” he said, pointing unnecessarily to the french press on the table. “I didn’t want to gunk up your parents’ fancy machine, but I found this in the cabinet so…yeah. Hope that’s okay. Want some?”

She nodded, and watched him pour her a mug full. He’d shed his sweatshirt—another sign the heat was working—and he looked comfortable in his grey long-sleeve. She tried not to stare as he handed her the cup.

“Sorry, there’s no milk,” Haida said as she sipped her coffee black and made a face. “How’s the fever?”

“Gone, I think.” 

He reached a paw across the table and pressed the back of it to her forehead. “It finally broke, huh?” he said, and clumsily took his hand back. “That’s good.”

Retsuko inhaled, and let the scent of caffeine give her the rush of courage she so desperately needed. “Um. So,” she began. “Last night.” Haida visibly stiffened. He made a noise in the back of his throat—a strained sound of acknowledgement. Retsuko traced a wet spot on the table with a fingertip, leaving a trail of water on the wood. She knew she’d feel extremely stupid if it turned out she’d dreamed the whole thing. “You and…and me. We…we kissed, right?”

“So it did happen?” he said. “It…it wasn’t just me?”

“Not unless we were having the same fever dream,” she joked, fidgeting. “And it was…unexpected.”

Haida leaned back in his chair. “Hey, it’s okay,” he said, his mouth a resigned line. “I said what I needed to say to you, and I get that feelings got a little…intense. If you want to just forget the kiss ever happened—”

“No, I don’t want to forget it ever happened.” 

The corner of his mouth twitched. “Yeah?”

Retsuko sank her chin into her fist. “Unless you were just saying those things about…about being in love with me.”

Haida leaned across the table towards her, head perched in his folded arms. The gesture made her stomach jump. He shook his head from side to side without breaking eye contact.

“O-okay, then,” she said softly.

“And you?” he asked earnestly. “You weren’t just saying you were in love with me either, right? I wasn’t sure if it was your deathly fever talking or what.”

“No. I said that. And I meant that.”

His gold-specked eyes sparkled, and his grin was big behind his arms. “Cool,” he said. “Good.”

Retsuko fought the violent urge to close the space between them and kiss him on the mouth, but the thought was a mortifying one for this early in the morning. She contended herself with letting him look at her, and looking at him back as the sunlight ghosted through the crystalline windows.

“So,” Haida rubbed his scruff, lips pressed together as if he was finding the right words to string together. “What are you thinking?”

She blinked. “Like with us?”

He splayed his hands. “Not that we have to put a label on whatever…whatever this is.”

Retsuko wished she could say she’d never thought about them together, but that would be a big, fat lie. It was embarrassing to think of the number of times she’d let herself fantasize about Haida spending the night over at her place, of waking up with him in the morning, of teasing each other over stupid things like there being no milk for the coffee, going out with friends in the evenings or staying in to watch T.V. The burning desire for domesticity ravaged her thoughts, like heavy metal drumming in her gut. 

But…

She didn’t want to scare him away, or slap a label on their relationship—holy crap, relationship—before she knew how they worked together. It was a whole new plane of existing that she wasn’t sure how to navigate.

“When do you need to get back to Tokyo?” Retsuko prompted. 

Haida glanced at his dying phone, and sucked in some air between his teeth. “I don’t think I can miss work tomorrow. Leading a seminar.”

“So, you need to get home today?”

He looked torn. “If the trains are running again, I think I’d better.”

Retsuko furrowed her brow in concentration. “Okay,” she said decidedly. “Then let’s go.”

“Go?” Haida stood up as Retsuko made a beeline for the living room. “Um, do you not remember that blizzard last night? The one that knocked you on your butt and snowed us in? The roads can’t be clear yet.”

“There’s a corner store that’s always open—I used to walk there with my grandma, so it’s super close,” Retsuko said, going to the entryway and starting to don her coat. It was still damp from the night before, so she set it aside and searched her parents’ coat closet instead. “And I want my dad to have food when he gets home today.”

“I’m not gonna let you go out there,” said Haida forcefully. “After you almost died on me? No freaking way.”

Retsuko slipped into one of her father’s old coats. It was far too big, but at least it was warm and had a furry collar she could pull up. “Come on. Hokkaido gets hit all the time, it’s good at getting the sidewalks clear. And the sun’s out, so it can only get better.”

He blocked the entryway with his body. “Retsuko,” he warned.

She zipped up her coat. “And I want to spend time with you. Before you go.”

Haida’s skinny shoulders dropped slightly. He always looked funny when he was confused, but Retsuko would never let him know that. 

“Well…” he cleared his throat gruffly. “Okay. Fine. We better get a move on, then.”

Retsuko wrinkled her nose at him, her smile warm. He looked at her with a raised eyebrow. “What?” he said.

Retsuko laughed and skipped past him.

“You’re just cute!” she called back, and opened the front door before he could react.

From the corner of her eye she saw him following her down the steps, his tail wagging slightly as they took the snowy path to the main road.

*

Haida kept a weather eye on Retsuko as she trudged through snow that came up past her knees.

“I could carry you,” he suggested for the third time that morning. 

She scowled. “I said I’m fine, Haida. Honestly.”

Haida bit his tongue. She’d always been stubborn. “Well, if you fall in a lake, I’m not fishing you out this time.”

“That’s fine,” she sang, dodging a mound of snow. 

He pretended to be annoyed, but she had a way of acting too cute for her own good.

Though the roads and sidewalks were a little slick, the two reached the mountain town without a hitch. The store was a mom-and-pop type of place on the corner of town, about a mile’s walk from the cottage. Just like Retsuko said, it was open, and seemed like the type of shop that never closed due to weather. Retsuko greeted the store owners and grabbed a basket. She led the way down the short aisles, picking up things and putting them back.

