RECORDING
Chapter Six
Symphony in B Minor
A lot less hesitantly than Mio had done the night before, Ritsu darted out into the hall. The bassist lingered by her bedroom door, her gray eyes wide and bright with fear. Terror crept into Mio's throat as she saw her childhood friend fade into the blackness. If the ghost was dangerous, Ritsu could get seriously hurt. Worse, she could die. And what am I doing? Cowering by the door, letting my friend get killed! Before her doubts could further glue her to the door, Mio tore out into the hall after Ritsu.
If it was at all possible, the darkness seemed even more oppressive that night. It hung over Mio like a heavy blanket, muting her shallow breathing. She wished she had her flashlight. If Ritsu has it, surely I would be able to see it, right? Maybe the bassist was going in the wrong direction. Or maybe...the ghost had silently and effortlessly snuffed out Ritsu's life and the flashlight with it.
Mio's hand faltered on the banister. That couldn't happen, could it? Maybe I'm next. A fuzzy chill prickled her neck. Horrified, she turned on the staircase to retreat to her room...
She found herself face to face with a glowing countenance. The sinister face split into a wild grin. A low hiss swirled within the stairwell: "Mioooooooo."
"EEEEEEEE!" The raven-haired girl tried to twist around on the stairs. She could hear nothing but the volcanic roar of her heart. The heel of her foot missed the edge of the stair, a moment of stillness, and she was falling. The ghostly face gaped in shock. Mio felt someone seize her wrist, yank her back up, the face fall below her, something hit her ankle. Two identical cries of dismay rang in the stairway as the bassist and the ghost (?) tumbled a couple stairs. It was the most mindless, hectic madness she had ever experienced. Her elbow hit the wall, and they were done tumbling. She felt a small figure wriggling underneath her, heard a voice: "Agh, when did Mio get so heavy?"
"Ritsu!" Mio exclaimed, her voice a confusing mix of relief and anger.
"None other." Suddenly her friend's heavily shadowed face appeared inches from Mio's. It struck the bassist that the light was coming from her flashlight. "You ever consider joining choir, Mio? You've got the dynamic range for it."
BOP!
And now the flashlight was illuminating a handsome lump.
"Don't ever do that again!" Mio's voice was thick with emotion. "I was so scared!"
"Aww, Mio worried about me," Ritsu giggled, attempting to sit up.
"Well...yeah." Blushing, the raven-haired girl rolled off her friend. She sat on the stair, holding her forehead in her hands. "I thought something bad had happened to you."
She felt Ritsu's hand on her right shoulder, rubbing and squeezing. "I'm sorry for worrying you."
What's with the affectionate voice? She's talking to me like I'm a boy or something. Thinking this was another one of Ritsu's jokes, she glared at the drummer. Mio was surprised to find Ritsu with a totally serious face. The bassist shuddered and looked away, her cheeks warm. "Don't mention it..."
Ritsu swung the flashlight around the stairwell, her circle of light illuminating the walls. The drummer made one last round before concluding, "Your shadow isn't here, Mio."
"It was here before..."
"Oh, I don't doubt that. I heard it earlier, saying your name."
Mio looked at Ritsu sharply. "I thought that was you."
The drummer's brow furrowed and she shook her head.
Mio's eyes drifted warily about the stairwell. She bit her lip and huddled up against Ritsu. "L-let's get outta here, okay?"
Startled by the close contact, Ritsu stuttered, "Y-yeah. S-sure." She added, more confidently, "This experience calls for research! I'm hitting up the library this weekend!"
The bassist managed a watery smile. "You don't do research, Ritsu."
The drummer grinned as she helped Mio up. "I'm willing to do it for you."
As soon as Mugi opened her eyes that chilly Saturday morning the memory of Sawako's kiss crashed down on her. Shuddering, she pulled the covers over her head. The torrent of raw emotions she'd felt yesterday afternoon were trickling back into her. Between the retelling of her parents' divorce and the kiss, yesterday was too real. Too much life had happened yesterday.
