“Of course, Sanosuke-san,” she agrees, and he can see it in her eyes that she is tired. Blissfully happy, yes… but tired.
Sanosuke invokes God quite often in her presence.
Kondou quiets. Sanosuke pales. For a moment, no one speaks.
“I… I think I need to get home,” Sanosuke says. He stands abruptly without meeting anyone’s eyes and moves toward the door. As he passes behind Heisuke, Souji could swear the younger’s become as wide as saucers.
When the door shuts, Kondou has the grace to look abashed. “Was it something I said?”
“I-I am being honest with you? H-Harada-san? You’re scaring me.”
Suddenly, she’s being crushed to a broad, nearly bare chest, and her face is ten shades of red even as she startles. “Sanosuke-san!”
“God dammit,” he mumbles, angry with himself. He nuzzles his face into her hair. “Yes, Chizuru, Sanosuke. Not ‘Harada-san.’ Never that.”
That’s not to say he’s frustrated with her, or annoyed by her chargine, but rather… he’s curious. So curious, indeed, that he finds himself thinking of her far more than he should. He wonders what it means that she is young and inexperienced, and late at night–but only then–he reflects on the longing in her gaze, that subtle, hidden heat which reminds him that she’s really not a little girl at all.