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Chapter Text

There were worse marriages in the world than that of Takiko Mori née Pepperharrow. 

All things considered, if Takiko had to be married to a man she both resented and feared, at least he was a more or less decent fellow who had fucked off to London for some unfathomable reason, leaving her with all the family connections and wealth that she had married him for in the first place. Keita Mori had detached himself so thoroughly from his home country that he might as well have left her a widow. 

Which was more than fine with her. She couldn’t get married to the person she was actually in love with anyway, so really, it all worked out for the best. 

Every once in a while, she did worry about him coming back and collecting on that favor she still owed him, but as time passed, she almost wondered if he had forgotten about it or if it had become irrelevant. The few times he did contact her, it was usually to email her about something he wanted her to do regarding the state of the Mori family affairs or some such business, and that was all very distant and impersonal. 

It had been almost a year since she had last heard from her husband when she saw him precisely where she least expected: her Instagram feed.

As the head of the most popular kabuki theater in Osaka, Takiko liked to keep an eye on the local theater scene, regardless of style. She often visited the National Bunraku Theater for their puppets, the Otsuki Theater for Noh when she was in the mood for something slow and classic, and Takarazuka with their all-female musical theater. And although seeing shows in person was less convenient for places like Broadway and West End, she could hardly ignore them on social media either.

Along with all the big names, there were a handful of more small-scale independent theaters that she followed.

Most were around Osaka in the broader Kansai area, a few were near Tokyo where she used to work as an actress, but one was in her father’s homeland of England. She hadn’t seen any of their shows in ages, partly because a cross-continental flight was a big commitment when she was busy managing her own productions, and partly because she did not want to be on the same island as her husband, much less the same city. But she did follow them on Instagram for pictures of their costumes and announcements on the next show and such.

She was sitting in her office at home one evening, mindlessly scrolling to clear her mind after a frustrating rehearsal when she came across one of their posts.

Savoy Theater welcomes its new orchestra members! proclaimed the caption, tagging five different accounts. There was a photo of several people grinning at the camera: two holding violins, one a clarinet, one a pair of drumsticks, and the last standing with a hand on a piano.

Idly, Takiko went through each of the tagged accounts to see if any of them were worth following. She didn’t have high hopes for anything relevant to her, given that an orchestra member of a relatively small theater was more likely to post personal pictures than stuff related to their job.

This was the case with two of the first three accounts she checked—the other one had been private—and by the fourth she was getting bored enough she almost gave it up. 

Heads or tails on whether to continue, she thought and flipped a hundred yen coin onto her desk. It was a habit born from after she had grown to be wary of Keita but before he moved to London. Even if it wasn't necessary now, it was a convenient way of making inconsequential decisions without any fuss. The coin landed heads, and it wasn’t really like she had anything better that she actually wanted to be doing at the moment.

Later on, she would look back on this moment and think of it as one more time that chance decided her fate.

The very first post showed a picture of the entrance to Japan Centre, a grocery store she recognized from when she visited her British grandparents over the summers a couple times as a teenager. That intrigued her just enough to swipe to see the other photo of the set, and when she did, she nearly dropped her phone in surprise. Staring at the camera with a small smile on his face was one Keita Mori.

Takiko recovered herself, regaining her grip on her phone and taking another look. Surely she had been mistaken. 

But no, it was a picture of a table in what appeared to be a food court area, a rectangular paper bowl full of takoyaki in between a young girl who was scowling at the camera and a man who was unmistakably her husband.

Feeling an unreasonable sense of betrayal at this, Takiko checked the post for any sign of explanation, but there was no caption and only one comment from an annabel-steepleton who wrote, “Good to see you getting out of the house for once.”

There was no other sign of Keita on the account, though the last post from this Thaniel Steepleton was from eight months earlier, so that didn't necessarily mean much.

She switched over to Line, opening up her chat with Keita. The last message on there was from just over a year ago when he informed her that he was adopting an orphan in the UK. Takiko had spent so long trying to figure out how to respond that she ended up not saying anything at all. He was psychic, he could figure it out. Besides, Keita did not interfere with her life anymore, so she might as well show him the same courtesy, she had thought.

“Don’t you dare get involved with my favorite British theater, Joy,” she sent, typing the last word in English. Her nickname for him had grown more and more ironic over the years.

“I don’t know what you think I’m getting up to, but I assure you, I only encouraged Thaniel to pursue his passion. He signed up on his own,” was the immediate reply.

So Keita had met the boy before he had gotten into theater. Takiko had no idea why Keita would get some random British man to join an orchestra, but most of his actions were unfathomable in the short term, and she had long given up the privilege to watch things play out from up close.

“What do you want from him?” she typed.

“Who says I want anything at all?” Keita replied, which was a ridiculous enough question that Takiko ignored it. He clearly wasn’t going to be forthcoming, and there was no point in arguing with someone who already knew all the arguments you would make.

Who’s the kid then? she almost asked him before realizing that the girl was probably his new adopted child.

He wouldn't hurt a child, she told herself, which was the same excuse she had given the first time it was brought up. She didn't like him, but she trusted he wouldn't get children involved unless he genuinely thought it was the best possible option and that they wouldn’t be put in any more danger than they were already in.

It left a sour taste in her mouth, but she had already made her decision not to interfere with that.

This wasn’t any of her business, Takiko thought. She didn’t know the people in the photo, and just because Keita had the power to ruin lives didn’t necessarily mean anything tragic was guaranteed to be in store for Thaniel Steepleton.

It was just that in the past, Keita always seemed to interact with people who he could manipulate in some way to ensure history would go the way he wanted it to go. As far as she knew, the only real exception to that was Takiko herself, who had been an obscure actress in a dying art. But that had been because it had benefited him socially to be married. She had hardly changed history since then, but he had told her outright that he would need someone in his debt, someone who trusted him enough to do what he needed them to do but did not care about him—a safeguard for some far off future she knew nothing about.

Could this Steepleton be the same? A random nobody who would serve some purpose to Keita, a pawn to be used and sacrificed if necessary?

She needed to clear her head. Standing up, she went out to tiny cement-covered yard out back where there was a couple of chairs and a row of low-hanging laundry that Midori had set out to dry. This place was nothing like the grand Mori estate in Yokohama that Takiko had lived in for several years. There were no gated gardens, no white gravel paths to the front door, barely even a yard. It wasn’t all that different from the little house Takiko had grown up in, in the Tokyo suburbs.

Keita had won it in a card game, apparently, and Takiko who had access to all his property had moved here with Midori just before Keita left for London. 

Osaka was the historical center for theater in Japan, and even now it still beat out Tokyo in some regards. It was also further from Keita’s direct influence, and even though nowhere on this planet would be far enough to escape him completely, she felt a bit safer and freer out here.

Why Keita had won the property, Takiko had no idea. The place seemed pretty useless to him, and he didn’t even like Osaka.

Sometimes she wondered if he had gotten this place for her, for once their marriage fell apart, but she tried not to think of that. Despite Keita’s manipulations and tendency to overlook individuals for the bigger picture, he could also be considerate. In her mind, that made him all the scarier.

Even though it was evening, it was warm and starting to get humid. Rainy season would be coming soon. The heavy air seemed almost like an omen.

“Takiko?” came a voice from behind her.

She turned. “Back from the store? I didn’t hear you come in.”

“I just came back a minute ago,” Midori said. She rolled her wheelchair next to Takiko, reaching up to catch her hand. “Everything alright?”

Where did she even start with this? Even though Midori was more than understanding about the whole situation, it still felt weird whenever Takiko brought up her husband to the person she was currently in a relationship with. 

“Keita’s messing around in the life of some young theater person,” she said.

“Ah,” Midori said, a little flat. “Again?”

Takiko sighed. Maybe she would have cared less if the similarities hadn’t felt so pointed. “I don’t know whether to reach out and warn him about Keita or not.”

“Well, would you have wanted someone to warn you?” Midori asked.

“Someone did,” Takiko said with a snort. “Keita’s uncle. I didn’t listen, of course. I thought he was just trying to scare me off for classist reasons.”