“I hate shopping,” she grumbled, after staring too long at a stack of tuna cans. “It’s worse when you’re hungry.”

Haida was definitely feeling those hunger pangs, too. “So, you heard from your parents, you said?”

Retsuko’s face looked relaxed and bright. “My mom texted me early this morning. Dad’s surgery went well, and he gets to come home this afternoon.”

Haida gave her shoulder a reassuring brush, not trusting himself enough to pull her into a hug. “That’s really great,” he told her genuinely.

“I feel like a weight’s been lifted off of me,” said Retsuko, and her face glowed. “I want to be around the cottage a bit, help mom take care of him. She said he’s a little weak.”

Haida wished there was something else he could do to help, to offer more comfort than he could, being an outsider. Retsuko deserved all the comfort in the world. But for that moment, Haida suggested they make a simple meal so her parents wouldn’t have to cook when they got home, at the very least. “Maybe curry or something?”

She nodded. “Good idea.”

They split up to cover more ground and grabbed whatever the store had. Haida made sure to get some breakfast items to keep them fed for the freezing walk back—why had he let her convince him to walk, anyway?. When they checked out, he passed her a blueberry muffin he’d bought from the bakery section. She ate it gratefully.

Being with Retsuko was easy. It hadn’t always been that way: they both had had to work at it and push past their mutual awkwardness and unrequited feelings at times. The work was there, and the work was what made them realize how they felt about the other person. It was the reason he was walking beside her. It made sense that they were testing the waters now, shopping together, being casual. It made perfect, logical sense.

Haida kicked some snow out of the path. But why did he have to wait even longer to decide if they could be together on a more permanent basis? Why couldn’t he just ask her if she wanted to be exclusive now?What if the things that made sense in Hokkaido didn’t translate back in Tokyo? 

“You seem focused,” chimed Retsuko. She was chewing the last bits of her muffin, a crumb sticking to the corner of her mouth. Haida fought the urge to brush it away, even though he would have taken another reason to touch her.

“Just thinking,” he told her. 

“About?”

How hard it’s going to be to leave today. How much I like being close to you. How much I want to kiss you again.

But, he decided, it was better not to put pressure on the morning with yet another confession. He’d waited years to do it before, he could wait until the end of the day.

Then again…

Haida reached down to gingerly take Retsuko’s mitten in his paw. He felt her jump in surprise, but was relieved when she closed her glove-clad fingers around his hand firmly. She looked up at him with shining, warm eyes that he could have fallen into. He blushed furiously despite the cold. Had he seriously never held her hand before?

Haida ripped his gaze back to the snow-covered mountains. “It’s, uh, it’s cold, huh?” he stammered. Be cool for once in your life. “We should get you back. Don’t want you getting sick on me again.”

*

Retsuko wished she would stop shivering long enough to enjoy the view. Despite the cold, she gazed over the silver surface of the frozen lake, nearly losing her footing on the barely-shoveled path. Haida recoiled his paw, as though he’d meant to reach out and grab her but decided against it. It was fruitless to remind him that she wasn’t going to fall again, that she was being careful. She appreciated that he had let her be, eve though he looked anxious on her behalf.

She pulled the collar of her dad’s old coat up higher so it brushed her nose. She’d handled things on her own for so long, she’d forgotten what it was like for someone to care enough to hover.

But, she reminded herself as Haida hurried them back to the house, the day wasn’t over yet.

“Let’s get the curry started,” she said as they entered the front room and kicked off their boots. She shivered, sneezed, and ditched her coat to grab one of the fuzzy throw blankets still in a pile on the ground.

“Crap,” said Haida, an edge to his voice. “You feeling sick again? Maybe you should rest. You’re not a hundred percent.”

There was a vague warm feeling buzzing in her nasal cavity, but that had been there. “It’s just chilly out. And anyway, I want to get the food started before dad gets back. It’s already one o’clock, and Mom said they’d be back by three-ish, so…”

She could feel Haida watching her as she rifled through their sparse groceries, and ardently avoided eye contact. She hopped up on the kitchen stool—she thanked the genes of her short parents for that—grabbed the roux, spices, and vegetables, and started to set them on the counter when she felt Haida’s shadow fall over her from behind. She felt her fur stand on end, and her fingertips warmed as he reached around her to take the packet out of her hand. He was close enough that she could feel him exhaling on the top of her head.

“Maybe you should go lie down,” he said, his voice husky behind her. “I can start on this, if you want.” 

Retsuko’s insides burned and for a second she forgot what words were. He must have known what his voice did to her—that sound caught between hesitation and affection, and deeper than his usual tenor. She dared a peek to find his snout resting gingerly on her shoulder. Her nose bumped his.

“Hey, uh,” he murmured, and Retsuko thought she might fall off the stool, “can I kiss you?”

She barely started to nod her head when Haida broke all decorum and went in, his lips soft and gentle. She had to twist her neck slightly to meet his mouth and he ventured closer, deepening the kiss, snaking his arms around her waist. Retsuko didn’t realize she was gripping his collar for balance until they broke apart.

As they caught their breaths, Retsuko trailed one of her fingers along his cheekbone, down his nose, under his chin, just so she could keep touching him, just so she could memorize him. She felt him shiver, and Retsuko didn’t know if it was possible to love someone so much that her heart ached for his presence, even though he was right there under her fingertips. 

“I don’t want you to leave,” she found herself saying.

Haida’s eyes flickered from her lips to her eyes. “Are you moving to Hokkaido?”

“No.”

“Then we’ll see each other back in Tokyo, right?” he said.

