And just like that, Eiji rose to the commandership of one of the two most elite military units in the entire Meihonese Empire. For many the change would have brought on a sense of self-importance, especially since propaganda-purposed celebrity was a major facet of the office, but for Eiji it only brought on a feeling of premature old age.
Indeed all the events since Saitou had given him and Yuuhei the long foreboding speech in Ethana had built one on top of the other to make him feel like years had passed in a few weeks. He had fallen in love and witnessed not only the transformation of the world he’d grown up in, but had been informed of it in advance by the powerful men who planned it. He was even being told that he was somehow uniquely more than human, that science had proven it – that fighting in the name of the empire was his biological destiny.
The second day after the parade, he got off a train in the commercial district and walked to the restaurant where Minsuk was working. He noted the sign outside the door that indicated the time it closed, and then walked just a block down the street to sit in a bar and slowly nurse two beers until that time came. As with the first night he’d spent in her company, he showed up unannounced just before closing time.
“Well. Hello, great hero,” was the first thing Minsuk said, and somewhat sharply, Eiji thought. She had been rushing past just as he stepped inside, her arms full of dirty tableware, and paused as she saw him come in.
Minsuk was pink in the cheeks and strands of her black hair clung stubbornly with sweat to her face. She rubbed her chin against her collar to brush them away. For a moment she hesitated, looking him up and down. “That was some parade,” she said, and continued on into the kitchen without waiting for a response.
Eiji had been worried before coming into the restaurant that his doing so might make trouble for her, this early in her apprenticeship. But the owners of the restaurant – a middle-aged married couple – recognized him immediately by his now widely-photographed face, and they fell fawningly upon him at once.
“Great honorable Commander Daitokai,” they addressed him in unison, helping him against his protests out of his overcoat. It was the first time he had be addressed as such – and with such reverence – but it would hardly be the last. “Please,” they gestured into the restaurant, leading and prodding him along, “make yourself comfortable!”
“Thank you,” he said, attempting to steer himself toward a stool at the bar. But he was being bodily redirected to one of the large, comfortable, secluded luxury booth tables in the back. “No, no,” he struggled the other way, “the bar will be fine, I’m just—”
“As you wish, sir,” said the hostess, and she guided him back toward the bar, while her husband scurried ahead of them to slide a stool out for him. They sat him down and laid out the full range of menus in front of him despite the fact that the kitchen closing time (which had passed an hour ago) was posted clearly behind the bar, at the entrance and even on the menus themselves.
“I’m not hungry,” said Eiji, “but thank you. I’m just here to—”
But they weren’t listening. They had both disappeared behind the bar and were now returning, the man proffering a large bottle of top grade, expensive Homeland sake. He cradled it in a clean cloth, as if his fingerprints on the glass of the bottle would have been a disrespect to it. The woman was right beside him, holding a tray on which was a single black lacquer-ware cup, true to the drinking traditions of the Homeland. Even as he tried to demure, the man was removing the top from the bottle, insisting that it was an honor to have a war hero in their humble restaurant.
Minsuk returned from the kitchen, changed out of her apron and wiping her face and neck with a small towel. She first checked at the entrance, where she’d seen Eiji, and when he wasn’t there she stepped further into the restaurant, wiping her hands and scanning the room for him. “Okay, Eiji,” she called out as she came around the corner into the bar area, “I’m ready to…”
Her voice trailed off as she saw him sitting at the bar, her bosses standing on either side of him, each clutching one of his sleeves, cooing persuasively for his patronage with their faces practically touching his.
“Eiji,” Minsuk smirked as she stepped up behind them, “did you just stop in to have a drink?”
The hostess whirled around to face her, hissing. “Sayaka! This man is a renowned hero of the front lines, and he has joined us tonight as our honored guest! You will not address him in such a ignoble manner!”
“No,” Eiji had started to protest, “it’s okay. Actually we—”
But the man was talking over him, “I humbly apologize for her lack of manners, sir – she’s new here, and she’s not Meihonese. She meant no harm, but we will be sure to teach her a lesson about it…”
Silence descended as the two paused cringingly to judge his reaction.
“No, that’s all right” said Eiji. “Minsuk is my fiancée.”
The silence continued, but the nature of it had changed. The heads of the two owners snapped back and forth, wide-eyed, between Eiji and Minsuk. Minsuk’s only answer to their blank looks of surprise was her trademark sheepish grin.
