The room was dark, dim and gray, save for a pale blue luminescence seeping into the air from a monitor screen. The normally normally cheery and colorful decor was now painted in contrast, colors washing out to surrealistic pale or hungrily absorbing light until darker than the night sky outside. Even though the hour was late, the fluffy, slightly lumpy pink quilt on the bed was undisturbed. This was probably not a good thing, for not even the odd lighting could entirely explain away the the pale, wan cast and alarmingly dark circles under the eyes of the young woman sitting before the computer screen. Her dark eyes moved swiftly back and forth, scanning text written across a harshly white screen, then stopping with a startling suddenness. Eyelids shut wearily, and she leaned back in her chair, tipping herself back on two legs and sighing, before falling back forward with a light thump. Her eyes opened and moved down, squinting to look at the notebook splayed open on the desk, the scrawled pencil notes on the paper as ghostly and insubstantial in the electric light as the opportunities they had so far presented. She resolutely picked up her pencil and moved it down the page to cross out yet another line. That made about half the list now. She swore she could almost hear the sound of another door clicking shut.
She laid the pen down on the paper and pushed herself away from the desk, that small act fatiguing her far more than a night's toil had. None of these were quite right, for one reason or another. None of them were what she needed. There was still another half of the list to go, though, she reasoned with herself. Surely one of them would work out. She gnawed at her lip, a bad little habit she had picked up this year. For all the worries of a high school senior, that had entailed more than a few impressions of teeth on her small delicate lips, and she might have worn yet another if it hadn't been for a tickle on her thigh that made her twitch in surprise. She relaxed, and reached a hand into her comfortably loose pajama pants to pull out her cell phone.
“Mom? What's the matter, is everything okay?” The hands on her brass alarm clock marked the hour at a hair past eleven forty-five, an unusual time for a call from her mother.
“Yes, everything is fine. You were supposed to call home today, remember, Asumi Yuno?” Her mother's voice told her firmly. Yuno could have kicked herself, she had forgotten all about that. Then again, she had thought she would have found a nice school from her list to report back home instead of sitting in front of her computer this late.
“I'm sorry, Mom! I got distracted,” Yuno just heard a silence that seemed somehow faintly disapproving on the other end. So, for lack of anything better to say--and not wanting to get into the subject of school--she merely continued with, "How is everybody?"
“We're all just fine. What about you, dear? You sound tired,” Her mother's irritation lost the fight with her nurturing instinct. Yuno tried to laugh it off, but even her laugh came through a trifle wearily.
“Not really, just the usual problems of a senior student about to graduate.”
“Right, right," Her mother sounded a little relieved at that answer, she always worried so much. "Sometimes I forget how much you've grown up. Enjoying the stress that comes along with maturity?”
“It might be slightly more bearable... if I could get some of the height that was supposed to come along with it,” Yuno replied quickly. She got up from her chair and walked across the room to flip on the room light, and her mood brightened a little with her surroundings, and some of her fatigue cleared up. Though she really was a pale girl, her skin lost the ghost-like aspect it had assumed. She ran her small fingers, with plain-cut nails so as not to impede the use of her fingers, through the feathery soft, pale brown bangs framing her face.
“Oh, Yuno, you might as well get used to it. We don't have many tall people on my side of the family, and you got those genes. But just think, you might be shorter than the other artists, but at least you still have all your ears,” Yuno smiled wryly. This past year her mom had been researching famous art and artists after finally realizing that yes, this really was what her daughter wanted to do with her life. Since then she'd been trying to work her newfound knowledge into conversation when she could. Yuno flopped down on her bed and stretched her limbs, relishing the softness after several continuous hours planted on an unforgivably hard wooden chair, and her lips slipped easily into a gentle smile, her eyes softening after hours of staring at screen after screen of college information. She had the kind of face that was made for that kind of serene expression; large, expressive chocolate eyes shining above a little button nose and dainty mouth.
“Well, yes, but unlike Van Goh, I didn't choose to cut off my shins in a fit of artistic angst,” Yuno pointed out.
“Then being short saved you a good deal of messy work, didn't it?” Her mother replied sagely, “Nature decided that you were far too much of a genius to risk that way.”
