You / my friend / you’re a lot like them / but I cut your line / and you know I did / now I’m lost in you / like I always do / and I’d die to win / but I’m born to lose
Firefly / could you shed your light?
Firefly
Midori frowned at Natsuki from a distance as Shizuru left her, behind Reito. Frowned at the way Natsuki’s eye followed Shizuru, the way her head tilted, only slightly, so that she could see just a little bit farther. Frowned at the way she didn’t say a word. Only nodded faux-absently as Shizuru said, Natsuki, I’m going for a while. She wasn’t really absent at all.
Midori saw it in her eyes: What she was was distressed. She had been staring out at the ocean for as long as Midori had been chancing glances in their direction, which had been about ten minutes, since she had started chatting animatedly with Chie. To be honest, she hadn’t been paying attention to what the younger girl had been talking about at all, nor had she been minding what she’d been saying back. For all she knew, she had just admitted a deep, impossibly faithful admiration for the Scottish bagpipe. Or Minoru.
She noticed that she hadn’t frowned at Reito leaving with Shizuru. Maybe this was because she wasn’t as fond of him as she’d previously thought, but she doubted it. More likely, it was because she had a feeling that she’d confirmed Shizuru’s love interests; most specifically, how they had nothing to do with Reito, or really, any males at all.
After all, she rationalized, those two had been touted back at school as the greatest couple in the history of Fuuka Academy, if I remember right, which means that they’ve probably never so much as brushed hands. Kids could be stupid. Rumors could be stupider, and neither had a tendency to be accurate about much of anything. But still, they obviously talk. Which means that Reito probably knows about Natsuki, if anybody does. Right?
“--bladder. Don’t you?”
Midori blinked. Hard. “What?”
Chie grinned at her impishly. “You haven’t been paying attention, have you?” she said. Her tone was smooth and wry, matching her expression. “Off staring into space? Or, more particularly, staring into his space.” She indicated the cabin where Reito had gone. Midori might have marveled at the girl’s acumen, but for the fact that she had been fairly indiscreet about the whole thing.
Aoi, standing next to Chie, smiled only mildly less coltishly. “If I were you,” she said, and then looked at Chie, as if waiting for some sort of signal to continue. Chie nodded at her, and she did: “I wouldn’t worry about the two of them. I don’t think they have any more between them than friendship.”
There was a twinge in her voice when she said it that somebody less perceptive than Midori wouldn’t have caught. “Who said I was worrying?” she said without thinking about it.
Aoi and Chie only grinned at this. Their grins were identical now, which Midori found just a little creepy.
“Well,” Chie said. “Since obviously you weren’t worrying about it, I guess I’ll have to find somebody else to tell my story to.”
Midori frowned, said nothing.
“Which story is that, oh wise teacher?” Aoi said, her voice faux-gushy.
“Oh, it’s nothing special,” Chie mock-sighed. “Only a story of love, heartbreak, of tragic romance.”
“Wait,” Aoi frowned. “Really?”
“Absolutely not.” Chie peered with one eye at Midori, who feigned disinterest. Or maybe she wasn’t faking it. Chie couldn’t tell. “And that’s what makes the story so interesting.”
What am I, fifteen? Midori thought, a little irate at the act, which Aoi and Chie were clearly enjoying. “I think I’ll pass,” Midori said with a fake yawn, and then turned and walked away, leaving Chie and Aoi thoroughly satisfied with themselves.
Those two… Midori frowned. They could have just told me outright, rather than trying to pester me with it. But she had gotten the message pretty clearly, more or less confirming what she already knew. I guess that’s just kids for you.
She could only really say that because she had never participated in gossip herself as a highschooler, and when questioned about her own love interests for the gossip, or even really just out of curiosity, she tended to invoke the right of silence technique. In fact, she tended to do that when she was questioned in general. She couldn’t ever remember a time in her life when she had been unfailingly open and honest to anybody.
Even Youko, with whom she was the most direct and uninhibited of all of her friends, didn’t get the whole Midori. Nobody really did; different people got different pieces of her, and she supposed that if they were to all confer and swap what they knew about her, they’d get a pretty thorough picture. Even then, though, there were a few things that she kept firmly to herself; who didn’t have those things? It was natural, right?
