Work Text:
Since the ending of the Bid Poker game, Fukunaga’s life has fallen into a haze. The usual daily structure hasn’t changed, mornings for sleep or attempts to sleep, afternoons for errands, evenings and nights for work. There’s less fun—no unnecessary shopping, no parties on her nights off—and more paranoia—when exactly will the Liar Game offices send over their squad of masked goons to make good on their ‘any means necessary’, but life as Fukunaga knows it still continues for now.
If a thought repeats in her head it’s that somewhere Fukunaga lost the thread with this whole Liar Game scheme. What started as a mutually beneficial arrangement with Hitomi to get some extra cash for her various endeavors ended with an act of altruism that left Fukunaga in debt up to her wigline and not nearly enough regrets for that fact.
So what if her attempt to save everyone failed? Nao would still be proud of her for the mere attempt. She can almost see the girl’s brightly smiling face in her mind.
Getting ready for work runs automatically at this point. Make-up, wig, outfit perfectly balanced between hot enough to make the predominately male guests spend the extra cash for her attention and comfortable enough to last until her club closes.
She wonders where Nao and Akiyama are now. If the timing lines up with the other rounds they’ve been through, then they could very likely be in the middle of another game now in some fight to the literal debt with Yokoya and the Liar Game Offices, with one less ally at their side.
A thought emerges from the fog: They’ll get to meet Kaneko. Kaneko will get to meet them.
Kaneko will be their ally. Nao with her habit of collecting people and drawing out the best of them will inevitably draw Kaneko in towards her. Funny that Fukunaga feels that little twinge of jealousy that Kaneko will get to experience the Nao effect for the first time with her eyes already open.
Fukunaga remembers her first meeting with Nao in that mansion, her surrounded by whole group of strangers, and a confidence-bestowing check for 100 million only barely taking the edge off her nerves, Nao in tears and practically begging her to come upstairs with her. And with no other obvious course of action to take, Fukunaga followed along.
If Fukunaga had known from the start what going along with that panicked girl would have led to…would she have done anything differently?
Would she not have that hundreds of millions of debt weighing her down now? Most likely.
Would she have never seen Nao’s radiant smiles? Also, most likely.
Still in that haze, Fukunaga leaves for work.
—
A couple hours into her shift she receives a text from Hitomi:
Total cutie waiting for you at the apartment. ૮₍ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ₎ა
Fukunaga ignores it for now. Knowing Hitomi, she probably agreed to dogsit—or have Fukunaga dogsit—for one of her friends again.
Or even worse…Hitomi has decided to adopt a puppy herself.
Fukunaga weighs the possibility of sharing her apartment with yet another adorable menace against the imminent threat of debt collectors finally showing up to sell her to some shady people overseas.
She might prefer the debt collectors.
—
Fukunaga walks into her apartment prepared to find some fluffy creature with a smushed face. Instead, she finds a person who shouldn’t be there. That fact in itself is not necessarily unprecedented. Over their years living together as roommates and friends, Hitomi has brought over her fair share of guests and let them hang out even if she happens to be out elsewhere. Any hopes that Fukunaga might have harbored that Hitomi would have dropped that habit due to the Liar Game have clearly been dashed.
This someone is curled up on the couch, almost short enough that she doesn’t have to bend her knees to lay flat. She’s clearly napping, what with all the soft snores filling the room.
What is Nao of all people doing in her apartment?
Well, Fukunaga assumes Hitomi let Nao in before she left for her night out. She can’t imagine Nao breaking and entering into anything other than hearts. Not that this explains anything, except maybe that Hitomi would let someone who looks as cute and harmless as Nao in and let her stay until Fukunaga came home.
So, why did Nao, of all people come visit her tonight?
Fukunaga ponders this while she changes out of her work clothes into a more casual t-shirt and sleep shorts. It’s about 2:30 in the morning, and based on Hitomi’s text about the ‘total cutie’ Nao must have arrived here early in the evening. Nao is dressed nicely—short skirt, turtleneck, stockings, and a necklace of (fake) fangs. The tall boots lined up at the door must belong to her too, based on their size alone. However, the outfit itself is slightly rumpled, as though Nao might have worn it a couple days in a row.
The most natural conclusion: Nao must have just finished another round of the Liar Game. And for some reason, she must have thought it was more important to visit Fukunaga—and how exactly did that idiot even get a hold of her address—than it was to at least stop by her place for a change of clothes.
Fukunaga’s eyes catch a black envelope that must have slipped out of a sleeping Nao’s hands and onto the floor. The pieces fall together in Fukunaga’s brain. Nao must have some news from the corporation that she wanted to deliver to Fukunaga in person.
If Nao is the messenger…the news can’t be that bad.
Fukunaga shakes Nao awake, which is to say that Fukunaga must have triggered some kind of spring-loaded trap the way Nao immediately wraps her arms around her.
“Fukunaga-san!”
The girl needs to be pushed away, and Fukunaga does after bringing Nao in extra close. After the initial outburst, Nao has sat back and calmed herself down. “You’re here! Fukuknaga-san!”
