In which Tobe grapples with the very confusing and mature topic of real-estate.

Tobe peered at Pucca over the top of his menu. She had as of yet to notice him, which he supposed she could not be faulted for considering that, for once, he was visiting the noodle bar on his own (without his regular posse of inept ninjas), he was no longer wearing his identifiable mask (before now he hadn't realised how clammy wearing that thing had made him) and she was currently balancing an ungodly amount of plates in her hands (really, how hadn't they toppled yet?), obscuring any view she may have had. But still, he was very much irritated by the lack of attention from the noodle girl. He would have complained that his desire for Pucca to finally catch his eye would be for the fact he was a ready-and-waiting paying customer, but ever since that day on the cliff side he found himself quite scrambled in her presence.

For a while now his fingers had been tapping away on the table with unchecked verve. He thought it quite possible nail grooves would be appearing soon. He didn't want to admit it, but he was a little nervous. After all, it had been some time since he had last seen Pucca. The last time had been the exchange that had taken place in her bedroom. What a tumultuous exchange that had been, so much so it made the time he spent away well needed to cool down. He hadn't planned on bursting into her room then, but his flight from his ex-rival Garu called for it and it seemed that one action had cemented that strange empathetic connection they had shared at their previous meeting.

Eventually, after a few more minutes of painful waiting, watching her give half-smiles to every patron but him, Pucca looked up from taking a customer's order and met Tobe's eyes, blinking, surprised. He saw he mouth fall open in a little 'o', before she scuttled across the room towards him. When she reached his table, he couldn't contain himself and exclaimed, "Finally! I almost began believing you had given up working here altogether. You don't know how many attempts it's taken to find you on shift." Then he realised what exactly he had said. Did that sound creepy? He wasn't sure. He really didn't want to come off as creepy. "Err— I mean—"

She cut him short, asking, "Why are you here?", in a low voice, unfazed and blunt, and if it were anyone else Tobe would be angry at them for their discourteous terseness. But Pucca was a different story – she was always a different story – for her eyes were wide and owlish, looking upon him only in curiosity, waiting with genuine attentiveness for an answer. He could see she did not mean this rudely, because he could tell she knew he wasn't here for just noodles. He wasn't sure whether to feel let down that he was so easy to read or impressed that Pucca was so astute. Perhaps the latter was better. It did not paint him in such a poor light.

Now that Tobe had Pucca's full attention, an unwavering coffee-coloured stare, he wasn't quite sure if he wanted it anymore. His stomach was clenching in quite an uncomfortable manner and, while he wouldn't exactly place the blame on Pucca, there certainly hadn't been any discomfort before she began looking at him with such intensity.

He coughed into his fist, awkwardly, and shifted his gaze away to push the Sooga Village newsletter across the table. Across the front was an advertisement of the Goh-Rong. "I've heard there may be some real-estate up for grabs here."

Pucca straightened up to look around the restaurant briefly, eyes lingering on the doorway to the kitchen before leaning down to his level, so that there was little more than the length of a chopstick between them. She made a show of furiously wiping down Tobe's table, in a pantomime so convincing Tobe almost believed there was an unbeatable spot of dirt on the surface, as she whispered to him, "You want to rent out our room?"

He gave a stiff nod, much too preoccupied with the sudden change in proximity to form real words.

Pucca huffed good-naturedly. "You know you didn't have to find me to enquire about it. In fact, it's my Uncle Linguini who is managing that. It says so," – she tapped the newsletter – "right there."

"Yes, well," he flushed and scrambled to find an appropriate excuse to the fact he had barely read the advertisement, finding the small print far too tedious, because he had been a bit too keen to bring up the topic with a certain noodle girl, "I'm hardly well-liked by most. Don't you think it would help my case to have you at my side?"

She seemed to mull this over, before responding, "Ah, well, I guess you're right about that."

Somehow, Pucca agreeing with the fact he wasn't well-liked wasn't something he had wanted to hear. "Thanks," he scowled a little and said in a tetchy tone, "So, will you help me?"

"What's wrong with where you live now?" she enquired, again quite innocently, but this time Tobe was already annoyed, for reasons he couldn't exactly categorise.

