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[The way Fudou's voice has that upswing, the way it sounds just so damn confident about absolutely nothing...it's so annoying in a way Sakuma can't even describe. It makes his teeth sink into his own lip, trying his absolute hardest to hide the smile he knows is betraying him at that moment.
I'm glad some things about you didn't change, he wants to say. But the words don't come out, merely brushing the hastily cut bangs out of his eyes and making his way over to the desk to set the bags down. The smell was practically intoxicating, and for as strong as Sakuma could be as a person, even he can't help the way his eye closes in relief.
Warm food.
Not just a sandwich he picked up from the convenience store or something he could throw in the microwave.
But Fudou's not going to get out of that one so easily, delicately unwrapping those bags and pulling out the takeout containers one by one to read.]
And you got inspired to do this because you wanted to. Stopping by your old stomping grounds with takeout for an 'overworked cyclops' because one of your students was talking about it.
[The 'table' is set, with a styrofoam container on each end and utensils set. And despite his skepticism, he's already grabbing a chair to pull over.]
[The glass of water is placed in front of Sakuma, Fudou placing his hand on the chair he's pulling so he can take over, giving a light nudge of the man's shoulder with his opposite hand to get him to sit down. It's only once he does that he takes a seat himself, but not very properly -- one foot goes on top of the chair seat with his knee bent, and he wraps his arm around it as he picks up his chopsticks.]
I'm here because I wanted to be. I wanted to try the place and Hakuryuu doesn't like eating too much heavy shit.
["I'm here because I wanted to be." How like Fudou to say something like that...He almost doesn't even realize that the chair had been taken from him, a soft nudge from the man across from him to stop working and go sit down. He stares for a moment, dumbfounded as Fudou pulls the chair closer to the desk.
It felt wrong. Like a fish who'd been thrown out of water.
But only for a moment. Not one to really be taken aback by anything, he composes himself and yields, going to the other side of the desk and sitting in his chair.]
It's good that Hakuryuu's changing your diet for the better.
[Not that Fudou necessarily ate bad, but Sakuma was never one to let a little elbow jab go undone. He bites his lip again, hopefully hiding the small laugh he wants to silence as settles, picking up the chopsticks and breaking them apart with little to no effort.]
You probably didn't take very good care of yourself in Europe.
[Almost as if to prove his point, Fudou doesn't bat an eye as he pokes his chopsticks into his own box and starts eating at pieces of tomato. Sometimes after seven or so years, things change about people. Like one's dislike of certain vegetables.]
Hakuryuu's obsession with that sort of thing is great. It'll help him grow. I move around so I'll be fine, but you need to watch it or that tailored suit of yours'll stop fitting, Sakuma-kun.
[Eyebrows raise at Fudou willingly eating that tomato, all too familiar with how he was in middle school and high school, poking around his food or sneaking the red vegetables onto his own plate (or Kidou's, if he felt daring enough). Fudou had certainly changed a lot while he was gone, whether it was hair or the way his eyes seemed softer than they were as children or the way he dressed like he could afford nothing more than what you could find at a thrift store.
Sakuma...didn't feel like he'd made the same kind of changes. He'd grown up, sure. He'd gotten a lot more stoic, maybe, but that'd come with the territory of taking the Kidou Group and Teikoku on your shoulders.
Maybe in the mix of all that, he'd been blind to the world moving past him. Then again, Fudou had been the one to cut that connection off. His eye closes, stuffing those feelings down back to where they belonged, and opening it only when Fudou speaks.]
[Sakuma's hardly gotten the last "t" out before Fudou cuts in with a retort.] If I thought you were fat I wouldn't be getting you fried anything.
[With that, he shoves his mouth full of some chicken, chewing on it silently (30 times) before swallowing, then pointing the chopsticks rudely at Sakuma.]
But I'm saying you might, if you keep up that shitty lifestyle of yours. Don't think Rei[ichi] hasn't told me about it!
