It'd been almost twelve years since I'd been on a date. It hadn't taken me long to do the math; the last time I'd been on a real date was the night my ex-husband, Yuuma, had asked me to marry him. That was also the night when I'd told him I was pregnant with our daughter, Koemi, who had turned eleven a month ago.

An hour before I was set to meet Saga at the train station for our date, Koemi was in the kitchen, staring into her ramen bowl as if the purpose of life was inscribed into each and every individual noodle. It was in that moment more than any other that I considered calling Saga and telling him that going out together wasn't a good idea. Would it be too obvious that I'd only gotten cold feet and used a "family emergency" as an excuse? Shouldn't family come first in any situation, emergency or not?

But I knew I wouldn't actually cancel on Saga, no matter how or what tempted me. I was in too far to back out. I didn't have time to reconsider, regardless of how I felt about it.

Or how my daughter felt about it.

Knowing my fate was sealed, I couldn't do much more than take a few cautious steps towards the kitchen table, where Koemi was eating an early dinner, and pull a chair out for myself across from her. I sunk into it with the same deliberate movements, treating the girl like a wild animal that could pounce without waring. She was on the brink of teenage hormones, after all, and I knew first-hand that they were as unpredictable as anything.

Koemi didn't look up from her food, but I had to be thankful that she didn't storm off all together and leave me in the dust. I didn't want to crack the already thin ice we were standing on, so I took a moment to evaluate the best way to approach the topic.

"Mi-Chan," I began, only to pound on the breaks and backpedal when Koemi sent me a reproachful stare. "I mean, Koe-Chan..."

'Mi-Chan' was apparently too childish of a nickname, but I was having some trouble remembering to use the much more mature 'Koe-Chan'.

I took a deep breath and started over. "Koe-Chan, I know the idea of me seeing other men might make you uncomfortable, but the truth is..." I let out a humorless, breathless laugh, "...it makes me uncomfortable, too."

"Then why are you doing it?"

My heart sunk with her words. Before the organ had the chance to decompose in the depths of my gut, Koemi continued.

"I mean," she said, leaning back and glowering at her bowl, "Tou-San said that he doesn't want any other women in his life, since me and you and Sobo are the only ones he needs. And since you guys get along anyway, I don't get why you just can't get married again."

My head lowered, and I clasped my fingers together on the tabletop. It wasn't the first time Koemi had brought a possible reconciliation between Yuuma and I up, but it still stung just as much as the first time she had confessed to wanting it.

"Stop that, Koemi," I murmured, not so much timid as peeved. "We've talked about this before, and if you're going to keep dwelling on it you can go do it in your room. Your father will be here soon to pick you up. Make sure you have everything ready."

I didn't have to be looking at Koemi to know that she was pursing her lips and sending a 'you're-ruining-my-life' sort of glare my way. While I entertained that image, Koemi brought it to life by sliding the nearly untouched bowl of ramen away from her, slipping out of her chair, and pushing her heels into the floor as she made her way to her bedroom. Her door snapped shut with only a fraction more force than was necessary, but even the minor clap resonated like a gun shot.

I stayed in the kitchen for a while longer, brooding. I was unbelievably glad for the relationship I had with Koemi's father. He, Koemi and I were still a family, regardless of matrimonial status. But the truth of the matter was that even if Yuuma and I didn't hate each other after all we'd been through, we weren't in love with each other either. And while I recognized and accepted that fact, I couldn't help but wonder if it was my fault that we grew apart in the first place, and if it was my fault that we couldn't make Koemi happy by rekindling that once-was romance.

With a grimace, I forced the guilt to the back of my mind. I was well beyond the crying and feeling inadequate stage when it came to my divorce, so instead I pulled myself up to my own two feet and did what needed to be done. There was just enough time for me to take care of Koemi's discarded food and write a note to Yuuma (a note apologizing for turning our daughter’s mood and explaining that I would be with a friend for the night) before heading out to meet Saga. Suddenly, the prospect was less intimidating than the tenseness in the house.

Rather than trek to a true winery, Saga had taken me to a respectable restaurant with a wide selection of imported alcohol. The mood there wasn't overly romantic or grandeur, and the table that Saga reserved for us was in the dining room rather than a VIP suite, despite the Saturday night crowd. Saga (or maybe it was just his celebrity status) had struck me as a five-star, silver spoon sort, so it was a pleasant surprise that calmed my nerves and helped to loosen me up somewhat.

We'd met up at the station nearest to the restaurant (after we'd each taken separate trains there from our respective homes) and walked the rest of the way as a pair, making stilted small talk as we went. With me being the more reticent type of person that I was, playing the role of the ring leader when it came to conversation meant that there wasn't much talking going on at all. Considering how confident Saga had always been around me in the PSC building, I wasn't sure what to make of the twist in his attitude. Why didn't he have anything to say? Did being out in public with me make him reconsider the idea of us being a compatible couple?

The restaurant may have been nice for my mood at first, but once we had settled down I became more aware than ever of the strange vibe meandering between the Saga and I; after placing our orders, we hadn’t said another word. The cacophony from the other diners helped to fill some of the silence, at least, but the lack of an immediate distraction let my mind run wild. The slight argument I'd had at home had followed me to the city and brought along all of the insecurities I could have sworn I'd already tackled to the ground and buried six feet under.

Maybe Koemi had a point. Maybe I shouldn't be trying to connect with other men. Maybe Yuuma really was my soul mate, and I'd just been too busy focusing on all of the negative aspect of our relationship to realize it. Best friends and lovers weren't so different, were they? Love wasn’t supposed to be as perfect as the fairytales made it out to be. There hadn't been anything seriously wrong with my and Yuuma's marriage, so...