“It’s my apartment, Nao.” Fukunaga hands over the envelope Nao dropped. “What are you doing here?”
“The final round of the Liar Game concluded today—” Nao looks around at the darkness outside the window “—or maybe yesterday by now—and I just wanted to be the one to tell you in person…”
Fukunaga sits down beside her. “Just spit it out Nao.”
Nao breaks into the real-life version of the smile that’s haunted Fukunaga for the past couple weeks. “You’re saved, Fukunaga-san. No debts for you or anyone!”
This time, Fukunaga is the one to pull Nao into a close hug, but half-drunk on liquor and relief, she takes it a bit further and kisses the silly girl on the lips. It’s nothing major—just a quick little peck, of the kind she might give to a guest at the club while trying to coax some extra cash out of them. Except, judging by the way Nao’s cheeks have turned almost the same shade of red as her turtleneck, Nao doesn’t have enough context to understand that. Fukunaga is almost ready to tell Nao she didn’t mean it. Obviously.
Obviously, right?
Fukunaga lets out a breath. No. The best way to move past her impulsive move is to act like the kiss was no big deal. Because it wasn’t. The sheer elation of getting hundreds of millions of debt lifted off of their shoulders would make anyone act a little strange.
And why had Fukunaga chosen to take on that burden in the first place?
Temporary insanity. Unrelated to this situation.
“So what happened? I take it you and Akiyama were able to find out who was behind the Liar Game and take the LGT office down?” Fukunaga slings her arm over Nao’s shoulder, like this was the appropriate level of casual physical affection appropriate for a conversation about the end of the Liar Game. Nao, at least, seems content to accept the gesture as it exists. She leans her head against Fukunaga.
“In a sense. But…it wasn’t what any of us expected. Not Yokoya-san’s contribution to the final outcome. And not the actual story behind the Liar Game in the first place.” Nao hands out the envelope as an offering, and Fukunaga takes it. Their fingertips brush in the exchange, a coincidental contact that wouldn’t mean anything at all were Fukunaga not already in such an abnormal state of mind. “Artier-san, who was the head dealer said that everyone who had been forced to leave the game after a loss would be mailed an official letter from the LGT office.”
“And yet, you thought to visit me in person to deliver the news?” Fukunaga scans the letter and takes in the high-level information. The game itself was a set-up, and the debts were null and void. There would be a more official letter forthcoming regarding the details of the documentary being made and—though participants would be anonymized—an opportunity to opt of being featured.
“I thought you’d want to know as soon as possible.” Nao glances up at Fukunaga with those wide eyes of hers. “Maybe it was silly of me to rush over here.”
“It was definitely silly.” Perhaps Fukunaga’s words would have more impact if she weren’t brushing aside a lock of Nao’s hair that fell in her face. Or if she could say the words so they didn’t taste like an endearment. “Not that I’d ever expect anything else from you.”
“We met Kaneko-san, and she told us what you did for her. I would have never expected you of all people to make that kind of move.”
“Temporary insanity, Nao. You weren’t supposed to find out.”
“You didn’t really think I wouldn’t ask about you did you, Fukunaga-san?” For the first time tonight, Nao sounds actually hurt. “Even if everyone else could be saved….if you hadn’t been able to….” Her voice wavers on the edge of tears that Fukunaga would rather not cope with tonight. “I came back to the Liar Game so I could find out what had happened at your stage and figure out a way to save you too.”
Nao would. Nao did. Fukunaga does not kiss Nao a second time, not when her supply of plausible deniability is quickly running out, but she does pull the idiot close and cope with the irritating sensation that some part of her heart has found its home underneath that turtleneck. “You didn’t need to do all that.”
“I guess you’re right.” Nao sighs and lifts her head from Fukunaga’s arm.
“Still, that was very sweet of you.” Fukunaga stands up, and offers Nao a hand to help her up. The girl takes it with a slight blush to her cheeks that makes Fukunaga recalculate how easily Nao let the earlier kiss go. “Even more that you’d choose to come by here and wait to tell me in person.”
Nao turns her head towards at the darkness outside the window. “It’s probably super late…maybe I should go home and let you sleep.”
That would be a mercy. Not that Fukunaga feels particularly tired—for someone used to working nights, sunrise is a perfectly reasonable bedtime—but getting Nao out of here before Fukunaga does anything else strange seems like a great idea until she tries to think about Nao getting home while it’s so late out.
“Nao, it’s already past three in the morning. The last trains stopped running hours ago.”
“Really? That late?” Nao pulls out her phone to check—as if the time of all things needs her personal verification. “I guess I could call for a cab of some kind…”
“Or you could stay here until morning.” Fukunaga regrets the suggestion the moment she makes it. Yes, let Nao stay over while Fukunaga’s in this strange and lightened frame of mind.
“What about Hitomi-san…?”
Fukunaga laughs. “Well, first, it’s debatable whether Hitomi’s going to be home before dawn, assuming she doesn’t decide to spend the night elsewhere. Second, if you crash in my room, she’s not going to be in any position to object, considering some of the guys she’s brought to stay the night.”
“Your room?” Nao slightly blushes.