Groaning, she curled up on her side, hoping she could just turn herself into a morphing ball and disappear. She wished today wasn't Saturday. She wished tomorrow wasn't Sunday. She needed it to be Monday. She needed to see Sawako again. The keyboardist had so many things she wanted to say to her teacher. She might even kiss me again. Another shudder undulated through her.
Reluctantly, she pushed and kicked the covers away. Squinting, she could make out blanc frost criss-crossed on the window panes. It was freezing out there, but it was warm in here. Mugi never experienced the headache of a stiff window admitting cold air in her room. Or the furnace breaking down. Or lousy insulation. Her father's money made sure of that. His money could hold together a mansion, but it could not hold together a family.
Mugi squeaked in surprise when she felt a tear slide swiftly down her cheek. She let the salty liquid evaporate, leaving a crust on her skin. It wasn't really the divorce itself that saddened her, but the aftermath.
She stiffly crossed her immense bedroom to look at herself in her full-length mirror. She didn't look like Tsumugi. Her face was puffy, as if she'd overdosed on meds and this was the ghastly side effect. Her hair frizzed out wildly. Her loose-fitting night shirt sagged over her frame, exposing one pale shoulder. One of her pant legs had somehow rolled up in her sleep. Even her trademark eyebrows were in a state.
What would Sawa-chan say if she could see me now?
Mugi smiled, causing the dried tear to crackle on her face. She could just imagine Sawako leaning back casually in the keyboardist's plush armchair with a hot cup of tea in her hands. The teacher would wink at Mugi over her glasses and grin, You look so classy this early in the morn'.
Listen. I had a rough day yesterday, Tsumugi retorted.
Yawning, she reeled over to a set of blue painted double doors near her bed. She pushed them open and flicked the light switch. Immediately her walk-in closet was illuminated. It was a giant winding room with white walls, several mirrors, anjd racks upon racks of clothing and shoes. In contrast to the electric white walls the clothing racks were a brilliant rainbow of Chanel, Eve Yves, and Balmain. The cheapest outfit in the lot was a white ruffled blouse and a long black skirt. Those Mugi bought from GAP when she was twelve for a recital. She never got to wear them; her parents didn't allow it.
Mugi always tended to dress according to her mood. Today cried for a white button-down shirt, V-neck grey sweater, and black slacks. She selected the said items and darted down the hall to the nearest bathroom - one out of twenty in the immense Kotobuki mansion.
The bathroom was a vision in marble, from the tiled floors to the glittering white walls. On the farthest end of the enormous room was a shower stall big enough for a donkey. Directly across from that was the gigantic tub; any common person or guest would be pardoned for mistaking it for a jacuzzi. Near the jacuzzi-esque bathtub was the toilet that flushed automatically. Near that were the two mirrors and huge vanity with twin his-and-hers sinks. This was an extravagent relic from her parents' happy days. A green shag mat graced the center of the room.
Mugi shut the door and, sighing, leaned against it. With a family of three people, what did her father need with twenty bathrooms? And with her mother gone, the numerous bathrooms seemed even more excessive than before.
She grimaced at the gold carving of a beagle next to the bathtub. The beagle crouched on its hind legs, balancing a soap dish in its paws. It was one of her father's impulse purchases which she and her mother questioned to this day. Mugi didn't much relish bathing with a metallic dog watching her.
As soon as she stepped out of the bathroom, clean and kempt and smelling like her strawberry-scented shampoo, she was met by one of her butlers.
"Ohayogosaimasu, ojou-sama," he greeted her.
"Ohayo, James-san," she returned with a smile. She was about to head down the ceramic stairs when he stopped her.
"Your father wishes to speak with you. He is in the billiard room."
Mugi suppressed a groan and thanked the butler graciously. Apparently Tokudaiji-sensei called her father to tell him about her detention. Mr. Kotobuki had been so furious that he couldn't even talk to her. He just sent her straight to bed.