There's nothing wrong with my lifestyle! I'm handling everything as it should be run.
[Things he's said many, many times before, although not to Fudou Akio. Midorikawa and Kazemaru had the same conversation with him once before, mostly about his stress at work or how many hours of sleep he was getting a night. It wasn't a fun conversation. He didn't LIKE those conversations, he didn't LIKE being told that his life was as flimsy as wet cardboard and he was only keeping it together with strings and paperclips.
Have a rude jab of his own chopsticks back, childishly diverting Fudou's own to point elsewhere.]
[His face softens, pulling out a piece of vegetable to pop in his mouth. Truth be told, so much had changed in the ten years he'd held Teikoku. Koutei Penguin 7, Last Death Zone, Penguin Carnival, Penguin the Hand...so many new hissatsu and so many obstacles overcome.
He was a little excited to share it with someone from Teikoku who knew. Someone who paid attention.]
I'm not sure how well I'd be able to keep up with someone who went pro.
[Fudou had never looked back on Teikoku until he returned to it. He didn't know anything about any new hissatsu or tactics, or how it had been doing in tournaments since he left. But he didn't think they were weak; weak was the last thing Teikoku would let itself be, and under Sakuma Jirou...]
You'd be a better challenge than most guys I know.
Of course he would be. [He sets his chopsticks down, letting his food settle as he goes to look at the man across from him.]
What you teach him you can see as he grows. You're more than just a coach or a trainer, you're what he looks to put on the field. It's a little more personal than playing professional, I think.
We never had anyone quite like that...but it feels good seeing your own efforts show in the ones you teach. Miyabino...he knows Teikoku soccer better than anyone. It's something I'm proud of him for.
[He pokes at his food idly with the chopsticks, not sure how to respond to Sakuma's comment about Hakuryuu. He knows the boy cared about him, and he knows that they've warmed up to each other significantly over the last few weeks. Hakuryuu relaxed more in that apartment, moving about more freely and less silently, but when someone says it out loud like that...]
When I watch that kid talk to you, it makes me think of Endou back during FFI when he talked to Coach Kudou or Hibiki. I think it's a lot more personal for you and him than you're putting it, too.
[There's a small moment where Sakuma softens, closing his eye to think about how Fudou phrases that. He'd like to be seen as someone like Coach Kudou or Hibiki to the Teikoku kids. They'd been the one thing that tied him to sanity since he'd taken on so much work. Their smiling faces when they heard about Sakuma's new tactics...the way they tried not to look for praise and yet Sakuma gave it...
He wanted to be like someone he himself held in such high esteem.
But there's doubt there. Like he can't truly take that compliment without admitting to his many, many faults.]
Maybe.
It seems like we've both found someone like that in our lives. It's a challenge in its own right.
Mm. Teaching others anything is totally different from going for something for yourself.
[Sakuma doesn't accept the compliment, but Fudou doesn't push it onto him. He stuffs a few more pieces of food into his mouth, chewing quietly. One would say that the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Fudou doesn't mind it so much. At least it exists. At least Sakuma let it exist again, after he cut it off the way he did.]
You're doing that with hundreds of kids here, and they answer to you.
[Thick was a good way to put it. While Sakuma could never truly hate Fudou, for awhile he had hated the subject of him, eyes narrowing when he was brought into conversation, seeing him on the television after he'd cut contact so immediately and didn't leave room for anyone else's voice or opinion. He'd grown so bitter over those years, from Kidou's absence to Fudou's, and only because of Miyabino and Fudou's return with Hakuryuu had that anger started to dissolve.
What they had now was pretty fragile, but roots could still take hold. They could rebuild what they'd lost.
It's not something Sakuma gets his hopes up too much for, though. After all, he's the one who's always left behind. He'll be the one standing still, like he always has.]
They believe in Teikoku's soccer. I just show them the path as I know it.