Retsuko played with his shirt, tracing the seam of neat stitches at his collar. It was that familiar fear toying with her emotions again, the fear that said he’d get scared and leave as soon as she fell harder. They’d gotten close fast—perhaps too fast—and they were just as quickly about to be separated for however long. It could be a day, it could be longer, but sometimes it didn’t take long for someone to change their mind. Retsuko felt like the more she fell in love with him, the faster her gears turned, and the risk climbed higher for something to fall in and turn everything into a smoking mess.

Haida tilted his head at her silence, his ears loose and grin humorous. “I like that you’re gonna miss me,” he said. “Means you like me.”

She gave him a small eye-roll. “And you’ll miss me?” she asked, feeling like she sounded desperate, but not really caring.

Retsuko felt his arms pressing her back against the kitchen counter. Her stomach felt like butterflies had exploded in it—they had never been physical in the slightest, and now all of a sudden she could barely keep her hands away from him, and vice-versa. Haida smiled. “Honestly, I still can’t believe we’re…I mean, yeah, of course I’m gonna miss you,” he said. “But man, you gotta come back to Tokyo as soon as you can, okay?”

Retsuko let herself breathe. “Okay,” she said.

Haida pressed his forehead into hers. “Can you say the thing again?”

“Which thing?” she asked coyly. “The I’m-in-love-with-you thing?”

Haida made a low, pleased sound in his throat, and it was a sound she’d never heard him utter. It made her giggle, and Haida leaned forward to graze her mouth with his teeth. They were going fast, she knew, but he’d tapped into her long before today, and she couldn’t wrap her head around how long she’d wanted him there.

“Love you, too,” Haida uttered, as Retsuko peppered the bridge of his nose with kisses. “Damn. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to—”

“RETSUKO! WE’RE HOOOOME!”

The front door slammed, and Retsuko and Haida leaped apart like shrapnel. They fumbled with their wrinkled clothes as Retsuko’s parents ambled into the kitchen, shrugging out of their heavy coats and scarves and looking around with polite expectancy. 

They were early.

Chapter Text

Mr. Panda was in a wheelchair. He looked tired, but smiled when he laid eyes on Retsuko.

“Mom! Dad!” Retsuko said breathlessly. “Uh, you’re home early! We were going to make dinner and—”

“Your father wanted to get home, and Doctor Ito said he was well enough to, so how could I deny him?” said Mom, giving the wheelchair a pat. “But he’s going to take it easy for the next few weeks, right honey?”

Dad waved her off. “I told you I’d be fine,” he said. “Your mother worries too much.”

Retsuko hurried over to give her dad a gentle hug, afraid she might break him. But he squeezed her back warmly. Then, his eyes wandered past her head and landed on Haida, who stood petrified, very much like a statue. It gave Retsuko the irrational fear that her father knew she and Haida had been kissing minutes prior. “Retsuko,” said Mr. Panda, “who’s this?”

“O-oh, right, you haven’t met Haida!” Retsuko said, as though forgetting Haida was there. “We work together, back in Tokyo. Well, worked. Past-tense. Not anymore. But we’re friends, and now we’re…well, now we're...he’s here.”

Haida, who had straightened up to his full height as Mr. Panda eyed him, suddenly seemed to remember his place and bowed. “Uh, good to meet you finally, Mr. Panda,” he said, voice cracking once. Retsuko was certain she saw her father’s jaw clench. 

“He’s the nice young man who brought Retsuko her suitcase,” Mom said, and at least it was something helpful, even if Mom was wagging her eyebrows suggestively. “So Haida, Retsuko told me that you got a little stranded out here as well, hm?”

“Um, yes!” he said, happy to have something to talk about while Retsuko’s dad glared at him. “Yeah, it's funny. See, I dropped off Retsuko’s suitcase because she’d left it in Tokyo—oh, right, she told you that part already—anyway, I started back to the train station, and well, you know the snow was pretty bad out there and Retsuko came after me to make sure I was good, and then she took a little fall, I mean, she's fine now, right?—ah, well, long story short, the trains weren't going anywhere anyway, so we came here instead. The power was out, but I was eventually able to get the fire going.” He took a breath, watching for a reaction. “I, um, really appreciate you letting me stay here last night.”

Retsuko’s mother poked her head into the living room, and Retsuko realized that she and Haida didn’t clean up the blanket nest they’d made to sleep on. “No trouble,” said Mom, her voice light. “That fire does keep the place warm, doesn’t it?”

“It does,” said Mr. Panda curtly, and Haida looked like he wanted to melt into the floor.

“Doctor Ito asked about your plans for dinner, Retsuko,” said Mom, ambling back into the kitchen, oblivious to the sudden emotion-spike in the room. “Haida, I’m sure you’d be welcome, too.”

“I’m heading back to Tokyo tonight,” Haida said.

“Mother,” Retsuko warned between clenched teeth. 

“Retsuko,” Mother raised her eyebrows. “It’s not polite to keep someone waiting on the hook, when they’ve been so attentive to you.”

Retsuko sighed, swallowed her threat, and decided it was better not to argue with tensions so high. “I’ll call him later,” she relented. "Okay?”

At least Retsuko and Haida had dinner to occupy themselves with while her parents got settled. Haida seemed to take a much wider berth around Retsuko as he chopped vegetables and she got the rice started. Only when she was certain that her parents were not within earshot, she whispered, “Sorry, I thought they’d be home later.”

Haida glanced at the kitchen entryway. “Your dad knows,” he said. “He knows I laid my hands on his daughter. He hates me.”