What was I thinking, going out on a date? And with someone like Saga? I didn't even want to think about what my mother would say if she knew where I was; she was still holding a grudge against me for filing for divorce (along with the rest of the world, it seemed). How was I supposed to be happy with someone else when doing so was making so many other people unhappy?

I knew I was letting myself fall into a black hole. I was letting doubt eat away at me, and it needed to stop. After a sip of liquid courage (although it was only water on the table at that point) I decided that I couldn't take anymore time to myself and bolted outside of my comfort zone. There needed to be conversation, no matter what it was about.

"You're quiet," I observed, making sure my tone was only thoughtful and not suspicious or upset. I was tempted to keep my eyes on my glass, but I ended up looking up and fixing a timid smile in Saga's direction. "I'm sorry I'm not very exciting. You must be bored."

"I'm not bored," Saga insisted, sitting up straight and morphing his features into something so earnest that I couldn't help but to believe it. He seemed to have the same problem as me, since his gaze alternated between my face and his empty plate. "I'm just a little nervous, I guess."

"Nervous?" It was the most ridiculous thing I'd heard in a while; the most ridiculous thing I'd heard since I'd heard myself agree to the date in the first place. "Why would you be nervous? I would have thought that being a rock star would make anything else look easy."

Saga gave a half-shrug, avoiding my stare as he tapped some kind of rhythm with his thumbs.

"Fans are different," he told me, pausing in the middle of the beat to brush his bangs out of his face. "Even though we try to please them as much as possible, it's usually not hard. They appreciate almost anything we do, even if it's just making an appearance."

I nodded my head along with his words. The Visual Kei scene put just as much emphasis on looks as it did the actual music. Despite working in the industry myself, I thought it was a shame that the bands exerted themselves so much while composing and performing their songs, yet it was sometimes underappreciated by fans in favor of more superficial aspects.

Saga's brow pinched and he leaned forward. "I'm sorry, that didn't sound right. I really am grateful for our fans and love making them happy. I didn't mean it like--"

"No, no. I understand completely," I said. Another thought then occurred to me. "But what exactly are you trying to say? You want to impress me?"

I smirked the best that I could, but my heart wasn't really in the expression. Saga scratched his cheek and ducked his head.

"Well, yeah," he admitted, his voice not quite as small as his body language would have suggested. He tilted his chin up enough to gaze at me from under his lashes. "I think I've made my intentions with you obvious, Tsuruta-San," he said, making blood rush to my ears. Saga smiled briefly at my modesty before his lips wilted. "It's been a while since I've been in this type of situation, though."

"We're in the same boat there," I agreed, sighing some. I wished with half of my brain that the service would give an inhuman performance and bring us our food within the next three seconds so that something could cut off the discussion there, but I pulled myself together. I was, without doubt, an adult. If I could raise a daughter, go through a divorce, and head a household, then I could look someone in the eye and maintain a meaningful colloquy without getting twitchy about it. Besides, even if I wasn't sure whether to take his affection seriously yet -- let alone return it -- Saga wasn't the worst person in the world that I could be eating dinner with.

With that thought in mind, it didn't seem like as much of a challenge to leave my eyes on Saga for longer than a few seconds. The impulse to dart my eyes away when Saga held my stare was weak enough to suppress.

"You know," I dared to say, somehow gaining confidence from Saga's gaze, "even if I'm not one of those girls who squeals every time you blink, you still don't have to go out of your way to make a good impression. I know it sounds cheesy, but the best thing to do is just be yourself."

Saga's smile was small, but his features did their own individual part in expressing his feelings. The muscles in his jaw relaxed, and the lack of tension under his skin made the structure of his face both more pronounced and smoother than I had ever seen it.

Saga was the one to break our ogling streak when he adjusted himself in his seat. I wasn't sure if he was actually doing it to get more comfortable or just relieve anxiety. Rather than look too much into it, I let it go.

Either way, Saga didn't waste much time getting settled. It seemed like I had only just been released from the pressure of his watch when it was put back on me.

"I should give you permission to call me Sakamoto-Kun, then. Or '-San', if you'd be more comfortable," Saga said, looking only the slightest bit sheepish. It took me a minute to realize what he meant by it, but after a few blank blinks I figured that Sakamoto was probably his real surname; I was so used to calling him Saga that I'd forgotten it was only a pseudonym. For a fleeting moment I was tempted to ask him what his given name was, just for the sake of knowing, but I had an immediate afterthought that that was too forward. He probably didn't know what my first name was either. And anyway, I could just look his up on the internet some time if the idea nagged at me.

I tried not to let myself get flustered over something so Lilliputian as the stupid little thoughts floating around in my head, but I couldn't help it when my eyes darted down to my silverware for a fraction of a second.

"Okay," I allowed, bobbing my chin up and down. "You can call me '-Chan', too. We are on a date, after all."

I wore a simper. Inside, however, the reminder of what exactly the late-day meal was left me a tiny bit terrified all over again. The label set the tone, apparently.

The waiter chose that moment to be my lifesaver as he arrived with two small platters of food and a tray holding miniature flutes of our wine choices. The interruption was welcomed, but at the same time I wondered where my resolve to not make the outing any more awkward than it needed to be had gone. Wasn't I supposed to be making the best of the situation? Even if Saga had a supposed romantic interest in me, there was no reason why I couldn't take my own advice and calm down. Once Saga moved past his Casanova phase, we might be able to get along on a purely platonic level. We were doing that already, weren't we? We were just two people enjoying each others' company while sipping fine wine. It might have meant more to Saga than it did to me, but that wouldn't last long. We really could just be friends one day. We were just friends. For the time being and forever.

Still, though, I pretended to like the first flavor I tried more than I actually did, just as an excuse to finish off the glass before moving on to the next. If my mental mantras couldn't loosen me up completely, a little alcoholic influence would do the trick.