She traipsed all the way down to the first floor. She passed the study, conservatory, and maybe seven bathrooms before she arrived at the cherry maple doors of the billiard room. She hesitantly grasped the knocker, carved and fashioned into the likeness of an eagle. She gave it three lagatto knocks, the booming reverberations making her uneasy. Then, her father's quiet, raspy voice: "Come in."
The blonde girl cranked the knob and pushed one of the heavy doors open. She hesitantly poked her head inside. The billiard room was dark, the only light coming through the blinds on the windows. It absolutely reeked of masculinity - five pool tables, a shotgun mounted over a hearth, several game trophies, and the bearskin rug. Mugi knew very well that her father was no hunter, and she found such accessories ridiculous.
On the farthest end of the room Mr. Kotobuki sat in an overstuffed armchair drinking a martini. Only a divorced man would start his drinking at ten o'clock in the morning. He was of medium height and medium build with ears that stuck out a little. He wore a red lounge robe and black slippers. Once he saw his daughter enter, his thick white eyebrows furrowed over his piercing ice-blue eyes.
"Tsumugi," he said at length. He curled his hand, beckoning her. "Come here."
Quickly and obediently, Mugi scurried over to Mr. Kotobuki. She held her breath, bracing herself for a lecture. Mr. Kotobuki's lengthy speeches had gone down in legend.
"I'm not angry, Tsumugi. I'm disappointed." He paused to drain the rest of his martini glass. "Even though that detention was over something petty like tardiness, that mark on your record is irreversible. Your choices of university are limited now, thanks to that tardy."
So? You could buy me in anyway. But Mugi wisely held her silence.
Mr. Kotobuki ran a delicate hand through his wispy white hair. "To make matters worse, you didn't even attend that detention, Tsumugi. You were to report to your homeroom teacher and you didn't. What were you doing?"
Mugi's pupils contracted as yesterday replayed itself. Sawako running her hand across her face, telling her about her guitarist ex-boyfriend. Sawako right next to her, brushing the tears off Mugi's face. Sawako's hand on Mugi's knee, her lips pressed against her cheek. If that gets out Sawa-chan will be fired for sure. I could get in trouble, too. The stark danger of their situation hit the keyboardist like a ton of lead. She could tell by her father's stony expression that he wouldn't let this go without an answer. She'd have to think of a lie, and fast.
"I was in Music Room 3."
Well, maybe not so fast.
Mr. Kotobuki arced a bushy eyebrow. "And what were you doing in Music Room 3?"
Mugi's jaw tensed. Her mind was racing in tandem with her heart. Think, think! What could I be doing there that would cover her kiss and still be a decent alternative to detention? "Rehearsing piano music," she blurted.
Mr. Kotobuki's eyebrows flattened. "Rehearsing piano music...?"
She bobbed her head up and down. "With Yamanaka-sensei. She teaches piano class, you know." Her cheek fluttered.
"And what did you rehearse?"
"Minuet...?" She had no idea why she said that.
The old man seemed confused. He raised his martini glass to his thin, scornful lips, then remembered it was empty. He settled for nibbling the olives. "You mastered Minuet when you were six years old. What possessed you to rehearse that?"
"Um, nostalgia?" I'm sounding stupider by the minute.
Her father pursed his lips as he dropped the toothpick in the glass. He didn't seem convinced. "Well, anyways, come Monday you will serve some punishment at school."
Just as long as I can see Sawa-chan again.
"Speaking of piano music...yesterday, while you were not serving your detention, I entered you into the Tokyo Prefecture Solo and Ensemble Contest. I also picked a piece for you."
Mugi smiled a genuine smile. She loved solo contests. "That's great. What am I playing?"
Mr. Kotobuki rang for a butler. Soon a tall, skinny man with waspish features was bustling into the billiard room.
