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Mankai Company, as it turns out, has quite a few connections. There is, of course, their collaboration with GODza, as well as the Hyakka Troupe. Its First Generation members have a number of reputable names among them, and within the Second Generation, there are ties to the yakuza, at least two multinational corporations, and, as Madoka learns on a Saturday afternoon, the Zahran Royal Family.
He’s sitting at one of the tables they have set up in the courtyard, with an open notebook in front of him. It’s his writing notebook, scraps of monologues and dialogues and soliloquies scribbled on pages of lined paper. It’s a cool spring day, and the Crown Prince of Zahra is running around the courtyard, chasing after butterflies with Misumi and Citron.
His name is Tangerine, Misumi had introduced earlier, and this is his friend, Mika!
Madoka isn’t sure what to make of Mika. He’s spent the past half-hour standing perfectly still at the edge of the grass, hands behind his back as he watches Tangerine with a blank expression on his face. Inscrutable, unreadable. That’s how Madoka might describe him in a script, not too unlike how an outsider might describe Madoka himself.
Inscrutable and unreadable types, though, are the worst for Madoka. Even without comparing him to the effective mind reading that Minagi Tsuzuru does, he’s not the best at reading people. It’s a trained skill, to be sure, but he hasn’t honed it quite that well yet. It’s an awfully slow process for him, and it means that he can’t quite tell what Mika is thinking.
“Ah, Mika-san?”
Mika’s eyes flicker over at the sound of his name, and he tilts his head. Misumi told him that Mika doesn’t know much Japanese, that he’s here because he and Tangerine come in a set, so be nice to him, okay, Madoka?
So, Madoka tries his best, offering a stilted half smile and gesturing to the stone bench beside him. He’s not so good at smiling on purpose yet, but he’s getting better, he likes to think. “Aren’t you tired? You should rest a little.” To get his point across, he pats the top of the bench, then gestures to the courtyard. “You can still see them from here.”
Mika doesn’t move or say a word. Madoka isn’t sure if he’s being ignored, or if Mika’s trying to turn his words over in his head and make sense of them. After a moment, though, Mika comes to sit at the table with Madoka. He nods a little, and Madoka nods back, before turning back to his notebook.
It’s a moment after scribbling on and off that he feels someone watching him. When he looks up, Mika is staring intently at the pages of his notebook. Madoka instinctively shields it away, and Mika startles when he’s caught, his cheeks turning a few shades darker. “Ah…” Mika says, and his voice is softer than Madoka expected.
Mika hesitates. “Sorry,” he says in unsure Japanese. He points at Madoka’s notebook. “Pretty.”
Madoka looks down at his notebook, covered in writings. He supposes that for anyone who isn’t well-versed with the language, kanji and kana must look like a series of drawings on the paper. And he does like to think that his handwriting is nice. “Thank you,” he says. He pushes the notebook a little closer to Mika.
It should be fine, since he doesn’t really understand any of it. A little smile starts to spread across Mika’s lips as he flips through the pages, eyes tracing over the strokes. Like this, he’s a little less inscrutable and unreadable.
After a moment, Mika passes the notebook back, holding it carefully in his hands like it’s a precious item. “Pretty,” Mika repeats. “Like it.”
Madoka smiles at him. “Thank you,” he says. He pauses, unsure of what to say next, but then adjusts his position a little closer to Mika. He rolls one of his extra pens over. “I can teach you, if you want.”
Mika reaches out, as though to take the pen, but then stops just short. A smile crosses his lips -- it’s a familiar smile, one that Madoka often sees on Misumi, a little awkward and a little shameful. He shakes his head. “Not write,” he says, shaking his head shyly. “Not know.”
“Oh,” Madoka says softly. He supposes there might be no use for Mika to learn how to write, if his sole job is to look after the Crown Prince, but a pang of pain hits Madoka’s heart anyway. Writing is the one thing he knows how to do, after all, and he wonders what it would be like if he'd never even learned that.
He bites his lip, unsure of how to respond, and Mika looks away. That same awkward smile still plays on his lips. Madoka reaches over, and taps lightly on Mika’s arm. “It’s okay,” Madoka says when Mika looks back. He offers the pen again. “I can show you, if you want.”
Mika hesitates once more, but reaches over to pick the pen up. Madoka smiles at that, just a little upward curve at the edges of his mouth, smaller but less strained.
“Right or left?” Madoka asks, holding the appropriate hand up as he speaks. Maybe not for writing, but for other things that the Crown Prince’s friend and protector might need to know.
Mika looks down at his own hands, before waving the pen slightly. “Right,” he says, slowly and carefully.
It makes things easier for Madoka, at least, as he demonstrates how to properly hold the pen in his hand. Mika mimics his movement, peering closely at his hand at the way his fingers curl around the pen before copying it himself.
“Yeah,” Madoka says. “And then…”
He flips his notebook through to an empty set of pages, then places the nib of his pen to the paper as he draws a simple horizontal line. “Press down and write.”
