My conclusion was this:

I liked Saga. I definitely liked Saga. And by like, I meant that I liked him. He was an overall good person. He was well-mannered, a little timid at times (but who was I to talk?), dedicated to his work, devoted to the people he cared about, and fun to be around when the situation allowed it. Once we both got some wine into our systems, we were able to loosen up and spend the remainder of our date sharing and joking and getting to know each other. During that period, I found out that I liked him.

I wasn't sure when or how it had happened, but I overcame most of the trepidation I felt when it came to the idea of "dating" Saga. I figured that it was mostly due to the fact that even if Saga was a grown man, it was hard for me to not think of him as more of a kid. Once I fell into that mindset, Saga became somewhat of a little brother with a big sister complex to me. I would humor him while it lasted, but I knew not to let it affect me by thinking of it as anything major. Its end was inevitable.

I liked Saga. But it wasn't the sort of like could escalate into anything more than like. I was genuinely pleased to be in his company and respected him as a human being, but I didn't foresee any progression into the romance he had in mind. The only thing I could do was hope that time and experience would dissuaded him so that I wouldn't have to do it myself. Since I had connected with Saga on a deeper level, turning him down would just be three times as hard for both of us as it had been to begin with.

But saying yes just wasn't an option, for so many reasons.

Whether it was the liquor still making its way through my system or something else, Saga showing up at my desk on Monday actually made me giddy. Despite the fact that he was on a short break from recording and had no business being anywhere near PSC, he had apparently remembered that I hated taking the train alone (I didn't even remember telling him) and thought he would keep me company on the way home. It might have been coming on a little strong given the undefined relationship that was only just budding between us, but I was still flattered at the show of consideration. As long as he wasn't ignoring any responsibilities, I didn't have any objections to it. It was nothing but friendly loyalty.

Well, maybe not. But I could sooth myself with the fib.

"Your birthday's only four days before mine," Saga remarked, somehow finding that fact significant. While I had been getting my train pass out of my wallet, Saga had caught sight of my driver's license. He was strangely captivated by the fact that I had one and asked to see it. I'd waited until we were tucked into the train to hand it over, and I was just as entertained watching him as he was examining it.

"Four days and about ten years," I reminded him, giving a downy smile. The truth was right under his nose, so it wasn't like he wasn't thinking it. June was only a few months away; then I would be thirty-six, and him twenty-nine. Even worse.

Saga lifted his shoulders in a would-be shrug. "Seven years. That's not so bad."

I twisted my arm so that my elbow would nudge into Saga's side. "Says the one who's twenty-eight and not thirty-five."

Late afternoon in the world of public transportation was never fun; Saga and I were blessed to be able to steal a place to sit. Quarters were still cramped, though, and we were sharing a seat and a half between the two of us. I couldn't complain too much about the arrangement, since I would take being pressed against Saga over some random stranger any day. At least he smelled nice. Whatever designer perfume he was wearing kept my attention off of the stale body odor in the rest of the cabin.

I leaned in a little closer to Saga, peering around his shoulder at my license and wondering when it was due to be renewed (and if doing so would be worth it). But when Saga's hands lowered to rest in his lap, my license tilted downwards, I glanced up towards his face instead. Saga's attention was on me, and it didn't waver even when I caught him in the act. I flushed.

"What is it?" I questioned as casually as I could. Saga took in a deep breath, pursing his mouth and looking away as if debating what he wanted to say. He returned to watching me after a few heartbeats.

"Does the bother you, Tsuruta-Chan? Does me being younger really upset you?"

My lips fell open into an "O" shape. As blunt as it was, I couldn't find it in me to take any offense to it. If it was coming from Saga, it was coming from a good place.

I had to focus on something else while I thought about the answer, so I found a series of scuff marks on the floor that reminded me of a firework in full bloom to become captivate by. I decided not to take too long gathering the right words; it was better to speak from the heart, right?

"I think," I hummed, "that yes, being around you does upset me." As I said it, my eyes were far-away and directed towards the floor. But they sharpened when they cast a sidelong look at Saga, taking on a spark that supplemented the upward curl at the corners of my lips. "But that's only when I stop to think about numbers."

I knew that Saga probably wouldn't understand what I meant, so I took another short break to consider what was going on in my head for myself before relaying it.

