om_main | Paige and Shinobi, Backdated 12 Feb., '13

Shinobi takes Paige on a little shopping trip. It is a predictably over-the-top experience.

Paige still wasn't sure how Shinobi had talked her into this, but attempting to rebuff his offer to buy her a dress had only made him more determined and telling him that she'd already acquired one (a blue, flowing garment on loan from Betsy that fit her almost perfectly) had apparently been the final straw. Or maybe that had been the reluctant admission that her hopes had initially been set on something red. Wherever her misstep had been, the offer had become a demand and he'd been a few fragments of restraint away from dragging her out of the mansion with him. Now, sitting in the passenger seat of a car that probably cost more than her parents' house, the prospect seemed less outlandish than it initially had. But no less overwhelming.

She leaned back in the seat, silence lapsing momentarily between them (apart from the music pulsing through the speakers) as they passed another sign announcing the approach of New York City. It was almost bafflingly far to come for one dress. Pushing back her hair with fidgeting fingers, she turned her gaze back to the boy behind the wheel. "No point in tellin' you....you don't need to do this. Is there?" Especially not when she'd already said as much two or three times before.

"Not even the faintest," Shinobi replied, his tone jolly, but with steel just beneath the affable surface he presented. He tried to keep his expression more mild than maniacal as they raced down the road between Westchester and New York City, mildly disappointed that she'd declined his offer to let her drive, but making the most of the opportunity to serve as chauffeur for a bit. "We are getting you the dress of your dreams, Paige-Sensei, and there's no use arguing. I've already roused my tailor and instructed her to get some designs and fabrics ready.

He shot her a sideways glance. "Unless you'd prefer I call her back and suggest her efforts to this point have been for nothing? I think she's even prepared a little light lunch for us, while you're deciding on what you like."

"Tailor?!" Paige shot up straight in the seat beside his, her expression caught in a humorous amalgamation of shock, disbelief, and apparent dismay that she'd unknowingly taken part in rousing anyone, "I thought we were just..." Shopping for a dress. But that hadn't been what he'd meant. Perhaps, after Betsy's offer of having one of her dresses tailored to fit, it shouldn't have surprised her as much as it did, but her head was reeling and there wasn't much she could do about that. The two of them still spoke different languages. She shook her head like someone coming out of a deep sleep and trying to wake up, then fell back against her seat, her protests effectively silenced by Shinobi's point that calling it off now would be even more of a hassle.

Her hands returned to fidgeting in her lap and she tried to let the idea sink in: a dress designed for her. She couldn't even picture it. Well, apart from the price tag. "You need to let me help pay for this," she said abruptly, looking at him with a now serious expression, "It's too much. I won't feel right just lettin' you..."

Why did all of her expressions have to be so unbearably endearing? It made concentrating on the road an impossible chore. Shinobi slowed as they entered the outskirts of the city, expertly navigating a labyrinth of side streets, though he seemed to grow increasingly nervous and attentive as traffic began to thicken. Still, he kept an eye on Page as much as possible. She was too cute for words.

"Too much?" he repeated thoughtfully. "I don't think so. It seems the least I can do to express my gratitude. I mean, I can't think of any particular reason you should have agreed to let me escort you to the dance other than charity. Or possibly some kind of short-term brain trauma." Shinobi shrugged. "It's just a dress, Paige. Yes, I suppose it will cost quite a bit more than the typical high school student would be willing to pay for something for a disposable holiday soiree, but ultimately it's only a dress. And I must admit, it would be a touch discomfiting to try to explain a dual-payment plan to Haruka-san."

His gaze returned to the road, and he rounded a corner at speed. "This is not an attempt to obligate you, you know. I'm trying to be ... nice. Though I'll admit, I may be a little out of practice. Occasional errors may be unavoidable."

Normally, Paige would've noticed the gradual change in Shinobi's demeanor as the suburbs thickened into city streets, but with everything that was moving by her window and through her mind the difference evaded her attention. She focused on his words instead. "It is nice," she answered, her voice earnest because she meant that and because he somehow seemed to need the reassurance, "It's < i>beyond nice. It's sweet. It's just a lot. And I'm not...used to people just handin' me somethin' like that." She thought momentarily of all the hours she'd worked in the bookstore, all the money she'd scraped together to send home to her family, and wondered how much of that effort it would've taken for just one outing like this one. "Especially when they don't owe me anything."

Turning in her seat, she fixed him with a pair of light eyes. "And I'm goin' with you because I want to." Aware of the heavy atmosphere developing in the car, she managed a smile and teased him carefully, "You sure are self-deprecatin' today. I didn't think that was your style."