"What may I do for you, Kotobuki-sama?"
"You may bring me that piano piece I purchased yesterday for Tsumugi..." He paused and frowningly considered his empty glass. "...and another martini."
The butler set the glass on his tray. "It will be done immediately."
"Thank you, Sebastian-san."
Momentarily, he had returned to the billiard room with the score and the drink. He set the two items before Mr. Kotobuki, bowed, and strode out. The old man sipped his martini, letting the gin burn his mouth and throat pleasantly. Then he grabbed the music and passed it to his daughter. "I know how much you like Bach."
"I do." Mugi raised her eyebrows happily. She considered the score's cover page. "Badinerie, eh?"
"Only the second movement." He sheepishly itched his mustache. "The whole symphony would take all day to perform. Plus, there's no way you'd learn it in two weeks."
Mugi looked up sharply. "Two weeks?"
"Hai. The contest is on November 6th." He cocked his head. "Did you have something planned for November 6th?"
"No." She knew how her father felt about light music. He would not give an inch for that concert. I'll probably have to pull some strings...She opened the score to its first page and gasped. "Oh, my..."
Mr. Kotobuki swallowed a gulp of his drink. "Challenging, ne?"
"So desu ne..." Challenging was an understatement. Accidentals galore, key and time signature changes, melodies that spontaneously leapt up and down the staff...and the tempo! One beat equals one hundred sixty. Glissandoes, trills, and sixteenth and thirty-second notes ruled the pages.
Her father smiled. "You're an excellent pianist. I know you can learn this."
In two weeks? The very thought caused a pit of worry to form in her stomach. "I should start learning this now. Am I excused?"
"You most certainly are."
"Thank you."
It was a long trek from the billiard room in the west end of the mansion to the hall in the southeast end. Mugi had no idea where the stereotypical rich person - fat and sedentary - came from. It was impossible to be inactive in this mansion.
The hall was considerably brighter than the billiard room, illuminated by several chandeliers and tall windows. This was where small social events were held. The room was carpeted, the walls painted red with wood paneling on the bottom halves. There was an immense circle of armchairs, couches, and loveseats surrounding a coffee table. The entertainment center on the farthest wall featured a huge plasma screen TV, cable box, DVD player, and advanced stereo system. Potted plants took the corners, including the one where the grand piano stood.
Mugi sighed and made her way to the piano. The billiard room and the hall were two more prime examples of how extravagent her father was. What did he need the game trophies for if he didn't hunt? Self-assurance or something? Why did he have five pool tables? Even if he were to make more friends that would still be excessive. The same problem existed for the lush hall. Mr. Kotobuki had the social life of a hermit.
Right after her parents' divorce Mugi felt obligated to keep her father company. But he made carrying a conversation so difficult.
She lifted the lid covering the keys and set the score in front of her. She leaned forward, studying the treble part. Mastering the treble part was always the greatest trial. Mugi always tackled that part first and the bass part usually just came naturally to her. She set her metrenome, aptly named Dr. Beat, to the one hundred sixty tempo. Her heart sank as it mercilessly plinked out the rapid tempo. Plinkplinkplinkplink. It made her a little dizzy. She reset Dr. Beat to plink out sixteenth notes to that tempo. The flawless and clear subdivision was staggering. How am I going to learn this in two weeks?
A fatal, claustrophobic feeling scratched its way behind her throat. For most of the day Mugi found herself just staring at the infinite expanse of ivory and ebony keys. Dr. Beat continued to subdivide at a rhythm and tempo that matched her racing heart.
Tsumugi wasn't the only one experiencing a fatal, claustrophobic feeling.
Ever since she was tiny, Azusa had harbored a secret and irrational fear of the dentist. The guitarist had quite the dental history to back up that fear. When she was five one of her teeth had rotted and had to be pulled. She couldn't remember the pain, but she vividly recalled the terror she felt as the doctor restrained her and forced the anesthetic mask over her face. A couple years later she had a cavity so bad it hurt to drink water. Looking back on those experiences, Azusa just thanked God she never had braces.