“Well, he probably was doing that too,” Midori said, a slight smile in her voice.

“You don’t worry about your ex-husband?” she asked. “I mean, worry about him hurting someone else the same way he hurt you.”

Once, Kuroda had very nearly killed Midori. He had beaten her and damaged her spine so she could never walk again, and he had gotten away with it because Keita had helped him cover it up. Afterwards, Midori told her she had agreed to it, for potential future political leverage reasons that she refused to elaborate on, but Takiko knew that if Keita had cared more, he never would have let it get that far in the first place. Takiko wouldn’t have. As soon as Midori had been discharged from the hospital, Takiko had taken her and fled to Osaka, away from both their husbands.

“Sometimes,” Midori admitted. “But unlike you, I know he will be taken down someday.” By Keita, she did not say. “He knows that too, I think. He’s won’t be so careless.”

Takiko had no such assurances over her own husband, and that was the whole issue with it. There was nothing that could keep him in check except Keita himself.

“Just be gentle if you talk to this new person,” Midori said. “Remember that most people are not used to being tangled up in the web of fate like we are.”

With that, she wheeled back inside and Takiko followed her in.

The thing was, Takiko already knew that she had to do something. Even if this Steepleton took her as seriously as she had taken Keita's uncle, she couldn't live with herself if she opened some news article to learn of a burgeoning pianist's untimely death and she hadn't even tried.

No sooner had she decided that, her phone chimed with a text notification. 

Takiko sat up in bed, suddenly very concerned. It was a text message from Keita, simply, “Please, don't.”

Lying next to her, Midori made a sleepy muffled noise, so Takiko stroked her hair reassuringly. It was a Saturday, so Midori had no work and could sleep in. Takiko didn’t need to go to her theater until after lunch, but she still liked to wake up an hour or so earlier than she needed to, just so she could spend a sleepy morning relaxing with Midori.

But that was the problem. It was morning here in Japan, and not an early one at that, which meant that it was some horrendous part of the night in England.

What was Keita doing up at that time? Had Takiko's decision caused his future to change so drastically that it had woken him up?

But it wasn't like anything had changed, it had just been her reconfirming what she had already decided. Surely he knew what she would do to try and stop him since before she even saw that first Instagram post.

In any case, why bother telling her to stop? He would know that she wouldn't listen to him anymore, that him telling her to do something would make her want to do the opposite. Unless that was his plan all along, and for some reason he wanted her to contact this Steepleton? Perhaps by trying to warn him, she would only drive the two closer and end up playing into Keita's hands. Then again, perhaps he knew that such an obvious ploy to stop her would make her doubt herself.

Takiko had no time for these sorts of mind games, so she instead slipped out of her bed and went to the 100 yen coin she kept on her desk.

Heads, she would do it; tails she wouldn't. 

She flipped the coin. It landed heads.

Perhaps this was Keita's true plan, giving himself a fifty percent chance that she wouldn't reach out to Steepleton. But the coin had landed heads, and she would stick to her decision.

There were no more messages from Keita. Takiko wasn't sure if that was a good thing or not.

Figuring that it would be best to start such an important conversation during hours that the other person would likely be awake, Takiko ended up waiting until a break in the middle of her evening rehearsal to say anything.

She pulled up Instagram on her phone and started a chat with Thaniel Steepleton. 

“Hello! I'm Takiko, Keita's wife. He's mentioned you before, so I thought I would take the chance to say hi. Congratulations on getting into the orchestra for the Savoy! I'm a huge fan of them, I'm not sure if he mentioned that? Next time I visit London, I will have to see you play there!”

All of this was technically true, even if it gave off a somewhat inaccurate impression of the situation. Takiko had been pondering the wording all day to get it right, to say something that wouldn't drive him off immediately or dismiss her out of hand. 

The reply came sooner than expected.

“Hello, it's nice to meet you. I didn't realize he had a wife.”

Perhaps it was just Takiko projecting, but she couldn't help but wonder about Steepleton's response. He must have a passion for music and theater to have the job he did, but rather than talk about that or her own occupation listed on the description of her Instagram, he focused on Keita's marriage. There was an unspoken question in there: if Keita had a wife, why hadn't he mentioned it?

She would have immediately focused on that too, if she had learned he had a wife after their first few interactions.

Now, how to play this off? If she took on the role of the jealous wife, Steepleton would have no reason to listen to her when she warned him about Keita. If she said they were separated all but legally, any feelings he might have could develop further knowing that Keita was for all intents and purposes single.

“We're not as close as we once were. Long distance is hard.” Another vague technical truth.

“Sorry, I didn't mean to pry. Your page says you direct a theater?”

“Yes! I'm actually at a rehearsal right now. Do you know anything about kabuki theater? I’’m trying to revitalize it and make it more accessible.” Takiko let the subject change. She had set the stage for now, creating an opening for them to talk, for him to see her as a reliable source on Keita.

“I am experiencing the worst conversation I've had in a long time,” came the Line message from Keita that night.

Takiko blinked at the notification. She had only just come back home and it was past midnight now, so around late afternoon in London. “ Did Steepleton ask you about your wife you never mentioned? You could have avoided this all if you had just told him in the first place.”

“You don't let marriage get in the way of your relationships, why should I with mine?”

“You could just divorce me, you know , ” Takiko sent, even though at this point, their marriage really benefited her more than him. Then the rest of what Keita had said sunk in. “Wait, are you starting a relationship with him?”

“Well, not currently,” came the reply with a typical Keita grumpiness. “He's going to be avoiding me for the next week.”

“Is that your type??” Takiko demanded. “Impoverished young British theater types who don't let you push them around?”

“You were hardly impoverished,” Keita said, which was so not the point. She very well could have been, if Keita hadn't saved her job.

“Semantics. Either way, it’s what you get for not saying something to him earlier. What did you think was going to happen?”

“Well, it wasn’t particularly likely you would tell him until earlier today, and I suppose I was being uncharacteristically optimistic.”

Takiko snorted, then froze halfway through typing her response. What was she doing, bantering with him like this? With all her anger and fear, she had forgotten Keita could be funny when he wanted to be. She had forgotten that they had actually gotten along once, that she had loved him. 

For a moment, she wondered if Keita was doing this intentionally, to get her to drop her guard, but that wasn’t fair to him. Despite everything, Keita was still a human being who might want to reach out to a familiar person to complain when something went wrong. What made him so terrible wasn’t that he was a monster or that he couldn’t be kind or funny—rather, it was the opposite. There was nothing more terrifying than someone with the kind of power Keita held who was truly deep-down human.

“I should go to sleep now,” Takiko sent, half-wondering if there was any future in which she would possibly call him out more directly, or if Keita would really believe that she was ending this conversation purely because of how late it was. 

“Of course, I wouldn’t want to keep you up,” Keita replied, and Takiko realized she had forgotten a third option—that Keita knew her well enough that he didn’t need any clairvoyance to know her feelings.

“Thanks. I’d wish you luck, but we both know I hope this drives him away from you forever.”

“I suppose we do. I won’t hold it against you though. Good night, Takiko.”

“Good night, Joy.”

The next morning, Takiko was at work checking her messages over a cup of cold barley tea and some fried rice from last night’s dinner. Mostly it was various emails from donors to the theater, a couple texts from the crew calling out sick, and various other work-related things. There was one notification from Instagram though, which she had very carefully avoided reading until she had gotten everything else out of the way.

“Good morning. I hope your rehearsal goes well today,” Thaniel Steepleton had sent her at almost midnight, if her timezone math was correct.

Keita surrounded himself with a million kinds of people for a million different reasons, but when it came to people he actually enjoyed being around, Takiko knew his type all too well. Nobody who gained even a scrap of his genuine affection was the kind of person to send such purposeless messages unless there was something else behind it.

This was about Keita, she was sure of it. But she would play along.

“Thank you, it’s getting to a rather busy point in the rehearsal schedule. But things are going as well as can be, considering that the entire sound crew is out sick.”