“Um... isn't genius a bit much, mom?” Yuno protested mildly, stalling for time. She absently wrapped a short lock of pale brown hair around one finger and twirled. She knew why her mom had called, and could see that she was working her way to that subject what to say when the subject finally came up.
“Not to your father and I,” her mother answered proudly.
“That might be a little biased.”
“Might be,” her mother admitted, “but it's still true. What TAU has to say should prove it.” Her mother finished with the lilt at the end, hinting a question. Yuno sighed, and decided better now than later.
“Er, I suppose it did, at that,” Yuno replied, trying to sound casual about it. She listened to the silence suddenly weighing heavy in her ear.
“Yuno, it's never fun when I start yelling, so you should probably start talking again soon.”
“I got accepted,” Yuno said positively, and truthfully.
“That's wonderful!” Yuno pulled her ear away from the earpiece as her mother's voice went to a pitch more suitable to her junior high years, “I'm so happy for you, I know how important this is to you. So when are you going to be heading there, do you know? Are you going to have time to come by here, or do you think it would be better if we came down to the school to meet you when you moved into the dormitories or wherever you'll be staying?” Her mother said all of this in a rush, excitement oozing out of every syllable.
“Neither, actually, Mom. I got accepted, but,” Yuno juggled several possible responses in her mind, but decided to go with the simplest, “I won't be able to afford it. Even with the financial aid package I was offered, and if I found a job to work part-time, it looks like I won't be able to make it.”
“Oh no, sweetie... what about loans, I'm sure we could handle another one or two, to help our baby pay for college--”
“That's no good either, Mom, I already looked into it,” Yuno said evasively. It was only half a lie, she tried to reason. She had looked into it, and they could have gotten a loan, sure, and she could have gone to TAU. However, that really was no good. It would have been a good deal more money than she wanted to ask her parents to provide—again, for one.
“But really, it's not a big deal, Mom. I'd been looking into Tokyo Arts, and it didn't really sound like the kind of atmosphere I would enjoy anyway. A little... stuffy, and formal, not at all like the great time I've had here,” she remembered that Miss Yoshinoya had expressed a highly unflattering opinion of the more elite Japanese institutions of art, mostly for their traditional master-pupil study system. She claimed it stifled creative expression, not allowing students to make ventures into developing and perfecting their own personal style until after graduation. Of course, though Yuno really enjoyed her as a teacher, she knew better than to take anything Yoshinoya said without a grain of salt. It was likely her teacher might very well have had her own bad experience with TAU and held a grudge. Her third year instructor, though, and the Principal, assured her that while TAU's system had its high points in getting to study under extremely skilled artists and learning their techniques, there really was a decently strict prohibition on more personal endeavors that not all students found themselves able to accommodate. A good deal of Japanese youth had begun attending Western institutions to escape that, but it didn't look like she would have to resort to such extreme measures, there had also been Japanese universities adapting and new academies springing up here and there, and the faculty at Yamabuki had been more than happy to provide her with the names of those they'd heard good things about.
“Are you sure? I mean, we could probably still find a way to make it work out if you wanted us too— ”
“No, Mom. Really, I was starting to think that it was going to be way too much to pay for something I don't believe I'll like. I thought it might be nice, but I wasn't really that set on going,” also true, Yuno concluded. This wasn't so bad, she was managing to tell more truths than lies now, that made it a good thing, right?
“You made other plans then, from the sound of it?” Her mother asked with a note of worry.
“Of course,” Yuno reassured her. “Though I haven't decided on any specific one yet. I spoke with the Principal and my old art instructors and they gave me a whole list of schools they think would be good, I'm looking through them all right now.”
“That's nice, but don't leave it too long,” her mother warned, but the relief she felt at confirming Yuno had planned for contingency was audible even through the phone.
“I won't,” Yuno reassured her.
“I know, I know, you're getting all grown up now. I shouldn't worry so much.”
“That's fine, Mom, worry all you like. I don't know if I'd recognize you if you stopped. Keeps me working hard,” Her mother laughed.
“I'll worry all I like, then, thank you very much. I'll try to hold of for right now, though, you still sound exhausted. I should probably let you go now.”