Presently she had a sea green paper thing under her chin and a blinding light in her brown eyes.
"Is the light too bright?" Sally, the hygienist, inquired.
Squinting, Azusa nodded. Sally readjusted the light, instructed her patient to open wide, and got to work.
Azusa's breathing remained level as Sally checked out her teeth with the little mirror. The hygienist nodded approvingly. Then her scraper came into play. That was when Azusa's breathing snagged in her chest and her back and arms tensed. Sally withdrew her tools and stared curiously at the guitarist. Azusa could see the grin through her mask.
"Come on. I haven't even done anything yet and you're already scared?"
Azusa thought to snap a retort, but reconsidered. She merely shrugged. Shaking her head, Sally set about aggressively tapping the second year's teeth with her scraper. The hygienist was reckless and clumsy with the tool, which as a result sometimes stabbed Azusa's gums and tongue. The tongue-stabs hurt the worst. Azusa squeaked, earning herself another jeer from Sally.
"Seriously, Azusa-san. How old are you?"
"Arhahh shehee."
"I beg your pardon?" Sally posed the question as if Azusa were a drooling idiot, not a girl with someone's hands in her mouth. Nonetheless, the hygienist withdrew her tools.
"Almost seventeen."
"And you're scared of the dentist? Sheesh." Before Azusa could defend herself Sally thrust the tools back in her mouth.
This experience is really treading Mio-senpai's turf. If the dentist freaked Azusa out, she could only imagine the bassist's reaction. She'd probably have a heart attack. The guitarist giggled, the sound coming out as a series of stacatto gasps. Sally chided her, then went back to work.
How would Yui-senpai handle this?
Yui? Well, she would probably space out and focus her ADD on a cake she was thinking about. Then Sally would bash her mouth with that damn scraper and Yui would beg for a break, a nap perhaps. She did say she disliked the dentist as well.
Maybe she'd fall asleep right in the middle of it. That is so her. Azusa would've smiled if her mouth wasn't stretched open. Sally pulled back and commented, "I don't know what happened, but you just suddenly calmed down. I accidentally pricked your tongue and you didn't even notice."
Azusa was then aware of a throbbing pain under her tongue. She knew she would have canker sores.
Sally smiled. "You must've been thinking about something calm and relaxing." She resumed scraping. Azusa flinched as the tool stabbed her gumline.
Pleasant and relaxing. Thinking of Yui made the kouhai forget how scary the dentist was. In a way, Yui was kind of a pleasant and relaxing person. Azusa snorted. Relaxed, more like. All she does is sleep and eat. And then she says I'm cat-like, she thought dryly. But...that's okay, she amended herself with a sigh. Yui-senpai is...the only person who can make me feel this way...
"You're turning red," Sally observed, still scraping. "Are you thinking about a boy?"
Azusa grunted in alarm and sat up, her head smacking the lamp. This time Sally's scraper hit her mouth on her accord. The guitarist sat, panting and nursing her sore head before spluttering, "I was not thinking about a boy!"
The hygienist suddenly turned serious. "Azusa-san, restrain yourself. I would hate to have to strap you down."
With a sigh, Azusa shakily lowered herself back into the chair. Sally gave her teeth a few more scrapes, her tongue and gums a few more pokes, the usual fluoride treatment, and then she was done. Removing her gloves and mask, she ordered, "Stay there. Dr. Miyazaki will be with you in a moment." And she left.
Azusa tipped her head back in the chair and stared out the second floor window over the bridge of her nose. Her head still ached. Yui would never react so frantically to Sally's jests. She would probably just laugh them off. Why does everything I think about revert back to Yui-senpai? It's like I'm obsessed. That thought made Azusa gulp. I can't be obsessed. Yui-senpai's a girl...but...there's something about her.
