Author’s notes
My knowledge of pro soccer is limited, so I apologize if I make a fool of myself when I talk about it. Feel free to shoot me a PM if you spot something blatantly ridiculous.
At the time of this writing, I have just finished watching Marimite OVA 5. God help me, I giggled like a little girl. I wish I was lying, honest I do. Go get it.
In Japan, there are many hotels whose toilets are western-style. The girls are staying at one of them.
If you’re ever lost, there’s work to do.
Brainstorm
(With the lights out, it’s less dangerous.)
For a second, Sachiko wasn’t sure where she was.
Scratch that. Sachiko wasn’t quite sure of anything for a second. She felt as though she might be floating, but rationalized that that ought to be impossible. She felt as though something was hitting her head, but heard no impact. It was entirely possible that she didn’t even have ears. Her eyes weren’t working, either. She opened them and saw a thin blackness which seemed to promise light if one could only move past it, through it; if one could only do the impossible. Was that really impossible? Nothing was certain. It made Sachiko feel considerably less insecure than it ought to have.
The only thing that was entirely certain was the pain. She had felt as though somebody was hitting her head because of the thumping, constant pain underneath her forehead.
“The only certain thing is the pain.” Isn’t that a little melodramatic? Sachiko thought, sleepily bemused. After all, I’m quite certain that I’m warm. I’m quite certain that I’m laying next to a heater, in fact. It’s a hot summer, but it’s really quite pleasant on top of the air conditioning. It doesn’t balance out the pain in my head, but it certainly helps.
See? Right there, I’ve become certain of two other things. I’m in a room, because I can feel the air conditioning circulating through the room, and I’m laying next to a heater. I bet I could even feel it if I tried.
Sachiko was suddenly struck with the strange idea that if she could, in fact, touch the heater, she might be able to move past the thin blackness above her. Presuming anything was above it in whatever room she was in. Beyond the first, thin blackness could just be another blackness, thicker this time, more impenetrable. Maybe beyond this blackness, her head didn’t even hurt. That would be nice. Unlikely, but nice.
The first thing was to locate her hand. Easy; it was still attached to her body. That was good. Another thing certain; she was not floating, ephemerally, above herself. This whole thing, in fact, seems quite ridiculous. Why don’t I just reach out and touch—
And then she stopped thinking and froze, because as she considered this, she did reach out and touch the heater, which was, in fact, nothing of the sort, unless the new trend in heaters was to build them fleshy.
The night before came rushing back to her in a broken torrent of half-convoluted images, like watching an unfocused, muted film that one kept nodding off in the middle of. It was hard to track, especially so since somebody kept knocking what was behind her forehead around like a soccer ball.
A pass to midfield.
Sachiko begins to drink, and then
a feint left, dribble forward
Yumi points at her nose as though she has something on it, and when she tries to brush it off her nose goes all crooked and Yumi snorts a laugh and then
a steal, suddenly driving the way it came
Rei and Sei are ushering them out of the room, telling them something about partners and problems—boy, if I had a nickel for every one of those—partners, not problems—somebody says, and it might be Sachiko but it might not, but Sachiko laughs anyway, it feels so damn good to just laugh and
a slide which is very nearly suicidal and very nearly red-carded but in the end neither, and then it’s going the other way again
then Yumi is sliding out of her bra in the moonlight
the way the ball is dribbled past the defense is nothing short of genius and
then Sachiko is slipping out of her shirt in the moonlight
suddenly there’s nobody left between the ball and the goalie who possibly for the first time in his life feels a trickle of fear in his gut, wondering if maybe missing this isn’t the worst thing that could happen to him, but rather catching it is because it may just kill him
and Yumi’s lips.
Goal. And by golly if the goalie’s shorts ain’t wet.
Sachiko had thought she had kissed people before. She had certainly given her share of theatrical kisses to Suguru when everybody was looking, and once when
not thinking about that
they weren’t. She thought she had kissed before, really kissed, but she was wrong, and her throbbing, muddled head still could not comprehend the scale on which she was wrong. She wasn’t really, wholly sure how to react to it, therefore.
Embarrassment? If there was one thing a Lady should never show, it was embarrassment. Embarrassment was an admission of guilt, and while nobody ought to be accusing a Lady in the first place, if they did, the last thing that Lady did was admit to it by blushing. Such things were best saved for private encounters with men who liked their girls innocent and stupid—and one should only be having such encounters with one man: The husband.