He snapped at her, "It's a child's hideout, filled to the brim with bumbling, smelly, hormonal ninjas. So excuse me if I don't want to live there anymore!"

Tobe immediately regretted his outburst. Other patrons in the noodle bar looked over, surprised by the disruption in the sleepy restaurant. Those that recognised Tobe (and let's face it, who in Sooga Village didn't recognise Tobe at this point?) glowered across the room at him. He gritted his teeth at this, but it was not their reactions that bothered him then. It wasn't with them that he shared a new (and tentative and scary, but so very rewarding) relationship.

He watched Pucca, apprehensively, waiting for her to respond.

Unfortunately, he didn't know what it meant when Pucca pursed her lips and raised her eyebrows at him.

He floundered, silently, not sure what it was Pucca wanted from him. Think Tobe, he told himself, think! He mentally scolded himself with a slew of curses when nothing came to mind.

Clearly recognising his internal distress, Pucca rolled her eyes, but Tobe could see the tone shift in just her body language. She didn't take what he said to heart. Good. He couldn't help but blow out a relieved puff of air, causing little tufts of hair to balloon around his face, counting his lucky stars that Pucca's temper had evened out over the years (unlike his).

He supposed having Pucca giggle at his flustered state was a small price to pay for their continued…this. Well, he wasn't exactly sure how to classify their relationship at this current stage. He couldn't say they were friends exactly – no, he definitely couldn't say they were friends – but that wasn't for a lack of trying. Having a friend in Pucca, it would be good. He knew so. He could feel it. Just the idea, the possibility, gave him a happy buzz that he could not remember ever feeling before.

He was on golden tenterhooks, alight with plans were so wonderfully devoid of Garu. Before now, he hadn't realised how the preoccupation had bogged him down. He felt so much lighter when focused on other things, like exercise, good food, a new home. Like a giggling noodle girl.

Watching Pucca grinning wild, like a playful cat with the most entertaining ball of yarn to ever exist – and, hell, if that made him the ball of yarn he didn't even care, because no one could say that ball of yarn wasn't appreciated – Tobe thought to himself, I think could get used to this.

Soon enough, Pucca was jotting down Tobe's order, surprising him by knowing what dish he preferred without asking (one early ninja special coming right up), and in less than ten minutes he was digging into a bowl of freshly prepared noodles, left with the promise of a meeting with Pucca's Uncle Linguini (with Pucca as mediator) once she was off shift. As Tobe ate, he watched Pucca flit from table to table, her previous half-smile grown long into a full-blown grin. Every now and then, she would catch Tobe's eye and become bent double, giggling away again. She was remembering him flustered and that was okay, more than okay, because his ability to make her smile in such a way caused a swell of pride to overtake him. The other customers in the noodle bar looked fondly at Pucca, no doubt reminded starkly of Pucca in the prime of her childhood, when she had been her most carefree. Of course, these people didn't realise Pucca wouldn't be like this if not for him. It made him want to shout, slam his fists down, leap upon the table, declaring, yes, citizens of Sooga Village. It is true. Your dear girl Pucca smiles because of a scoundrel like me. How does that make you feel? How blind you were!

And how blind they still are… Tobe deflated at the thought.

How selfish could he be? Here he was day-dreaming about ripping the wool from the villager's eyes, when he should really be thinking of why it was there in the first place. Poor Pucca had to accept the opinions people formed of her throughout the years, with no way of arguing. She was the image they projected onto her. Whatever form they believed a noodle girl should take was what she became. She had no voice to fight it.

Their negligence, their utter ignorance and disregard, of all the introspection and nuances involved in the formation of a human being was reprehensible. For years, Pucca had been wilting before their very eyes and no one had the intelligence— no, the consideration to piece together her situation. She was so lonely. Behind all her fronts (fronts she barely placed effort into the upkeep of), was a person stripped so bare and so sore that Tobe unsure how he had missed it before. Yes, he hadn't seen much of her in previous years, but he had had glances. It only took him a glance now to see Pucca's anguish. He had been just as blind as the rest of the village. He was just as angry at himself as he was them.

Even now, Tobe hadn't thought of Pucca at all. How childish of him.