The kouhai's head felt leaden. She let it loll to one side, her eyes gradually closing...
"Why, she's practically asleep! Did you slip something in her fluoride?"
Azusa's eyes snapped open. She knew that booming high-pitched voice anywhere. Dr. Miyazaki, a man so plain and fair that he defied description, had entered the room with Sally. His gloves snapped on his wrists as he pulled them on.
"I-I wasn't asleep," Azusa insisted.
"Ah, of course not." After running through the obligatory how-are-you questions, Dr. Miyazaki had Azusa open her mouth. He lightly tapped her teeth with the scraper - exhibiting a lot more prowess with it than Sally had. He was just about done when his scraper touched one of her back teeth. Sharp pain lanced along the guitarist's jaw and she hissed in agony.
"This hurts?" Dr. Miyazaki queried. He experimentally tapped the tooth a few times and Azusa moaned. "Has this always hurt?"
"No..."
Her response seemed to trouble Dr. Miyazaki. He leaned against the countertop, considering its beige and white flecked surface. His brow furrowed. It was evident by the way his mask twitched that he was muttering to himself. Azusa caught the words "...could mean that, but..." and nothing more. She sat up a little, this time being more conscious of the lamp, and anxiously inquired, "Anoo, Miyazaki-san, is something wrong?"
The dentist ceased his mumbling and looked up blankly. It was as if he'd forgotten she was there. Then his brow smoothed and his eyes softened.
"I can't say for sure yet," he spoke quietly. "I'd like to run an X-ray, if you don't mind."
Azusa lowered her chin. "I have a choice?"
"Not really." He flitted about the room, accomplishing a few things at once. Retrieving the lead collar. Activating the X-ray machine. "THere is definitely something wrong with that tooth, and I'm obligated to diagnose it." He slipped the lead collar around Azusa's neck. Its great weight crushed her chest. Then he popped some plastic material in her mouth; this was supposed to position her mouth so the X-ray machine could get a picture of all her teeth. Azusa disliked having the thing in her mouth. A plastic edge bit into a fresh canker sore and she winced.
As the machine circled her head the guitarist speculated on what could be wrong with that tooth. If it had been another cavity Sally would've noticed and told her outright. The same went for if that tooth was rotting - though, really, at the age of sixteen Azusa knew her hygiene was better than that. So this has to be a new problem...The guitarist wished she knew more about teeth so she could pose more theories.
It didn't take Dr. Miyazaki long to diagnose her problem once he saw the X-rays. He had most likely seen this a hundred times.
"It seems the roots of that tooth are infected," said he. "It's not bad enough to show up on the crown, but it is bad enough to cause you pain." He turned to Azusa, an almost apologetic flash in his blue eyes. "I'm going to have to refer you to Dr. Hiawata. He specializes in root canals."
Oh, dear God...She could feel her whole body chilling over from head to foot. Azusa knew about root canals. Her mother had had one when she was nineteen. Mrs. Nakano couldn't get enough of describing the procedure in great, gruesome detail to anyone who would listen. Horrible wasn't an abhorrent enough adjective to encompass all the ghastly traits of a root canal.
With a heavy sigh and a gloved hand on her hip, Ritsu wearily surveyed her vast expanse of front yard. Autumn had drained the once lush setting of its colors, making everything appear gray. Even the few but huge piles of leaves were subdued to grayscale. This was Ritsu's punishment for yelling at Tokudaiji-sensei: she had to bag the leaves in the front yard. It was a chore she normally and ritually completed with her father's aide. This time Mr. Tainaka wasn't going to help her.
She set about her duty at a quick pace, ignoring the fatigue that burned in her back and thighs. While she worked she let her mind wander. Thinking made a task more bearable, and the drummer had been doing a lot of thinking lately.
