Lots of ellipses in this one

Chouji thought the worst person to find him right now would be a cop. But seeing who had actually found him, he was dead wrong. 

“Chouji? Chouji Mizuhara?” the person asked.

She stepped in front of her car’s headlights, making her waist-length raven hair shine. As much as he wish he didn’t, he recognized that voice. He recognized that hair. He recognized that face. How could he not, when he spent an embarrassing amount of time daydreaming about those features and who those features belonged to? And had for half his life? Because standing from of him and Morty was Fukako.

Chouji’s palms got sweaty. 

“H-H-Hi, Fukako.”

Great, now I’m the one stuttering, he thought.

She took careful steps forward, as if approaching wild animals who might run off. She looked Chouji over with furrowed brows. Chouji realized how horrible he looked, walking by the side of the road in a sweat-soaked hospital gown. And because of the fall from the window, sweat wasn’t the only bodily fluid staining the gown. 

“Is that blood?” she asked.

Chouji waited an unfortunate amount of time before saying, “…Maybe.”

Fukako looked him in the eyes, making him take a step back. It was far more intimate than what he was used to.

“I thought you were in the hospital.”

“I was,” he said, tugging at his gown. “But I got dispatched. See? I’m all better now.” He raised his arms up as if that were somehow proof.

Fukako paused, then tilted her head.

“Where are your glasses?” she asked.

Chouji thought he was tired and out of energy, but the sudden adrenaline spike in his blood begged to differ. He froze with his arms still held up. How the hell was he suppose to explain away something like that.

“Oh. Oops. Haha, I, uh. Um. I… forgot them. When picking up my stuff. Cuz, cuz I was. In such a rush… to—”

She hugged him.

It took a second for Chouji to register what was happening. Then his body temperature increased so much he worried he would have to be hospitalized again. Or maybe this was still the hospital and he was in a delirious coma. Because there was no way this was real. There was no way that his crush was hugging him so close he could smell her floral shampoo, all while she was dirtying her own clothes with his sweat and blood and dirt from the road. There was no way that could be happening.

And yet, it was. 

Fukako pulled back and Chouji was shocked to see her eyes glistened with tears. In all his years knowing her, he couldn’t remember her being this emotional. She was always calm and stoic.

“Thank you,” she whispered. It left her like an exhale, so soft Chouji almost missed it.

His brain was still preoccupied with the hug, so his next words were “For what?”

The absurdity of that comment somehow made Fukako smile. “You saved my life. You could have died. You nearly did,” she said.

Hearing Fukako of all people say those words hit Chouji like a truck barreling down a hill. Because she was right. He didn’t sacrifice anything, but he was willing to. He didn’t lose anything, but he could have. How had he not realized that sooner?

Chouji was pulled from his thoughts when Fukako removed her arms from his shoulders and took a step back. 

“Who’s this?” She gestured towards Morty, who was awkwardly standing to the side the entire time.

Chouji balked at him, then at Fukako. “You can see him?” he asked.

“I mean it’s a bit dark so he blends into the background with his dark cloak, but yes. Unlike you, I don’t need glasses.”

“Right. Well, he’s… uh… he’s a friend. He picked me up from the hospital,” Chouji said.

“Oh, okay. But where’s your ride?”

He scratched his neck, trying to think of an answer.

“We don’t have one,” Morty said. Fukako patted the hood of her car.

“Do you need one?” she asked.

Chouji and Morty shared a look. Both of them knew that they shouldn’t drag another person into this hunt for Chouji, especially one with no connection to this strange world of Reapers. Both of them were too tired to care.

Eternally grateful, the two shuffled into the backseat of the Fiat 500.

They all sat in a tired, awkward but not unpleasant silence as enshadowed trees passed them by. The only sound was the muted hum of car’s inner machinery as they drove on. Chouji and Morty were nearly asleep; they didn’t realize how tired they were after all that walking.

Now that he wasn’t directly in front of Chouji, his brain was functioning somewhat better.

“What were you doing driving around at night?” he asked.

Fukako looked at him through the rearview mirror, making his heart skip a beat.

“I love driving at night,” she said. “I find it therapeutic. The roads are almost entirely empty and there’s no one outside to distract you. So it’s much easier for me to slip into a flow state and relax. It’s not the most environmentally friendly, but we all have our vices.”

A couple kilometers passed without a word. Then it was Fukako’s turn.

“Are you into farming?” she asked.

“No, not really,” Chouji said.

“I was asking your friend.”

Morty, who was transfixed with the passing landscape, perked up.

“U-Um, me? Why do you ask?” he asked.

“Your scythe.”

Morty’s pale face got even more pale. In his daze, he didn’t hide his scythe when Fukako first appeared. In fact, he didn’t hide himself at all. He chided himself. A more experienced Reaper would have done such things instinctively. He still had a lot to learn.

Chouji shared a panicked glance with Morty, who smiled against his own internal anxiety.

“Yup! Ha ha. You know it! I love farming! Especially the old fashioned way! They don’t make them like they used to,” he said with a manic grin.

Fukako eyed him through the rearview. “What’s your name?”

“M-Morty.”

“Well, Morty,” she said, “I have something of a green thumb myself. I have a few succulents in my room.” There was a proud note to her voice.

“Okay,” Morty said.

More minutes passed after that conversation died.

“What’s your address?” Fukako asked.

Chouji and Morty once again shared a glance, which so far had not helped either of them. As much as he loved them, Chouji had no desire to see his parents. Well, he did have the desire, but he knew that he wasn’t supposed to. His parents were the vigilant type; they would certainly notice somebody getting dropped off in front of their house. In fact, he didn’t even want to risk getting dropped off in the same neighborhood as his parents. 

“Um…” Chouji said.

“Or would my place be better?”

If Chouji were drinking something, he would’ve done a spittake. Due to the lack of beverage in his mouth, he simply choked on his own saliva. What the hell did she just say? Chouji looked at the rearview mirror. Fukako was waiting for his response.

“Oh I couldn’t, I wouldn’t want to impose on your parents and—”

“My parents aren’t home.”

Now Chouji knew for sure he was in a coma. Getting invited to his crush’s place without her parents being home? That was every teenage boy’s wet dream, sometimes literally. Chouji blushed as he tried to shoo the lewd implications from his mind. Besides, it’s not like anything would actually happen. Morty would be there, third-wheeling.

(Why did that make him blush harder?)

“Oh. Then your place would be great, thanks,” Chouji managed to say without his voice cracking.
And some minutes later, they arrived. Fukako introduced Chouji and Morty to her modest home. It was a typical Japanese family home in the suburbs. Maybe a bit larger than others, with some more greenery. But neither of those features could be appreciated in the dead of night.

As they stepped inside, Morty nearly kept going without taking off his shoes. Chouji had to emphasize his own removal of shoes for the Reaper to get the picture. He sheepishly followed suit. Continuing inwards, Chouji shook his head. Damn French people. They just don’t have any manners.

As the three of them walked into the kitchen, Chouji couldn’t help wondering something.

“Why are you doing this?” he asked.

Fukako poked her head from out of the fridge. “What do you mean?”

“Not to sound unappreciative, but you’re doing an awful lot for us and I struggle to see why.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Clearly you’re doing some weird stuff,” she said. “But I’m not going to pry. You saved my life. The very least I could do is help you.” She kept searching for whatever it was in her fridge. “You’re not doing anything illegal, right?”

Chouji thought on it for a moment. “I don’t think so?” he said.

“That’s good enough for me,” Fukako said.