Soon Pucca returned to him, her apron gone and long dark hair, which she had previously worn in a ponytail while she worked (not odangos), was let loose around her shoulders, some flyaway locks pinned back by hair grips on either side of her head. Tobe would have been brooding into his noodle bowl, still simmering with self-detestation, but he couldn't help but look up when Pucca pranced over. He found himself liking the way her hair curled softly around the curvature of her arms, the way her sleeves (which had previously been rolled up for cleanliness) fell a little too long over her hands, and the way her shirt dipped slightly between her small bre—

Tobe flushed deeply, shifting his gaze away, while Pucca smiled at him blithely, unaware of Tobe's wandering eyes. God, he was really beginning to hate himself. He had always thought of himself in a rather positive light until recently. Had he always been this unpleasant?

He supposed they had both been children then and Pucca hadn't a lovely matured – ahem! – but now – ugghhh – he really wished the ground would just swallow him up.

Pucca leaned forward to say into his ear, "Come on," her warm breath causing a little jolt to run through him, and then she tugged him up by the arm, "time to meet my uncle."

Oh. He had forgotten about that. He tried not to grimace but could not help letting out a lacklustre (and not at all sarcastic) little "yay", as Pucca pulled him along into the backrooms of the Goh-Rong.

When they passed into the kitchen, the first thing they saw was the back of the Goh-Rong's door-mat dishwasher. Dada, was it? Or Dedo? Tobe couldn't say he really cared.

The dishwasher heard their footsteps and looked back over his shoulder with a smile, which immediately faltered the moment he met eyes with Tobe. "P-Pucca! What is he…?"

Pucca remained composed in the face of this babbling boy, merely smiling her delightful smile and placing one of her elegant fingers to her lips. That boy was a goner. Totally smitten. He shut his mouth in an instant, blinking dazedly in the wake of her charm and no more words left his lips as Pucca pulled Tobe away, any disputes of the boy's became garbled as they faded into an enamoured sigh.

Tobe was led across to the other side of the kitchen. He looked back over his shoulder at Dada, with a brow raised in appraisal. As Pucca ducked her head into the storage room to look around, most likely for any of her uncles, Tobe stooped with her to whisper, "You do realise that boy is putty in your hands?"

Pucca's eyes flicked towards him and he did not miss their sly little glint, as she smiled, though somewhat sheepish, and said, "Well, yes. Now I do."

"Now?"

The storage room was empty, so once again Pucca took a hold of his wrist and lead. "It took me years to work out. It turns out I'm not good with that kind of stuff. It takes me too long to…", she trailed off, coming to a stop between shelves of spices and dried meats, her grip on Tobe's arm faltering until her hand dropped back to her side. It didn't take a genius to know she was thinking of his ex-rival.

He frowned and impulsively took up her hand instead. "Come on," without really putting much thought into the action, he gave her palm a reassuring squeeze, "we have to see your uncle."

She was snapped out of her pensiveness, shaking her head and blinking away misty eyes, "Oh, yes! This way."

They continued out back to the garden, a place Tobe had never been before and was surprised to find it so well maintained. He had never taken anyone at the Goh-Rong for a green thumb. Granted he had never paid much mind to those at the Goh-Rong, but still… fleeting impressions had provided as much.

A cobbled path ran from the back of the garden, around a small pond where koi carp swirled languid in the water, as rain pelted and disturbed the surface. Flowers grew in beds that lined the gardens perimeter, ordered chaos of ashy blues, blushing pinks, and bright yellow, spread like kaleidoscopic fire in the dirt. It was wild, it was pretty, and it had a simple charm to it, much alike a certain someone, he thought and found his eyes drifting towards the girl beside him.

Pucca suddenly darted forward, startling Tobe from his musings, to prod her uncle in the back.

Uncle Linguini, who had been on the sheltered patio, till then unnoticed by Tobe, sat in a wicker chair, cigarette dangling from his lips, smoke going up in plumes, while he watched the rain pitter-patter against the stone. At Pucca's tap, Linguini jerked, nearly toppling back out of his seat. "H-Huh? I was just— I didn't—" He aimed his niece his most innocuous smile, while 'surreptitiously' plucking the cigarette from his lips to hide it behind the arm of his chair. Yet the smoke still bloomed. "Yes, sweetie?"