Mika does, pressing the nib of the pen down onto the paper. It glides across the surface, barely leaving any ink on the paper, or even an indent, as though he’s trying too hard not to push too heavily. He frowns.
“It’s okay,” Madoka says. “Push more.” He makes a point of carefully pushing the pen harder into the paper. It’ll definitely leave an indent in the next page after this, but he finds that he doesn’t quite mind.
Mika repeats it, pressing down just a little bit harder, working out the careful balance of how hard to push down on the pen, something that Madoka figured out so long ago that it’s second nature. And maybe it’s because it’s second nature to him that Madoka finds it fascinating to see Mika press too hard, then frown, and try again a third time to find a middle ground.
“Oh!”
There’s a pleased grin forming on Mika’s face as he drags the pen across the paper, drawing a small, wobbly horizontal line like Madoka did on his own page. Madoka can’t help but feel his own smile tugging at his lips again.
“Yeah,” Madoka says. “Like that. And just keep practicing.”
Mika moves his hand to the right-hand side of the page and begins to write a slow and careful series of foreign script that Madoka isn’t familiar with. He doesn’t understand it at all, but he thinks he understands what Mika had meant earlier, when he’d called Madoka’s kanji pretty.
He points at the word when he’s finished, still a little wobbly and unsure, as a beginner’s handwriting often is, but Madoka barely notices it under the gentle light of Mika’s shy smile. “... it’s pretty,” Madoka says, which makes Mika’s smile soften as his cheeks flush faint pink.
“Tangerine,” he says.
As if summoned by the mention of his name, the Crown Prince of Zahra runs over to them with hair full of leaves, accompanied by his and Madoka’s respective older brothers. Already, the sun is beginning to approach the horizon.
“Hello! What is crack-a-lackin’, my good homies?”
Madoka blinks as Citron starts giggling behind his hand. Mika places the pen down and stands up, eyebrows furrowed slightly as he begins to remove the leaves from Tangerine’s hair. He says something in Zahran that Madoka doesn’t understand, but it makes Tangerine laugh.
“Hum, hum!” Citron says, and Madoka startles back at how suddenly the prince is already right beside him. Citron points at the name written on the notebook. “So good~! Did Madoka write this one also?”
Madoka shakes his head. “Ah… Mika wrote it.”
Citron seems pleased at that, clapping his hands together. “Tangerine!” he calls. “Look, look~! Look at what Mika wrote!”
“Eh!” Tangerine immediately hurries over. “Mika wrote something?” He says something else in Zahran that Madoka doesn’t understand.
Mika flushes a little harder, shifting his weight from one foot to the other as he speaks. Madoka thinks he hears his name, but he can’t quite be sure. Tangerine’s eyes light up, and he says something else in a teasing tone, before coming over to Madoka.
“You taught Mika this one?” he asks, eyes sparkling. There’s a certain earnesty in his expression that makes Madoka’s cheeks feel warm, too.
“Just a little,” he says. “But he already knew how to write the word, I just showed him how to hold the pen…”
Tangerine giggles, turning back to Mika and saying something that makes Mika sputter out in protest. He looks back to Madoka and takes both of his hands in his own. They’re a little calloused, Madoka notices. “Next time,” he says, “I will also teach Mika how to write in Japanese, so he will send you a letter, okay?”
A letter from Mika…
“Okay,” Madoka agrees, nodding slightly. A letter from Mika sounds nice. “I’ll look forward to it.”
Tangerine squeaks with happiness, then immediately rushes to Mika’s side, beginning to speak in rapid-fire Zahran. Or maybe just normal speed Zahran. Madoka can’t really tell the difference either way, but he nonetheless can’t help but watch them converse.
A hand settles itself on top of Madoka’s head, and Madoka looks up, startled. “Did Madoka have fun with Mika today?” Misumi asks, grinning toothily.
Madoka nods. “Mhm,” he says. “I… I think I did.” Even though all they really did was sit in silence before writing down a few things in his notebook, and even though he’d originally come here to see Misumi, Madoka feels satisfied with how the afternoon went.
Misumi’s grin turns brighter, a dazzling sort of brightness compared to Mika’s. Madoka thinks he sort of misses Mika’s smile already, despite the fact that he’s still right there. “Then, that’s good!”
“Hey, nii-san…?”
Misumi hums. “Yes, yes, yes?”
Madoka averts his gaze, cheeks feeling warm. “Do you think it would be okay if I asked Citron-san to teach me Zahran?”
Misumi blinks, then giggles. “Yeah!” he chirps. “Are you gonna write letters to Mika, too?”
Madoka shrugs. “Maybe,” he says. “A little like a pen pal project… I’m not yet sure, but it would be nice, I think…”
Misumi claps his hands together. “Okay! I think you should! I’m glad that Mika and Madoka will be good friends from now on!”
Madoka pauses for a moment, considering that. “Yeah,” he murmurs. Maybe not the best of friends just yet, but Madoka thinks that he’d like to learn more about Mika, too. “I hope we can be good friends.”