[Fudou doesn't argue against Sakuma. Really, he hasn't been argumentative about anything since his return to Japan, and when his eyes flicker up from his food to that piercing brown eye, his blue ones gaze at him through slightly furrowed brows. Fudou's eyes, once wide and ready to mock, now carried more of a searching, pensive look.
Europe had provided him an escape. Europe had also provided him years of isolation from the past with plenty of time to think, and when he looked at Sakuma, those thoughts always rose to the surface. But he keeps chewing his food to keep them at bay.]
... I watched some of Japan's soccer while I was in Europe, too. Middle school soccer.
Teikoku's soccer under you, even if with the Sector around, was always impressive.
[Something twitches on Sakuma's lips, a small light trying to be snuffed out by the darkness of the man's colder demeanor. A smile, however faint, but quickly extinguished for fear of what that smile could lead to. He'd been hurt enough and shouldered with enough burden between the Kidou Corp and Teikoku. And while he didn't exactly HATE the work (he loved it, deep down), it was the way he felt trapped by it when others with more obligation to it were free to walk that made him feel like he was meant to be stuck in this cage. At first glance, it's a cold shut down of an emotion, but looking further in, there's the hint of a damaged heart now shielding itself with as many spikes as it can manage to protect itself from shattering completely.
He tries not to sound overly pleased as he answers, but anyone who knew Sakuma well enough knows when he's bluffing. In actuality, he could talk for hours about his team, and how they seemed to follow him and his orders with undying loyalty.
'Commander Kidou's soccer' was not entirely false, but it certainly wasn't entirely true, either. It's the answer he gives, though, reluctantly curbing is enthusiasm for the moment.]
Commander Kidou's soccer takes the best of Teikoku and puts it to its limits. And the kids themselves are the ones who mastered Koutei Penguin 7.
I...we only provided what was necessary for them to complete it.
Commander Kidou's only been working with Teikoku for -- what? Two or three months?
[He tried to be careful with Sakuma. He was on thin ice, and he did not have any right to say what was right or what was wrong about the way this man lived his life (if it could be called living at all). As far as he was concerned, he played a great role in stranding him on a path that led to this present, and all he could do -- the least he could do -- was try to dig Sakuma's out of this dark, endless cave.
But there were some things he had to put his foot down about.]
This best of Teikoku exists 'cause someone took over and did all the hard work while the guy was off in Italy taking credit for shit he didn't do. The kids mastered 7, sure, but the one who created it, and the one who paved the path and built up Teikoku's strength thus far?
[An outburst he catches himself saying, catching his own tone and immediately pulling it back as quickly as it'd come out. It was true, though...he loved Kidou for all he'd done, all he'd accomplished, and for giving him a reason to stand on his own two legs again. A man he'd watched leave Teikoku more than once and leaving him behind to hold the fort in his place. And in that very same place...he'd found Fudou, another friend he found himself almost inseparable to...
Someone who also left Teikoku, and even Japan while leaving him still rooted here.
Fudou's words continue, and Sakuma falls into silence as he listens, having no more objections for the moment. There's idle stirring of his rice, listening to Fudou's harsh, but true words. Even Miyabino, who had always said it was Kidou's soccer, always looked to Sakuma when he said it. And Fudou's compliments hit him in much the same way.
It's confusing, and it makes his heart race just thinking about the idea that he had been a driving force for what Teikoku was. He'd always been so quick to default to giving Kidou the credit. He didn't mind it, he told himself. Kidou was the mastermind behind a lot of things both on and off the field. But maybe a small...small dark part of himself wished he would be the one who was praised.]
Yeah, well, I don't just say things for the sake of friendship.
[Fudou sets his own chopsticks down, leaning back in the chair some and running a hand through his hair with a sigh. It's not as coarse and dry as it used to be after the child at his apartment handed him some actual, proper shampoo. Now it was fluffier, and he appreciated those additional health points, but now it made it impossible to keep from falling in his face. Oh well.]