“What a coincidence, I was starting to think about sleep too, just a little bit,” Yuno expressed gratefully, “I love you, Mom.”
“I love you too, Yuno. Oh, wait, and Miyako too. How is she doing?”
“Same as ever, Mom, you know her,” Yuno answered, a grateful warmth infusing her voice and spirit. “Miya would send her love too, if she were here. She's not going to be back from visiting with family until tomorrow evening,” She explained.
“I hope you're not too lonely until then.”
“I'll be fine, Mom, and I'll be able to concentrate on finding a school. It's hard to concentrate with her around sometimes.”
“I'll bet,” Her mother said, and Yuno could just picture her mother's smirk and raised eyebrow, just like she remembered. “You be sure to keep in contact, you know your father and I will want to hear about what you find. We might not be able to afford Tokyo Arts, but we'll still be willing to help you out.”
“I know, Mom. I'll be sure to keep in contact. Love you.”
“Love you too, Yuno. Bye.”
“Bye-bye.”
She snapped her cell phone shut, and then loosed a frustrated sigh. She let fall the brave facade she'd put on for her mother's peace of mind, and allowed herself to worry. Concerned as she was, the thought of going back before the computer right now was repellent, and tired as she did feel, she still wasn't the least bit sleepy. She sat up on the edge of her bed. Her bed, she thought for a moment, and wondered how long it would be so. When she went off to college, she very well might end up in student housing. What would life in a dormitory be like, she thought, after all this time at Hidamari? Hidamari... it felt odd to think of these apartments as anything but a home by this point. With all she had been paying attention to her last days at Yamabuki and finding a college to attend, she had spared barely a thought for these apartments that had been her home and life for the past three years. She rose to her feet, eyes roaming slowly across every corner of the room. These apartments had given her so much more than a roof over her head, she almost felt ashamed to only be thinking about them now. Really, it seemed impossible for this plain room to have given so much to her. So many slow mornings inching out from under the covers, peering out those curtains to see what sort of day she had in store for her. So many afternoons of laughter and cheer in the company of good friends, and so many evenings of love and warmth with the person she cherished most. She hoped that when her little television, and her pictures and paintings, and her stuffed bear and pink quilts, and new computer, and everything that she had brought into this room were gone, some of the joy that she'd experienced would remain for the next young person to live here, so they might have as wonderful a time as she had.
She would never have believed that she could spend so much time just reminiscing about an apartment room, but she felt like she could have just remembered for hours and been content. She knew that if she did, though, she wouldn't be much good for anything else tomorrow. She undressed, and put on her pajamas. She walked into the bathroom and picked up her toothbrush, but stopped in the act of putting on toothpaste, looking at her reflection in the mirror. She peered closely, wondering if the person she saw now was really so different from the girl who had looked backed at her three years ago. She still thought her rounded cheeks made her look to young, slightly curly pale brown hair still tickled her cheeks and neck if she moved her head just so, and it was held back from her eyes by those same plain hair clips that she might have stopped using long before, if not for Miyako's assurance that they looked cute. Her pajamas now clung to her body in slightly more interesting ways than they used to, but she noted with a resigned frown that eye level with her current self was about the same as it had been when she had arrived at the apartments. Try as she might, she probably was not going to get any taller. Her bare feet padded into the kitchen and to the refrigerator, and she poured herself a large glass of milk, just in case.
She sat back on her bed, and realized that her sudden bought of nostalgia might have been provoked by an unfamiliar emotion, she was lonely. She couldn't recall many times that she'd felt lonely in her room, almost always there had been the option of visiting Miyako or Sae or Hiro, and even if she didn't they would be certain to invite her themselves or come over to her. Now, however, with the first away and the latter two graduated and gone off to their own adventures in life, she found that unfamiliar feeling creeping up on her. Even so, she smiled; feeling lonely now just meant that she'd been fortunate enough to have the company of good friends for so long. She wondered how Hiro and Sae were doing, they'd kept in good contact this last year, but everybody had been busy for a few weeks now, and communication had been sporadic at best. She would have to give them a call soon.