"It's not," he agreed. "I'm just distracted by all the damned traffic." As if to emphasize the point, he laid on the horn suddenly and swerved around a rust-colored coup that had stopped suddenly in front of them. Shinobi's knuckles were white where they wrapped around the steering wheel.

He exhaled slowly, in something almost like a sigh. Even he wasn't entirely sure why he was going to all this trouble, but he knew he wanted to, and he also knew he was not about to be dissuaded. "My advice would be not to think of it as anything extravagant or out of the ordinary. I am buying you a dress because I want to, because it will make me happy to make sure you are dressed exactly as you would wish to be." Shinobi struggled for a moment to both navigate the labyrinthine streets of New York City and explain his proposal in a manner Paige would find palatable; though heedless of money himself, he understood that others had a different perspective, and he didn't want to seem dismissive or patronizing. Not to her, anyway.

Gods, this was difficult.

"And I like the excuse to visit Haruka-san and enjoy a bit of her home-cooking?" he offered. "I'd really just prefer neither of us thought of this outing as a big deal. I'm doing this because I want to; you're accompanying me to the dance because you want to. I think that's enough, don't you? I mean," Shinobi paused, grasping for the most elegant way to phrase what he wanted to say, then offered, "I would like us to get used to each other, because I want to see more of you. I'd really very much prefer money didn't become ... a thing."

The sound of the horn and the sudden acceleration of the car made Paige flinch, sinking back into her seat. She'd only braved this kind of traffic once, from the back of a taxi cab while she made her way from the airport to Xavier's, and the memory wasn't any more reassuring than the current experience. But at least a car this nice had to have airbags. Somewhere in the midst of all that she'd lost her smile and, when she glanced at Shinobi's face, she didn't feel the need to rekindle it. She could see how tense he was too, the colorless shade of his hands and the uncharacteristic rigidity in his posture, and doubted it was just the road. But it still seemed all wrong that it could have anything to do with her.

"I'll try," she conceded once he'd finished, her voice softening a degree, "Not to think of it as a 'big deal'." She would fail, but she would at least try. "I don't want money to be a 'thing' either. And...you thinkin' of me and wantin' to spend time with me. That's nice already." She blushed some and lowered her eyes, only looking up at him again as the car rolled to a standstill at a red light. His tension was almost palpable in the small interior of the car. "...Are you okay, Shinobi?"

He offered a short, anxious laugh. "Not at all," he admitted. "I'm every stereotype you've ever heard about Asian drivers given form. Most probably because I never drive when I can pay someone else to do it for me. Fortunately," he added, bringing them to an only slightly jerking halt before a four-story brownstone that had been converted into a trendy clothing boutique, "We have arrived." A well-dressed Japanese man was waiting for them on the sidewalk, immaculately clear of snow. He opened the door first for Paige, then for Shinobi, who handed over the keys with no small relief.

Smiling, Shinobi offered her his gloved hand. "I do love any excuse to spend time with you, though," he said. "I've been practically haunting the library, lately." His voice lowered to a conspiratorial whisper as he held the door open for her. "I don't think Arthur likes me," he confided, "but Felix is an absolute treasure. I can see why you spend so much time there." With a shrug, he was quick to add, "Anyway, I think it's charming that money doesn't impress you. Though I find it just makes we want to spoil you even more."

Hearing Shinobi admit this so readily surprised Paige, at least until he nimbly dodged the subject with a joke and an escape out the driver's side door. She shook her head and stepped out onto the sidewalk, deciding not to press the matter and instead acknowledging the silent man with a warm smile and an uncertain nod. When he disappeared into the car without returning either, she looked back toward the black-haired boy. She was still caught off guard when he offered his hand to her, but managed to accept it more readily and with a marginally less visible blush than she had the last time. Then his words made her laugh and she forgot about both. "Arthur barely likes anybody," she assured him, "I wouldn't get all tied up in knots over it. But I guess I should've warned you. Sometimes I do my studyin' outside or in my room too." It occurred to her belatedly how much that could've sounded like an invitation to her bedroom and that manageable blush darkened.

Thankfully, he'd stepped away to open the door and she hurried inside the brownstone, hooking her hands behind her back and continuing without so much as a breath. Maybe he wouldn't notice. "It's not charmin', really. It's...conditionin'?" Then she looked at him over her shoulder, "And you don't need to do more. Really. You're as likely to put me into shock as anything."