"Sometimes I stop and realize that I really haven't changed at all since I was younger," I confessed, haphazardly looking for the right words even as I spoke. "I mean, I know I've grown when it comes to being as self-sufficient as I need to be, but at the same time a part of me hasn't developed at all, if that makes sense. I still get nervous when strangers approach me, and I'd still rather have a buddy with me than be alone, and still giggle when I think something's funny, and can't help but fidget and turn red when I'm the center of attention..." I got tangled up in my own rambling then and had to veer myself back on track. "I guess I just don't feel like a real adult sometimes. I remember when I was a kid, I would look up to my parents as these untouchable people who could handle anything without losing control. I always thought that's what growing up and being mature was about -- getting over your insecurities and learning to be confident in whatever situation you found yourself in. That's how I thought I would be by now. Only I'm not. It's hard to believe I've been here for thirty-five years and still don't have all that much figured out about life."

A period passed where I was too absorbed in myself to pay much attention to Saga. It wasn't until the train passed a particularly rough patch of track that I was almost literally rocked out of my reverie. I glancing askance at Saga out of instinct when my body swayed towards his, using muscles I didn't know I even had to hold my torso in place and keep from falling into him completely.

Saga was quiet, waiting for me to go on and looking like he didn't have ears for anything but whatever would be coming out of my mouth. The only effect that the train's turbulence had on him was that he leaned in more towards me, going against inertia. I had to tilt my head to keep his full face in sight. The scent of his perfume got stronger.

Somehow I didn't shrink under the rapt interest Saga was showing. Instead, I mindlessly began to divulge, "When I think of you, it makes me think back to when I was your age, and even younger, when I still had all the time in the world to make the progress that I wanted. And even though I'm not at the end of my rope yet, my youth is still gone. I know I'm not old, exactly, but I'm not in my prime any more either. Even if we're 'only' seven years apart, it's like a different age bracket to me; there are different standards and values between us.

"You've accomplished so much for yourself already, Sakamoto-Kun, and you've still got a long way to go. But I'm just on this plateau all around, you know? It's good that I have a steady job, but there's nothing luxurious or outstanding about me or anything I do. I feel like I'm stuck where I am, because I'm at the point where I need to be that untouchable type like my parents, and to do that means putting down roots where I stand. There's not much room to grow once you're already grown, so you just have to make do with what you managed to get while you were on the way up."

My monologue ended on that note, my voice progressively losing strength until it died out with the last sentence.

I considered what I'd done. It did feel good to express myself for once, but at the same time sharing too much was just as bad as bottling it in. Saga and I weren't very close; that kind of heart-to-heart was too much, too soon. Had it even been coherent? I probably sounded like any idiot, running off my mouth and letting out a bunch of slapdash ideals that really didn't mean anything or connect to each other at all.

The realization that I might have made a mistake caused my mood to turn, and my eyes latched onto the scuff marks on the floor again. Just when I had reached some kind of symbiotic ground with Saga and began looking forward to a friendship in the future, I had to go blabbing. Wasn't that something that men didn't like about women these days? In-depth, arbitrary conversations were what girlfriends and cocktails were for. Men didn't want to deal with it.

My nerve wasn't completely depleted, but I still resorted to tugging at the hem of my skirt and shooting a would-be-sneaky glance in Saga's direction, wanting to gouge his level of boredom and see if I could still fix things. That would-be-sneaky glance was met with an unabashed set of eyes.

It was in that split moment when the world was de-muted (from whenever it muted in the first place), and the sounds of the train came charging at my eardrums. The metal rails shrieked and rattled, and the every shuffle from each individual person was multiplied by a tenfold. Saga was still leaning in towards me, and logic told me that he was only doing it out of necessity; he wouldn't be able to pretend he was listening to me drone if he had stayed upright. The hunch he had taken on to bring him so close was only to pick up my voice through all of the white noise around us.

Still, though, logic didn't stop my body from bristling. And the butterflies in my chest didn't stop me from staying put myself, either, and letting us be so close.

I on my tongue, trying to stimulate the production of saliva. I wasn't sure why I wasn't pulling away. My skin was crawling, and if it had been any other person putting himself in my personal space and watching me so intently I would have cowered without conscious thought.