“He does not!” she hissed back. “Well…okay he’s just like that. But he doesn’t know you.” Retsuko wished she could think of something encouraging to say, but her mind was a blank. Come to think of it, she couldn’t remember ever introducing a male friend to her dad.

“That doctor really wants to get dinner, doesn’t he?” Haida said, chopping a carrot with more vigor, lips pressed together. “He just won’t let up.”

Retsuko wished she didn’t have to singlehandedly control the temperature of the room, bridging all the gaps between Haida, her parents, and now for some reason, the doctor who would not take her vague “no” for an answer. “Please, don’t get jealous.”

“I’m never jealous.” Haida gave the curry a stir, spilling some.

“Sure.” Retsuko pinched the bridge of her nose. “I just have to let Ito off the hook, let him know I’m going back to Tokyo and I’m with someone else. It’s not that big of a deal, is it?”

Haida’s anxious eyes flicked towards her parents chatting in the next room. “It’s a big deal if your parents want you to marry a big, successful doctor. My salary can’t compete with a doctor. I barely have benefits, dude.”

“Who’s saying anything about marrying a doctor?” Retsuko hissed. “Yes, okay, I should have warned you first that my mom’s always been trying to set me up. But it’s my choice. I just have to stand up and…and make it.”

Dishes clinked softly as a silence settled over the kitchen.

“I should get out of your family’s hair," Haida said at last. "Maybe I should wait at the train station.”

“What?” Retsuko stopped rinsing the rice to face him. “No, come on, you just met them. Stay for dinner.”

Haida stared at the bubbling curry, letting the steam sting his eyes. “And say what? ‘Hey, Mr. Panda, thanks for letting me stay in your house so I could smooch your daughter all day.’ I really didn’t want that to be your dad’s first impression of me. Bet he’s thinking all sorts of things. Bet he’s wishing I was a doctor, right now.”

“Please stay?” she asked. “I’ve never introduced a ‘guy friend’ to my parents before.”

Haida raised his brows. “You’re lying.”

Retsuko bit her bottom lip. She’d dated on and off since college but even when she was in a serious relationship, she never introduced her boyfriends to her father. The fact that she wanted Haida to stay…maybe that meant she was committed. Like, really committed. She found it kind of sweet that Haida cared about making a good impression. 

“It’s true, okay? And, I mean, you’re already here.” Retsuko turned her big, brown eyes on him—it was a manipulative tactic, she knew, but desperate times. “Unless you really don’t want to. If you want to go home, I completely understand.”

Haida ran a hand heavily down his face. “Argh. Fine. But if you find my frozen body out by the shed you’ll know what happened, that’s all I’m saying.”

*

Dinner had its awkwardness—Retsuko had braced herself for it. But four people sitting in four chairs around the table, the tablecloth loaded with bowls and spoons and the steaming pot of curry, and elbows bumping as they served themselves and passed the food...the warmth of the scene soaked deep into Retsuko’s bones.

“You two made this curry?” her father asked, scraping the bottom of his bowl. “You actually made it? On the stove?”

“Yes, Dad,” Retsuko insisted. “Why do you keep asking it like that?”

“Because you’re always complaining about having to cook for yourself,” he chuckled, and Retsuko wrinkled her nose.

“There’s the look,” Haida said with a grin. “That nose thing she does? You know what I'm talking about?”

“Mhm. It always comes up when you’re being too cutesy with her.”

“Haha, yeah I noticed that!”

“Why are you two ganging up on me?” Retsuko grumbled, although secretly, she was pleased that Haida and her father had come to an understanding, even when it was through teasing her.

In the Panda household, there were four spots at the table for three family members. Haida filled that extra chair so seamlessly, though he could not have been more different than a red panda. His attempts at conversation and eagerness to include himself were not lost on Retsuko’s father, who even almost smiled at him by the end of the meal.

“So, this boy,” Mr. Panda said in an undertone to her as Haida helped wash dishes on the other side of the kitchen. 

Retsuko swallowed. “Mhm?”

“You like him.”

“Mhm,” she repeated.

“And you’re not interested in my primary care doctor, hm? Your mother was insistent.”

“Mom thinks what she thinks.” Retsuko’s stomach churned at the thought of calling up Doctor Ito to decline any more advances. She was notoriously terrible at setting boundaries. She was much more comfortable turning into a ghost. “I like Haida.”

Mr. Panda leaned back in his wheelchair with a small grunt. “He stayed overnight.”

Retsuko, reddening, was quick to say, “Dad, we didn’t…there wasn’t anything like that, okay? I don’t even…want to talk about that with you.”

But her father’s eyes glinted with humor. “I have to disapprove on principle, pumpkin.” He then sat there for a minute as light conversation from Haida and Retsuko’s mother drifted in from the kitchen. Retsuko sat with her hands bunched in her lap, waiting for her father’s reasons for her not to see Haida. She loved Haida, that was clear, but she didn’t know what she would do if her father didn’t approve of he choice. There were more romantic tales of lovers rejecting all ties just to be with each other. But Retsuko? She couldn’t handle it if she disappointed her father.

Mr. Panda folded his fingers together. He looked more ready for a nap than such a discussion. “Is he kind to you?”

Retsuko was a little taken aback at the question. “Yes. Always.”

“And he came from Tokyo to check up on things, did he?” Her father’s musing stare did not change. “Was that welcome?”

“Was it…? I mean, he missed a day of work to come here, so I don’t feel great about that. But he sacrificed that. For me. And that’s…that’s welcome.”

At last Mr. Panda took her hand in his, and she grasped it. “You’ve never brought home a boy before, Retsuko.”

“Yeah. It’s weird.” She stole a glance at Haida, who was dutifully scrubbing a pot while her mother chattered at him from the stool. “He’s good.”