... And that goes both ways. I mean what I say.
Maybe Kidou's the name that's on all the papers and he's the one the media pisses its pants over, anyone who knows anything can see that you're the one that's been running the show.
I watched some of their practice earlier this week too. They listen to you well.
[He'd half expected it to be a joke, some sneering comment about how Sakuma had done well...for a trainer. But no, Fudou never did say anything for friendship or just to be nice. He either meant it or he didn't, and that's the part that gets Sakuma the most as he shoves rice into his mouth, buying himself some time before he hast to confront that.
An awful decision, really. It only gave him time to consider how that made him feel, his heart encased in ice deep down starting to thaw as if Fudou had put a match up to its frozen prison. Deep down, he wants to fight it. Shove away that comment and continue to live in the darkness he made for himself.
But that light was so tempting....
He stands up abruptly, chopsticks laid across that takeout container and hands pushing himself out of his seat.]
I should go.
[It's frantic, almost comical, how hurriedly he grabs his jacket and walks out that door, closing it behind him.
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I'm glad some things about you didn't change, he wants to say. But the words don't come out, merely brushing the hastily cut bangs out of his eyes and making his way over to the desk to set the bags down. The smell was practically intoxicating, and for as strong as Sakuma could be as a person, even he can't help the way his eye closes in relief.
Warm food.
Not just a sandwich he picked up from the convenience store or something he could throw in the microwave.
But Fudou's not going to get out of that one so easily, delicately unwrapping those bags and pulling out the takeout containers one by one to read.]
And you got inspired to do this because you wanted to. Stopping by your old stomping grounds with takeout for an 'overworked cyclops' because one of your students was talking about it.
[The 'table' is set, with a styrofoam container on each end and utensils set. And despite his skepticism, he's already grabbing a chair to pull over.]
Makes perfect sense.
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[The glass of water is placed in front of Sakuma, Fudou placing his hand on the chair he's pulling so he can take over, giving a light nudge of the man's shoulder with his opposite hand to get him to sit down. It's only once he does that he takes a seat himself, but not very properly -- one foot goes on top of the chair seat with his knee bent, and he wraps his arm around it as he picks up his chopsticks.]
I'm here because I wanted to be. I wanted to try the place and Hakuryuu doesn't like eating too much heavy shit.
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It felt wrong. Like a fish who'd been thrown out of water.
But only for a moment. Not one to really be taken aback by anything, he composes himself and yields, going to the other side of the desk and sitting in his chair.]
It's good that Hakuryuu's changing your diet for the better.
[Not that Fudou necessarily ate bad, but Sakuma was never one to let a little elbow jab go undone. He bites his lip again, hopefully hiding the small laugh he wants to silence as settles, picking up the chopsticks and breaking them apart with little to no effort.]
You probably didn't take very good care of yourself in Europe.
[Pot, meet kettle]
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[Almost as if to prove his point, Fudou doesn't bat an eye as he pokes his chopsticks into his own box and starts eating at pieces of tomato. Sometimes after seven or so years, things change about people. Like one's dislike of certain vegetables.]
Hakuryuu's obsession with that sort of thing is great. It'll help him grow. I move around so I'll be fine, but you need to watch it or that tailored suit of yours'll stop fitting, Sakuma-kun.
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Sakuma...didn't feel like he'd made the same kind of changes. He'd grown up, sure. He'd gotten a lot more stoic, maybe, but that'd come with the territory of taking the Kidou Group and Teikoku on your shoulders.
Maybe in the mix of all that, he'd been blind to the world moving past him. Then again, Fudou had been the one to cut that connection off. His eye closes, stuffing those feelings down back to where they belonged, and opening it only when Fudou speaks.]
Are you calling me...
fat.
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[With that, he shoves his mouth full of some chicken, chewing on it silently (30 times) before swallowing, then pointing the chopsticks rudely at Sakuma.]