Happiness?About kissing your petite soeur? Are you out of your mind?
Why not?
Youare out of your mind.
Fear?
That one seemed appropriate.
No, that one seemed likely. What the hell had she gotten herself into?
Yumi stirred next to her.
Yes, fear seemed entirely likely. The next thing to squirm through her slushy brain was simple enough to be repeated over and over again without much pain: Does she remember?
Yumi’s voice. “Onee-sam—owowowow…”
For a moment, Sachiko could not speak. And then, much more groggily than she had intended: “Are you awake then, Yumi?” More groggily, and sharper. Harsher.
“Yes,Onee-sama.” If Yumi noticed, she didn’t show it. If Yumi felt anywhere near like Sachiko did, she was probably too busy watching a play-by-play of a basketball game in her head to notice. “My head…hurts.”
“I’m afraid mine does too. I suppose we must have had too much to drink last night, and now we’re paying our rightful due.” Amazing. Even with a hangover the size of Honshu, you can still wax irritable.
“Should we get out of bed?”
“I suppose.”
And then, something strange happened: Sachiko tried to get out of the bed, which was comfortable and warm; she tried to greet the day the same way she always did, with a sense of grim determination that she showed to nobody.
But unlike most days, she failed. That small thing inside of her that always pushed her, refused to let her flag or rest, even for a moment; that thing that had failed only once or twice before today, failed. She tried to push herself out of bed, moved a couple of inches, gave up. She tried to roll, made it halfway, found herself on her face. Gave up. She tried simply willing the bed to roll out from under her. It mocked her, unmoving. Gave up.
“Yumi, are you having trouble getting out of bed?”
“Mmm,” Yumi replied.
“I think we’re stuck.”
“I do, too.”
For some reason, this was unbearably funny, and they laughed a few moments before the pain in their heads forced them to squeeze their eyes shut and hide under the covers. There, they found each other again.
Though Sachiko was only able to open her eyes about halfway without splitting her temples open, she looked at Yumi hard, trying to gauge whether or not the other girl remembered anything about the night before. If she did, she was hiding it well.
“Good morning, Onee-sama,” Yumi said half-brightly.
The most Sachiko could manage was a half-smile. Perhaps it could be just a half-day, and the two of them could go back to bed after six hours or so.
Then the door began to thump, and Sachiko had a strange, off-kilter thought: I wonder if the door is soundproof?
A moment later, the painfully cheerful voice of Satou Sei came through the door, as unfettered as if she had been standing right next to them. “Wake up, kids. Can’t sleep all day, can you?”
“I could, if you left us alone,” Yumi called back, and Sei laughed. The noise hurt Sachiko’s head.
“That’ll never happen and you know it. You’ve got about ten seconds to get out of bed or else I’m coming in there.”
“The door’s locked.”
“I pilfered one of your keys last night.”
Yumi’s eyes went briefly wide, and Sachiko was sure the shock showed on her face as well; she wasn’t quite ready to put on her face that day. Not quite yet.
“You’re lying,” Yumi called back. “Aren’t you?”
“Am I?”
Yumi looked at Sachiko, asking silently, do you have your key?
Sachiko had no idea. After a moment, Yumi caught onto this, and whispered, “The only way to know is if we get out and check.”
“That would give Sei an unbearable victory,” Sachiko whispered back, and Yumi nodded.
“I’ll be very quiet. She won’t hear,” Yumi assured her.
Something about this seemed not-quite-right to Sachiko, who acquiesced, regardless, with a nod. A moment later, Yumi was very clumsily making for the edge of the sheets. Sachiko closed her eyes again and, for good measure, covered them with her hand, a move brought on not so much by fear as by the light let into her sanctuary by Yumi as she adjusted the covers, trying to escape.
A moment later she heard the distinct sound of something sliding, a brief squeal of surprise, and a thump. Yumi groaned pathetically, and Sachiko sighed in defeat.
A moment later, Sei laughed again. “Got you,” she said. “May as well get up now, huh?”
Another voice from outside, very distinctly Rei’s: “Sei, let them be. Yoshino wanted to lie down, so they can sleep for another hour or so.”
“You’re ruining my fun so early, Rei?”