Mr. Panda leaned over from his wheelchair and planted a kiss on Retsuko’s forehead. “He deserves you then. Make sure he always does.”

*

When the sun dipped low in the sky, Haida bid a final “thank you” to Retsuko’s parents and piled into the passenger seat of the van, Retsuko behind the wheel. She took her time driving them to the train station, ignoring the empty feeling in her gut. 

“Wasn’t so bad, huh?” She posed the question gingerly, praying her parents hadn’t scared off Haida before a relationship could even begin.

To her immense relief, he hummed a sound of confirmation. “Scary, but not bad, I’ll give you that,” he said. “Your dad’s funny.”

“Yeah, he is.”

“Glad he’s okay. He seemed good, even after a whole-ass surgery.”

She smiled. “Mom’s gonna have a hard time keeping him resting. But I’m relieved.”

Retsuko could feel Haida’s hazel eyes on her cheek, but she kept her gaze on the snowy road. 

Haida cleared his throat. “He grabbed me to talk before we left.”

She subconsciously gripped the wheel. “Oh…?”

The leather seat made a noise as he leaned back. “Hm,” he said, and she thought she might throw up with the anticipation. “You know, it was between us men, so maybe I shouldn’t say.” Haida cackled as Retsuko’s hand shot out to smack him. “Hey—watch the road, crazy!”

Retsuko knew whatever her dad wanted to tell Haida was between them, but she so badly wanted to pry. Haida seemed in good spirits, so at the very least she knew it was something good. She hoped.

She parked at the station and walked beside Haida to the ticket booth, then down the concrete tunnel to the platforms. It was fairly deserted. A cold breeze brushed the exposed fur at her neck. She could barely piece together the events of the last few days. It seemed weeks ago that she was sitting in a restaurant in downtown Tokyo. She could still feel the vague remnants of her cold from when Haida had fished her out of the frozen lake. All those moments and confessions and stolen kisses between them…they felt like they had happened in a dream. How could she parse reality from dream, or heightened emotions from real ones?

“Text me when you get in,” Retsuko said, pulling her collar up. She didn’t want to say goodbye. What if things changed once he was back to Tokyo? What if he came to his senses and realized that he’d been caught up in the moment, that he didn’t like her the way he’d said? “Or you can…call. Just let me know you’re home safe.”

Haida adjusted his backpack straps. He was standing on a few stairs just below her, so that from her spot on the middle step, she had to look down to meet his gaze. “Aw, you do care,” he joked, teeth just barely visible through his lips. The brief brightness of his smile just as quickly vanished as they braced against a stiff breeze blowing in from the empty train tunnel.

“I’ll be back for New Year’s,” Retsuko told him. What else could she say?

Haida’s ears drooped softly, the way they did when he was unsure of something. She had watched his ears from the top of her computer screen for years, and could read them as well as any expression. “Hey,” he said, and she stiffened on the step. “I know I said we didn’t have to put a label on…this. And if you don’t want to, or you really want to see if this thing with your dad’s doctor is anything, just shut me up.” He took a breath, creating a pause for her to interrupt. When she didn’t, he went on, “But I’ve spent too much time not knowing, y’know? Way too much time wondering what could happen, waiting for things to just fall into me and…that’s really dumb, right?”

“It’s not,” she said. Retsuko could see the tiny puffs of his anxious breath in the winter air. She teetered on the edge of the frozen step, knowing that one wrong movement on her part and she would fall headfirst into his shimmering eyes.

“The only thing I know is how I feel about you, Retsuko. And I want to do those ‘boyfriend’ things for you, all the time. Like dropping off your suitcase when you forget it, and taking care of you when you’re sick, or just hanging out doing nothing—and I know you hate cooking, but hell, I liked doing that, too,” he said, the bridge of his nose reddening underneath speckled fur. “So I want…I wanted to ask you if you’d be…if you’d go out with me. If you wanted to be, like, my girlfriend.” He grimaced, “No, not ‘like’ my girlfriend, my literal girlfriend.”

The ground gave a slight rumble, and the loud screech of the train arriving filled the station. A wind rushed by, quickening the pulse of Retsuko’s heart.

“Your train,” she whispered. 

“I know.” Haida shifted his weight from foot to foot. His eyes implored her. “You can say no, okay? I just need to know for sure, so I don’t drive myself crazy.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice catching. 

“Yes?”

“Yes, I want to. I mean, I will be. Uh, I don’t even know how to say it.” She placed the palm of her hand over her mouth to hide her embarrassment. She’d hoped she would have been a bit more coy about it, but there wasn’t room for pretention, not with him looking at her like that. “Yes, yeah, I want to go out with you.”

Haida placed one foot on the step above, one step towards her, his face breaking into a very large grin. “One more time?”

“What, you don’t believe me?” she huffed. “I want to go out with you, okay?”

Haida climbed higher, beaming. “No take-backs.”

“That goes for you, too.”

Haida was one step below her, and all he had to do was lean and his forehead was pressing against hers. “I’m taking your word as bond, so I can’t have you going back on it when you come back to Tokyo.”

“Shut up and kiss me already.”

She had barely gotten the words out when Haida’s mouth finally captured hers, and he kissed her like he needed air. She wrapped her arms tightly around his neck and pulled him deeper still. Heat bloomed in her chest, her gut, and down her limbs as his tongue possessively caressed the space between her lips and teeth. As the sound of the train whistle sailed over their heads, Haida only tightened his grip on her waist as though he never intended to let her go.

“What’d my dad say to you?” Retsuko whispered as they pulled apart.

Haida ignored the second warning of the train whistle, his expression quite soft. “He…he told me to take care of you.”

A small choke rose in her throat. “Oh.”