Shinobi had not, in fact, failed to notice the possible implications of Paige's previous statement, but limited his response to a smile that only just feel short of blossoming into an outright smirk. He did, however, make a note to keep what she'd said in mind, in the event he ever did decide to pop by her room for a moment. For now, her crimson cheeks were pleasant enough.

"I know I don't need to!" he protested. "If I thought I were under any sort of obligation, I probably wouldn't bother. I so dislike feeling obliged." He looked around at the ranks of fashionable dresses and elegant suits draped over the mannequins standing here and there on raised platforms. After a few moments, a small, wizened Asian woman in a sumptuous silk kimono appeared from the back, approaching them silently and offering the two a slight bow, which Shinobi returned with far more respect than he generally liked to display. He greeted her warmly in Japanese, which she returned crisply, and the two proceeded to converse in a manner that almost looked like an argument, with Shinobi gesticulating animatedly and the woman countering with cool, clipped replies.

Finally, she struck him lightly on the arm with a fan she produced from the sleeve of her kimono, and Shinobi grinned. "Tell Haruka-obaachan what you'd like, Paige. She doesn't speak English, if she can help it, but she understands it better than most native-speakers. And she's agreed to make you whatever you want."

Momentarily distracted by the opulent environment, Paige lost her chance to pursue the point. The arrival of the small, elegantly dressed woman made her silent and she bowed belatedly, following Shinobi's example through the unfamiliar (but clearly respectful) gesture. When she raised her head and found the two bantering in Japanese, she remained silent, fidgeting and feeling her inadequacy quite acutely. She hadn't known the boy was actually bilingual. The feeling only intensified when she found herself thrown under the spotlight. "Well, I..." She straightened, managing a warm but nervous smile, "First...thank you for agreein' to see us. I know it's short notice." Her mother hadn't raised her to be impolite and she wasn't going to start now. And she didn't actually know how to answer anyway.

Tucking a wisp of blonde hair behind her ear, she pushed her mind to come up with something. Spending time with the other girls from Xavier's had introduced her to some of the right words at least, but she still didn't know how to use them or what she wanted. What would look right on her. "I guess, I'm lookin' for something..." She gestured in a modest, not-too-low V on her chest, "With a halter-neck that's sort of flowin' at the bottom. So it's easy to move in. Maybe in red?" She glanced at Shinobi helplessly, asking silently if that was adequate and if she could please stop talking now.

Shinobi's eyes widened in a mixture of surprise and delight--he hadn't really expected much more of an opinion from Paige than a color and perhaps a very nebulous preference as to the cut. She'd obviously put quite a bit more thought into this enterprise than he had anticipated. It was curiously gratifying.

Meanwhile, Haruka-san merely inclined her head, studying the blond girl narrowly. She then chirped something curt to Shinobi, who grinned and bobbed his head enthusiastically in reply. When he turned back to Paige, he was practically beaming. "She thinks she might have a few things you might like--at the very least, a starting point from which you can derive inspiration. While the girl's are getting ready, we've been invited to have tea in the upstairs parlor." He sighed. "A pity the weather isn't warmer; the view from the roof is really quite dazzling. Still, at least the company's good."

He beckoned for her to follow him up a flight of stairs beyond the fitting rooms at the rear of the boutique.

The look on Shinobi's face and the notion of deriving < i>inspiration from clothing made Paige wonder if she'd taken all of this too far and she blushed, feeling more than a little ridiculous. But she nodded and offered an earnest (if clumsy) collection of 'thank you's to the Japanese woman before turning to follow Shinobi up the stairs toward the parlor. "Tea would be nice," she replied once they were out of earshot, exhaling a note of awkward laughter, "Sounds more like me anyway."

At the top of the stairs, Shinobi turned right to lead Paige into a small, austere side room: it's most prominent furnishings were a low wooden table surrounded by plush cushions and a window that occupied almost the entirety of the street-facing wall from floor to ceiling. After removing his shoes, he settled himself with the view at his side and began serving from the pot that had been left at the center of the table, beside a plate piled high with a variety of dango and a bowl of blue and lavender hydrangea. The few other decorations, all of a notably Far Eastern theme, were understated, but of obviously superior quality.

"In Japan, tea is practically--sometimes literally--a philosophy unto itself," he said conversationally as he sat back on his calves. "That really does sound like you."

Continuing to follow his example, Paige slipped off her shoes near the door (wishing she'd worn something nicer than old sneakers now that they were sitting there beside shiny black wingtips) and joined Shinobi at the table. Still embarrassed, she shook her head at his comment (compliment?) and smiled, even as she changed the subject. "This place is really somethin', isn't it?" she said, as much in admiration for this one room as she was for the entire shop.