She didn’t get a response until her dinner break.

“That’s what comes from being stuck up in that box together. Is it really a show if you don’t have half the cast sick at some point or another?”

Unfortunately, Takiko thought, Thaniel seemed like he could actually be likable. And he could even sympathize with her theater complaints, unlike most of her husband’s friends. She had to get him away before Keita ruined him.

“Haha. How is your rehearsal? Hopefully illness free?”

“It's only the first week,” Thaniel said. “No one's getting sick until two weeks before opening night.”

“Somehow that's always how it is, isn't it.” Technically, her own show still had three weeks, but close enough she figured. “How is Keita doing, by the way? He said you were quite surprised that he was married."

“Yeah, I guess I assumed he would have mentioned his daughter’s mother at some point if they were still in touch. Sorry, I know it’s not my business.”

"She's not my daughter,” Takiko said, because even though it made sense why he might think that, it was also incredibly incorrect. “Well, maybe legally, I’m not sure. He adopted her without me.”

“Oh, okay. He said he was your beard.”

Takiko choked on empty air.

“Ms. Mori?” Ishigaki, her assistant director, asked at the desk across from hers, looking up from her laptop with alarm.

“I’m alright.” Takiko waved her off. She didn’t know how she would even start to explain this.

“If you’re sure about it,” Ishigaki said a little skeptically, traces of her Osaka accent turning her words melodic even in her more formal speech.

“I am, thank you,” Takiko said, then stared back at that message on her phone. Her beard. So this was Keita’s next move. She felt incredibly offended for reasons she couldn’t explain.

“That’s not precisely true, but we are married mostly for legal reasons,” Takiko messaged back because she had to say something before too much time passed. 

Takiko switched over to her Line app. “You told him you were my beard??”

“Is that inaccurate?”

“It’s misleading.”

Back on Instagram, Steepleton had sent, “Ah, I see.”

“Do you know his daughter well?” she asked. He had taken a picture of Mori and his new daughter, after all. The three of them must spend enough time together for Steepleton to assume he would know her mother.

“Well, I’ve been doing my share of cooking, so I know Six's food preferences pretty well, and I’ve recently started teaching her piano when she gets back home from school. I think she still distrusts me a bit on principle, but Mori says she's warming up.”

What the fuck, Takiko thought.

A Line notification appeared because apparently Mori didn’t feel like waiting for her to type out her question. “Yes, we do live together.”

“I don’t suppose I could leave this show in your hands and fly over to London to punch my husband in the face, could I?” Takiko asked out loud.

“Um.” Ishigaki looked at her wide-eyed.

“I’m only joking,” Takiko said, waving her hand. Airplane tickets on such a short notice would be quite expensive anyway.

“Is everything alright?” Ishigaki asked her tentatively, with all the hesitancy of someone who really did not want to get dragged into someone else’s marital problems.

“He’s just making some questionable decisions abroad.” It wasn’t like she could really explain their whole mutual infidelity situation, much less all the psychic business.

"I see," Ishigaki said politely before pointedly turning back to her laptop again.

“That’s quite kind of you to teach her,” Takiko sent Steepleton.

“It’s no problem, really. She’s a delight to teach. She doesn’t have much patience for scales or drills, but if I put a song she likes in front of her, she’ll keep at it until she has it down. She can be quite creative with even simple pieces too.”

Takiko would simply have to take his word for it, having never met or heard anything about Six before. All she knew now was her name, or at least a nickname or moniker of some sort, and one scowling picture of her.

She switched back to Line. “You’re moving quite fast seducing this poor boy, aren’t you.”

Keita did not reply, but she figured that there really wasn’t anything he could say to defend himself. Even though there were likely other perfectly reasonable reasons for the two to be living with each other, the day that Keita did something for one reason only was the day pigs flew.

Now, she had to figure out how to start warning Steepleton away from Keita without accidentally pushing him further in. If Keita liked him, he had to be the kind of person who wouldn’t be freaked out or turned off by little quirks or oddities, probably even finding those things compelling. 

What would have worked on her? Did Steepleton know about Keita’s clairvoyance? Keita didn’t usually go sharing that willy-nilly, but Takiko didn’t know how long they had been living together. He had never been that good at hiding it, and she was sure it was even worse in such close confines.

“I’m glad you seem to be getting along,” Takiko sent Steepleton. “My husband unnerves a lot of people.”

“Including you?”

Takiko almost snorted. She would have admired the protectiveness if it had been over anyone else. “It isn’t because he’s unnerving that we live so far apart. He’s a good person, quirks and all. Just a bit odd at times.”

“Yeah, he’s been nothing but kind. Though I don’t always know what to make of him.” This was a good sign. Steepleton clearly seemed attached—Keita did have a way of getting under people’s skin and making them care about him. But as long as Steepleton was still a little bit wary of him, there was still room for her to plant her seeds of doubt.

“I don’t think anyone does. He’s a mystery, and that’s one of the most compelling things about him. But you do have to be careful sometimes.”

“What do you mean?”

It was hard to tell how much suspicion was in that short statement, and Takiko wished she could be having this conversation with Steepleton in person. She couldn’t push too hard here, but being too subtle was equally dangerous. Maybe she was destined to fail either way. Keita hadn’t stopped her, after all, though she wasn’t entirely sure what he could do to stop her from sending a text message from across the world. But he had changed situations less likely than this before.

“He’s a very powerful man, and even with the best intentions, I don’t think anyone should be able to wield that kind of influence.”

“Well I know he’s rich, but he’s hardly a billionaire or something.”

Well there was her question answered, she supposed, holding back something like a laugh. He didn’t know Keita was clairvoyant. Now he probably just thought she was an anarchist.

“Well, he’s also descended from nobility, but that wasn’t what I was talking about. You’ll understand sooner or later. Like I said, he’s not a bad person, but sometimes when you’re around him, it can become very easy to doubt yourself and anyone who isn’t him. Just be careful of that.”

“Alright,” Steepleton said, and that word could have contained any number of meanings.

Regardless, she had probably pushed it as far as she could go for now. Hopefully that would be enough to set him on the path to leaving of his own will.

The people that Keita seemed fondest of had always been smart and strong-willed. Sometimes she wondered if he liked an element of uncontrollability and unpredictability in a world where he already knew so much of what went on around him. 

Maybe this time it would be enough.

Almost two weeks had passed since Takiko had last heard from Steepleton. Which was fair. The last time they had spoken, she had told him some strange things, and she would hardly blame him if he no longer knew what to think of her either.

She also hadn’t heard from Keita in that time, which could mean anything, so she tried not to let it worry her. Her theater kept her too busy to waste time on things that she couldn’t do anything about.

She was starting to wonder if she should reach out to Steepleton first, just to make sure he was still alive, but as she opened up his Instagram page, she realized that he had posted something the day before.

It was a captionless series of selfies of him and some wealthy looking white woman, clearly on a date through a park, holding hands and smiling at the camera. 

That didn’t necessarily mean anything. One did not have to be romantically involved with Keita for him to have his hooks in you. But it was something. Maybe Steepleton had taken her advice. Maybe he would have found this random woman more appealing than Keita for other reasons even without her intervention. Either way, she had done what she could, and any amount of separation or doubt that Steepleton put between himself and Keita counted.

Still. It bothered her how easy doing even this much had been.

“You just let him go?” she messaged Keita.

“You know, I don’t actually have control over every single thing every single person does around me.”

He might as well have, she thought. At least in all the things that mattered. Maybe she was being harsh. Keita never forced people to follow his will, but he had never needed to. He had simply knew too much for anyone to escape the path of fate he laid out. 

But he did sound grumpier than normal, so maybe it had really been something completely out of his control. That did occasionally happen. Or perhaps Steepleton simply was not all that important to him and he couldn’t spare the effort of fixing some minor inconvenience.

Takiko hoped it was the latter, but she had a bad feeling that this was not the last she would hear of Thaniel Steepleton.

Chapter Text

“Uh, hello, Ms. Mori?”