She finished the last of her milk and went back into the kitchen to rinse out her cup, then went through with scrubbing her teeth. She slid into bed and under her warm quilt, reached a hand over to her alarm clock and felt to maker sure it was still set, then faded to sleep almost before she shut her eyes.
X-x-X-x-X-x-X-x-X
“Take care, Miya, we love you!” The worn-looking but warm and smiling woman called to her daughter, who was walking down the sidewalk backwards so she could wave longer.
“Love you too, Mom and Dad!” Miyako had a confident, cocky, almost careless grin on her face, and she fell flatly on her bottom just before turning the corner around the block. She bounded back up immediately, of course, not a trace of embarrassment in her eyes, though she decided that she ought to walk forward from here, so gave one last flourished wave and marched off.
“Dear, do you really think she'll be okay?” Her mother said, looking happy but tired, as Miyako's visits often left her.
“Of course she will,” the man next to her, a lanky and relaxed figure who had the same messy blond hair as his daughter, assured his wife gently, “She's a Mizuhashi after all, and we raised her right. I believe her when she says she's going to college.”
“I just wish we could do more...” Worry creased in dark lines through her olive-complected skin, focusing around her pale green, almost yellow eyes.
“We can only do what we can, honey, and I say we did a fine job. Don't worry so much. A nice girl sure worked wonders for me, and we have Yuno to look after her now. Miyako's not going to do anything too crazy with that one around,” he winked at her.
“Right, because you've always listened when I told you not to do something crazy,” She rolled her eyes over towards him, but some of those lines relaxed. He put a hand to his breast, feigning hurt. Before he could offer an excuse--or, as was more likely, another witty comment--she continued.
“But I suppose you are still alive, and that's worth something. I'm not sure what, but it's got to be worth something.” She smiled at him, and he felt his knees give a little; this was why he always tried to make her smile. “Bless that little Asumi girl, maybe she will keep our daughter in one piece.”
“That's right dear, she's out of our hands, but she's still in good ones. Now why don't we go inside and have a nice, quiet cup of tea. Been a few days since we've had one of those, eh?”
“I think I could listen to her talk nonsense all day,” she replied, face still shadowed with a mother's concern.
The man leaned over slightly to kiss her cheek. “You're just bound and determined to be mopey about this, aren't you?” He chided kindly, “I suppose mothers are good at that, but you do still have me around, you know. If you like, I can talk more and stumble around a bit, would that make you feel better?”
“A little bit, yes,” she chuckled.
“Fine then, whoops!” He took an exaggerated step and hooked his foot around his own leg, falling towards her and throwing his arms around her. He ran one hand through her long, silky, straight dark hair.
“I love you, honey. Now let's have another big smile.”
Miyako whistled a nameless tune as she strolled down the street towards her brother's apartment. Mizuhashi Ebisu had located his livelihood in the same town as his parents; he worked as a mechanic. It seemed often as though he had inherited their mother's more practical, serious, hardworking ethic, while she herself had gotten more of her father's eccentricity and easygoing nature. The wind blew freely today, and streamed her mostly loose pale blond hair to the side. She had her thumbs hooked into her plain blue jeans, and she was sure that she wasn't turning many heads clad in just those and a too-large, loose white t-shirt, but that was fine with her. Being ogled wasn't really all that fun for her, she found. Unfortunately for her, she was also the type that got looked at often, full-figured and reaching a good height as she'd kept growing, with a face pretty enough that she'd never had to consider makeup and the kind of engaging, energetic personality that drew eyes even in a crowd. She saw her brother's shop about a couple of miles into town. Coming closer, she found her brother where he usually was, under a car, and doing what he usually did, grunting and cursing.
“Hey bro, your one and only favorite sister has arrived.” The stream of off-color language stopped, and he squirmed his way over the ground and out from under the vehicle. She always thought he looked kind of funny when he did that, like a ferret wriggling out of a small hole. He was something of a creature of habit, and after doing his own amateur work on the ground for years, he professed that the cement was actually more comfortable than the rollers other mechanics used, though he was rather vague and obscure when asked to explain how. His grease smeared face popped out, and he grunted.