“It’s nearly ten.”
“That’s early enough.”
“Let them be, Sei. Remember the first time you got drunk?”
“No, and I think that’s the point.” A moment of silence, and then, “Fine, fine. I’ll be back, you two.”
The sound of retreating footsteps.
Silence. Blessed silence. A wave of peace washed over Sachiko, relative though it was. (The soccer match in her head was, after all, far from over; it seemed the goalie had changed his shorts and was ready for another round.) She laid like that, her hands over her eyes, buried in the covers, for a period of time she was never quite able to track—it felt like a long time, but the sun, so far as she could tell, had not changed positions when she finally did get up.
After a bit of this strange, flexible time had passed, she heard movement in the room, and a moment later, a gentle hand touched her side.
“Onee-sama,” Yumi’s voice murmured, “we should get up.”
“Do…”do we have to? Pretend for a moment that you’re older than seven, Sachiko. “Yes. You’re right. Of course.” Sachiko rolled over, an act which churned her stomach just a little.
Yumi said, “Don’t be alarmed, Onee-sama. I’m going to pull the sheet back slowly.”
“Must you?” Sachiko’s tone sounded more like a whine than she would have wanted, but she supposed that was the thing about whining; one could rarely help it.
“I can’t very well let you take it to the restroom while you brush your teeth,” Yumi said patiently. “I imagine it would be rather difficult to get at your mouth.”
Sachiko giggled in spite of herself, but a moment later, had a thought which squashed any urge to smile: Yumi is handling me, isn’t she?
Sometimes, people must be handled. Didn’t they teach you that?
Difficult people.
Her train of thought was interrupted as a small sun rose in her field of view, going from dark to blindingly white in the span of a second. Done slowly or not, crossing the threshold of light to dark was almost unbearable to Sachiko as her head seemed to try to burst from the inside.
And then her stomach churned, and then it kicked. Familiar. Too familiar.
Sachiko’s eyes widened and her hand went to cover her mouth, and her mind blanked except for a single, pervasive command,
GET OFF OF THE BED YOU’LL RUIN IT
which she was powerless to resist as she scrambled blindly, fumbling over herself trying to get off of the faux-silk sheets with only one hand and the kind of white panic that accompanies the sick churn of a violent stomach. Somewhere deep in the back of her mind, she was certain she must look wholly foolish, but that single, undeniable command
GET OFF THE BED YOU’LL RUIN IT
said nothing about grace. Only
GET OFF THE BED YOU’LL RUIN IT.
She made it to toilet and threw the seat up, her hair in her face, smelling of sweat and beer, her eyes stinging, her gullet working violently, and heaved, dry, once; twice; and then she heaved whatever was in her stomach—very little, it seemed—into the toilet. Her stomach settled only just, and then a hand was there, pulling her hair out of her face, gently as it could, perhaps, but still roughly, focused on getting all of it. A moment later, her stomach lurched, and she vomited stomach acid, and then her stomach was calm. Her throat burned, the stench from the toilet was positively vile, and her head swam, but her stomach settled, and her headache began to retreat.
A small, pale hand reached from behind her and flushed the toilet. It left a residue on the handle that Sachiko had to turn away from, but the sudden rush of cool water beneath her was relieving all the same.
A rustle, and then a handkerchief in her peripheral vision.
“Please use this, onee-sama,” Yumi said, and the sound of her voice brought the world back into focus.
Sachiko turned to look at the handkerchief for a moment, tentatively. It was white, with a heart in the corner; nothing overly complicated, but not bare, either. It was Yumi’s, after all.
“I couldn’t ruin your handkerchief.”
“You won’t. Promise.” Sachiko could hear the smile in Yumi’s voice.
Sachiko took the handkerchief and used it to dab at her mouth. It came away a shade of yellow that made Sachiko want to look away. She folded it neatly and set it on top of the toilet. “You can let go of my hair now, Yumi.”
“You’ll ruin your nightgown.”
“I won’t. Promise.” Sachiko thought that echoing Yumi’s obviously flawless argument might be enough.
“You will,” Yumi said. “If I can use a towel, I can cover your hair long enough to get you out of it and into the shower without ruining anything.”