But I'm saying you might, if you keep up that shitty lifestyle of yours. Don't think Rei[ichi] hasn't told me about it!
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[Things he's said many, many times before, although not to Fudou Akio. Midorikawa and Kazemaru had the same conversation with him once before, mostly about his stress at work or how many hours of sleep he was getting a night. It wasn't a fun conversation. He didn't LIKE those conversations, he didn't LIKE being told that his life was as flimsy as wet cardboard and he was only keeping it together with strings and paperclips.
Have a rude jab of his own chopsticks back, childishly diverting Fudou's own to point elsewhere.]
Don't point your chopsticks, it's rude.
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[But Fudou pulls his chopsticks back and sits up straighter, sighing and taking another bite of his chicken.]
Your body isn't a factory to be run, Sakuma.
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[A hand moves up to adjust his bangs, a little nervous tic he had whenever he was speaking about something he wasn't all too comfortable with.]
Time gets away from me sometimes, is all. I still go to Teikoku's grounds to play soccer.
[Even if it's by himself. Even if it's just him and Miyabino.]
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[Fudou has been away too long to recognize it as a tic, but he takes note of it, to remember it.]
Do you want to play with me later?
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[His face softens, pulling out a piece of vegetable to pop in his mouth. Truth be told, so much had changed in the ten years he'd held Teikoku. Koutei Penguin 7, Last Death Zone, Penguin Carnival, Penguin the Hand...so many new hissatsu and so many obstacles overcome.
He was a little excited to share it with someone from Teikoku who knew. Someone who paid attention.]
I'm not sure how well I'd be able to keep up with someone who went pro.
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You'd be a better challenge than most guys I know.
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[He smiles, putting a bit of rice into his mouth.]
Overseas not giving you the challenge you thought?
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Hakuryuu's been more fun.
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What you teach him you can see as he grows. You're more than just a coach or a trainer, you're what he looks to put on the field. It's a little more personal than playing professional, I think.
We never had anyone quite like that...but it feels good seeing your own efforts show in the ones you teach. Miyabino...he knows Teikoku soccer better than anyone. It's something I'm proud of him for.
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[He pokes at his food idly with the chopsticks, not sure how to respond to Sakuma's comment about Hakuryuu. He knows the boy cared about him, and he knows that they've warmed up to each other significantly over the last few weeks. Hakuryuu relaxed more in that apartment, moving about more freely and less silently, but when someone says it out loud like that...]
When I watch that kid talk to you, it makes me think of Endou back during FFI when he talked to Coach Kudou or Hibiki. I think it's a lot more personal for you and him than you're putting it, too.
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He wanted to be like someone he himself held in such high esteem.
But there's doubt there. Like he can't truly take that compliment without admitting to his many, many faults.]
Maybe.
It seems like we've both found someone like that in our lives. It's a challenge in its own right.
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[Sakuma doesn't accept the compliment, but Fudou doesn't push it onto him. He stuffs a few more pieces of food into his mouth, chewing quietly. One would say that the tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, but Fudou doesn't mind it so much. At least it exists. At least Sakuma let it exist again, after he cut it off the way he did.]
You're doing that with hundreds of kids here, and they answer to you.
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What they had now was pretty fragile, but roots could still take hold. They could rebuild what they'd lost.
It's not something Sakuma gets his hopes up too much for, though. After all, he's the one who's always left behind. He'll be the one standing still, like he always has.]
They believe in Teikoku's soccer. I just show them the path as I know it.
[And then, a bit softer.]
After all, we both know what it's not.
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[Fudou doesn't argue against Sakuma. Really, he hasn't been argumentative about anything since his return to Japan, and when his eyes flicker up from his food to that piercing brown eye, his blue ones gaze at him through slightly furrowed brows. Fudou's eyes, once wide and ready to mock, now carried more of a searching, pensive look.
Europe had provided him an escape. Europe had also provided him years of isolation from the past with plenty of time to think, and when he looked at Sakuma, those thoughts always rose to the surface. But he keeps chewing his food to keep them at bay.]
