Author’s Notes
Those familiar with Japan’s topography will forgive the fact that I have altered it slightly to better fit my story. The error is not too glaring, I think. What I have not changed is this: Suwa Lake is a lake in Nagano prefecture, which old lore says the Gods used to cross every year in winter.
“Good day” should be taken as the nearest translation to Gokigenyou. (At least in spirit. Taken literally, it’s got quite a strange translation, which, of course, even the Japanese don’t consider.)
Fifteen thousand yen is approximately one hundred and fifty U.S. dollars.
With this chapter, I officially break my White Reflection / It’s So Cowardly fanon. No disappointments there. It just means I can actually end this without saying, “And then, 10 years later, Yumi and Sachiko have sex. The end.”
At this rate, it can’t end.
I probably don’t want it to end.
Highway Chance
The car emerged from a solid, two-sided wall of forest and what it emerged into did not help Sachiko, either, for as soon as the lovely view of brown and green vanished, she saw pure water, and lots of it. Those in the car who were not asleep woke up those who were, and the general consensus was of a sort of awe which words could express, at best only awkwardly, though Sachiko felt that she might want to try in spite of this.
This was no surprise, either. Sunset was just starting to extend its pink claws over the horizon, and so every inch of water seemed to be veritably lit afire, blazing with a kind of cool power that made Sachiko feel very much as though one of the gods must have fallen into this lake as it tried to cross, and so now blazed much like the sun in its rage and frustration.
“What lake is that?” Shimako asked quietly, her breath not quite caught in her throat. Sachiko already knew, and she felt the first twinge of annoyance creep up her throat.
“Lake Suwa,” Sachiko said, feeling as breathless as Shimako sounded. “Nagano Prefecture. Sei, would you like to tell us why we’re in Nagano?”
Sei only laughed. “I never said we were going straight to Kyoto, did I?” She did not ask Sachiko, is that a problem, and so Sachiko could not say anything in reply, and that was for the best.
Yumi squeezed Sachiko’s hand. “It’s beautiful,” she said gently, as though her voice were being held down simply by the raw power of this lake-god. “I think this will be a wonderful place to spend the night.”
Sachiko frowned, not allowing herself to be taken in by such a blatant, inconvenient truth. Something was niggling at the back of her head, making her irritable, and she thought it probably had nothing to do with her bladder.
Yumi squeezed her hand again. “Don’t worry,” she said with a little grin that Sachiko couldn’t see. “It’s not far enough out of our way to make anything go awry back home.” Any more awry than it already has.
Yumi saying this was strange to Sachiko: It was as though as she spoke, the little niggle in the back of her head began to subtitle her words.
And as soon as it spelled itself out in her head, it vanished. It was absurd, after all. Wasn’t it?
Of course it is. You’re already being bad. What does it matter if you take a few extra hours at it, or veer off the straight path? Are they going to scold you twice for wasting gas?
Are they going to scold me at all?
Sachiko gave that sharp little shake of her head again, and Yumi’s eyes immediately became worried, though, again, Sachiko did not see it, still staring out the window at the lake as they turned off onto a road which probably curved all the way around it. I have to not think about that. What’s the point of this if I do? What’s the point of going out and doing something so abstract as just enjoying myself if I do nothing but worry about it the whole time?
From the voice of her mother: That would be something I would expect to hear from a reckless fifteen year old girl, wearing a short skirt and showing her bare neck and riding in a flashy car with an eighteen year old boy who wants nothing more than to get into that skirt and what’s underneath. Is that you, Sachiko Ogasawara?
Sachiko found she had no response to that. A blind denial would get her nowhere.
You’re slipping again.
She was.
Often, when Sachiko felt herself slipping, it was Yumi who managed to get hold of her. Yumi, who seemed so damn near psychic it was frightening at times. This time, it was Sei Satou, of all people.
“So,” she said, without preamble, “who thinks they can fit into a swimsuit that’s measured to fit either myself or Yoshino without falling out just as fast?”
“Eh?” Yumi said. “Wait, what?”
“Hey,” Sei said. “There’s a lake, and the way it looks, Lodging, 13 KM is right on it. Are we going to stay overnight at a hotel and not go swimming in the lake right next to it? Come on, no chlorine for once!”
“I don’t think that that is what’s worrying Yumi,” Shimako said, sounding plainly nervous herself, something Sachiko was unused to from her. “The trouble is what you said about fitting into…a bathing suit? Somebody else’s?”
“I think,” Rei said from the middle seat, “that you and I, Shimako, will be the only ones to be troubled. Yumi will probably fit soundly into whatever Yoshino has, and I’m sure Sachiko and Sei are roughly the same size.”
