The sleeping man (Hakuouki modern AU - Hijikata)

Tatemae

Instead of growling back, the man passed a hand in his gorgeous hair, ruffling it. Under the artificial light, it was difficult to discern if the blush was real.

"Ah", he said. "I missed my stop, I need to backtrack."

Sarah laughed this time. Even though he did not join her, his lips curled slightly, enhancing his natural beauty. His features were devoid of any lines, too flawless to be true. Yet, he sat beside her with the ease of man used to physical exertion. A very, very real man.

It was only when he cocked his head aside that she realised she'd been staring. Blushing, she picked on the ruined hem of her dress; the scraped cloth was unsalvageable, and blood stained the deep blue colour.

"We make quite the pair. I'm nowhere close where I'm supposed to be, although it doesn't matter given the state of my dress. I'll have to shorten it."

"Seamstress ?", he asked, his voice low in the nightly silence.

"No, nuclear physics. Decommissioning. I used to work in France, then got a contract for here after Fukushima."

He seemed taken aback by her confession, and she spotted the moment intimidation set in. How many times had she seen this expression on a man's face, in this country ? Men enjoyed having the upper hand, whether by education or status. Mention that you worked in nuclear physics, and most guys would shut down, feeling inadequate.

She wasn't too surprised when he fished cigarettes from his pocket – a common stress suppressant. Albeit, she was pleasantly surprised when he stood and took a few steps back to light it up. Seeking to dissolve the awkwardness, she sent a jab his way.

"Smoking's not good for you."

He took a long drag of his cigarette, looking wonderfully handsome as he did so before he blew the smoke away.

"It keeps my stress levels acceptable enough not to kill any student."

And to handle an engineer woman and her big brain, but she couldn't begrudge him that cultural fear. He probably was a teacher in university, or high school.

"Youngsters always have a way to make their teachers crazy."

Another drag, and that splendid quirks of his lips. His eyes sparkled in the artificial light.

"You should meet Sōji, he's my own personal terror."

"One of yours ?", she asked, surprised by the heart felt confession.

Her saviour nodded stiffly. "Adopted son to my good friend Kondō, the official school's director."

"Official ?"

"Yes. I'm his second in command, but he's our figurehead. He's a much better political figure that I'll ever be."

A long plume of smoke left his lips and she watched, mesmerised, the contours of his face play hide and seek through the greyish veil. And those bangs that flirted with his jawline, damn. That man could have been a model, but seemed dedicated to his job. A self-depreciative smile suddenly broke over his face, killing the mesmerising mood.

"But anyway, I'm sorry I must bore you."

What ? Had she zoned out, perhaps ?

"Not at all!", she exclaimed. "After a while, performing the same Strontium to Uranium ratio can get tiresome."

"I can only imagine," he snorted, discarding the butt of his cigarette in the bin. Ten more minutes to go, and she wondered if the man would open up, or raise his barriers altogether. He seemed genuine enough, to the point of bluntness given the usual reserve. Perhaps his compatriots found him rude, even, but she enjoyed having a genuine conversation without the usual tatemae.

For a moment, she wondered if he would retreat to the bench, or stay away. Given his fidgeting, he was probably hesitating.

"It seems you enjoy your work more than I do mine," she called out to him.

His shoulders slumped, belying the spark that gleamed in his warm gaze. Wariness infused his gesture when he eventually folded himself again at the very end of the bench.

"I do. It's just... so much to do, and only twenty-four hours in a day."

"Married to your job ?"

His violet eyes widened, and Sarah feared she'd speared him through the heart with her casual remark. A droplet of sweat ran down her spine, inch by inch at the realisation that, maybe, she had just insulted his lady wife. After all, he had not responded to her earlier prodding.

For an instant, time seemed to freeze altogether. Then came the admittance.

"Yeah."

Another one.

A great sigh escaped Sarah's lips before she could hold it back. Another, perfect, intelligent, chivalrous, gorgeous man whose job had become his whole life. He would find a swarm of Japanese ladies intent on marrying him; the choice would be easy. His wife would wait until 11pm with food ready and a smile, and they would sometimes meet in the corridor, by surprise, like a set of strangers on weekends. He would have one of two overly cute children that would know that papa works hard to feed the family. They would, in turn, grow up worshipping hard work and repeat the cycle once again.

What a waste... or was it ? Perhaps her European sensibility was at fault. She wanted someone to share her life, not to pass through. She craved lazy mornings exploring skin, and vacation time to make memories. Wanted the father of her children to show them life wasn't only about work, even though she valued perseverance just as much.

How to find the balance between drive and life, obsession and disappearance of oneself ? If she could not respect a man's dedication to his cause, then perhaps she had better move away from Japan.

"I'm going to miss it here," she mused.

As in, another job. Another life.

"What's Paris like ?"

His question brought her back to the present. To that beautiful, chivalrous man who refused to leave her on the bench with a taxi less than ten minutes away. In any other place, his insistence would be appreciated. But this was Japan, safe and honourable Japan. She was not at risk, there, but the man was stubborn. It showed in the proud set of his jaw, that chin that jutted just enough to look downright delectable.

"Full of French."

His snort turned into choked laughter, and she relished in the sound with way too much glee. Sarah's smile grew, all thoughts of the future forgotten as she shared in the mirth.

"Sorry", she chuckled. "Paris was... smelly, dirty, busy, filled with history and definitely not my cup of tea."

The mention of tea ignited something in his gaze, and he seemed to ponder on the next question for a moment.

"Alright. So what's Japan like to you ?"

Sarah cocked her head aside; he had quite the analytical mind. The answer, though, rushed out without the need for reflexion.

"Peaceful."

His dark eyebrows knitted, creating a crease that she longed to smooth out. Incredible, how expressive his face was.

"Really ?"

Incredibly so, despite the insane demographic density. There was just something about the atmosphere, the respectful boundaries between people, the zen attitude that showed in every single moment, that search for perfection and pride on one's job. Albeit Tokyo was a mulling anthill, it felt so very different from Paris.

"Yeah. I just feel at home here."

And she just refused to acknowledge how this realisation settled deep in her guts.

This is a homage to my good Japanese friend who worked in nuclears physics and really struggled to find someone because guys felts intimidated by her intellect.