Takiko turned around from her inspection of the half-built set. It wasn’t uncommon for someone to drop in at her work, nor for the person to be dressed as sharply as the man standing in front of her was. He was clearly of old money—it was something about the way he held himself that Takiko had long learned to recognize. Still, it wasn’t exactly an everyday occurrence either.

Someone who had an interest in the arts, most likely. Maybe he wanted to make a donation in exchange for a plaque.

“Hi, yes, that’s me,” Takiko said. “How can I help you?”

“I’m Akira Matsumoto,” the man said so gravely that Takiko instinctively tensed. His expression shifted into something almost exaggeratedly solemn, drooping like a parody of a funeral director. “I’m here to talk to you about your husband.”

This wasn’t the first time someone had wanted to talk to her about her husband. With Keita living halfway around the world, people who wanted to get into contact with him sometimes reached out to her. But she could tell that whatever this was, it was more than some matter of business or meaningless family drama.

“He’s not dead or anything,” Matsumoto said quickly, and Takiko blinked. She hadn’t even considered that as an option. Of course it could happen—Keita was human, after all—but it had always seemed impossible. “But could I explain this to you in private?”

“Yes, of course,” Takiko said, automatic politeness setting in. 

She gestured towards the theater doors, up a set of stairs. Matsumoto remained quiet as they walked, and thoughts crowded her mind. Had Keita done something? Had something been done to him? He wasn’t even someone she wanted to be worrying about, but unfortunately even after everything, she was not someone who could just easily drop all sentiment she had once held.

Her office when they arrived was empty. Her assistant Ishigaki wasn’t supposed to come in for another two hours. 

Wordlessly, Takiko offered him a chair as she took the one behind her desk.

“Thank you,” Matsumoto said, smiling at her in a way that might have charmed her had she been a couple decades younger. The smile fit more naturally on his face than the serious expression from earlier. “I’ve been walking around a lot today. I hope you’re doing well?”

“Quite well, thank you,” Takiko said on instinct. Keeping her voice level and pleasant, she added, “What was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Right.” Matsumoto straightened his suit jacket. “I don’t know how much you know about what your husband has been up to in London...”

“We’ve been a little distant,” she said carefully.

“I hate to bring this up so suddenly when you don’t even know me,” Matsumoto said. “We’re... our families are distantly related. Mine and the Mori family.”

Takiko nodded, unsurprised. The name was familiar. “I believe I’ve met a couple Matsumotos through my husband.”

“Yes, probably my parents,” Matsumoto flashed her a brief grin. “They had me stay with Mori’s older brothers a couple times when I was young during breaks and such.”

Keita hadn’t been close to much of his extended family. Some combination of him being a bastard son and unsettling, and his own lack of interest in getting to know any of them. But he had still been dragged out to a few dinners and such his uncle held, and Takiko had met several cousins and close family friends there. If Matsumoto’s parents were the people she was thinking of, they had always been a bit cold towards her, though she supposed that was not uncommon behavior from Keita’s family outside of a couple of his brothers, and at least those two had never been particularly unkind.

“Quite close then,” Takiko said politely.

“Yes, well I ran into Mori in London—a complete coincidence actually, he happened to be a friend of a friend. The thing is, he—well. I don’t think he was expecting to meet anyone who knew him from Japan. And, well...”

Takiko could have laughed. As if Keita would ever encounter something unexpected. This Matsumoto clearly couldn't be all bad if Keita hadn't bothered to just avoid him completely. “Yes?”

“I believe he is having an affair, Ms. Mori,” Matsumoto said, and for all his wavering before, he said this clearly and firmly.

Takiko studied him. “What do you want me to say to that?”

“You already knew?” Matsumoto raised both his eyebrows. 

Was he talking about Steepleton? A few months had passed since she last spoke to him, but as far as she knew, he was currently still dating that one woman. There had been a few more Instagram photos since the first one. Perhaps Keita’s supposed affair was some other person, or perhaps it was no one real at all. “If you’re looking to create drama with the press, I assure you that as well connected as your family may be, we will not allow—”

“No, no, not at all,” Matsumoto said quickly, and Takiko believed him. Keita would never have let him leave London if he planned on starting a scandal. “Really, I’m trying to stop exactly that kind of thing from happening—since we are related, after all. He’s with a much younger man, and there’s potential for... well, I wanted to let you know, before it ever got out some other way, if it ever did.”

“Why are you telling me this?” Takiko asked. She had no interest in playing the jealous wife left at home, but she could tell that was what Matsumoto had been expecting from her. Perhaps even hoping for. He wasn’t about to spill this gossip to anyone for attention or use it as blackmail, but he definitely had not come all this way to tell her out of the goodness of his heart.

“Wel, I just thought it would be the kindest—”

“Mr. Matsumoto,” Takiko said, leaning forward slightly on her desk. “My husband and I are separated in all but name, and that's an open secret in the circles you run in. I don’t know what you were hoping from me, but you must have known it wasn’t likely.”

For a moment, Matsumoto stared at her before he finally sighed. “Ms. Mori. You... your husband. He’s... dangerous.”

Keita’s abilities were never talked about openly, but she knew that his uncle and brothers were aware of them. If Matsumoto had spent time with them, perhaps he had picked up that something was off or heard something from his parents. “What exactly do you know about him?”

“Nothing specific,” Matsumoto said quietly, and Takiko knew his exact expression by heart. Whatever Matsumoto was trying to accomplish here, it was because he was afraid of Keita. “Just that—death follows him with good fortune close behind.”

“Are you superstitious, Mr. Matsumoto?” Takiko asked.

“No,” he said. “But I grew up around him for part of my childhood, and I would have to be a fool not to notice the patterns.”

“I don’t trust him much either,” she said. At Matsumoto’s expression, she added, “Why do you think we’re separated? It benefits me to stay married to him. And I think he has some use for me down the road. But I want as little to do with him as possible.”

“And you’re okay with that?” Matsumoto demanded. “With being potentially used like that?”

If she had really truly deeply hated Keita, she would have fled as far as she could. But she had too much in her life here in Japan to give up on, and for all that she feared him and his power, she did not believe he would put her in physical harm for petty revenge. Besides, what else could she do? That was the thing about clairvoyants. Even by fighting him, she couldn’t be sure that she wasn’t playing right into his hands.

“What did you want from me?” Takiko asked. “You’ve known him most of your life, but you’ve never tried to act against him.”

“I’m not stupid,” Matsumoto said. “I know what happens to people who oppose him.”

“Then what are you doing now?”

Matsumoto was quiet for a moment. “I mentioned a friend. She’s close with someone who lives with your husband.”

“Thaniel Steepleton?”

“You know him?” 

“Only vaguely,” Takiko said. “Is your friend that woman he’s dating?”

“ Fake dating,” Matsumoto said a little too quickly. “It’s a whole thing.”

“Does Keita know it’s fake?” Takiko asked, though of course he must. Her heart sank. Was he in on this too? She thought he had seemed frustrated about Thaniel and Grace dating, but perhaps she had read him wrong, or he was misleading her, or he was frustrated about something else.

“Yes,” Matsumoto said. “But the thing about Grace and Thaniel is that I’m not sure how long it will stay fake, if you catch my meaning?”

“Oh?” Perhaps this wasn’t as bad news as she thought. Though Matsumoto seemed less thrilled.

“I know what happens to people who get in your husband’s way,” Matsumoto said. “And Grace is taking away his favorite toy.”

Takiko frowned. “So what, you wanted me to be the one to come in between Keita and Steepleton instead of your friend?”

“No—not exactly,” Matsumoto said, then hesitated. “Well, I suppose. I want him away from them. I was hoping you might persuade him to come back to Japan.”

“I don’t know why you thought I could control him,” Takiko said. “Wait—so you want him out of the way so your friend and Steepleton can be together?”

Matsumoto’s mouth thinned. “I just want her safe.”

“Alright,” Takiko said because she was unfortunately a bit of a sucker for these kinds of stories. “I’m not sure what I can do to help, but I will if I can. How did the fake dating thing start anyway?”