“Great, I was getting tired of this hunk-a-junk sonofa...” He shook his head, and fixed her with a smile. “Never mind. I need a break is what I mean, and it's always nice to see my one and only favorite sister. Just lemme go get cleaned up a bit.” He sat up and popped his neck, ruffling his thick, curly dark hair with one hand. They'd both ended up sharing their mother's bright eyes, but he'd ended up with her hair as well.
“Help yourself to a soda in the fridge, if you like.” He tossed over his shoulder as he opened the door from the garage to the back of the shop. She walked in and immediately felt the subtle change in mood from the garage to the inside. The shop also doubled as her brother's home, so it wasn't the cluttered, dingy space of a small-time mechanic's shop, but rather the cluttered, dingy space of a twenty-four year old man. She gingerly picked her way into the kitchen and took the offered beverage, following her brother who pulled the oil and grease cleanser from under the kitchen counter.
“Bet Mom was all teary-eyed watching her little artist daughter go off again,” he remarked, scrubbing the gritty substance up and down his arms.
“That's our mother,” Miyako nodded. Ebisu kept his face carefully devoid of expression.
"Still, it's not like you're just going off to some school an hour or so away this time, sis. You got any idea what you're going to be up to now?” He hissed as he scrubbed too hard on a cut he'd gotten recently.
“You're the one that just called me an artist,” Miyako noted, “What do you think I'm gonna be up to? I'll try and find a college I can afford.” Her brother always made it so hard to have a decent conversation, he was usually infuriatingly practical and level-headed, despite what might be suggested from his speech with his vehicles. She knew from experience that any attempts at shrugging off problems would go ignored by him until he got a serious reply.
“You make it sound pretty easy,” he said, “You have any idea what direction you want to go with a career? 'Artist' doesn't usually pop up as an occupation for well to-do people. Unless they're a few hundred years dead, of course.” Miyako looked at him blankly.
“Um...”
“Miyako, you know how much Mom and Dad love and support you, and want you to do better than they did--”
“I know, I know, Ebisu. Trust me, the possibilities are out there. They're practically endless.” Miyako assured him, waving her hand into the distance as if inviting him to look them over.
“But your bank account isn't.”
“I can get a job.”
“That's a start.”
“Mm.” Miyako affirmed, trying to edge in a note of finality for that conversation. She didn't want her last bit of time with family to be spent wrangling over the practicality of her life. Her family supported her, she knew, but they were worried. Her brother especially so, and it was only because she loved him too that she tried to take him seriously as well. He looked his arms over for any more traces of grime, then dried them and motioned for her to follow with a jerk of his head. They went out another door to a driveway at the side of the house, apart from the garage, and they got into his shiny new red electric car. He loved his rumbling, roaring fast cars, but he also knew which was better to drive for fun and which to drive for business. The car pulled out and onto the road. They were quiet, just listening to the radio while in town, but after they got onto intercity roads, he reached over and turned the dial down.
“Looking forward to getting back to that girl waiting for you back home?” He started up, not wanting their last bit of time together to have been spent arguing either.
“More than anything.” Miyako replied warmly.
“You're a lucky little thing to have landed her, ya know. I still can't hardly believe that there was somebody out there who could put up with you.”
“You've been saying that for a couple of years now, and through a couple of girlfriends.” Miyako teased. “Might as well get used to it by now. Your sister found the perfect girlfriend before her old brother.” He winced.
“You don't have to say it quite like that,” he objected.
“But it's true, isn't it?”
“I guess.”
“More fun, too,” she added after, “What's going on with lucky number three, though?” She asked before he could take any more offense.
“Amane?”
“So now it's 'Amane'? What happened to 'Hisa-chaaaan'?”
“It's not working out.” He said shortly.
“Lemme guess, you met her, took her out to a fancy restaurant, bought her wine, and treated her like a princess. Then when she found out that wasn't how all of your dates were going to be, she suddenly stopped thinking of you like the dashing fellow you'd made yourself out to be,” she asked with a raised eyebrow.
“I know, I know,” He looked at her sheepishly, “But it's so easy to do. I think I should get to feel like a big shot now and again.”
“And you're accomplishing this how?”
“So it's not that smart,” he sighed, “But it does feel good for a while,” Miyako looked at her brother for a few seconds, and couldn't even bring herself to continue teasing the despondent young man. Though she found it somewhat distasteful, she became absolutely serious for a moment.