“Where I sleep.” Because absolutely nothing else is going to take place in that room with Nao tonight. Never mind that Fukunaga needs to consciously examine that thought instead of taking what should be an obvious conclusion for granted. “Look, you can sleep there for a few hours, and when morning comes, you can just get up and take the train home and go back to whatever plans you had for tomorrow.”
“What about you, Fukunaga-san? I wouldn’t want to take your bed from you…”
Fukunaga shrugs. “We’ve gone through multiple rounds of the Liar Game together. What’s a little bed-sharing compared to that?”
Nao looks up thoughtfully. “That’s true…”
Yes, that’s the healthy attitude to take towards this. They’ve already been through so much that this little bit of hospitality is a reasonable gesture. “And besides, we’re both women. It wouldn’t be like trying to share a bed with a man. No big deal, right?”
“Right…since we’re both women…what could even happen?” Nao’s words agree even if her blushing face implies a possibly non-rhetorical intent behind the question.
Fukunaga keeps the question rhetorical and leads Nao further into the hallway and grabs a spare t-shirt and shorts “Here.” She shoves the clothes into Nao’s arms, “Since you probably didn’t bother bringing a change of clothes…and the shower-room is in the back.”
While Nao showers, Fukunaga goes about her routine. A late night snack from the convenience store, picking up some of the clutter left around the place, and then relaxing with a novel until she hears the water go off. Nao walks out freshly showered and wearing the shorts and oversized t-shirt Fukunaga grabbed for her—and if Nao looks adorable, Fukunaga pays absolutely zero attention to that.
“Fukunaga-san…where should I sleep?”
Oh right, she hadn’t actually pointed out which of the bedrooms belonged to her. Actually getting up and leading the girl to the bedroom would be unreasonable—and possibly a bit dangerous. “The one to the left—it’s the neater of the two rooms.”
Nao patters away, and checks both rooms, before appearing in front of Fukunaga again. “Found it! Good night, Fukunaga-san.”
“Good night.”
Fukunaga figures she’ll spend another half-hour or so reading before getting ready for bed herself. That should give Nao enough time to fall asleep and let Fukunaga avoid anything too awkward like fielding questions about what women might do in bed together besides sleep or letting an outsider see her without the wig while her hair is still growing out while also minimizing the risk of Hitomi coming home early and asking annoying questions like: “What are the total cutie’s shoes still doing at the front door?” or “Was this one of the people from the Liar Game that Fukunaga kept talking about?”
The dimly lit by a lamp on the desk, and Nao’s form makes an undefined shape under the blankets. The same soft sleep noises as earlier permeate the air like white noise while Fukunaga de-wigs and finishes her night-time routine. How long has it been since she’s had anyone to fall asleep next to, not just a hook-up? Definitely not anyone since her involvement with the Liar Game started. Maybe a boyfriend from a couple years back?
Would Fukunaga want to fall asleep next to Nao every night? Definitely not. But tonight? Fukunaga can think of plenty of things worse than sleeping next to someone who went so far out of the way to save her…and then insisted on telling her that as soon as possible. She turns out the light and climbs over the soundly sleeping Nao. The girl rolls towards her like a compass towards north, and her arm drapes over Fukunaga.
“Mmm…Fukunaga-san is so pretty…”
Fukunaga looks at her cuddly companion and wonders if Nao only pretends to sleep. She does have a devious side, after all. The city lights shine in through the window, and even if Nao were conscious, her eyes remain just as closed as they were when Fukunaga entered, long lashes sweeping the top of her cheeks. And when Fukunaga brushes a lock of Nao’s hair aside, all she does is relax a little more.
That’s fine. Tonight, Fukunaga can bear with Nao and the confounding feelings of warmth the silly idiot seems to evoke, once they return to their regular lives, sans the Liar Game, Fukunaga will be free of both her and these troublesome but ultimately meaningless emotions.
Yes, free of. Yes, ultimately meaningless.
Fukunaga relaxes at the reassurance that whatever happens tonight is for tonight only, and lets herself indulge in a little bit of affection herself—just a little kiss on Nao’s exposed cheek. And if she says anything about it in the light of morning, Fukunaga will deny everything.
It’s just the strangeness of this one night, after all.
—
Nao is already long gone by the time the pale December sun wakes Fukunaga up at the bright and early hour of noon. Good. At least Nao is considerate enough to be a quiet morning person.
The sleep clothes Nao borrowed are already in the laundry bag, and it’s not until Fukunaga gets ready to freshen and style her wig that she notices Nao’s goodbye.
There’s nothing much to the note: just a simple ‘Thank you, Fukunaga-san’, Nao’s name next to a little heart drawing, and some digits written afterwards—most likely the girl’s phone number.
The smart course of action would be to toss the note and the implied offer of future contact with it. Whatever strangeness ruled last night needs to give way to more sensible pursuits. The Liar Game is over. Fukunaga should return to her priorities—fashion, money, and men—like she had never saddled herself with the possibility of hundreds of million in debt. She and Nao won’t ever need to meet again.
…but it wouldn’t hurt to send a text, just make sure Nao returned home safely.