"Sakamoto-Kun?" I eked out, inwardly flinching. I sounded like an on-the-brink-of-tears toddler.

Saga didn't react right away. His bore locked me in place, and there wasn't much else for me to do besides examine him back. I hadn't neglected to notice the fact that Saga was good-looking, but the unflattering conditions of our environment and proximity gave me an entirely new perspective on him. From the sunken skin under his eyes to the length of his nose, he was more human at that moment than celebrity.

"So," Saga said, reeling me back into the moment. His stare averted as he gathered his words, but he made it a point to catch my eye when he returned to speaking. "It's not only my age that makes you uncomfortable, but the fact that I'm successful?"

My mouth fell open, ready to refuse, before I stopped to consider where my concern was coming from.

"Well," came my unedited conclusion, "I'm not sure if that's it, exactly. It's more of that you found your talent and passion, and you were able to turn that into a successful career that you love and people love you for doing. That's the kind of thing everyone wishes they had. I'm a little jealous that everything worked out so well for you so soon, even though I know you must have to make so many sacrifices to build and keep up that lifestyle." I shifted, angling my body towards Saga to the best of my ability, but my eyes squinted down at my lap. "I don't really know how to explain it without it sounding cinematic, but it's almost like everything about you makes me feel a little inferior. I know you're going to say that you're just a normal person and there's no reason to be intimidated, but that's not going to stop the fact that I am. It's something I have to learn to deal with as I get used to hanging around you, I guess."

I paused and took in a much needed breath. One part of me wanted to go on and explain myself even more but another, more powerful part of me pulled back on the reigns, knowing full well that I had over-explained myself as it was.

I pressed my lips together, holding in my inhale as I stole another peek at Saga. His expression was still contemplative and a little too near for my tastes, but I soon found myself too occupied with eyes, as fifth-grade as that was, to notice the start of a smile on his mouth.

"I'm glad you told me, at least," he said, fighting the uprising of his lips. "I'm glad you told me all of that."

My teeth sunk into my lower lip, and my fist shot out into Saga's arm. In truth, Saga making light of the situation was the only reason I wasn't actually embarrassed by it. "Don't tease me! It's your own fault. You're too good of a listener."

Rubbing the area above his elbow (only to mock me further, I was sure), Saga said, "You're usually so quiet it's like you don't expect people to listen to you."

"I don't" was the quip that popped up, ready and willing on my tongue, but I managed to keep it there. It wasn't accurate, and it was too dramatic. Instead, I mulled over my response before settling with, "No, they do. When it matters, they do."

The air took another turn after that, and I knew that it was my fault. I ducked my head, fiddling with hem of my skirt again and waiting for Saga to take his chance to talk. I'd been monopolizing the conversation and it was probably in my best interest to stop talking for a while. Besides, Saga seemed to handle his words in a way that improved the spirit of our banter rather than bring it down.

"Did your ex-husband not listen when it didn't matter, and that's what mattered to you?"

My jaw was limp as I regarded Saga, at a loss as to how I was supposed to respond. How had he come up with that? And how did he even know that I had been married? I hadn't told him about Yuuma or Koemi.

Saga seemed to take my reaction as a negative one and he took it upon himself to sit back, putting some foreign distance between the two of us.

"Sorry," he told me, shaking his head. "That's none of my business."

I didn't say anything. Saga knowing about Yuuma was one thing, but Saga knowing about Koemi was another. If he knew about Yuuma, did he know about Koemi? I almost wanted to bring it up now that the subject was right there within reach, but I couldn't find it in me to do it.

I wasn't ashamed of being a mother, but for a few hours I wanted to keep pretending that I wasn't one. I wanted to pretend I had the world at my fingertips again without anything to hold me back. It was like adult dress up. I loved my daughter unconditionally and immeasurably, but the fact that she existed shut a lot of doors for me. In terms of romance, she would turn off most men -- especially the ones who actually did have the world at their fingertips.

Saga didn't know about Koemi. Because if Saga did know about Koemi, he wouldn't have bothered with me.

My eyes darted to the bassist, this time sharper and probing. Was he that kind of person, though? He wouldn't want to drop all non-professional contact with me because of my child, would he? He would be squeamish towards the issue, but he wouldn't drop everything completely. He'd back off, but it wouldn't be the end of us all together.