“It’s because of Grace’s parents—they want her to settle down, and she wanted someone semi-respectable to show off to them.”

“She didn’t ask you?” Takiko asked, and Matsumoto’s face said that she had struck a nerve.

“I was in France at the time and—look, I get it if you can’t do anything against Mori. But if there’s anything you know about him...”

Takiko could leave well enough alone. Besides, it was because Grace hadn’t asked Matsumoto that her fellow theater person had a chance at getting out from Keita’s reach.

“The good news is that he’s not a vengeful person,” Takiko said. “He’ll do what it takes to get what he wants, but if he doesn’t get it, he won’t destroy it just because it’s not his. If you get your friends out of his reach, you won’t have to worry about him going after Grace for revenge. If he thinks it’s somehow better for entire world or the people around you for you to be dead or hurt, all bets are off, but he wouldn't do it for revenge.”

Matsumoto stared at her for a moment, and she wondered if he was running through all the weird incidents throughout his childhood around the Moris, seeing if they fit what she said. “Alright. Say you're right. That still leaves the hard part...”

“Yeah.” Takiko made a face. “The bad news is that I’m not even sure if it is possible to detach from him entirely.”

“Well, I try to stay optimistic.” Matsumoto gave her a wane smile. “Do you happen to know anything that can help? Some weakness of his?”

All these years of having it engrained in her not to say anything about her husband’s abilities made her hesitate. But Matsumoto already knew the gist of it, and as long as her trust in him wasn’t misplaced, it wasn’t like he was going to harm Keita with the information, just use it to save someone else. 

“Random chance,” she said.

“What?”

“Get your friend Grace to convince Steepleton to move out or something, just put distance between them and Keita, but don’t plan out any details. He sees the future, but he can’t account for random chance, so the less likely something is, the less he’s able to prepare for it. And once you settle on a course of action, act as fast as you can before he can move against it.”

“He sees...” Matsumoto blanched. “This explains a lot... Thaniel met Grace because they got pushed into each other by someone celebrating winning a game of roulette.”

“Oh,” Takiko said. “I was wondering how Keita could even let this happen in the first place, but the chances of that... He never would have seen it coming. And if he wasn’t in the room with them, he wouldn’t have been able to stop them from that initial bonding afterwards...”

No wonder Keita sounded annoyed in that text message.

“When you say he sees the future...” Matsumoto said slowly. “I once saw his cousin die from a wall falling on him. They said it had been weakened for years because of the roots of a tree planted too close to it. What he sees, it isn’t just vague premonitions, is it.”

“No, he sees the future like we see the past. All he has to do is to intend to do different things until his strongest ‘memories’ are that of a future he desires.”

Matsumoto visibly shivered. “Then sure, Thaniel and Grace hit it off at that first meeting. But if he’s that powerful... Couldn’t he have done something any time after that?”

“No,” Takiko said triumphantly. “Because he cares about Steepleton, genuinely. If the person you loved met someone else they liked more and chose them over you... wouldn’t you let them go?”

Matsumoto looked down. “I—you think he actually likes Thaniel that much?”

“Why not?” Takiko asked. “He may have the powers of a god, but he’s still as human as any of us.”

“You know, when you say it like that, it’s more scary than reassuring.”

Takiko smiled grimly. “Isn't it?”

“Right.” Matsumoto looked back up at her. “So then what, you think I should just leave things alone and let it work out?”

“No,” she said. “Just because he’s letting Steepleton go for now and just because I’m pretty sure of his reasonings doesn’t mean that he won’t try and influence the situation less directly, or that Steepleton won’t come back on his own.”

“Why would he do that?” Matsumoto said with all the genuine confusion of someone who had never been cared for by Keita Mori, who had never had his attention focused specifically on him, or gotten swept up in his excitement.

“He’s...” There was really nothing she could say that wouldn’t incriminate her. “Keita has some good qualities.”

“Right,” Matsumoto said skeptically. 

“Just... don’t count out that possibility,” she said.

“Alright,” Matsumoto said. “Thank you. I—to be honest, I don’t know if I’ll be able to do anything, if he’s like what you said. But I’m going back to the UK and doing what I can.”

“I wish you the best of luck,” Takiko said. Then she reached over her desk to take a post-it note. “Wait, here, let me give you my personal phone number. Tell me if you have updates or need any help or advice.”

Matsumoto took the post-it note and stood up. “I really appreciate this. I’m sorry you’re still trapped in this mess, and please let me know if I can do anything to help.”

Takiko blinked. It had never occurred to her that she might be pitied. “Don’t be sorry, I walked into this and am staying here more or less willingly.”

“More or less?”

“Keita doesn’t control people,” she said. “He doesn’t need to. He knows them too well.”

“Right,” Matsumoto said, turning to the door. “You know, it’s getting harder and harder to be optimistic about this.”

“You never know,” Takiko said, smiling faintly. “The odds are in his favor, but it’s always the least likely things that take him most off guard.”

With a jolt, Takiko woke up in her own bed, covered in sweat and breathless. Frantically, she looked to her side, but Midori was lying there just barely visible in the dim ambient light.

It was a dream. It had all just been a dream.

Sometimes, Takiko had nightmares of Kuroda killing Midori, of him smashing her head into the ground, while Keita stood by and watched it happen. 

That wasn’t how it had actually gone. Takiko hadn’t been there when it happened and had no idea how the scene played out, since Midori didn’t like to talk about it. And Kuroda obviously hadn’t actually killed Midori. Despite everything, she was still alive.

Takiko tried to calm her breathing, counting in and out. 

Her dream hadn’t been real, but that feeling of helplessness and betrayal from someone she thought she had been able to trust was.

Looking over at the bedside table, the clock read 6:56. Midori’s alarm would go off in a few minutes. She lived only ten minutes away from her work, but she liked being able to take a bit of time with her breakfast. Normally, Takiko would just go back to sleep, but sometimes she would get up early just to spend a bit more time with her. Maybe cook her some eggs or something if she was feeling particularly awake.

Takiko lay in bed, trying to calm her thoughts. They were no longer the frantic rush of panic, but she still felt a little out of sorts, like she might start crying upon seeing Midori awake again.

The sudden beep of the alarm had her whole body go tense, but the familiar sound of Midori groaning, the shifting of the mattress as she fumbled for the off button relaxed her slightly.

"Morning," Takiko said, and she thought her voice sounded steady, that Midori was still too much asleep to notice anything off, but Midori rolled over into her arms, burying her nose into the gap beneath Takiko's neck.

"You're up early," was all Midori said, but there was a question in there, a sort of understanding that made Takiko feel horribly seen.

"Yeah," she said, hearing her voice crack but unable to do anything to stop it. She cleared her throat. "Just a nightmare."

Midori slid her hands around Takiko's back, holding her even more tightly. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“You need to get up to get ready for work,” Takiko said, even though Midori had on multiple occasions stayed in bed an extra fifteen minutes, just to lazily make out with her.

“Eventually,” she said and waited. It wasn’t a heavy sort of expectation, and Takiko had never understood how she mastered that, or if maybe it was just that Takiko knew and trusted her so well that she could never read her silences as anything but gentle.

“I’ll get up with you.” Takiko needed a moment to gather her thoughts, and these ones didn’t feel so secret that they needed to be whispered in the privacy of her bed.

“Alright.” Midori tilted her face to kiss her once on each cheek before getting up.

Takiko took a moment to stretch out into the space left behind, internally groaning to herself. There was no way she would be able to go back to sleep now, but that didn’t mean she quite wanted to leave her bed yet, even if it was lonelier without Midori there anymore.

She slid her feet into her slippers and followed her into the kitchen, taking a seat at the table while Midori started making herself breakfast.

“Do you think I’m being too harsh on Keita?” Takiko asked, and she knew it was abrupt, but there was really no way to ease into this conversation.

“Is this about Matsumoto?” Midori asked, cracking an egg.