And one less now, she thought, mildly annoyed, resisting the urge to throw a glance over her shoulder at Chie. So I get curious sometimes, just like everybody else. So sue me.
She continued walking until she reached Natsuki, who appeared utterly lost in thought, staring off at the ocean, but who she was quite certain was fully attentive, and had been since Midori had stepped within earshot.
It’s the eyes. Her eyes are always alert.
“Oi! Natsuki!” she called out when she thought she was close enough. She raised her hand and grinned, something that she had found was typically contagious, and a good way to begin a conversation.
Apparently, not with Natsuki Kuga, who barely looked up. This, Midori would later realize, was actually an improvement for Natsuki, who, during her time as a HiME, probably wouldn’t have bothered to acknowledge her.
Midori took with a grin and, when she was only a few feet away from Natsuki, tried again. “Natsuki? You in there?”
Natsuki whispered something that sounded an awful lot like piss off, and Midori stopped, frowning at her, torn between concern and offense; like a mother whose child has, in the same breath, disowned her and cried out for help; two things which did not often come without the other.
There was silence between them, and suddenly, it seemed as though everybody on the beach was watching them in utterly transfixed paralysis. Midori actually chanced a glance around, and nobody was. It was like somebody had muted life for her.
Chie was sitting on the sand, on top of a towel, smiling and moving her mouth at Aoi, one hand in the air, motioning to emphasize the point that her mouth was desperately trying to make.
Mai was running after Mikoto and Yuuichi, miming play-rage at what, in some alternate reality where sound was included with the package, may have been the first alliance between the latter pair for the purposes of tormenting Mai.
Kazuya and Akane were making out behind a rock in the distance. Perhaps the one set that was the same, sound or no. Midori actually felt a pang in her chest upon seeing them; something she hadn’t felt in a long time. How long had it been since she got to do something like that? Since the person she did that with had been
torn from me
Midori shook her head, and the pang passed, as they always did. This wasn’t the first time she had experienced life on mute. Not in the least. Her brain seemed to naturally block things out when it noticed something that her eyes didn’t.
or when it knows what is about to
midori i think im in love with you
Natsuki’s eyes were wet, shining as the sun hit them, reflecting the ocean back at itself. In her eyes, the ocean didn’t move, but rather the world moved around it and it remained still, as though she were Perseus reflecting the Medusa in the shield around her eyes.
No, that’s not right. If her shield were useful, her eyes wouldn’t be like this. Midori didn’t know how else to put it; she shifted uncomfortably on her back foot as the world shifted its volume, equally uncomfortably, back to normal. I’ve never seen her like this. Hell, I’ve never seen her like anything except cool and detached, save for one particularly embarrassing moment at the first and only meeting of the HiME Rangers. What is this? I don’t …
She didn’t want to admit it, but she didn’t know what to do. The last person that had broken down even near her had been in her class, begging her not to make him repeat the course for his shitty grade. She had told him to do better next time. That wasn’t an option this time.
She tried to reach out to Natsuki, but found herself faltering, almost before she started. What, do I just put my hand on her shoulder and tell her to buck up like I used to do? I can’t really say that anymore. I lost my right to tell other people to buck up when I failed to do it after
that was different
How do you know?
Wouldn’t you want somebody to talk to you if you were sad?
Midori opened her mouth again, but this time it was her that had been muted; her voice worked fine, nothing choked in her throat, but her head refused to move. It had suddenly fixated on an image that had burned itself into her brain months ago—her first time home since he had died:
the door to the apartment opens
everything is exactly the same as it was before
nothings changed except me im still living in fucking squalor only now its only my squalor
i walk and fling my coat down on the table and something falls off
a small folder with his name scribbled on the front
his work notebook the one he had used before we left to prepare
for just a second i dont notice the little picture of me clipped onto the side
All she could see in that moment was the folder. Faded blue, heavily worn, with coffee stains on a few of the pages, his name was scribbled onto the little white margin in black ink that had bled a little bit off, giving his kanji a vaguely drunken appearance.
And there she stayed; in that room, seeing nothing of Natsuki, her hand just outstretched, her mouth hanging open in mid-syllable.
Only you’re not 16 anymore. If only, right? Then you could probably feel a little better about being stuck in the middle of a bunch of teenage girls. But you’re not.