“Trust me, do the right thing here. Find that one special girl and you'll feel good all the time,” she said sincerely.
“So now I'm getting relationship advice from my younger sister? You should sell videos.” He replied, chuckling. She gaped at him, scarcely believing that the one time she'd decided to be serious, he'd turned it around like that. She grinned at him.
“You're younger sister who's been locking lips with a pretty girl on a regular basis, unlike some people in this car whose names I will not mention.”
“Gee, wonder who those people could be?” He remarked with mock wonder.
“You, of course.” Miyako replied with an absolutely straight face.
“Miyako?”
“Yeah bro?”
“Shut up.”
“Whatever for?”
“Why doesn't that answer surprise me?”
They bantered for the next hour or so, until the Hidamari apartments came into sight and completely captured Miyako's attention.
“Ah, back home from my trip home,” she said happily, “If only for a few more weeks,” he stopped the car on the street and got out to walk with her to her room.
“Ya'll found another place to stay yet?” He asked as they mounted the stairs.
“How could we have done that?” She raised an eyebrow at him, “We don't know where we're going yet.”
“You have a point,” he conceded, “But keep it in mind. You certainly can't go to college while living on the street.”
“I know, Ebisu. Believe it or not, I do have a brai--”
“Miyako!” He suddenly shouted, looking astonished.
“Wh-what?” She said, looking around in alarm.
“I thought you were raised better than that. What would our parents think if they saw you lying like that?” Miyako smiled sweetly at him, then punched him as hard as she could in the shoulder.
“Miya?” They both turned to see the blue door they had been passing open up. Miyako straightened and turned to her.
“What was that for, Miyako?” He complained, rubbing his shoulder.
“Because I love you.” She threw out of the side of her mouth while keeping her eyes fixed in place for a few more luxurious moments, then she turned sideways and gestured magnanimously.
"Bro, might I have the pleasure of introducing you to this ravishingly beautiful young lady in her pajamas, rubbing sleep from her adorable little eye; the love of my life, Asumi Yuno.” She bowed in her girlfriend's direction. Yuno blinked, and looked up at the young man rolling his eyes at his sister.
“What's up, Yuno-san? Nice to finally meet you.” He greeted her with an easy smile.
“I—” Yuno started, but Miyako had straightened and bowed towards her brother, talking over her in a loud voice.
“And Yuno, this oaf here fashionably clad in the greasy coveralls would be the irascible Mizuhashi Ebisu, mechanic extrordinair and my one and only brother. My parents refused to take him back when I asked them, something about losing the receipt or the warranty running out. I've learned to live with the faulty product well enough.”
“Ah, nice to meet you, Ebisu-san.”
“Now then!” Miyako said in the same voice, clapping her hands together, “We're all acquainted with one another, how nice. But Ebisu really must be going now, it's such a shame,” She looked pointedly at him.
“What? I do? Since when?”
“Since right now,” she said emphatically, “Remember that car you had to... weld the capacitors onto, and... unconfigure the carburetor from? Sounded like an all day job. Really, you must work on your memory, what would your customer say if they came back to find their car in disrepair?”
Ebisu just stared at her, then rolled his eyes, “Whatever. It was nice meeting you, Yuno-san. I would stay, but I have to go destroy a car, or something. Maybe you can ask her what the heck she's talking about later.” He waved shortly and started to walk off.
“Love ya, sis.”
“Love you too, bro.”
Yuno's lips stretched into a wide smile. Now this was better to wake up to than the most beautiful sunrise. Possibly brighter, too, she thought, her gaze lingering over Miyako's light blond waves and shining eyes.
“You're back early,” Yuno noticed.
“I took pity on my dear mother. She loves me, but I know I wear on her after a while. I'm glad that doesn't happen to you.” Miyako leaned to touch her forehead to Yuno's, “Looks like the opposite, even. I leave for a week and you look exhausted, sleeping this late in the afternoon?”
“I--”
“Wait, don't tell me. Were you pacing the long halls in the midnight hours, thinking of me?”