It took only three seconds of Pucca's scowl for him to give up the act. "Alright, alright. I know you hate it." He dropped the cigarette to the ground, twisted his boot into it, and shunted his chair around to face them. His smile remained, but then his eyes ran over Tobe and the smile dropped like a stone in water. His gaze travelled to their hands, still entwined, and he narrowed his eyes. This Tobe had failed to notice, but now that he did the velvet warmth of Pucca's skin on his was significantly more apparent.

He released Pucca's hand quickly.

"I see you've brought a guest," Linguini said flatly to Pucca, though his eyes were fixed drilling into Tobe's skull.

Already this was going poorly. Tobe somehow felt like he wouldn't escape this patio unscathed, let alone convince this man to rent out his room to him. He felt a little foolish to allow himself to be intimidated by his position here too. He was a highly trained ninja. Linguini was an old fat chef. Yet there was something inherently menacing about the situation.

It seemed Pucca could see the imminent derailing of the conversation too, so she quickly slid in front of Tobe, nodding and flashing her teeth to the best of her ability. She gestured to Tobe, with a look that clearly said, start talking, like, right now.

Tobe puckered his brow at Pucca, unable to help feeling annoyed with the unnecessary bodily protection she was providing him. He stepped out from behind the girl and approached Linguini as genially as he could manage, but his steps faltered as the old chef stood from his seat to face him. The chef had a good foot of height on Tobe and was particularly broad chested. Had Linguini always been this large?

"Well, uh, I am here to… here to…" – this man really was menacing – "Iamheretorentoutyourroom!"

The sound of Pucca's palm meeting her face was audible.

"You'll have to say that again, boy," Linguini spoke gruff, like he was hardened and punitive and stood behind a wall of 5-meter-thick steel, with eyes that could capsize your maturity in one glance, "I didn't get a word through that garbled mess of a sentence."

Why did he feel fifteen again?

Clammy and gawky, voice cracking, stance developing, mind running loops in double time just to keep up with everyone else. He wasn't tall yet, some pimples materialized on his chin (and those mornings he pulled on his mask without even having breakfast), his hair got greasy fast, and sometimes his evolving body failed him at the worst of times. All that shame, the embarrassment, left scattered, stripped, and spread thin before his rival. Sometimes Pucca. Often Pucca. All because of some old stupid family feud, the reason for the dispute lost to the ages, to their departed parents, to their supposedly dishonoured ancestors, and Tobe's monomania for Garu was running on pure fumes.

He never wanted to be fifteen again.

Tobe took a deep breath, steadied himself, and said, "I am here to ask about the room you want to put up for rent."

Maybe something about Tobe in that moment had affected Linguini, because now as he looked over Tobe his eyes lost that hard-boiled sheen and instead took on an aspect that seemed a bit more reminiscent of the one he reserved for Pucca. Tobe felt the chef's presence shrink back – only a smidge – and suddenly he could breathe again, suddenly he was twenty-one.

Linguini's scowl wasn't any less sever, but his voice was significantly less gruff as he said, "You're interested?"

"Yes, I am," and Tobe was so glad he could speak like a fully functioning adult again.

Linguini's scrutiny turned to Pucca now. "And your vouching for this young man as a worthy tenant?"

Pucca appeared positively shocked by the turn of events, gaping through the proceedings like a startled fish. But, as the seconds ticked by, she bloomed under their appraisal, mouth spreading wide and pearly white. Linguini's eyes glinted. Tobe felt warm.

Pucca was delightedly surprised.

She nodded at her uncle, vigorously, hair bouncing across her back, eyes crinkled with familial love. She was proud of her uncle. Maybe something else too.

Linguini's lips twisted, not quite a glower, not yet a smile, and he turned to Tobe. "Alright, let's talk real-estate."

A/N: YAY! Finally, I've done the next chapter for this story. I've really missed writing for it. And the last time I updated... almost two years go! That's crazy. But I've got worse update scheduling than this so I guess this is actually pretty good for me. I'll try and carry on with this a bit faster in future. No promises though ;)

Thanks to everyone who's given some feedback. Its nice to know you love this as much as I am loving this! The world needs more Pucca/Tobe in my opinion.

Again, sorry for the wait. But here you go, a chapter I'm actually pretty proud of for your perusal.