“Care to enlighten me, Sachiko?” Sei shouted from the front. “What’re your measurements?”
“Wh—” Sachiko sputtered. Sachiko never sputtered. Sachiko had also never been openly asked what her three sizes were. Part of living in an upscale community was that the horny, stupid boys of her circle simply paid butlers off to find such things for them. So while Sachiko knew that such information might not be entirely private, to be asked in the open like this, just…
Yumi was scratching something on a spare scrap of paper she had likely found under the seat with an old pen that looked like it needed to be tossed. Sachiko leaned in to look and Yumi turned her body to block Sachiko’s vision.
“Yumi, what are you doing?” Sachiko said, her voice wary.
“Please wait a moment, Onee-sama,” Yumi said. When she finished whatever she was doing, she folded the piece of paper in half and handed it up to Yoshino, who flipped it open immediately after receiving it and gave a long, slow whistle, the universal note which meant something only mildly less vulgar than hot damn.
“Yoshino!” Yumi groaned. “You’re supposed to pass it! Pass!”
“I am,” Yoshino said. “But can you blame me for looking? After all…” she whistled again, and then passed the paper up to Shimako, who watched it with interest as it approached. When it arrived in her hands, however, she looked at it uncomfortably for a second, her face working as she decided if she actually wanted to see what was inside. After a few seconds, though, curiosity got the better of her and she glanced at the quick scrawl, frowned, and then smiled.
“Yes,” Shimako said, turning around in her seat to face Yumi. “I think that’s about right.”
“What are you two on about?” Quick as a pickpocket, Sei snatched the scrap from Shimako, who went a dim shade of red almost as soon as she lost it. Sei took a half-second to read it, and then gave a whistle herself. “Those are pretty nice. Well done, Sachiko. We’ll be able to fit you.”
“Onee-sama,” Shimako said mildly, recovering quickly, “they are almost exactly the same as yours. I don’t believe that this makes something like well-done entirely appropriate”
“My what?” Sachiko said, and then looked at Yumi, who took the opportunity to go red as a beet. “Yumi?”
Yumi, her hands pressed between her legs hard enough that it seemed that she was trying to leave her mark on the seat, muttered something that sounded suspiciously like something Sachiko did not want to hear Yumi saying.
Most definitely not.
“I’m sorry,” Sachiko said, a bit shaken. “I don’t believe I understood you.”
“...sizes…”
Sachiko looked very closely at Yumi, trying to decide if she was joking; really, she was just trying to convince herself that she was, though, since she knew that Yumi wasn’t given to those kinds of jokes like Sei was.
How did she find that out, then? She certainly never asked me directly. Did she pay off a butler?
Those things always made Sachiko irate when the boys did them.
Strangely, though, Sachiko found that if she superimposed Yumi’s face on that of the boys, instead of making her annoyed, it made her laugh.
Made her want to laugh.
No.
It made her laugh. She covered her mouth with one hand and laughed into it, and soon enough, Yumi was laughing, too.
Sei turned the van off into a gravelly parking lot, which was in front of a fairly large, Japanese-style building. Attached was a small, western-looking cube-shaped building labeled, gift shop, and Sei said, “I bet we can all buy swimming suits there. Too bad, though; I was looking forward to seeing Sachiko in one of mine.”
“Onee-sama,” Shimako said quietly, “I think that that would be considered perverted in most polite circles” Rei snorted.
“What?” Sei mumbled as she stopped the van and they all filed out. (Neatly, of course.) “It’s not like I was going to sniff it afterwards.”
“I would believe that,” Shimako said as she walked up next to Sei, a small smile on her face, “only when I found it in the wash.”
Sei stopped, looked at Shimako completely agape for a second, and Sachiko wondered at just how much the latter had come out of her shell in this short time that they’d all been around each other.
She seemed like such an idyllic lady from across the Yamayurikai table. How was I to know that she had this kind of side to her?
You speak about it like it’s a bad thing. Somebody who is a Lady all of the time has no depth to them. Manners are only one face of a person.
Sachiko saw the wisdom in this, but she couldn’t accept it so easily.
How can I, when all my life, I have been told that without manners a Lady is nothing but a bother?
Does Shimako look like a bother to Sei?
Sei wound up chasing Shimako into the store. It wasn’t very lady-like at all.
This, of course, had been so ridiculous that it had taken Sachiko a moment to comprehend that this was not what Yumi had meant at all. In fact, the only people in the store who had not comprehended this were the two behind the counter, who looked halfway past baffled.
Yumi is buying one?