“And I will. I promise.” Haida nuzzled her chin, and if Retsuko wasn’t so infatuated with him, she would have thrown up at the cutesiness of it. “Besides, he said he’d come and hunt me for sport if I did anything to hurt you. So there’s that.”

It hurt to watch Haida board the train; to see his beaming face from the fogged window; to feel the loss of his warmth as the icy breeze returned with the train pulling away. But Retsuko found herself smiling as she waved until the last car had pulled out of Hokkaido.

Chapter Text

It was a quiet drive back to the cottage. Night had swept over the mountain town, but the light of the moon carved a path through the snow. It was a bright night, clear and visible, and Retsuko’s fingertips buzzed with the memory of Haida’s hands in hers as she gripped the steering wheel and fought a stupid smile.

She pulled into the long driveway, tires crunching on the snow, her mind whirling with plans to get back to Tokyo, back to Haida. She was so preoccupied that she hardly noticed the figure walking up her parents’ driveway, and she slammed the breaks before she could run him over. She felt her heart catch in her throat as the man turned, one hand up to shield his eyes from her blaring headlights.

“Doctor Ito,” she breathed. What is he doing here?

She begrudgingly hopped out of the car and plastered on a polite smile as she approached him. He looked ready for a long walk in the snow, with a heavy overcoat and hiking boots. He was a Hokkaido man, for certain.

“I hope I didn’t frighten you,” Ito said as she approached. “Your mother asked me over for cocoas, and I couldn’t refuse.”

That woman is relentless. “I was going to give you a call,” Retsuko replied, nearly slipping on the snowy walkway. Ito’s hand went to her arm to steady her. "Thanks, I'm fine—but I did have something to tell you."

"Actually, if you'll let me," said Ito rather quickly. "I had something I wanted to talk to you about, as well."

Retsuko could guess what he had to say, and she dreaded him saying it. "I-it might be better if I went first, I think..."

"Please." Ito's icy blue eyes looked earnest. "Walk with me? I promise I won't keep you long from your family."

She hesitated, and because she hesitated, Ito grasped the moment and led the way off the driveway and down the forest path. Retsuko double-timed it to keep up with his long, steady strides. There was something about his countenance that rubbed her as more than earnest. "Desperate" would have been too strong of a word to describe it—Ito had been nothing short of relaxed in all the time she'd known him.

He made idle chatter as they turned onto shoveled sidewalks. Lamps replaced the trees, their slender posts acting as trunks as they transitioned from forest to civilization in a matter of steps.

"I'm glad to see you in one piece," said the doctor as she struggled to match his brisk pace. "After heading into that storm yesterday. Though you do look a little flushed. Are you feeling warm at all? Feverish? Perhaps we should find somewhere for you to sit..."

"No, not feverish." Not anymore, anyway. "Doctor Ito..."

"Just Ito, please."

She bit the inside of her cheek. Turning people down was not her forte, and neither was making decisions in general. "Ito. I think I'd like it if you'd come out and say whatever it is that you need to."

His footsteps slowed, but he did not stop. "I'd like to sit you down for this."

There was a slow burning rising in Retsuko's throat. "No. No, I don't want to drag this out. Honestly, I'm kind of sick of shoving things under the rug. Just tell me what you need to say and don't drag me along for it, please?"

He blinked a few startled times in the lamplight. It wasn't like her to be so forward with her feelings—perhaps something he remembered from their youth?—and he finally stopped in his tracks and turned his boots to face her.

"Plainly," he said. "I think you should stay in Hokkaido."

It was Retsuko's turn to blink. "I should...what?"

"Your father is getting weaker, older. He's resilient, I'll give him that, but I don't know how he'll react if this should happen again."

Retsuko wondered if she'd heard him correctly—she had to make sure her ears weren't popping due to the altitude. "You think I should...stay here?"

"You and your family are close. That has always been clear, from back when we were children going up together. I did hear them discussing your current job in Tokyo–an accountant, was it? If you choose to stay and support your parents, I would be happy to offer you a position at the hospital in one of our clerical departments. It pays well, and I'd like to do anything I can to support your family during this time."

"I don't...I..." Suggesting that she stay in Hokkaido was not the declaration Retsuko was expecting. For a second she did feel the need to sit down, but stubbornly forced herself steady. Feelings swirled in her head like a hurricane, and if she took too much time to sift through them, Ito would draw a conclusion before she could object.

"It's a rather hefty suggestion," he said quickly. "But I know you care about your family deeply. You coming all the way here is proof of that."

Perhaps it was his tone of voice that snapped her out of it—that tone that so much reminded her of a condescending teacher that she nearly made a sour face.

"I don't know what to say," she told him. "I mean...wow."

"As I recall, you've always been a determined person. You've always made the right decisions, like when you chose to attend school in Tokyo, or work that job you didn't like because you are not someone who takes the easy way out. It's something I have always admired about you."

"I...get you're trying to look out for me. But for you to suggest I don't care enough about them if I'm not willing to uproot my life in Tokyo to live here? That's...what makes you think you can tell me what to do?"

"Because I think I know you, Retsuko. Character doesn't change as much as we may think." He paused. "That man who came to see you here. I admit, he worried me." 

"Wh...Haida?"

"You don't need to settle for someone like that. I know his type, unfortunately. Unambitious. He's not someone who could care for you the way you—"

"Holy crap," she blurted. "I mean, shit. That's what this is about, isn't it? You put on this show of being a white knight—oh you're so worried about the girl you used to carpool with and her family—when you're just jealous!"

"Me?" Retsuko could see the cracks forming in his composure. His shoulders had risen to his ears. "Miss Retsuko, I'm only speaking from—"

"You know nothing about him. And you know nothing about me." Her ears were pulsing with heat. 