That didn’t mean he was any better at dealing with crying girls, nor did it mean that he had any more desire to. He found his feet beginning to carry him away from his spot as his mind told his heart, which protested only a little, she doesn’t know you, and you probably wouldn’t be able to sympathize anyway.
He couldn’t really argue with that. If he knew teenagers—and he didn’t, but he was one of the rare adults who still had a fairly vivid grasp on his own teen years—the girl would, with a little coercion, tell him everything on her mind.
Probably it was something to do with a boy; maybe even one of the boys here. In fact, it was probably the one he’d seen earlier with the dorky spike-cut; (Spikes, Minoru thought on a whim, and grinned) he knew the faces of all three of the boys there from when he’d been staring at their camp through a sniper rifle (something that, he suddenly felt, had been years ago, in another age. He wasn’t sure why) and of the three, Spikes seemed the only logical choice: Reito, the one who had helped the girl Midori to fix his wrist, seemed too old (he had said something about a university), and the boy with the brown hair had been pretty consistently chin-deep in his girlfriend’s throat, so he was probably out, unless he was looking for some sausage on the side. (This, given the shape of the girl’s hair, seemed an oddly appropriate analogy). Minoru found this possible, but fairly unlikely, just given what seemed to be their constant proximity to one another. Stranger things had happened, though.
After the girl broke down and told all her horrible, life-wrecking problems, that would be where the problem came. The true burden of the old, Minoru knew fairly well, was that they had been through enough relationships in their lifetimes; seen enough bad shit happen to other people, and experienced it themselves, that they found it near-nigh impossible to sympathize with the seemingly insignificant angst of the young. It was a loss of innocence, to some extent; when one’s personal issues began to take a backseat to more immediate things: Worrying about where to live; worrying about how to eat; worrying about making the next car payment. Or, in Minoru’s case, worrying about a bush twenty meters away, and whether or not there was somebody inside of it, waiting to pop out and gut him. He didn’t have that specific problem at the moment, but it was a common one for him. He had long since gotten used to just putting a bullet it every suspicious-looking bush he found.
So she would bare her soul to him, and he wouldn’t really sympathize. And then what? There was no and then. Then he would pat her on the head, and tell her she’d get by somehow, and leave, because he couldn’t muster enough sympathy inside of him to say anything more reassuring. Or, heaven forbid, actually give a shit; by Minoru’s thinking, that would be even worse than pretending to care, for both of them.
So he allowed his legs to carry him. For a few seconds, even, his entire body agreed with him, and while he felt a little bad about the whole thing, he was able to at least tell himself that she probably wouldn’t want to talk to him anyway—hell, most people don’t like to talk to strangers when they’re that bad, right?
Yes, that was right. His earlier estimation that she would just spill her guts, that wasn’t right, was it? Right?
Right?
Strangely enough, it was the girl that spoke first, her small, squeaky voice shaky and uncertain: “Who are you?”
Minoru frowned and glanced back at her. He was less than two feet from the corner of the cabin; he could be out of sight before she could catch him.
And then you would have just run away from a kid who couldn’t be more than thirteen, crying and scared.
Wouldn’t that make you a hypocrite?
Minoru didn’t want to think about that. Everybody had things that they didn’t think about; this was his.
So instead, he turned around and smiled his biggest don’t-be-afraid-I’m-just-a-nice-man smile. “Minoru,” he said. “Minoru Alder. Your friends…” knocked me out and dragged me into a van where I nearly broke my wrist. “Know me.”
“You’re the guy who was in the trunk,” she said quietly, uncurling herself from the near-fetal position she had been in just previously. “I remember you.”
Minoru frowned. When he had first been extracted from that miniature, wrist-destroying purgatory, he had been treated to a view of what he had thought was everybody in the group, save for the two girls, Natsuki and Shizuru, who seemed to be angsting at each other or whatever it was they were doing. He didn’t remember her, though come to think of it, he had seen her through his scope earlier.
Not that he was about to admit that.
“Yeah, I was.” He waited for it; the inevitable, obvious, burning question: And what, exactly, were you doing in our trunk?
It didn’t come, and he wondered briefly how she could go without asking.
Probably the same way you can go without asking her what the matter is.