I had thought that…
Yumi was smiling at her brightly. “We can match,” she said with a grin. If Sei had a comment about Sachiko’s figure, she held it to herself, pretending to browse around for bottles of suntan lotion that she had no need for. The others did the same, apparently all on the same wavelength for once.
What the hell kind of grande soeur am I if I have to be coddled like this into the simplest of tasks by my petite soeur? It’s not as though I’m going to strip in front of a crowd.
(fucking slut that is exactly)
and Yumi will be embarrassed beyond belief if she’s by herself.
(“You can’t do it. Who wants to look at that? You can’t do it. Even if you could bring yourself to bear yourself in front of all these people, they couldn’t bring themselves to look at—”)
Sachiko shook her head sharply at the memory.
“No,” she said quietly, her eyes downcast. “I’ll pay.”
Who the fuck wants to see that?
Who?
Yumi was smiling up at Sachiko. The smile said something more than Sachiko had expected it to.
Who?
She didn’t know what it was, and what was worse, she wasn’t sure if she liked it or not.
She bought the swimming suit anyway.
Even if she had smiled at them as they stopped in front of the statue of the Virgin Mary just inside of the hotel’s lobby to say a short prayer. If Sachiko had seen more of the world, she might have thought it a testament to her upbringing that she found nothing conspicuous or strange about that statue’s placement in such a public place.
“Good day,” Sei said, taking charge as she seemed oft to do as of late. “If I asked you if you had three rooms right next to each other, what would you tell me?” This earned her a disapproving look from the lady behind the counter, who seemed to be slowly thinking of what to say when another woman, only a couple years younger than the first by her looks, walked out of a door behind the counter that was so well-concealed that it took everybody by surprise.
“I would say,” this new woman said with a bright smile, “That our rooms sleep two and cost fifteen thousand yen a night. And I would also, as a courtesy, warn you that it is likely to rain in the next few hours, and that there is a hotel down the road which costs half of that.”
“But has no statue in the lobby,” the first woman added. “I saw that you stopped there. Are you all Catholic?”
“And here I had thought that you wanted me to be on my best behavior,” the second woman said. “That’s hardly a polite question, is it?”
“I simply thought—”
Sachiko stepped forward, smiling inwardly and straight-faced outwardly at what seemed very obviously to her a case of a sibling squabble. “We are,” she said diplomatically, earning her the immediate attention of both of the women. “We attend a Catholic school for girls in Tokyo, and your statue caught our eye immediately by how beautifully crafted it was.”
“See?” The second woman nudged the first in the side. “I told you it was a good investment.”
The first woman ignored her, giving a smile which Sachiko was certain was forced, but only because she had seen it in the mirror a thousand times. She put her own on and said, “In any event,” she winced, wondering at how easily she had misstepped—never dismiss what somebody else has said so easily—“we would love to stay here for the night; this hotel is lovely.”
“Wait till you see the rooms to say that,” the second woman said, and this time the first woman nudged the second in the side with a frown. The second woman acted indignant. “Hey now, I’m kidding. These lovely ladies know that, don’t you?”
“Of course,” Sachiko said with her mirror-smile, and then began sifting through her neatly-organized purse for her suddenly disorderly wallet. For just a moment, she caught the eye of the first woman, and something funny happened, so fast that it took Sachiko until they got to their rooms to understand it fully:
The other woman’s smile became real. And she nodded, just the tiniest bit.
After they paid, the women introduced themselves as Satoi Tanaka and Kiyomi Yoshida; Satoi was the more serious of the two, and the older.
The rooms were nicer than they had expected. There were bibles, too.
Sachiko never found time to glance inside of them, though.
While all of them were surprised, none were alarmed, but all of them felt a strange sense of sadness—they had all been looking forward to swimming. Sei expressed a special sense of regret, citing that she had been looking forward to seeing certain parts of Sachiko emphasized which Sachiko did not think she would be able to name in polite company.
Sachiko, however, felt this odd sense of loss as well. Certainly she had not been looking forward to seeing
(Yumi)
the girls in their bathing suits—that sort of thing was
(wrong)
(really?)
not something that she had ever really thought about—but she had been looking forward to something, and she felt now a vague sense of disappointment which, try as she might, she couldn’t place.
The voice which came from her side was quiet, and, though Sachiko could not have proven it, sounded a little bitter.
“Damn.”
Sachiko looked over at Yumi, a little surprised, though not upset as she might have been had they been in public
(you are always in public slap her)
(slap her)
You may go straight to Hell if you think I’ll do that.
and said, “Were you looking forward to swimming?”