A dozen counter-arguments popped into Sachiko’s head, which was working just well enough to recognize that none of them made a lick of sense. She blinked, and the world seemed to flash white as her eyes closed. She blinked again and the world behaved itself. A good start.
“Onee-sama…” Yumi sounded tentative, a little unsure for the first time all morning. It was almost strange, though it was more her norm. “Do you think you could…grab the towel? My hands are—er—stuck here.”
“Stuck?” This made no sense. Did her vomit have some sort of strange adhesive property? Had she eaten glue?
“If I let go, that ruins the point.”
Another clever argument. “I’ll stand up slowly.” We’ve seen whereslowly gets us already. Just do it, like a band-aid.
I think I might fall if I did that.
She stood, and walked slowly to the towel rack. Yumi followed in easy step with her. Yumi seemed to be taking to the morning much more quickly than she was—wasn’t this her first time drinking? It couldn’t be.
Why not?
Because it was Sachiko’s first time drinking so heavily.
And so?
And so…
That would make you a step behind, is that it? The sharp voice of her manners coach: My dear, that is where you have been your whole life. That’s where all Ladies walk. It’s nothing to be ashamed of.
…Was it?
Sachiko grabbed the towel, now in reach, and passed it to Yumi, who used it to wrap Sachiko’s hair. After she had done this, without warning, she began tugging at Sachiko’s nightgown.
Sachiko’s reaction was less startled than it ought to have been. In fact, the first thing that came to her mind seemed to make absolutely no sense:If you want to do it here, may I at least clean my hair first?
As Sachiko clumsily moved her arms up, with this one thought in mind (possibly all her mind could handle at this point) she began to laugh. Politely, at first—truly a reflex for her at all times but her most inebriated— quiet and virtually motionless, only a small smile on her face to show that she was, in fact, amused. But as she struggled to keep her hair in the towel as Yumi struggled to move the nightgown over her head—If you want to do it here, may I at least clean my hair first?—and past Sachiko’s extended arm, far too long to make such an operation graceful at a hungover ten o’clock, she began to laugh.
“What is it, onee-sama?”
At first, Sachiko wasn’t even sure if she could say it aloud. When she opened her mouth to try, though, it was easier than she’d expected. “If you want to do it here, may I at least clean my hair first?”
As she said this, the nightgown dropped. She began sliding it off her other arm, letting her hair drop again—certainly disgusting, but she thought she might be able to handle it for the half-minute before she got into the shower if it meant letting that arm rest. Yumi was silent throughout, and as the nightgown finally fell to the floor in a heap, Sachiko’s smile faded.
Sachiko turned around to face Yumi, entirely naked in front of the girl for the second time in less than twelve hours. Yumi’s face was wholly serious, a combination of fear and…and what?
“I suppose,” Sachiko murmured, “That it was more amusing in my head.”
How much of last night does she remember?
And then, almost thirty seconds late but acting as though the time gap didn’t exist, Yumi smiled, big and confined to the lower half of her face, and said, “That’s funny.”
Sachiko looked at Yumi for a moment, and then something basic and uncontrollable inside of her rebelled and she said, “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll shower first.”
“Please do,” Yumi said, and then, with a look at Sachiko which lasted a good ten seconds, and went to the sink, washed her hands, and left the room.
I think, maybe, quite a bit.
Doing her best to put it out of her mind, Sachiko stepped into the shower and turned the water on. The water was soothing, but the thought never left.
(A ragged teddy bear)
Though it was hard to tell by looking at her, speaking to her, or, perhaps, doing things with her that might make a nun blush, Sei Satou was somebody for whom an ideal relationship was both loving and committed. Her roommate at Lillian University had once asked her why this was, when it was so much more convenient, and frankly, fun to steer clear of staunch commitment in favor of casual dating, and indeed, casual sex, and this is how she responded:
Your lover walks through the door of the home which one, or perhaps both, of you have paid for and maintained with your sweat, blood, and ass-kissing. There is something off in the person’s step, in the way they open the door and let it close behind them rather than shutting it quietly like a Lady ought, but you’re not somebody who likes long-term relationships, so the two of you have only been dating for about two weeks. Why she’s coming to your house after a long, hard day at work is maybe beyond you, or maybe it’s not, because you called her over. But whatever the case, you don’t notice that extra thump when she slides off her shoes, forgetting to tap them clean. You only notice the way her hips sway as she walks in, how nice her thighs look in her high-cut skirt. Your mind follows the sway of her hips and the line of her thighs and before long, it’s in the gutter, where you’re hoping to be in about half an hour, and so you rise to greet her, move to give her a kiss that would make God take a second look, and she pecks you on the lips and goes to sit down on the couch. Her face looks normal, maybe a little more drawn than usual, but you don’t see anything wrong.
