WONDERLAND

eight. "the long gone past semantics."

She could lean in. She could kiss him— And taste nothingness, but feel the warm, gentle press of lips and him — whispery and fragile against the wind, but willing to weather it for her all the same. ( To weather it so he could get what he wanted. )

Mahiru could, and perhaps once Mahiru can, but Mahiru won't. Won't ever. Because these things have never swayed her and never will. Sentiments don't matter to her and they don't to him (or didn't), but Mahiru raises her hand and pushes away, nothing in gold irises betraying— No, there was nothing to feel, nothing she feels that could stop her.

( Tsukasa Eishi might be a spark in the forlorn night— But so is she. Mahiru, just like him, is not only another current, another tide, another wave or another fish of that deep blue sea. And more than anything— She will not give him to the power to make her a part of it. )

Mahiru raises her hand and sets it on her chest and pushes the only man she's ever thought she loved and she feels nothing. There was regret with Rindou, there had been melancholy with her uncle and there used to be grief with Eishi. But here and now, there is nothing and Mahiru isn't going to stick around until there is.

She's no stranger to loneliness. But to return to it after the happier times makes someone strange, unpredictable.  

Mahiru won't return to those days. 

%%%

She goes back to work, like she always does. If there's one thing Mahiru was ever good at, it was calculation— Numbers, plans, coup-d'etats. Maybe— There was a way to speed this up— Mahiru, why are you doing this?

She sinks into the soft leather cushion and remembers the taste of bile, the cold office, remembers her father. That's right. Mahiru won't go back to that, she won't beg him for a life as a ghost. She doesn't owe him anything. 

From downstairs, there is a faint echo of banging pots and glass shattering, followed by Shinomiya's enraged roar. Mahiru rolls her eyes and goes down, giving her makeshift office one last look. (Shimizu had shipped her desk as well as the iconic leather chair over and a bed with sandalwood frame that probably costed more than what most people make in a year.)

She descends down the stairs with obnoxiously loud clacks from her heels, no doubt in for a lecture from Fumio about the state of the stairs and comes face to face with the kitchen, narrowly ducking to avoid a fork thrown at her place.

"Gomenasai!" A mauve-haired girl calls out from behind the counter. Mahiru gives her an icy glare that she responds with a sheepish smile.

Foolish, Mahiru thinks, before realizing she is one of them as a pair of scissors snags a piece of her hair. Seeing red, Mahiru picks up the first kitchen knife she sees and the room lowers at least ten degrees from her glare. 

"M-Mahiru-chin," Kuga says shakily from a corner. "Just ah— put down the knife slowly and we'll talk it out, okay?"

"Terunori," she barks and out of fear, he immediately shoots up, shaken with fear. "Assemble a training camp, divide the dormitory by half — I want at least one acceptable cuisine dish by the end of this week. You," she gives Shinomiya a flat stare. "Get Yukihira and his band of misfits." He barely keeps in his snarl. "Dojima-senpai please make sure that they don't kill anyone." Finally, Mahiru turns to a stupidly grinning Saiba. "You... Come with me."

Slamming the knife tip first into an unsuspecting watermelon, she stomps up the stairs and into her office, followed by a skipping Saiba. 

"Man," he says as they enter her office. "I love what you've done with the place."

Mahiru ignores him, and instead is digging through one of her file folders. She flips through page after page of stamped documents until she finally finds the one she was looking for. Slamming it on the table, she looks up and asks: "You recognize him, yes?"

Saiba looks down. "Yes," he says slowly. "I apprenticed under him for a short while about seventeen years ago..."

Mahiru smiles. "Good."

He looks at her, raising an eyebrow. "You were never planning to play fair were you, Mahiru-chan?"

She scoffs. "Of course not. You really think your son and his amassed crowd of fool worshippers can best someone even I couldn't? Face it, he needs all the help he can get and you're probably not even the best that he can get. The school is divided and the instructors will obviously look to the side with money— There's no way in hell I'll be paying them, so I might as well convince someone else to bring in ones that won't be swayed by money."

"Then you better think long and hard how you're going to convince the old hag," he says, then breaks out into another grin that fifty percent bullshit. "Or maybe you should get old man Sen to drag 'im in by the tail. That'll be a show."

"Oho," Mahiru sneers. "Then we'll lose for sure. Let's have a review now, shall we? Senzaemon, as of current, happens. To. Be. Banished."

Saiba sighs. "Of course, of course. You are always and will always be, undoubtedly correct."

"Enough of the fooling around," Mahiru puts up her hand and hands Saiba one of her file folders. "I know you're not one for politics, but I want you to keep an eye on the school while I'm gone. I know you're hopeless with finance but you're probably the only damn thing that's stopping Nakamura from just taking Polar Star down. You're a foxy bastard, so try to adjust to the power shifts and keep this sinking boat afloat."

A rich, powerful laugh erupts on him. And the next thing she knows, he has his arms wrapped around her and patting her on the back mockingly, crying something about oh how you've grown up and you can leave it to me! but what his her most of all is what he says at the end. "Don't worry, Mahiru-chan, I'll take care of it."

And there's some semblance of tears prickling the corner of her eyes. And a different man. Don't worry Mai-chan, Otou-san's here. 

Otou-san will take care of it. 

%%%

"Jin," she says. 

"Mahiru?" Ryousuke Jin asks. 

"How familiar are you with Chinese Cuisine?" Mahiru asks, as she makes the necessary preparations. Her laptop's left open in front of her on the desk, she glances at it — something like anxiety fluttering through her when she sees that there's a reply. Sighing, she clicks it open. 

"Fairly familiar, it could use some improvement," he tells her. "Would you like for me to keep an eye on Shima?" 

"Do whatever it takes to get her on our side." 

"Understood."

lmao look subplots