Katawa Shoujo - Akira Satou Route

Act 5-9 cheek to cheek

With that, she hangs up and I'm left standing in front of the jazz club, the sidewalk around the entrance vacant except for a few people waiting on benches beside the doorway. I get the impression that Mr. Satou wouldn't just go into this place by himself if he's here for guests, so it would be better to wait on the bench until then.

Even with as much as I wish I didn't have to. Even with as little as I've prepared for Akira's birthday, it's still something; no matter how much I think about it, I haven't the slightest clue as to how to deal with Mr. Satou. How to talk to him, how to act around him, how to interact with him in any way. It's granted that he commands an absurd level of manners and proper speech, but I feel like anything I could try to talk about would be picked apart at the most basic level.

It's times like this that make me wish I had asked for his number from Akira or Lilly. It probably wouldn't be too proper for someone like me to be calling him, especially considering all of the business he's surely been taking care of, but-

"Good evening."

The voice is calm and yet confronting, crawling through my ear in such a manner that I feel commanded to turn my head and answer it.

Mr. Satou approaches, adjusting his shirt as if he only just stepped outside. Rather than one of the sleek suits he's sported every other time I've encountered him, today he seems to have lightened up a bit, wearing a blue polo shirt with the top button undone and a pair of black slacks.

"Ah, hello, Mr. Satou." I say, standing up and bowing my head.

He nods and slips one hand into his pocket, still wearing a neutral impression. "Would you happen to know where the others are?"

Go figure he's only concerned with everyone else - I'd be willing to bet he still doesn't even remember my name. "Lilly and Hanako had a bus problem. Akira drove to the school the pick them up, so she'll be a while." I answer, shrinking against his gaze as he inspects every movement I make.

"I see." Mr. Satou gives a small 'hm' while he thinks over my answer. He glances off into the distance and shakes his head before looking at me and shrugging. "Well, you'll do. We haven't had a chance to talk personally anyway."

He gestures for me to follow him into the jazz club. Looking at him this way, he doesn't seem so intimidating, or at least not so big. He's tall, but he doesn't seem to have the muscle mass you'd expect from that generic expectation of your girlfriend's dad. The shirt looks loose on him, not so much unfitting but more like it was tailored to give him some breathing room.

I can't help but wonder what he has planned as he holds the door open for me, the two of us stepping through the sparse crowd without trouble and eventually taking a seat at the front counter.

The bartender nods upon seeing both of us, but seems to take an extra interest in the man beside me. "Good evening, sir. You're a little earlier than usual."

He doesn't seem to react to the comment at all, instead glancing up and replying with "you already know what I want." Before the bartender has a chance to go off and retrieve it, though, Mr. Satou turns to me and asks "How old are you? Twenty, right?"

I shake my head, startled by the question. "No, I'm just eighteen."

"Ah, twenty, that's what I thought." He nods before turning back to the front and saying "The same for him. Put ice in it, though."

The man on the other end of the counter glances between both of us as if mulling over the order and deciding whether or not to go along with it. Eventually, he nods at Mr. Satou and pulls a rectangular bottle out from a shelf behind him and sets it in front of us, producing two glasses beside it - one filled with a handful of ice cubes, and the other with a single white sphere about the size of a golf ball. I try to read the label while the bartender finishes preparing the drinks, only to realize that it's in english and I haven't the faintest clue of what it says.