In the week that had passed since their conversation, he had flown back to London and told her that he had passed on her information to Grace who had already figured out most of the whole clairvoyance thing on her own. Apparently she had only spoken about bits and pieces of it to Steepleton, fearing that trying to pull him away from Keita too fast would only drive him closer. It was a good call in Takiko’s mind, but part of her felt uneasy at the whole thing.

“A bit,” Takiko admitted. “It’s not... not about him. I guess... I’ve been spending all this time trying to save this poor guy from Keita, but what can I really do from across the world? Give him vague warnings that I know won’t actually spook him because Keita would never like him if he were the type to be bothered by that? Tell him to listen to his suspicions, which never works out for anyone? It was all down to Steepleton either way.”

“But now there's Matsumoto.”

“Yeah.” Takiko sighed. “Now I’ve sent him after Steepleton to try and change the course of things, and I don't even know if that was the right thing to do.”

“I don’t quite see your fear of him,” Midori said. “Keita, I mean. But I also don’t have your faith in him. Or in his humanity, I guess.”

Takiko frowned. “I don’t—I’m not—you think I have faith in his humanity?”

“Probably more than almost anybody, but that’s not saying a lot,” Midori said. “You think he truly cares about people—and I’m sure you’re right. You know him better than most. I just think no matter how much he cares about someone, he’ll still see them as a tool to shape his future.”

“Well...” Takiko had the urge to argue, but it wasn’t like she actually disagreed with Midori, so she shut her mouth.

“I think that out of everyone in the world to have the kind of power he has, I’m glad it was him,” Midori said, and Takiko pressed her lips together. “I think he’s a good person who is doing his best, maybe more than you do.”

“It’s not that I don’t think he’s trying to do good,” Takiko said. “It’s just that no one should have that power.”

“Regardless, he has it, and I think he’s helped more than he’s harmed. But even if he’s a good person—or as good of one as it is possible to be in his situation—he’s not a good friend.”

Takiko opened her mouth, then closed it again, uncertain of what she wanted to say.

“I’m not worried for Steepleton’s safety like you are,” Midori said. “Can you even name anyone close to him who’s actually been hurt because of him?”

“You,” Takiko said, because that was what had started this whole thing. If Midori wasn't safe—Midori who had eaten countless meals with Keita and laughed over Kuroda’s antics and shared gossip and watched Takiko’s plays together, Midori who was the one person in the world that Takiko could never ever forgive Keita for harming—then who in this world was?

Midori waved a hand. “That doesn’t count.”

“How does it not count?” Takiko demanded. “He—You can never walk again because of your husband, and he was right there and knew it would happen, and—”

“But he didn’t cause it,” Midori said, and she had always been too forgiving of Keita for that incident. Takiko wanted to smash something.

“Maybe not, but when it’s something like that, being a bystander is just as bad—”

“Name one other person.”

“But—”

“ Trust me when I say I'm an exception.” Midori had always seemed to know something that Takiko didn't about the whole situation. Maybe exactly what future Keita was creating with her injury. It didn’t matter to Takiko. There was no future worth the physical and mental trauma it had caused Midori, and if there really was something that important, Keita could have found some other way.

But she didn't want to argue about this again. “Fine, the British guy, the one that got shot in the leg. Merrick.”

“And he came here to visit, thanking Keita for saving his life with it.”

Takiko gritted her teeth. It wasn’t that she couldn’t think of anyone around Keita who had gotten mysteriously hurt or killed. But other than Midori, every single one of them had deserved it, or it ended up being for the best, like with Merrick.

“From my perspective, watching you with him, the danger of being close to him isn’t in what physical harm will come to you,” Midori said quietly, setting her rice bowl gently on the table. “It’s that you’ll fall in love with, or otherwise get all caught up in a man who will never love you enough not to use you.”

Takiko’s heart was pounding, and she fought the urge to hide her face.

“Which is fine if you’re like me. I was never that close to him, and I don’t mind being used to make the world meaningfully better. But for you? For someone like Steepleton seems to be? It’s cruel.”

Cruel? That wasn't a word Takiko had ever used to describe Keita’s actions towards her. He was a lot of things, but cruel had never quite seemed like one of them. But perhaps she had always ascribed too much to him, more than he deserved.

"But you trust him with the rest?" Takiko asked. "With the future?"

Midori shrugged. "Got anyone better to trust it with? I know he's not that powerful or else this whole world would be quite different."

"True," Takiko said, but world domination had never been her fear for him.

"I don't even think he's—my ex-husband..." Midori faltered briefly, fingers hesitating on her chopsticks before tightening her grip. "He was always so paranoid of Keita. They were friends, but he would still think himself in circles over whether what he was doing was Keita's intention or not. If the only reason my ex-husband even liked him as a person was because of Keita's manipulations."

Takiko scoffed. As if anyone had the time or energy for that.

"You're right," Midori said, hiding a small smile. "I don't think Keita would bother with such things, at least in the long term.”

“Also he's a terrible liar.”

“Yes,” Midori agreed. “But you asked me if I thought you were too harsh on Keita, and to that I would say no. But I also don't think that Steepleton is in any physical danger. And I'm not sure if you can save anyone from a broken heart."

"He didn't break my heart ," Takiko scoffed, because sure, she had cared for him as more than a spouse of pure convenience, and sure, she had felt betrayed to know he had stood by as Midori had been injured. But she wasn't so fragile, still so hung up on him. Not like that.

Midori eyed her over her eggs. "Well he sure left his mark, regardless."

"I'm not—you know I'm not—" They had talked about this before, about both their husbands. Extensively. For all her complicated feelings towards Keita, with its tangled history and probably even messier future, she wasn't in love with him now.

"No, I know," Midori said. "I'm not—this isn't that. He came into your life and didn't care for you or trust you as much as you cared for and trusted him, and that hurt you. And I hate that he did that to you. But even now, I still don't know how I would save you from it if I could go back and do it all over."

"I don't need to be saved," Takiko snapped automatically, and Midori smiled.

"That's probably what Steepleton thinks. And will continue to think."

Takiko rolled her eyes. "So then you think I shouldn't interfere."

"I don't know," Midori said. "I just think that either way, it's not a whole life at stake here, just a heart. And who knows. Maybe it will turn out well for him."

It was—not jealousy exactly. Anger, perhaps, at the idea that her marriage to Keita was still such an ongoing trainwreck, and some random other starving British theater person could come in and get all the happiness that she had once hoped for. 

It wasn't that she was unhappy herself. There were many things in her life that she would change if she could, but choosing Midori over Keita had never and would never be one. Still.

If she hadn't been worth caring for enough not to use, then how could he be?

"I hope it does," Takiko said, and even though it would make her feel angry and hurt, she meant it truthfully. She had found her own way out, or at least partially detached herself enough. But she wouldn't wish her life on some random vaguely nice-seeming guy. “One way or another.”

“Yes,” Midori said. “I suppose regardless, there’s not much we can do about it from here.”

Chapter Text

Matsumoto sent a text early that morning asking if they could call, so Takiko was ready when her phone rang at precisely 8 pm.

“Hello?” she said as she picked up the receiver, swiveling her office chair to face forward like there really was someone in the room with her.

“Hello, this is Matsumoto,” he said politely. “I hope you’re doing well?”

“I am,” Takiko said, but she had no patience for pleasantries. A month and a half had passed since they had first spoken, and now they were embroiled in a plot to separate her husband from the guy he was chasing after; she figured she could drop a few niceties. “This is about Keita I assume?”

“Yes.” His light tone dropped. “Grace and Thaniel are moving in together.”

“Really?” Takiko hadn’t been lying when she told Matsumoto that Keita would probably let Thaniel go willingly, but somehow it still surprised her to hear that they had made it even this far in the planning. “And Keita hasn’t tried to stop you?”

“The fact that you sound so surprised fills me with great confidence in your advice,” Matsumoto said dryly. “But if he’s planning something, he hasn’t shown his hand yet.”

“I see,” Takiko said.

“I don’t know how much it helped, but we’ve both been taking your advice with the random chance thing,” Matsumoto said. “Flipping coins and rolling dice to decide everything down to what times to have conversations, just in case there’s some factor that could get in the way.”