No sex for you that day, then, is there? In life, we find ourselves coming home in just that state more often than not, I think, and I don’t think many girls would want to have sex with somebody who doesn’t catch the little look that says, my day sucked dirt, and yours?
As the door to Yumi’s room closed behind her, Sei heard the distinct sound of the shower running and frowned. She watched Yumi as the girl let the door shut behind her, rather than shutting it herself. She noticed that Yumi wasn’t wearing shoes, or even socks.
And she saw the look on Yumi’s face. Not sad, not quite. Just…wrong. Neutral, overly so for somebody whose feelings were usually on her face, clearer than day.
Pensive. That’s it.
She saw this, and knew it was wrong. And that, somehow, seemed to justify her entire viewpoint on love and relationships in a single instant.
She had been standing in the hall when Yumi exited her room—waiting outside her own for Shimako, who had kicked her out while she changed, something which baffled and bothered Sei at once, but which she accepted with a sigh and a shrug nonetheless (though she had since been idly pondering sneaking a glimpse under an inevitably shaky pretense)—and decided in an instant that she could wait to see just what her petite soeur had to be shy about.
“Hey, Yumi,” she said, starting to walk towards the girl.
“Oh.” Yumi said, and then blinked, and shook her head, as though in a double-take (though Sei could see that it was most plainly not). “Oh!” With more feeling this time. “Hi, Sei.”
“I got you out of bed, did I?”
“I guess you did.” Yumi wrinkled her nose, and Sei grinned.
“Hangover?”
Yumi paused for a minute, and then let her voice slump like her shoulders undoubtedly wanted to. “You can tell?” She sounded relieved to be able to relax.
“Sort of. You had a lot to drink—I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t had one. You seem remarkably well, though.”
Yumi attempted a smile. “Well, I’m doing my best.”
“But your head feels like a packed soccer stadium.”
She let her attempt drop. Again, relief. “Yeah.”
Sei spotted it. That’s what’s wrong. She’s trying to fake a perky attitude, which she’s not suited for, and usually doesn’t bother to attempt; that sounds more like Sachiko’s field. Why is she doing that?
“It’s all right to let yourself look like you feel,” Sei said with a grin, and Yumi laughed openly, which made Sei grin wider.
“I can’t quite go that far. I think that might make onee-samascream in terror.”
Sei couldn’t think of what to say to that, so she laughed with Yumi. When they stopped, they shared a brief silence which Yumi seemed to savor—probably the noise still hurt her head.
Why is she doing that?
Why don’t you ask her? The prospect was, in a way that Sei could not quite comprehend, frightening. Even thinking about how she might phrase such a question made her stomach twist just slightly. Not enough to really make her feel ill, nor enough to stop her were she honestly determined, but she wasn’t, and that was the problem: Part of her honestly didn’t want to ask. She felt as though the answer might be something so final that…
That what?
Just… final.
Coward.
We all are. In our own ways, we all are.
“Sei?”
“Hmm?”
Yumi hesitated. “I…if I tell you something, can you not tell anybody? Especially Rei or Yoshino?”
“Why not them?”
“Just…don’t.”
Sei frowned. “Sure.” Her stomach twisted again. That little, tingling fear. Fear of the final. Maybe that’s one of the ways I’m a hypocrite. I don’t profess to be afraid of the final, of the committed, of the permanent, but that’s only when it goes myway.
She didn’t even notice that she was holding her breath, just a little.
“Onee-samathrew up again this morning.”
She exhaled and the knot in her stomach untwisted instantly. She wanted to laugh and say, that’s it? but knew that Yumi might never speak to her again if she did. The worry was plain on the girl’s face, in such a real and fundamental way that Sei couldn’t help but empathize.
“I understand why that worries you, but it’s okay. Sometimes hangovers cause nausea, and for a person with as weak a stomach as Sachiko, nausea can lead to vomiting. I’ll bet you she felt a whole hell of a lot better after she did it.”