They stood there in silence for a moment. Minoru didn’t bother to pretend not to notice as she dried her tears; that was rather childish. Rather, he let her dry her tears without feeling pressured one way or another; when she was done, Minoru said, “You know, everybody else is out on the beach.”
“I don’t really want to go with them.”
Minoru smiled at that. “Yeah,” he said. “Me either.” He felt like a father talking to his child for a moment; yeah, me either, grin grin pat-on-the-head, say, let’s go get some ice cream.
“Do you want to go for a walk?” Her question was sudden; it looked as though she had barely considered it before she asked.
He frowned at this. His pistol was on his hip, but the woods weren’t safe, and pistols were rarely effective against people with big rifles in trees. “I don’t really think that’s a good—”
“Okay then. It was good to meet you, Minoru Alder.” She started to walk away, and for the first time in quite a while, Minoru panicked a little.
“Hey!” he half-shouted as he started after her. “It’s—” dangerous, because in spite of all your boy-angst, there are worse things in life than not getting in some boy’s pants, and I guarantee you that getting shot through the chest with a hollow-tipped bullet is one of them.
“Dangerous because there’re animals, like wolves and things. Right?”
Minoru frowned. That lie would serve as well as any. “Yeah. It gets dangerous out after dark, and neither of us have a flashlight.”
“You do.” She pointed at his shirt, and he frowned; she was right. He was wearing the shirt he had been wearing while he was sniping, and it had a flashlight in it. Just in case. “So come with me if it’s so dangerous.”
“You shouldn’t go,” he frowned. “It really is dangerous.”
“I’m going.”
She started to walk, and he cursed silently. Listen to me, dammit, he thought. Aren’t I supposed to be the adult? The one who knows what he’s talking about?
Kids are rarely swayed by logic as feeble as that.
And with that, he started after her, reaching his hand up under his shirt to his armpit, making damn sure his pistol was still in there tight, every instinct in his body screaming at him to just let her the fuck go, dammit. Let her the fuck go.
He didn’t. It probably saved her life.
He also hadn’t been expecting open, frank conversation, but, contrary to his expectation, the evening’s chat would turn out to be remarkably open considering that most of his words with Shizuru were rarely unguarded or unveiled. It was just their way together. “It’s a lovely evening, isn’t it?” Shizuru said.
“Considering that,” Reito replied, feeling somehow less patient than he used to be with Shizuru’s unwillingness to speak, “you seemed remarkably unwilling to pay much attention to it.” Perhaps it was this initial, unusual display of impatience which coerced Shizuru into speaking more openly to him. Maybe it was the urgency with which she felt the need to speak with Reito tonight. Reito, who, in spite of her veiled words and half-formed suggestions, she trusted implicitly.
Shizuru didn’t reply immediately. She sat down on the front of her calves and looked at him as he did the same, placing himself directly in front of her. “You’re certainly directing your attentions in an unexpected direction tonight, as well.”
Reito smiled a little, unfazed. “I didn’t say that your focus was unexpected,” he said, and then, more quietly, as though to hide the fact that he was speaking frankly at all, “There’s no need to be defensive, Shizuru. I’m here to help you.”
Shizuru managed a half-smile. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “I’ve had a bit of a stressful day, I suppose.”
“Should I ask you how you are after the incident in Goza?” he asked this because he knew that she was probably alright.
No, she wanted to say. No, I’m fine. Simply shaken, and a little bruised on my wrists, but it was overall nothing important. I’ve been through worse, after all. “I saw Natsuki kill a man.” Maybe she was a little more shaken than she’d expected.
“But that’s not what stuck with you,” he said, and she nodded her reluctant agreement. “Maybe it’s not written on your face, but it’s still obvious.”
“Only to you,” Shizuru smiled, and for just the barest moment, Reito felt something very much like affection in her voice. It was gone from the air it had moved the instant after he noticed, though, which led him to question whether it was ever there at all.
“And to Natsuki.”
“And to Natsuki.” It sounded almost like a toast. And to Natsuki! Who notices that I keep my heart in my pocket, rather than on my sleeve!
A toast, indeed.
I’ll conclude their conversation at the start of chapter 18, worry not. I’m cutting them off here sort of deliberately. Also, it seems like I never did find time to talk to Natsuki. Again, next chapter; I didn’t expect Minoru and Midori to take up quite so much space.
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