Folding her hands in her lap, she allowed her eyes to wander, taking in the space again before she looked at him. "And you too. I...didn't know you actually spoke Japanese."

Though clearly pleased by her compliment, Shinobi elected to conceal his smirk, for a change, by raising his mug to his lips and taking a sip of steaming green tea. "Certainly, I've been told that I am any number of more and less flattering things in my time. I'm sure a few of them must be reasonably accurate appraisals, neh? But yes. My time in exile would have been even more unbearable if I'd never learned how to hold a conversation--how could I properly pester anyone, if I couldn't make myself understood? I speak French, too, in the event you're inclined to find that impressive. So I can flatter you outrageously in three languages!"

Setting the cup down again carefully, he folded his hands. "And you are right about this place; it's nothing short of amazing, isn't it? Haruka-san makes most of my clothes--has done since I lived in Tokyo. Much easier to access, now that we live in the same hemisphere."

All the charm in the world couldn't smooth over the word 'exile' and Paige frowned very faintly, watching him and picking up the tea that had been poured for her. One sip was all it took for her to hold it back and begin carefully blowing on it, but the slight pain of a burned tongue didn't distract her from what Shinobi had said. Her light eyes lingered on the mug for a few seconds, then she placed it back on the table and looked at him again. "I'm inclined," she confirmed, keeping her tone light because trying to pin Shinobi into a serious conversation tended to be as effective as trying to catch the wind. But then he answered her question before she'd even had a chance to ask it. He'd been in Tokyo.

Then surprise derailed her from further questions. She'd made his clothes when he'd lived on the other side of the world? She couldn't even imagine how expensive or how inconvenient that must've been. But maybe it was one familiar thing he'd been unwilling to give up during his 'exile'. "You...must really love Miss Haruka's work," she answered slowly, still attempting to wrap her head around it, "To go to all that trouble."

"It would have been more trouble to go without it," he reassured her. "But her work is exquisite. I've no doubt you'll be pleased with what she conceives for you. I have certainly always been!"

While that didn't make a bit of sense to Paige (given that Tokyo was bound to have clothing stores and tailors both), she didn't protest. "I'm sure it'll be beautiful," she agreed on a sheepish, momentary smile. She still felt out of place, a silly little girl playing dress up, but she was curious to see how it would all turn out. Maybe even eager if she was being entirely honest. She traced her finger along the rim of the mug. "How long have you been coming to Miss Haruka?"

He appeared to mull that question over a moment, as though it had never occurred to him before. "All my life, really," Shinobi said at last. "As long as I can remember, anyway." He paused, and attempted to conceal his moment of hesitation with another sip of tea. Then," She was a close friend of my mother's."

The significance of that pause, and what followed, wasn't lost on Paige. Neither was the tense of the word 'was'. Her finger stilled against the lip of the mug, then her hand drew back and settled on the table, half-intertwined with the other. Everything the boy had said suddenly made more sense to her and she thought, momentarily, about how every trace of her father still felt precious to her. True, it was a sizable conclusion to jump to, but it was the only one that made any sense. She looked at him from across the table and nodded her understanding, taking several seconds to produce a gentle (if somewhat sad) smile. "I bet she'd be happy," the girl said at last, "That two people so important to her are still so close."

Shinobi held his mug just below his chin, quite deliberately refusing to acknowledge the sad, understanding smile Paige now wore. Sympathy was something he might have sought in the past, but he had no need of it now. No use for it. It changed nothing. When he'd been small and vulnerable and it might have availed him something, perhaps, but now the sentiment was empty of meaning. The effort, of course, was appreciated, on some level, but he wasn't sure how to respond to it, other than with his usual glibness and impudence.

"Not really all that close, I imagine--the Japanese are very hands-off sort of folks, you know? Whereas I have virtually no regard for personal boundaries." Shinobi shrugged. "But yes, I suppose now you mention it, she may have been happy. As I recall, Mama was very good with people. At least, much better than I seem to be."

Admittedly, the pang of hurt surprised Paige. She'd had no reason to expect anything different from him and it was the risk she'd taken by being presumptuous, but it still hurt to be held at arm's length by someone that she considered to be a friend. Or something like a friend. Especially when she thought she understood some of what he'd gone through losing a parent. "Bein' different doesn't mean you're not close," she pointed out, her tone soft and informative, but no argumentative. Finally, she took another sip of the tea. Lowering the drink from her mouth she cupped it in her hands and added slowly, "But I'm sorry if you're not...if you don't talk about her. I'm not tryin' to push you."