She speculated a bit on her feelings for Mio. Just thinking about the bassist sent a zoomy, euphoric feeling in Ritsu's head. She wondered why she loved Mio and if it had always been this way. Well, the big reason why I talked to her was that she was so reclusive...and so frantic, she mentally added with a grin. Ritsu had always loved scaring Mio, right from the off. It was something the drummer would probably never outgrow. But then, to quote Mio, I haven't outgrown many things, period. She laughed.
So, there was Mio's quiet but nervous demeanor. That was an attraction point. There was also that strength that burned deep within her. Ritsu liked how Mio wasn't strong so much as an outer show of aggression but rather in a smouldering core of tenderness and sensitivity. The drummer sometimes saw that strength come through. She liked to think that she was the only one who got to see it. Though, realistically, I'm probably not.
This leaf bag was full. Using all her energy, Ritsu dragged the leaden thing to the curb. She opened a new bag and proceeded to fill it.
Mio had grown up nicely, Ritsu couldn't help but notice. It was amazing, really, how shy Mio could turn from an awkward, dumpy child to a gorgeous young woman just like that. It was almost as if overnight she had shot up four inches and narrowed through her waist and face. And, of course, there was the impetuous and generous growth spurt in Mio's chest. Ritsu dimly wondered what her bra size was. I just have to say it, the drummer thought; Mio is hot-hottie-hot.
Also, Mio had a comely face to complement her form. Even as a kid, Ritsu had adored Mio's face. She especially liked her eyes, as cliche as that sounded. But it was true. She had those sharp, expressive eyes. They never failed to betray Mio's true emotions. If the bassist insisted she was happy, Ritsu could see the sorrow pooling in those exquisite dark blue eyes.
The drummer sighed. She's so beautiful and I'm so funny-looking. While Mio had spontaneously turned into a lady Ritsu had stayed short and girlish. The brunette couldn't even count the ways she detested her body. There was her small height, small breasts, and her face. Ritsu didn't know how anyone could find her face attractive. She thought it was too round, especially around the chin, and sometimes she thought her eyes looked too small and eerily beady.
I'm Mio's best friend, but let's be honest. If I were to tell her I love her my appearance would be a turn-off. Ritsu paused mid-bag. Should I tell her I love her?
"Hey, Ritsu."
The drummer jumped and her heart galvanized at that deeper feminine voice. She dropped her handful of leaves and turned. Mio stood on the sidewalk, bundled up with her left hand raised in greeting.
"M-Mio...um, heya!" Ritsu's hand automatically strayed to her yellow headband, which she readjusted. She could feel her blood rushing up to her head. "What brings you here?"
"I'm on my way to the store." Smiling, the raven-haired girl brought her hand back in her pocket. "Would you like some help with those leaves?"
Ritsu shook her head urgently. "No, I couldn't get you in on this. I got this. I'm f-fine." She threw her arm behind her head. "Thanks, anyway."
"No problem. What are you doing tonight?"
"Um...laundry?"
"That new Coldstone just opened. What do you say to ice cream and maybe a movie?"
The drummer's heart wanted to break at Mio's warm, platonic smile. She doesn't know how I really feel. Ritsu knew she had to be her normal, energetic self. She grinned and trumpeted, "Yeah! Let's see something morbid and horrible and American!"
Ritsu knew Mio was shuddering because the bassist was tucking her chin against her chest. Mio always did that when she was scared. That was one of the little things Ritsu loved about her.
"Uhh, tell you what," the bassist stammered. "My nerves and blood pressure are already shot from Paranormal Activity. How does Where The Wild Things Are sound? You said you wanted to see that."
Ritsu giggled, recalling how Mio bawled at the trailer for Where The Wild Things Are. Mio always cried at movie trailers. "Sounds like a plan!"
"Great. Then I'll see you at...how's six?"
"Six is good."
"Good." Mio nodded affirmatively. "See you later, then."
"Hasta luego, Mio de mia."
Ritsu watched her go, taken with how Mio's feathery black hair rippled and cascaded with every step like liquid onyx.
Am I...gay?