Yumi rubbed her hand as though washing it, her face a little unsettled. “I hope so.”
“You get some on your hand?”
Yumi jumped slightly and her eyes widened in surprise. It made her look a little less like a zombie and a little more like Yumi. Sei approved of the effect. “How could you tell?”
“Your face, same way I know everything else you’re thinking. Also, I’d have to be an idiot not to think that if Sachiko was throwing up, you’d be yanking her hair back so fast you probably took a few hairs with you as souvenirs.” As she said this, Yumi’s face brightened.
As it fell to silence again, Sei knew there was precisely one more topic for them to discuss before they fell into idle banter—which, in Yumi’s condition, would not last long at all. A topic she had to broach, because it, too, was on Yumi’s face, which meant it was on Yumi’s mind.
And even so, Sei rebelled against it. Fought it internally, considered whether or not choking herself to stave off the inevitable for a few more minutes, or even seconds, would be considered brave or stupid, wondered, briefly, what Shimako was doing in their room.
And finally, gave in.
“And what else is there?”
Yumi looked away. “I always tell myself that you can’t read my expressions like you say you can, but I guess I’m just kidding myself.”
“It’s the burden of being honest. I kind of envy you.”
“Hm.”
“So?”
Yumi’s face looked pained, and she looked up at Sei, who bent down slightly so that she didn’t need to.
Silence. After a minute, Sei said, “You might want to speak up soon. Another five minutes like this and I’ll probably never stand up straight again.”
“It looks kind of creepy,” Yumi said sheepishly. Sei grinned, but did not move.
Another few seconds passed. Sei’s back was beginning to ache, but her stubbornness did not budge an inch.
“I…” Yumi said at last. “What do you do with a feeling that you’ve held onto for so long, long enough that it feels almost the same as a teddy bear—something like a wish, only so high up in the sky that even when you’re holding it you get this little feeling, like you’re fooling yourself, because nobody can hold onto something as high as the moon, even if it looks like you can squeeze it between your fingers…what do you do when that just falls into your lap all of a sudden, without any warning at all?”
And there it was. Finality, so quick and sudden that it was like ripping a off band-aid.
And like ripping off a band-aid, it stung at first, but afterwards, it wasn’t too bad. It left a dull ache where it tore some hairs, a little sting to her pride, but it was nowhere near as agonizing as she had been, at some level, hoping for.
Sei stood up straight. Her back gave a little crack as she did.
She took a deep breath. What did somebody do when something like that just fell into their lap, instead of...
Instead of what? Working hard for it? Ambiguity aside, Sei thought that perhaps nobody had worked harder for that sort of feeling in all their lives. And really, people might grow to love one another, but there was still one specific moment when it just fellon the other person: A moment of revelation, perhaps; or perhaps just a drunken something (for what, precisely, Sei did not know, and might never know) after a night of fun and beer.
Sei thought that maybe that feeling falling into Yumi’s lap was the last thing that had happened last night.
“I think that you should thank God for finally rewarding your hard work,” Sei said. “Or maybe thank yourself for working so damn hard.”
“But what do I do with it?”
Sei shrugged. “I think people spend most of their lives trying to figure that out. Take it slow is all I can say. Or if that’s too frustrating, take it fast. But…”
“But accept it.”
“With open arms and a word of gratitude.”
Yumi looked at Sei for a moment longer than was polite at a social function, but a minute or two less than was rude the day after getting drunk in a hotel room.
“That’s very scary.”
“Tell me about it, sister,” Sei said. “My petite soeur actually kicked me out of the room to change this morning, which is why I was out here in the first place. She’s been in there so long, though, that I think she might be dead.”
“Does that scare you?”
“It scared me that she felt the need to kick me out to do it.”
“Why?”
Because I feel like Shimako wouldn’t be shy around me without a reason, and that reason is just as scary as your feeling. All of our abstract concepts are biting us in the ass today, I guess.
Sei thought this, but instead of saying it, she said, “A feeling.”
Whether or not this made sense to Yumi, she did not question Sei further.
A few seconds later, Sei’s door opened. A voice drifted out like a light breeze: Onee-sama? Sei reacted to it like a dog picking up a new scent: Her head jerked towards her door, and her face screwed up with concentration. A second later, she said, “I think I should go.” Yumi nodded, projecting sage as best she could, and Sei turned and walked quickly into her room.