But what kind of "us" was there? There shouldn't have been any "us" for me to worry about in the first place. "Us" generally hinted at something more than friendship. Saga and I were just friends. There wasn't any "us".

It was then that things fell into place for me. Koemi would be my magic, Get Out of Jail Free card if I ever needed to make sure things stayed friendly. If Saga didn't lose interest on his own, bringing Koemi into the picture would do it for him.

I shifted in my seat, trying to put some more space between Saga and I without making it too obvious. What kind of mother was I? Hiding Koemi and using her as a trump card was one of the most despicable things I'd ever done. What was I waiting for? Why not tell Saga right at the beginning and not keep up any false pretenses? It wasn't right for me to lead him along just because I was enjoying the attention; it wasn't right for me to treat my daughter like a blemish I was hiding under powder.

But still, I made sure that I was too busy admonishing myself to take any action.

"Yuuma, my ex-husband," I began, barely aware of what I was doing or saying. Talking was just something to do, something that would keep me occupied. It was an excuse, and a compromise. I would tell the truth, but only half of it. "...He's a good guy. There's nothing at all that I hate about him. We're still best friends. We're better off that way.

"We were married for eight years, but towards the end we just weren't excited to wake up next to each other anymore. We didn't look forward to growing old together like we used to. Everything was just sort of ho-hum between us. Basically, we grew up and grew apart, like they say. I guess it's a really silly reason to separate--" a selfish, senseless, sordid reason, as my mother put it, "--but I just couldn't keep doing it once the...once the infatuation factor was gone. Rather than thriving together, we were pulling each other down, emotionally. I know most people would have toughed it out and not been so fickle, but..."

But I didn't know what. I'd never been able to make anyone understand the core of why Yumma and my marriage had ended. I didn't understand it myself, not entirely. The notion was impossible to put into words or thoughts or any single feeling. I'd just known. I knew that we weren't supposed to be together from the bottom of my heart. It might have been a little late in the game, but at least I'd figured it out at some point, and at least Yuuma didn't fight me about it. It was they way it was meant to be. I didn't doubt my decision. It was so stupid, I knew, but...

"...But you want your happily ever after."

I awed at Saga like he was something from out of this world. He seemed embarrassed about finishing my sentence for me and let his bangs fall into his face like a shield, just so he could wipe them away to keep himself busy.

A soupcon of a smile came onto my face, and I inched my way to the right, removing the space I'd put between us.

"Right," I said, my tone so soft that it was most likely inaudible. "Something like that."

My foul mood was forgotten. Maybe it was just my sentimental side getting to me, but I was thinking that Saga was a little too good at knowing the right thing to say. As much as I wished I could believe it, happily ever afters rarely ever happened, and Prince Charming was the kind of guy who only existed in a land far, far away.

But he and Saga could possibly be distant cousins.

Saga grew a bit awkward after that, his expression fading into a blank canvas. His bangs swung forward to curtain his profile, but he didn't bother to brush them away again. He rolled one of his wrists, tapping my license against the knuckles of his free hand. Both of our attentions were drawn to the forgotten card because of that, and Saga ceased his movements to continue perusing my personal information.

"'Hanayu Tsuruta'," Saga read aloud. I turned to him, questioning his comment with a lone look. The tips of his lips quivered as his stare met mine. "Your name's Hanayu? Hana-San?"

I nodded slowly, not quite knowing what he was getting at, until an idea hit me. I offered a flashing grin and nodded more decisively.

"Yeah, Hana-San," I consented. Before I knew what I was doing, my arm was half way in the air. And even though I was second guessing myself the entire way, my fingers still made it to Saga's nose, landing a lingering poke on the pin-straight bridge.

Saga’s chin curled in to meet his chest, and that motion on his part caused my arm to jerk back. There were no hard feelings, though, since he sent me a full, tooth-bearing grin. I was barely able to take a mental picture because he averted his face barely a second later.

Seeing Saga so boyish brought out my girlish side, too, and I couldn't held but let out one of those overly-feminine giggles that I usually hated. But when Saga responded by sending a foudroyant once-over my way, I was caught between being bashful and reconsidering the question of whether or not it was cute to be so shy when I was so old. Maybe being shy could still have an impact on some people?