Yumi nodded and looked up at Sachiko, and a second later, there was a small grin on her face. “I think I’ll go anyway, if you don’t mind, Onee-sama.”
Sachiko blinked, uncomprehending. “What?”
“That’s a great idea!” Sei said from behind them. “Heck, we don’t even need to swim. We can just stand out there and get soaked if the lake’s too chilly.”
“And then you can catch a cold,” Rei said disapprovingly, looking down at Yoshino, whose eyes were already alight with the idea.
“Whassamatter,” Sei grinned at Rei, “Afraid you’ll get a couple too many points across?” Her eyes traveled downwards for only the briefest instant, just so.
Rei went bright red. Yoshino giggled. Shimako giggled as well, an act which ruined utterly her attempt to look disapproving.
How am I even allowed in such a group? Sachiko wondered. These girls…they’re all…
Normal.
Yes, that’s it.
Normal. Where does that leave me?
(slap her)
(slap them all they are all rude)
fuck you
Easily upset? Erratic? Irrational?
“I’m going to change,” Yumi said. “Onee-sama, will you come swimming with us?”
“You’ll catch a cold. How can you even think of doing such a thing?” Sachiko almost said.
Instead, she caught herself. It was a mark of progress.
She looked at Rei, probably the one who was nearest to her, if not closest. Rei only shrugged
She looked at Sei, who winked at her and gave her a thumbs up which meant many things that Sachiko did not entirely understand, and was not certain she wanted to understand.
She looked down at Yumi, who was smiling up at her with something in her eyes that Sachiko had never seen before. She didn’t see Sei glance down at Yumi and give a blink of something which was not quite surprise, Sei who knew exactly what that something was. Sei who seemed to know what everything was.
And then Sachiko nodded the most important nod of her life.
Soon after that, everything they had done insofar, every silly little rebellion, every little discomfort Sachiko had put up with, every uncertain thought she had had, seemed to pale in Sachiko’s memory.
Yumi changed more slowly than Sachiko did, which might have been surprising to somebody who didn’t know how quickly Sachiko had had to change at
(o-sake)
(have some more)
(oh dear ive spilled it down your dress let me clean that up)
the social functions hosted by her family. She was fast enough, in fact, that she hadn’t had time to think about how slowly some other girls changed clothes. She turned around when she finished, and a word was about halfway out of her mouth when she saw Yumi naked for the first time. The word might have sounded a little like “Wuh.”
Yumi did not see Sachiko see her naked. Her back was turned (at Sachiko’s unspoken behest) and so Sachiko saw only the barest outline of the girl’s small breasts. Yumi’s skin was very pale and delicate, and Sachiko thought briefly that she looked a little like a doll.
A doll with a very
Beautiful
(you make me sick)
back, her muscles and shoulder blades moving fluidly as the girl stepped into her swimming suit.
The swimming suit that covers her
(fucking sick)
very small…shapely? Is that the word?
(god is watching you filthy)
post (disgusting) erior.
She turned around again quickly.
What surprised her, and scared her a little, was that she had to fight the urge to glance back again.
All at once, Sachiko Ogasawara felt sick to her stomach, confused, and afraid to the point that she began to shake, though she calmed herself almost immediately thorough a force of will which was almost routine at this point. She said nothing more to Yumi, whose face brightened visibly when she turned around and saw Sachiko in her bathing suit, which she said suited her very well, especially for a purchase made on the spot. (Saying nothing of the extortion involved.)
Sachiko found she had trouble responding to that with anything but a grin around the enormous lump that seemed to have nested into her throat.
Yumi and Sachiko waited in the hallway, the first to finish. Rei and Yoshino came second, and Shimako and Sei last. Sachiko noticed that Shimako was walking with a slightly faster gait than was usual, especially for that girl, and that she looked a little red around her neck—a less naïve person than Sachiko might not have wondered where on earth the girl had gotten a sunburn. She might have thought something more worldly had she seen the mildly shaken look on Sei’s face.
Rei fell into line with Sachiko as they entered the lobby, earning themselves looks from owners and travelers alike. Sei only waved, but Shimako, still determined to walk a little ahead for some incomprehensible reason, only sunburned further.
“What’s going on?” Rei asked quietly as she pulled Sachiko to the back of the group.
“What do you mean?” Sachiko was honestly taken off guard, having been distracted by the interaction, or lack thereof, between Sei and Shimako.
Rei frowned. “I think you and I ought to have a talk,” she said, and then she said something which delivered a hit like a semi truck to Sachiko’s gut: “Did you even notice that you have looked at Yumi’s backside no less than four times since we got on the elevator?”
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