&& ;; ɪ ʀɪsᴇ.

’at least she’s not so nervous that she can’t sit down.’ he thinks to himself, watching her with a gaze that held a faint look of concern, dismissing it only after she has seated herself.

to him, she still looks borderline-terrified, but he figures she’ll explain properly because she is who she is: mabui, a woman so smart and capable that if he had to leave the village in anyone’s hands all of a sudden, it would likely be her. (he would hate to leave her with such a burden, but he knows she’d figure out a way to keep everything running correctly, just as she always did.)

she knew so many of kumogakure’s secrets, and that in itself ought to tell just how much he trusted (and depended, really) on her, for nobody else in his life–not even his brother–had been told as much vital information from A himself.

he raises his brows when she finally admits to him that her behaviour isn’t his fault, and he lets out an audible sigh of relief–only to clear his throat seconds later in an attempt at disguising it.

afterward, he finds himself fixing a look that somehow manages to be curious and worried at the same time on her.

“while i’m glad that it isn’t my fault, you ought to know by now that as long as i get an explanation for something, i don’t require apologies.”

ah, there’s that internal cringe, the minute sudden movement making it look as if a cold chill had run itself down his back despite nerves making him feel the exact opposite.

“so, tell me. what exactly have you done that would make you behave differently? i promise i won’t get mad.”

--      the sigh that leaves    his lips, one he’d tried to conceal but of course she’d seen it,  as she’d seen many things that he’d tried to hide from her despite his best efforts,   calms her nerves.  she’s still tense, still nervous at having her secret near exposed;  it had been there, constant, clawing up her throat where she’d confined and shoved it down and hidden it.

         she does not want to LIE to him.   that, she feels, would somehow be worse than the entirely inappropriate feelings she had somehow along the lines began to develop for her EMPLOYER of all people.   she wasn’t sure when things had begun to change; she’s not sure when the respect for how hard he worked turned into something more,  where she begun to see him in the light of a man she could be with more than a boss. 

          mabui does not want to lie to him.   but she is so AFRAID of his reaction to the truth.

      ❝ it’s, um ... ❞   it is so unlike her to falter as she is, to stumble over her words, to trail off.  the assistant does not want to worry him further, would HATE to cause him any further discomfort but she knows the longer she holds it in, the harder it will be for the both of them -- more importantly for    H  I M .   and what right did she have to take him away from the village because he was busy worrying for her?

       ❝   lord raikage, i have to first and foremost apologize.  this is entirely my fault and it’s nothing that you’ve done to provoke this.  ❞  she warns him because she KNOWS that he will blame himself, that he would and could find a way to carry it and she cannot allow it, will not allow him to add something she’d done to the heavy load on his shoulders. 

       eyes avert as her cheeks redden slightly;  it’s hard to admit despite her resolve and she steels herself before focusing back on him. breathe in, breathe out.  ❝ i’m nervous around you because i’ve developed, ah ... feelings that are entirely inappropriate for the workplace. ❞

“hm? oh–yes. have a seat.”

he suddenly looks rather uncomfortable with her presence, gesturing vaguely toward the chair opposite his own before fixing his gaze on a nearby wall.

“mabui, for a fair number of years now, you’ve been such a great asset to this village that i’d be a fool to try and claim anything less. you’ve always done your job.. jobs, really, very professionally. but here lately… i’ve noticed you slipping.”

“everyone makes mistakes, and i doubt anyone who didn’t work in close proximity with you would even notice. but the thing is that i only ever hear of you acting this way around me, neveranybody else.”

he pauses to clear his throat, forcing himself to fix his gaze on her.

“what i want to know is–why? is there something i’ve done without realizing to make you so nervous? or scared? or if it’s neither of those things, then explain it to me. you’re a very intelligent person–smarter than i am, i’d wager to say–so surely you understand that i cannot fix a problem or correct my behavior if i don’t know what the issue is to begin with.”

-- she appears calm, collected, and cool on the outside; quietly, she thanks him and takes a seat in the chair, the picture of a poised, competent young lady. her legs cross neatly and her attention is given to him fully as if it were no different than any other time she’d spoken to him.

     inside, however, she is rigid;  he’d said he’d noticed some things that needed to resolved. that they’d become ISSUES unless they were resolved. she thought she’d kept it hidden so well, thought that she’d shoved these growing feelings down into the deepest part of herself and that they wouldn’t show. but her mouth was treacherous and allowed things to slip; confessing that she was worried for him, that she wasn’t sure what she’d do if he died. these things COULD be chalked up to something completely innocent, or, if one were to look hard enough, they could see what lay beneath. 

     her body was even more of a traitor; she found herself stiffening, made herself more aware of the way she spoke, the way she moved, where her eyes were ... all in an effort to keeps things hidden. 

     he believes it is HIS FAULT that she is acting this way. the admittance causes her to still momentarily and she does not respond at first, first relief flooding through her before the guilt hits her like a tidal wave. it is not his fault that she reacts this way, and more than not wanting him to be burdened with her feelings, she does not want him to be burdened with the thought that he somehow scares her.