I didn't get the opportunity to test the theory. It was by chance that I glanced up when the train pulled into a station, and a jolt went through me when I recognized the name.

"My stop." I gasped under my breath, leaping to my feet only to waver from the momentum. Saga was by my side by the next moment, his hand hovering at my hip in case it was needed to hold me steady. There wasn't any time to stop and dwell on the action (or regain my balance, really) since I needed to wiggle my way to the doors before they closed. Saga joined me in murmuring "excuse me" and "I'm sorry" to all of the people that we had no choice but to nudge out of the way. I didn't think I breathed properly until we were out on the platform, and that first inhale was a mouthful of steam and mold and a slight trace of vomit.

My lips pursed, and I paused. My eyes darted down to my arms, which were empty, and then back to the train, which was already surging forward out of the station. I then moved my sights to Saga when his fingers pressed against the back of my arm, urging me out of my standstill.

"Wait." My voice was pathetic even to my own ears. "I think I forgot my--"

Saga raised his free arm, and the words got stuck between my teeth. A brown leather satchel was dangling from his fist -- the same one that acted as my purse-slash-briefcase, and the same one I hadn't even thought about grabbing when I'd gone into panic mode a few minutes before on the train.

I was stumped where I stood for a second time. Saga touched my arm again, then took a step ahead of me to lead the way out of the platform, wordlessly offering to bear the weight of my bag for me. I didn't hesitate to follow.

Once we got to the air above ground I felt more in my own element. The throng thinned out as everyone went their separate ways, and the sinking sun rays and clean, open streets soothed any remaining anxiety I got from being buried.

Saga veered us off to the side some, squinting around the area. I realized that he didn't know where to go on from there so I took over, wrapping my fingers his wrist briefly to guide him to the left, in the direction of my home.

We made it across the road and halfway down the block before I became aware of the lack of conversation. It wasn't awkward at all, like the first time we had gone out and walked to the restaurant together, but I felt like there were still so many thing we could be talking about. There were so many things we didn't know about each other, and it wouldn't hurt to lesson the list.

My nails caught the inseam of my blazer pocket and latched down. Despite the fact that it wasn't very chilly I acted the part, pulling my shoulders up as if to keep out a draft while I scanned the area for a topic of interest. The only thing around at the moment was a group of high school students, still in their uniforms, gathered outside of a convenience store. How was I suppose to get an angle from that? It was better not to speak at all then to bring up the "crazy kids these days". That would just be desperate.

But I couldn't help it. I was a little desperate. So, again, I compromised with myself. I didn't fight the cerise from creeping up into my complexion, but I also didn't let the lapse of élan pass me by; I took advantage of the bold streak while it lasted, despite my inability to keep from blushing while it happened.

"You know, if you ever do feel the need to dangle your youth in front of me for whatever reason," I said out of the side of my mouth, nodding towards a teenagers, "then you could pop out something like that."

I shot a quick look at Saga to make sure he was focusing on the right people. No matter the fact that they seemed to be friends (I assumed based on their proximity), all of the teens were wholly devoted to whatever appliance they were each holding rather than each other. I had no clue what any of the electronics were or what they did, and I was pretty sure that I wouldn't be able to grasp the concept even if it was explained to me.

"I'm horrible with technology," I told Saga, watching the clique in a mix of fascination and antipathy. "I mean, I have a cell phone and can handle the basic functions of it just fine, but if you tried to put one of those iPhones or iPads or whatever else they've come up with by now in my hands, the result wouldn't be pretty. I'd only have to touch it for the whole thing to start short circuiting." I spied on Saga from my peripherals, ignoring a lock of hair that blew in front of my face. "They should develop some sort of 'app' to detect when someone incompetent is using the phone, that way it'll just shut down and save itself. Just for people like me."

I fixed the intruding piece of hair finally, inhaling and fighting the urge to shake my head. "Honestly, you'd think that since there are so many great brains out there they'd be using their power for more important things than making commercial electronics. Technology could have cured cancer or something by now instead of giving people internet access at the bus stop. I'll never understand it."

