[It's nighttime, the air thick and hot with the last gasps of summer; the sound of cicadas rasping is nearly deafening, even at this hour. Kazuma sits at the side entrance of the Mikotoba household in Tokyo, looking out into the courtyard, a drawn and tense expression on his face. The sound of the sliding door heralds an arrival, and soon Yujin Mikotoba emerges, holding a ceramic carafe and two small cups. Kazuma looks up at him silently, a question in his eyes.
Yujin only smiles and holds up his offerings. "It seems to me a celebration is in order." Kazuma frowns.]
I've only just taken the bar exam. There's no guarantee I'll pass.
[Yujin smiles and takes a seat next to Kazuma, the ends of his yukata skimming the grass. "Pass or fail, it's an accomplishment just to qualify at your age, Kazuma-kun."
Kazuma says nothing and looks back out into the evening. Yujin takes the opportunity to pour out two glasses and pass one along. Kazuma takes it wordlessly and doesn't drink. Quietly, Yujin sighs.
"No matter the results, I know your father would be proud of you." The expression on his face says further: I am proud of you, but Kazuma isn't looking at him. He's looking into his undrunk cup of sake, expression tight and dour.]
...Thank you, sir. [Unspoken is a sentiment they both understand: it will never make up for having him here.]
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Yujin only smiles and holds up his offerings. "It seems to me a celebration is in order." Kazuma frowns.]
I've only just taken the bar exam. There's no guarantee I'll pass.
[Yujin smiles and takes a seat next to Kazuma, the ends of his yukata skimming the grass. "Pass or fail, it's an accomplishment just to qualify at your age, Kazuma-kun."
Kazuma says nothing and looks back out into the evening. Yujin takes the opportunity to pour out two glasses and pass one along. Kazuma takes it wordlessly and doesn't drink. Quietly, Yujin sighs.
"No matter the results, I know your father would be proud of you." The expression on his face says further: I am proud of you, but Kazuma isn't looking at him. He's looking into his undrunk cup of sake, expression tight and dour.]
...Thank you, sir. [Unspoken is a sentiment they both understand: it will never make up for having him here.]