"I think I have a right to voice my concerns, considering I do care for you. Your mother has voiced her interest in my pursuit of you. Is that a secret? But this isn't the you I remember, and I know it's not the Retsuko your mother and father raised. This man...this hyena...I just don't see a nice girl like you and someone like him—"

"A 'nice girl like me'?" A laugh bubbled from deep in her gut, from the same well where she drew buckets full of rage and song:

WHERE DO YOU GET OFF, DOC?

OUT OF THE WOODWORKS, I SWEAR

CRAWLING OUT FROM MY PAST

TO SIT IN THAT JUDGE'S CHAIR?

THERE MIGHT HAVE BEEN A TIME

WHEN I WANTED PEACE OF MIND,

AND I WOULD HAVE TAKEN YOUR WORDS

I THOUGHT MY MOTHER HAD NERVE,

BUT SHE JUST GOT SERVED.

MY PEOPLE-PLEASING AAAAAAASSSSSSS!!

BUT YOU'RE AN ENTITLED DOPE

CHOKING ON THAT SILVER SPOON

GAGGING ON THAT STETHESCOPE

SOMEONE LIKE HIM, HUH?

I'LL BE WITH WHO I PLEASE

GO FIND A GIRL WHO'S NICE

CAUSE IT SURE AS HELL AIN'T ME!!!

Retsuko's eyes blazed with a fire indignant and bright. "I misjudged you too, doctor," she said. "You seemed successful, mature, wealthy—all those things my mom was looking out for. Turns out, you're just an entitled asshole. And if I'm not as nice as you think I am, maybe you should try to 'pursue' somebody else."

Retsuko left the doctor standing under the lamppost while she skirted down the walkway and around the bend. She caught her breath against the brick outer wall of the corner store.

She suddenly remembered why she had ejected the memory of Ito from her brain: he was always full of himself, entitled, always acting like he was "looking out for her" when they went to school together. She remembered thinking him older, wiser, and handsome. Perhaps only his character hadn't changed in the past years, but Retsuko's had.

She did not calm down from the exchange until she ducked into the tavern and ordered herself a boozy cider. Her first instinct was to call Haida, but she didn't want to wake him up if he was trying to sleep on the train. But her conversation with Ito had left her feeling so homesick that she bit the bullet and sent a cautious text:

hope you're sleeping. sorry about texting.

It was less than a minute that passed when she got his response:

miss me already?

Retsuko leaned into her palm to hide her smile from the bartender.

its only been like 2 hours, his text continued. how are you gonna survive over there?

idk, she typed. i want to make it back for new year's eve. can't miss a Gori party, but i’ll have to see how dad is feeling. how's the ride?

quiet. mountains are dope. was prepping for my meeting tmrw, but glad ur distracting me ;)

Retsuko's thumbs hesitated over her screen. She debated whether or not she should confide in Haida about her conversation with Doctor Ito. It only took a brief moment to realize how bad of an idea that was, and how unnecessary. She could always bring it up later, but there wasn't any need to make Haida anxious when they'd both just mustered the courage to express their feelings for each other.

If anything, talking to Ito only made Retsuko miss Haida that much more. Additionally, her outburst gave her the extra bit of fiery courage to type:

can't wait to kiss you ~<3

ok no, came his reply. u can't do that to me.

Retsuko received her drink and sat at the bar, sipping and texting Haida, cheeks warm and stomach fluttering.

*

Retsuko touched down onto Tokyo pavement with an hour of the year remaining. That meant that she had exactly sixty minutes—fifty nine now—to make it to Gori's New Year's Eve bash looking cute. Thankfully she'd had time on the train to complete her makeup, though she tactfully skipped the winged eyeliner. She had fifty-eight minutes to grab an outfit from home, since she hadn't even thought to shove anything party-appropriate in her suitcase.

As she raced off the train platform and rounded the crowded corner of her street, she felt like she'd been gone for ages. Christmas Eve seemed like a century ago.

Fifty minutes until the new year.

Retsuko burst into her dim apartment, panting, and dashed to her closet. She was lucky she'd thought to spray her makeup in place, otherwise she definitely would have sweated it off by now.

She threw off her sweatpants and sweater and slipped instead into a blush-colored glittery dress (worn a grand total of one time to a themed bachelorette bash). Paired with dark stockings and heels, it was perfectly festive for one of Gori's parties.

Retsuko double-checked herself in the mirror, beaming with mischief. No one knew she was coming to Gori’s party. She’d told her friends that, due to unforeseen family circumstances, she wouldn’t be back in Tokyo until the next day. How unfortunate. 

But it was the perfect little setup to surprise them.

She had done everything in her power to make sure Haida went to Gori's party, even though he vocalized that it wouldn't be the same without her there.

"Maybe I'll just stay in," he'd told her over the phone not a day before. "We can go to the shrines on New Year's Day instead, when you get back."

Retsuko anxiously made up something about how she wanted to see the party she'd be missing, and if he could please video chat with her at midnight. It had taken her a very hard pinch to ensure that she didn't reveal she meant to surprise him.

Retsuko's hot cheeks were relieved to return to the snowy outdoors, and she walked at a brisk pace to steady the pounding of her excited heart. 

She still didn't know whether or not she'd tell Haida about her run-in with Doctor Ito. Maybe that was a win she'd keep to herself, at least for a little while. She really couldn’t care less about the doctor or what he thought of her choices. He was such a tiny blip on her radar that it seemed stupid to give him any more thought than he deserved.