It was easier to watch the kids that gauge Saga's reaction, so that's what I did. I regretted opening my mouth. I could hear my grandmother talking about the same topic with just as much passion, and that couldn't have been a good thing.

It wasn't until one of the girls looked up, first holding a short-lived stare with me before moving her sights to Saga, that something struck me. I took a leaf out of the girl's book and looked to Saga. I scanned him up and down once, swiftly.

"Won't you be recognized?" I asked, tilting into him and keeping my voice down as if just bringing up the subject of Saga's fame would cause someone to overhear and start foaming at the jaw. Saga cast a perfunctory glance at the group, but I was illogically determined to pretend that they weren't there. Maybe if we didn't see them, they couldn't see us? Like a Tyrannosaurus, or something.

Saga brows went up in surprise, probably from the abrupt change in my tone and attitude. He only shrugged at first when he caught up with what was going on, although he did deepen his hunch.

"It doesn't happen as often as you'd think, actually," Saga said. I was skeptical, but decided not to question him further. He was dressed casually in plain jeans and a flannel top; on one hand, he did blend in pretty well with the rest of the world, but what if someone looked a little bit closer? Didn't stars normally wear sunglasses to help keep their faces hidden or something? Didn't Saga himself normally wear sunglasses, even when he was indoors?

"Besides," Saga went on, slinging my bag up onto his shoulder, "Saga's too cool to carry a purse. This'll throw 'em off."

I choked on a laugh, lowering my head and clamping my teeth over my bottom lip to keep from grinning. "Yeah, Saga-San is pretty cool." I hesitated, but ultimately decided to go with my gut and continue the thought. "But I'm glad that Sakamoto-Kun wanted to walk me home. He's a pretty cool guy, too."

The heat coming off of my cheeks had to have been strong enough for Saga to feel. Did that sound as lame as I thought it did?

I resolved to beat away any spur-of-the-moment urges for the rest of the day. They only brought me trouble, and I could only handle so much humiliation in so little time.

I shook my head once, clearing the frenzy away, and reached blindly into my brain to pull out something to redeem myself with. "I'm sorry," ended up tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop it. Saga gave me a questioning look.

What was I sorry for? Was I apologizing for making a fool of myself and turning myself into an even bigger fool in the process? That wouldn't work. I had to follow it up with something less....foolish.

I turned to Saga, somehow figuring that if we made eye contact it would make me seem more legitimate. I ended up having to scrunch up my face like an idiot because of the sunlight.

"It's just," I said, resigning to look at my feet and blinking away the white spots, "I know I've been excessively chatty today. I haven't let you get a word in, have I? You really are too good of a listener. So..." I took the risk and flickered my gaze back over to him, "...was there anything you wanted to say? I owe you about twenty minutes of uninterrupted, long-winded venting."

I kept an eye and ear out for Saga's response, which was first a slim smile and then a slow shake of the head.

"No, I don't mind listening to you," he claimed. I rolled my eyes.

"You don't have to try to be so charming," I admonished him. "I know I've been giving you an earful of silly things that you don't want to hear about."

"I'm not trying to be charming," Saga protested, sounding like his throat closed up on him halfway through the sentence. He reached up with his free hand to pull at some of his bangs, but he wasn't meek about catching my eye. "And you didn't say anything silly. The opposite, actually."

I observed him for a little while, staying voluntarily quiet. Eventually, though, I couldn't take it anymore and swiveled back to the road ahead.

"Not trying to be charming," I lipped, feigning smugness. "You're just saying that because you're trying to get me to like you."

Saga retorted by taking a half step closer to me, his brow climbing up into his hair line. His eyes were bulging somewhat with how wide he was holding them open, making him look a little ridiculous -- sort of like a fish. "Would you answer me if I asked if it was working?"

"No."

I didn't have to consider the answer at all, because the answer came to me in an instant. The fact that Saga was winning me over, apparently without even trying, was hard enough to admit to myself, never mind out loud.

Author's Note:

This is a little silly, but I dedicate this chapter to Saga's dog Chiko, who passed away at 7 PM on January 17 at the ripe age of 17 years and 7 months. There are a lot of sevens there, but seven is supposed to be a lucky number; Chiko was lucky to have had such loving owners (and fans of his own!) who made sure his life was happy until the very end~

R.I.P