"I know," Shinobi stared at the earthenware cup between his hands. "I know. You're ... really just too good, did you know that? It's true. I would never have mentioned Mama to a casual acquaintance this way if I didn't ... trust her." To some extent. His gaze remained riveted upon the half-empty vessel. "It's not that I don't want to talk about her. It's only that nobody's ever really seemed that interested before. And I don't want to make light of her memory by throwing her out there to anybody who trades a few sentences with me. Mama deserves better than that."

Paige felt more humbled and embarrassed than 'good', with pricks of guilt pushing at the edges of her mind because she'd misunderstood him so completely. But. If I didn't...trust her. His words still left her with a feeling of sad warmth that she couldn't pretend wasn't there and she watched him from across the table. "Then...thank you," she said, "For trustin' me." Slowly, she set down the cup of tea, resting her hands on the table. One of which was faintly outstretched and half-upturned. An invitation if he wanted it, an idle placement of her arm if he didn't. "I know how precious those memories are. Even just the little ones."

Though he still refrained from looking directly at Paige, his hand found hers, fingers curling around her palm gently, in the event she decided to draw away. "The little ones may be the most important," he murmured. "If they're the only ones you have." Shinobi glanced up, catching her eye, and smiled. "You're welcome, my dear. And I'm sorry for boring you with my personal drama this way. Really, I'm a terrible host."

Silent at that, feeling the ache of that admission, Paige squeezed Shinobi's hand. When he did look up and smile at her, she blushed softly as if she'd been caught at something and loosened her grip without drawing back. "You're not," she promised and smiled as she added, "And I don't think you even know how to bore me."

He was happy to keep her hand in his for the time being, reassured in spite of himself by that momentary tightening of her grip. "I certainly hope not," Shinobi confessed. "That would be a failing against which I fear my poor ego could not stand." He grinned. "Normally, this would be the point at which I tried to kiss you, but I suspect prudence is the order of the day. In any event, thank you for listening. Your indulgence is very much appreciated."

The boy's smile and the (admittedly playful) threat of a kiss might not've been enough by themselves to make Paige's draw back her hand, but at that moment the door leading into the small tea room began to open and she recoiled with haste and a flush of heat in her cheeks. It was Miss Haruka, accompanied by a small train of girls in a variety of dresses (most of them red and most of them short), some of which wore coy expressions that suggested her retreat hadn't been quite fast enough. She looked at them, folded her hands in her lap, and looked back at Shinobi; she had no idea what was expected of her now and she was too flustered to even attempt thinking on her feet.

It was impossible to tell precisely what he was thinking as Paige quickly withdrew her hand; his smile didn't waver for so much as a moment, though there was perhaps a certain enigmatic quality to it. Shinobi held her gaze for a few moments after Haruka-san and the models entered, then turned his attention to the sumptuous spectacle, largely in red, that had been laid out for them. "Yare yare, quite the show, don't you think? Our generous hostess has outdone herself yet again." Said hostesses glacial expression did not noticeably warm, but she offered a shallow bow to acknowledge the compliment.

He turned at the waist, making an expansive gesture toward the line of pretty ladies in their impeccably crafted dresses--and the occasional gown--and offered a merry flash of a grin. "Now, my dear, comes the fun part! Give them a good once-over. Decide what you like. You can even mix and match, if that's what you prefer. Today, we are all about Paige, and, more specifically, making Paige deliriously happy."

Paige, still looking at Shinobi instead of the line of slender models, nodded slowly. Somewhere in the midst of his words the situation had gone from foreign to surreal, but that uncertain excitement she'd been feeling all day now crescendoed and she couldn't stop herself from smiling. Besides, it wasn't every day that someone did so much just to make her happy; it was incredibly sweet when she thought about it, no matter how crazy it still seemed to her. "I'm gettin' there," she told him, gratitude showing in her eyes before she finally turned to look at the girls in the meticulous, beautiful dresses.

"Good," Shinobi replied, resting his chin in his palm and watching Paige study the models with the same intent scrutiny that so often characterized her expressions in the library, when she was immersed in one of her dense academic tomes. It was nice, he decided, to see her spending a bit of that attention on something a little more frivolous--too much practicality couldn't possibly be good for anyone. No, if it was the last thing he did, he would rescue the damsel fair from squandering her precious youth preparing for productive, responsible adulthood. Clearly, that sort of influence had been sorely lacking in her experience to this point.

A touch impudently, he added, "Getting there, as they say, is half the fun."