“How did you know?” Yuno replied, and touched her lips to Miyako's. Miyako slid her backpack off of her shoulders and tossed it somewhere in the general vicinity of her door.
“Just a hunch. Worry thee no longer, lovely lady, I've come home now. Might I come in?”
“You'd think you could enter your home without asking,” Yuno pointed out.
“My home is wherever you are,” Miyako explained, “But this still isn't my apartment.”
“You're still being silly.”
“So?”
“Get in here.”
Miyako did, and Yuno walked back over to where she had been about to warm up some water for a soothing cup of afternoon tea.
“How was your family doing?” Yuno called from the little stove.
“Good, good, the same as when I left. Mom was worrying, Dad was being a goof.”
“Like father like daughter,” Yuno murmured, adjusting the heat. She had yet to meet Miyako's parents in person, despite their proximity, but she had seen several photographs. Privately, she thought that Miyako's father somehow reminded her of a wild gypsy man, whom she wouldn't be at all surprised to find at a fireside in the moonlight with that roguish twinkle in his eye. Then again, Yuno wouldn't have been at all surprised to see Miyako with him, charming all the village girls with song and dance.
“What was that?”
“I said, um, 'do you like sugar in your tea... otter?'” Yuno called back, relieved that Miyako couldn't see her flush. She reached up to take down a pair of teacups, elegant little things, pure white with a curve to handle and body that was pleasing to the eye. Yuno felt they were almost ostentatious compared to the rest of her kitchenware, but she loved them nonetheless. Hiro had given them to her for her birthday not quite a year past.
“No, thank you, my dear little platypus,” Miyako replied blithely, and Yuno looked curiously towards her out of the corner of her eye. Miyako sat there with a completely open smile on her face, and an almost fearful lack of anything resembling thought, much less duplicity, on it at this moment. Yuno didn't think that in a negative way, Miyako had a perfectly functional mind, she just decided not to use it at times. The teapot whistled, and Yuno turned her attention back to the task at hand. She chided herself for being so concerned about Miyako's ridiculous pet name, pouring the boiling water into the two teacups, over blueberry teabags. As she watched the deep purplish color infusing the clear liquid, she concluded that she had also been a little silly thinking that Miyako would care about her similarities to her father being pointed out. It would be a little difficult to correct now, however, and Yuno felt she oddly liked being called even so unflattering a pet name, because she knew that Miyako meant it as sweetly as any other. Yuno didn't really want to tell her that "otter" wasn't meant in the same light. As she muddled through her thoughts, a pair of arms slipped themselves around her waist and fingers interlaced over her belly
“I don't know too much about tea, but even if you wanted to make it iced tea I don't think you're supposed to stand there and watch it get cold.” Miyako whispered with her lips brushing Yuno's earlobe. Yuno was certain Miyako was close enough to feel the heat infusing her cheeks, and not just from embarrassment. She turned her head to look deeply into Miyako's eyes.
“Then maybe you should let go so I could bring it to the table,” Yuno murmured back, putting as seductive an inflection into the sentence as she could. Miyako winked and unlinked her hands from their position, and straightened. Yuno shook her head and put her hands to the cups, then straightened abruptly with a yelp as she felt a firm pat on her bottom. She turned to fix Miyako with a meaningful frown, but the blonde was already walking away, whistling the way only the guilty did to appear innocent. She sat down and turned to meet Yuno's frown with her own cheerfully innocent smile, and Yuno felt her severe expression crumble almost immediately into giggles, but she turned so Miyako couldn't see. It didn't matter anyway, Miyako knew the effect she had. Yuno took a deep breath and smiled, and picked up the teacups, walking them over to the table.
Miyako took up her cup and brought it to her nose, inhaling appreciatively, “Mmm, blueberry.”
They both took a sip and closed their eyes, feeling the sweet flavor slip over their tongues. Miyako suddenly seemed to remember something, and looked around on the table.
“No snacks?” She asked, with an expression akin to a kitten by an empty food dish.
“No, sorry, I've been a little busy this week. We can both go shopping tomorrow, how about?”
“Shopping!” Miyako agreed enthusiastically, but then turned a curious eye towards her girlfriend, “So, my trip went fine, but what have you been up