“It can’t hurt.” Takiko had gotten into the same habit when she had moved out with Midori. It probably hadn’t done anything big. If Keita had wanted her to stay, it would take more than a few smudged details to stop him. But the thing about the future was that there was no way for any normal human to know which factors would be important ones, which forewarned details would be just enough to make a difference. “What’s the reason for the move?”

“Well, on Grace’s end, her parents have started to warm up to Thaniel but doubt that she’s serious about him,” Matsumoto said, full of irony. “For Thaniel—well, they’re moving to one of Grace’s parents’ properties in London right by a nice art school that his nephews wanted to go to, and it has extra rooms.”

“That’s convenient for them,” Takiko said vaguely.  Whatever seed of doubt towards Keita that had been planted by her and encouraged by Matsumoto and Grace, combined with the practical benefits and perhaps even some genuine feelings towards Grace, might all be enough to make Steepleton leave on his own accord.

“They’ve already started picking out furniture and such,” Matsumoto said. “Their official house warming is in two weeks from now.”

“And do you know how Keita is responding?” Takiko asked. Her husband was somehow both a great secret keeper and a horrible liar, so she had no idea what they would have picked up on.

“I’ve not spoken with him myself,” Matsumoto said. “But Grace claims Thaniel mentioned being a bit worried about how Mori is withdrawing a bit.”

“I think that’s a good sign.” In the months leading up to their separation, Takiko had noticed Keita distancing himself from her as well, even if she hadn't known the reason at the time. She supposed that for a clairvoyant, it must be difficult to remain close to someone he cared about when he could see so vividly how it would all fall apart.

“You really think he won’t retaliate?” Matsumoto’s voice was soft over the phone, and for a moment Takiko wondered: if she said she wasn’t sure, would he try to convince Grace to leave Steepleton, to throw him under the bus so that the two of them could escape? Perhaps he wouldn’t. He seemed like a decent enough fellow, and Grace had to be stubborn to stick with Steepleton this far. 

“He isn’t the vengeful type,” Takiko said. “Not like this at least. It might be a different story if you killed Steepleton.”

But even without revenge, how certain was she truly that they could escape untouched? His influence was like a spreading stain you could never quite get rid of. Takiko didn’t think it was presumptuous to say that Keita had once loved her, or at least something close to it, but he had still hurt her. Even though he had let her go, the damage was done, and even now she still found herself tangled up in his affairs. How could she be certain it would be any different for any of them?

“He won’t hurt you,” Takiko said more firmly, because unless Matsumoto and Grace had some broader significance on world politics that she wasn’t aware of, she could be sure of that much. Of course she hadn't thought Midori could ever be in harm's way either. “Not for this at least. I can’t say he will quietly let this happen though. Or that Steepleton won’t do something unexpected.”

“Like what?” Matsumoto said, and even though she had already warned him of this, he sounded a bit skeptical.

Keita loved stubborn people he didn’t already know every move of. What limit to possibility was there? What would she do in his position?

“Well, if I could tell you, it would hardly be unexpected, would it,” Takiko said with a wry smile. “But he might not go quietly along with your plans. In fact, I might say that it's the most likely thing to go wrong here.”

“You really think Mori has that strong of a hold over him?” Matsumoto asked.

It wasn't like that, but Takiko wasn't sure if Matsumoto would get it. “From what I got from speaking with Steepleton, he seemed observant and stubborn. People like that don't always take well to being manipulated."

If all Keita wanted was to be loved and admired, he could have gone about it in any number of ways, found any number of people who could be seduced with just the right words and actions. Maybe he was the type cursed to love only the people too unpredictable and untrusting to be so easily swayed by the shortcuts he had. Which could either work in their favor or against it.

"Grace doesn't think he'll notice what we're doing," Matsumoto said quietly, which made Takiko want to snort. This woman was pretending to date Steepleton and still hadn't realized what Takiko had in a handful of text conversations? "And even if he did notice, wouldn't he that just mean he's also resistant to Mori's manipulations?"

"What do you think?" Takiko asked.

Matsumoto was quiet for a moment. "Well, I would hate to speak badly of our own ability to be discreet, and she has spent more time with him than I..."

"But?" 

"Well," Matsumoto said, "and I do mean no offense by this. But I think one would have to be a little bit insane to get involved with Mori in the first place."

"I know that better than anyone," Takiko said, letting humor leak into her voice. "Look, all I'm saying is that if it comes down to it, cut your losses and run."

There was a long pause, and Takiko wished she could see Matsumoto's face to get a sense of how he was taking that information. "I'm not sure... Thaniel might not be my favorite guy in the world, but I can't just—"

"You aren't leaving an innocent man to a terrible fate," Takiko said. "Only a stubborn man to an inadvisable one."

"Still..."

"Sometimes there's only so much you can do to stop a person set on making their mistakes," Takiko said. "Some lessons can only be taught by experience. I would know. In the end, it's his choice, and it would be just as cruel to take that away from him."

"Yes, I suppose..."

"In any case, he might even be happy that way."

Perhaps Steepleton would be content with something she never could be. Perhaps he would never discover that as much as Mori cared, it wasn't enough. Or perhaps for him, Mori would care enough.

“Hopefully it won’t come to that,” Matsumoto said.

“With any luck,” Takiko said, because luck was the only hope they had with Mori. With Thaniel, she was starting to suspect that perhaps they needed something far stronger, but she wasn’t entirely sure if the pessimism was warranted or if it was just her being paranoid.

“I should go soon,” Matsumoto said. “I just wanted to update you and see if you had any remaining advice.”

“Thanks for letting me know,” she said. “I’m not sure if there is anything else I can do from here, but do let me know if there is.”

“Of course,” Matsumoto said. “Thank you for speaking with me. I hope the rest of your evening goes well.”

“You too. Good night,” Takiko said, and hung up. She set her phone down on her lap and sighed. This shouldn’t have been her business to get wrapped up in, but here she was.

“Sorry to message you out of the blue, but when you mentioned that Mori was too powerful and I needed to be careful, you were talking about him being psychic, right?”

The Instagram message from Steepleton caught Takiko completely off guard when she opened her phone one morning.

Matsumoto hadn’t given an exact date for when Steepleton and Grace’s official house warming party was, but Takiko thought that it was probably in a couple days or so. Even after months without talking to Steepleton, she figured it made sense for him to be having some doubts or concerns and to reach out to her now of all times.

“Yes,” she sent back.

There was no reply, but of course it must have been the middle of the night in London. Feeling the vague creeping sense of dread, Takiko went to work and about her day, startling each time her phone chimed.

It was lunch time, around 4 am there, when she finally got something from him.

“Is there anything he doesn't see? Outside of random chance, I mean.”

Had Grace and Matsumoto told him about that? she wondered. She had assumed they were keeping as much from him as they could, but perhaps not. Perhaps he had figured it out on his own. Or worse, perhaps Keita had told him himself.

She had no reason not to tell him what she knew. If there was anyone in the world who deserved to know as much about Keita’s abilities as there was to know, Steepleton would probably rank up there along with Keita’s daughter. Since she could only talk to one of them right now, he would have to do.

“I think it’s less that there are things he doesn’t see, and more that he sees so many things that the less likely possibilities are buried by the more likely ones. I don’t know if he ignores them or doesn’t even notice them, or both, but he’s not infallible, and there are human actions and decisions that take him off guard sometimes. Why?”

The response was quick. “He said he saw me married to someone with kids and would eventually stop seeing him at all. I was wondering if that was my only option.”

Strange, Takiko thought. So Matsumoto and Grace's plan was likely to work? She hadn’t realized how certain she was that it wouldn’t until now. She wouldn’t have given up on Keita that easily if she was in Steepleton’s place. Maybe she had been drawing too many comparisons where they weren’t there.