At long last, and with thirty minutes to spare, Retsuko came to Gori's high-rise apartment building. Already she could make out figures dancing in the windows, moving silhouettes against neon lights. She boarded the elevator, the close walls hummed with the heartbeat of music, and Retsuko composed herself before the doors slid open and she was slammed with the pulse of electronica and a chorus of voices.

She pushed through the crowd clogging up the hallway and followed them to Gori’s apartment. It was open, and guests spilled out wearing festive party hats and waving streamers around. Even above all the happy noise, Restuko could make out Gori’s voice low like a bass drum humming from the main room of her apartment. 

“…and he was nice, but that was it. Don’t get me wrong, I’m an independent woman, y’know? I like making my own decisions. The trouble is, I like a man who has the capacity to take control. I don’t wanna be the only one driving the conversation.” 

“But you love driving the conversation,” chimed Washimi.

Retsuko approached Gori, who was right in the middle of sipping from a very large glass of wine. “Well, at least he had the decency to pay for dinner,” continued Gori, “I may be independent, but I know my— Retsuko!!”

Gori looked so surprised to see her that she nearly dropped her glass, though to be fair, it could have been that she looked a little tipsy. 

“Happy New Year!” Retusko said, and pushed two small packages in Gori and Washimi’s hands. “Surprise!”

It didn’t take long for the ladies to accept that Retsuko was there in the flesh, and they immediately bombarded her with questions about her trip and how her father was faring. They spoke in volumes a notch too high, but so was everyone else mingling about the party.

“Did I miss anything?” Retsuko said, looking around, wondering if Haida was around. He said he’d be there.

Gori tore open her gift and squealed as a small jewelry box fell into her palm: just something Retusko picked up in Hokkaido. “Oh, same old.”

Washimi thanked Retsuko for her bracelet and slipped it on. It beautifully complimented her gold dress. “If I’d known you were coming, I would have brought your gift, too,” she said. She glanced casually at her watch. “You should say hello to Haida before the new year. I know he’d love to see you.”

Retusko’s ear perked. How was it that Washimi always knew things? 

Gori nudged Retsuko suggestively in the shoulder. “He’s on the balcony. And did something happen between you two in Hokkaido? He wouldn’t say.”

Retsuko smiled at both of them. As she turned to leave, she glanced back to say, “Yes. We’re together.”

Retsuko left them stunned there and slipped onto the balcony, a few seconds later hearing their exclamations of “WHAT?!” behind.

Gori’s balcony looked out on glimmering Tokyo. As much as Retusko loved the mountains, she had missed the sky-scraping buildings and close-quartered communal city that glittered like she was standing in the sky. Hokkaido would always be there. Her parents would always be there. But here and now, Haida was leaning with his elbows on the balcony, the soft glow of his phone screen tracing the sides of his frown. 

“Dammit,” she heard him snarl. His profanity made her chest swell with affection.

“Connection bad?” she asked him.

He didn’t turn around. “Yeah, but that’s the mountains for you.”

“Happy New Year,” Retsuko tried again, and watched realization dawn in his body language: the way his ears slowly rose, the way his back straightened from its hunch. He finally turned to gaze at Retsuko, his mouth hanging dumbly open, phone forgotten in his palm.

“You–wh–?” he stammered, then frowned again. “Hey.”

She laughed, and it seemed to be contagious because Haida’s face broke into a reluctant grin. He closed the space between them to sweep her up in a brief embrace, setting her back down before anyone could notice.

“I thought you weren’t coming back until tomorrow,” he said, in a voice that suggested he knew he’d been duped.

Retsuko reached into her bag for yet another wrapped package and dropped it into Haida’s paw. “Wanted to surprise you,” she said, beaming. 

“Well, color me surprised.” Haida didn’t open the gift, only continued to stare at Retsuko as if debating whether or not she was really there, or just a figment of her imagination. “How’s your dad doing?”

“He’s great,” she said, happy that it was a true statement. “He’s on mandatory rest. But he’s going to be okay.”

“I’m really glad to hear that.” Haida hesitated. Seeing him back in Tokyo felt like the two of them had been dropped in another dimension. Did things between them make sense in Tokyo? “And I’m really glad you’re back.”

“Me too,” she said.

“I, uh, thought I was seeing you tomorrow, so I didn’t bring your gift,” Haida said.

“That’s okay.”

“It’s a scarf. It’s really nice and thick, so you don’t get cold next time you, uh, fall into a lake.” He paused, cheeks deep in color. “I didn’t have to tell you what it was, I don’t know why I did that.”

Retsuko tapped the present still clutched in his palm. “Yours is a watch. And it’s waterproof so you don’t ruin it when you’re pulling girls out of lakes.”

He chuckled, and took her hand. “That checks."

There was a chorus of voices from inside the apartment: the countdown to New Year’s had begun.

"The doc give you any trouble after I left? Any marriage proposals?" Haida joked.

"There was a proposal," Retsuko ventured, and Haida raised his brows. "But I'm where I want to be. Right here."

There were faint popping noises in the distance as fireworks lit up the horizon in royal blues and cherry-blossom pink.

“You still in, then?” Haida asked.

“In? In what?”

“With us.”

“Ten…nine…eight…” came the party-goers inside.

If Retsuko’s smile was any bigger she was afraid her face might burst. “I’m in. Are you?”

“...six…five…four…”

Haida swept up Retsuko in his long arms, his forehead against hers. They fit so perfectly together, lost puzzle pieces fitting together. Maybe they had always fit. “A hundred-percent.”

“…two…one…HAPPY NEW YEAR!”

And as Retsuko caught Haida’s mouth with her own, his lips enveloping hers with sureness and warmth, she felt her lungs swell with winter air, her heart swelled in a way that rivaled the fireworks bursting above their heads.