... I watched some of Japan's soccer while I was in Europe, too. Middle school soccer.
Teikoku's soccer under you, even if with the Sector around, was always impressive.
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He tries not to sound overly pleased as he answers, but anyone who knew Sakuma well enough knows when he's bluffing. In actuality, he could talk for hours about his team, and how they seemed to follow him and his orders with undying loyalty.
'Commander Kidou's soccer' was not entirely false, but it certainly wasn't entirely true, either. It's the answer he gives, though, reluctantly curbing is enthusiasm for the moment.]
Commander Kidou's soccer takes the best of Teikoku and puts it to its limits. And the kids themselves are the ones who mastered Koutei Penguin 7.
I...we only provided what was necessary for them to complete it.
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[He tried to be careful with Sakuma. He was on thin ice, and he did not have any right to say what was right or what was wrong about the way this man lived his life (if it could be called living at all). As far as he was concerned, he played a great role in stranding him on a path that led to this present, and all he could do -- the least he could do -- was try to dig Sakuma's out of this dark, endless cave.
But there were some things he had to put his foot down about.]
This best of Teikoku exists 'cause someone took over and did all the hard work while the guy was off in Italy taking credit for shit he didn't do. The kids mastered 7, sure, but the one who created it, and the one who paved the path and built up Teikoku's strength thus far?
That was you, Sakuma.
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[An outburst he catches himself saying, catching his own tone and immediately pulling it back as quickly as it'd come out. It was true, though...he loved Kidou for all he'd done, all he'd accomplished, and for giving him a reason to stand on his own two legs again. A man he'd watched leave Teikoku more than once and leaving him behind to hold the fort in his place. And in that very same place...he'd found Fudou, another friend he found himself almost inseparable to...
Someone who also left Teikoku, and even Japan while leaving him still rooted here.
Fudou's words continue, and Sakuma falls into silence as he listens, having no more objections for the moment. There's idle stirring of his rice, listening to Fudou's harsh, but true words. Even Miyabino, who had always said it was Kidou's soccer, always looked to Sakuma when he said it. And Fudou's compliments hit him in much the same way.
It's confusing, and it makes his heart race just thinking about the idea that he had been a driving force for what Teikoku was. He'd always been so quick to default to giving Kidou the credit. He didn't mind it, he told himself. Kidou was the mastermind behind a lot of things both on and off the field. But maybe a small...small dark part of himself wished he would be the one who was praised.]
Do you...really mean that?
[It slips out before he can stop himself.]
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[Fudou sets his own chopsticks down, leaning back in the chair some and running a hand through his hair with a sigh. It's not as coarse and dry as it used to be after the child at his apartment handed him some actual, proper shampoo. Now it was fluffier, and he appreciated those additional health points, but now it made it impossible to keep from falling in his face. Oh well.]
... And that goes both ways. I mean what I say.
Maybe Kidou's the name that's on all the papers and he's the one the media pisses its pants over, anyone who knows anything can see that you're the one that's been running the show.
I watched some of their practice earlier this week too. They listen to you well.
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[He'd half expected it to be a joke, some sneering comment about how Sakuma had done well...for a trainer. But no, Fudou never did say anything for friendship or just to be nice. He either meant it or he didn't, and that's the part that gets Sakuma the most as he shoves rice into his mouth, buying himself some time before he hast to confront that.
An awful decision, really. It only gave him time to consider how that made him feel, his heart encased in ice deep down starting to thaw as if Fudou had put a match up to its frozen prison. Deep down, he wants to fight it. Shove away that comment and continue to live in the darkness he made for himself.
But that light was so tempting....
He stands up abruptly, chopsticks laid across that takeout container and hands pushing himself out of his seat.]
I should go.
[It's frantic, almost comical, how hurriedly he grabs his jacket and walks out that door, closing it behind him.
Sorry Fudou.]
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