Or maybe, Keita was in denial. It was easier to be resigned to the more likely bad option than risk the chance of hope, even for non-psychics. Steepleton wouldn't have asked her about this if he was fully on board with Keita’s idea of the future, which pointed to the possibility of him changing it. It couldn’t be that big of one though, or else Keita wouldn’t have told him about it at all. Unless it was part of some scheme to push Steepleton away from Grace by putting out the idea of permanence sooner than he would be ready for it. But Keita was a terrible liar, and for all that Midori had said he didn’t love people enough not to use them, Takiko didn’t think he would use someone like this.

“Who can say,” she ended up sending in response. “It’s probably a fairly likely future, but nothing is set in stone.”

“Right.” Came the response.

Assuming that the conversation was now over, Takiko set down her phone, but it buzzed a moment later.

“Why were you trying to warn me away from him? I didn’t realize that’s what you were doing at the time, but you were, weren’t you?”

Takiko hadn’t quite expected to be called out like this. That wasn’t the world she lived in, where everyone hinted and spoke politely around such things and never directly asked anyone something so big and potentially rude. She sat there staring at her phone for a long moment wondering what she could possibly say to that.

“Yes, I was,” she said because lying now would only make it worse.

“Why?”

He already wasn't going to leave Keita, if his concern with Keita knowing everything was that then Steepleton’s future would involve living happily ever after with Grace. There was nothing she could say now that would make it worse. “It’s as I said before. He's not a bad person, but no one should have that power.”

“He didn't choose to have it. I don't think he even likes it half the time.”

So quick to defend, Takiko thought. Not that she had been any better. “That doesn't change the fact that he has it, and that despite all his unbelievable powers, he's still human. He still makes mistakes. He still hurts people.”

“Did he hurt you?”

Takiko wondered if she said yes, if it would have any meaningful change on Steepleton's opinion of Keita. She imagined that his concern was genuine, but worry and regret over other people was not the same as self-preservation.

“Worse. He hurt someone I love.”

“I'm sorry.”

“I don't want him to get you hurt.”

“I don't think he would.”

“Not intentionally. Not unless there was some bigger more important cause that was worth throwing you under the bus for.”

“Then don't we all take that risk any time we make a connection with someone? Just because Mori can see a bigger picture than most people, and just because he knows the consequences of each action in a way no one else can doesn't make that risk any different. Anyone can hurt you, but that doesn’t mean they will.”

Steepleton and her were quite possibly the two people who understood Keita the best in the entire world. They both understood that he was, in all the important ways, fundamentally human. But where Takiko saw that as something to be wary of, Steepleton saw it more optimistically.

She hadn't always been like this. Had it really just been what happened to Midori that changed her so much, or had she lost her faith in humanity long before then?

“Maybe you're right. I do genuinely hope so.” Let him make his own mistakes, that was what Midori had said. Maybe it would still be worth it for him. Or even if it did go badly, it wasn’t necessarily the end of everything—she was proof of that. 

Even with all her attempts at subtle warnings and giving Matsumoto and Grace the information they needed to get around Keita, it seemed she had never stood a chance at pulling Steepleton away from him to begin with.

“Thank you. I don't plan on letting him drift out of my life so easily, just because I’m moving out. I just think he could use some more friends.”

Takiko stared at her phone. Was Steepleton not planning on staying with Keita? No, of course he wasn't, Keita wouldn't have seen that other future if anything was certain, even if she knew the outcome in her bones. She just hadn't realized Steepleton was this far behind.

A thousand responses and questions sprung to mind, about what was really going on with Steepleton or at least what he thought was going on. Her fingers were already typing out of sheer bewilderment, and she wasn't even aware of what she had written until she had already sent it.

“You mean you aren't in love with him?”

Takiko blinked but the message was still there. She considered deleting it, but chances were that he had seen it already. 

It wouldn’t have seemed a big deal, maybe a slightly more tasteless joke than she would usually make. But up until now, their conversation had gone back and forth quickly, with Steepleton beginning to type a response almost as soon as she had sent the message. There was no sign of activity now.

On the top of her phone a notification appeared. 

“What did you say to him?” asked Keita on Line. Even though they had talked more in the past six months than the three years before that, the sudden contact felt jarring enough that she heard panic in the otherwise emotionless text. Context was all she ever had to figure out his tone, she supposed. The day that Keita used an exclamation mark to indicate emphasis was the day the world ended.

What had her half-joking comment done that changed the future so much that Keita would reach out to her, even though he must know there was no way she would answer that honestly. Had Steepleton not known?

“I’m not.” Steepleton sent back, nearly a full five minutes after she had asked him.

Had Takiko just been projecting all of her former feelings towards her husband on this random stranger?

But no, he had clearly seemed weirded out by Keita being married, and Keita had joked about calling himself her beard. Besides, why else would her one question upturn Keita’s entire future? Maybe there was some other explanation she was missing. The only one who truly knew Steepleton’s feelings were himself. But she wasn’t pulling this assumption out of nowhere.

So what, if she was right then Steepleton was moving out because he didn’t realize he was in love with Keita, and now that she had asked him about it, he realized it and would change his mind and somehow Keita had never seen this happening?

It wasn’t like this was the first time she had surprised Keita. It wasn’t common, but a few times, she had said something that popped into her brain out of nowhere, and she could tell that Keita hadn’t seen it coming by the way that laughter burst out of him before his facial expressions had fully caught up to it yet. Maybe it was something like that, only much more far reaching than the usual throwaway joke?

She needed to reply.

“I see, my apologies for assuming,” she sent to Steepleton. There was no way she could play this off with her mind as disarrayed as it was, so straightforwardness it was.

“That’s okay,” he replied, but she had a feeling it was not.

Takiko switched back to Line, staring at Keita’s message for a long moment, wondering if there was anything she could say in response to his question or anything she could ask that would give her even slightly more information than she had before. She settled for simple.

“What’s going on?”

“My future may have changed,” Keita said, which could have meant anything, but she wondered if perhaps he also didn’t know the full extent of everything that would happen just yet. If something big changed for him personally, she knew it would take some time to sort through all of his new memories.

Maybe it wasn’t that he hadn’t seen the possibility of Steepleton changing his mind and staying with him instead of moving out with Grace. When Takiko had first started developing feelings for Midori, around the same time that she was starting to realize that nothing would happen between her and Keita, there had been a few moments where she wondered if Midori felt the same towards her. It had been in her smile, the way she brought her hand so gently to Takiko’s shoulder, and how she had always dropped everything to spend more time with her.

With the benefit of hindsight, it was glaringly obvious that Midori had been just as in love with her as she had been all that time. But while it was happening, even if all the signs pointed towards yes, Takiko had been to afraid to hope.

So maybe she hadn’t pushed Steepleton in some completely unlikely direction, just given him enough of a nudge to cross the line of certainty. Or maybe not. She had no real way of knowing.

Takiko pulled out her texts with Matsumoto.

“I think I fucked up,” she started to type, but then deleted it. Had she? Was this truly a bad thing? Their plan to guide Steepleton away from Keita’s clutches had almost definitely failed, but maybe it always would have through some fate greater than anything Keita could account for. And maybe Steepleton would find happiness with Keita that she never could. Maybe he wouldn’t, but either way, it was hardly her place to decide.

With a sigh, Takiko dropped her phone onto her desk. This wasn’t her business. The house warming party would go well, or it wouldn’t. Steepleton would chase Keita down and confess his feelings, or he wouldn’t. In the end, they would all make their own choices, and she would be too far away for them to really have any impact on her.

She picked up her phone again. She still had one more message to send before this could truly be over for her.

“Good luck, and congratulations, I suppose,” she sent to Keita. “Whenever you inevitably return to Japan, make sure to bring him along too.”

“We’ll see,” Keita sent back, and she couldn’t see his face of course, but she had been married to him long enough to know he must be smiling.

There , she thought. She had signaled some amount of approval to whatever new relationship he may or may not be starting. She had let go of some deep-seated and buried grudge against her husband, that he hadn’t cared enough for her not to hurt the person she loved most. Or at least it was a start.

With that settled, she figured it was time to go back to ignoring the existence of everyone currently in London, until the next time fate or chance brought them careening back into her life.