And then, the hall was empty, and for a while, Yumi felt that the only things she had were the vague scent of carpet freshener and the dim sound of a vacuum somewhere on the floor below them.
And maybe, for a while, that was true.
After all, what did one do when something that they had held onto like a teddy bear for so long, holding it tight for solace and for fantasy alike, suddenly fell from the sky, and all it was was a drunken kiss and an erotic scene in the dark?
It was nice, and it was sexy in a way that I never thought it would be—how could I have imagined the way the moonlight would hit her skin, or just how closely I felt my clothes drop off— but it didn’t feel…special at all. It might have meant something, but it seems just as likely that it meant nothing at all to her. I can barely pick out two minutes of solid memories from last night.
Is this…disappointment? Was I expecting something more out of kissing her; out of realizing that maybe there was something more to the two of us? A heart-shaped firework, or a bolt of lightning, maybe?
Maybe I was.
If she had asked this of Sei, Sei might have told her, at the end of every fantasy is disappointment, because compared to the rich, dreamlike fantasies that a single mind can create, real life is bland and colorless.
As it was, there was one other person in their group who knew that, as little as Yumi wanted to worry them.
Two, if one were to count that ragged teddy bear that Yumi now knew the true shape of for the first time in her life.
Rei still didn’t want her out of bed, but she was about ninety percent certain that this was more because of the fact that Yoshino didn’t particularly want herself out of bed, either. She had woken up about an hour and a half earlier, and about halfway through groggily, irritably brushing her teeth, had said something to the effect of I need to lie down before I fall down, and then proceeded to flop onto the bed and drop off into sleep within seconds.
The fact was, though, that Yoshino would need to get out of bed soon. They had to check out in another hour or so, and frankly, Rei had a nagging feeling that if they didn’t make it to Kyoto soon, they might never make it at all.
And so, after making all of her own preparations—which basically consisted of combing her hair, brushing her teeth, and applying a light base of makeup, and took a grand sum total of twenty minutes, including time spent rummaging around the room aimlessly—Rei set to the Herculean task of rousing Yoshino.
She began cautiously, knowing that Yoshino, when angered by being roused too quickly or roughly, was a formidable opponent. She touched the girl’s shoulder lightly, murmuring, “Okay, Yoshino. It’s time to wake up.”
She received a grunt in response.
Trouble, it sounded like. Rei backed off and tried a different ploy, more passive-aggressive: She opened the curtains, and for good measure, the window.
“Rei,” Yoshino mumbled from underneath the covers, “bright.”
“It isalmost half past ten, Yoshino,” Rei said.
“Feels like five jackhammers past six in the morning.”
“I believe that’s your own fault. Do you have any idea how much you had to drink last night?”
“No.”
“Exactly.”
Yoshino turned over, and Rei grinned when she was sure she wouldn’t be seen. The grin was less mischievous than she felt, really, and was largely due to the fascinating way that Yoshino’s already-wavy hair seemed to have developed a certain curl to it overnight. It was probably a kink, and she would probably hear grief over it later, but for now, it was really very cute. She sat down on the bed.
“Yoshino, you need to get up now.”
“That sounds less like something I need to do than something you need to do,” Yoshino grumbled, and Rei laughed, unable to help herself.
“You’re very frightening,” Rei said gently. “But if you don’t get up, you’re going to get left behind.”
“You wouldn’t.” It wasn’t even an accusation. It was simple fact, and they both knew it. “You’re not old enough to be my mother.”
“I’d rather not be by the time we get out of here, either.”
“Hm.”
It was time to bring in the big guns. “Yoshino, it’s time. You can sleep in the car, but if you don’t get up soon, we’ll have to pay extra for the rooms.”
“Still have a half hour.”
“It’s going to take you that long to get your hair straight.”
“Don’t believe you.”
“You would if you looked in the mirror.”
It was strange. What they were doing was certainly bickering—there was no more friendly way to describe it, really—but it didn’t leave any sort of emotional mark on Rei, and probably didn’t leave any on Yoshino, either.
And then, at last, Yoshino sat up and shook her head gently. Rei put a palm on Yoshino’s forehead, which was warmer than it ought to have been but not hot enough to be dangerous to her—she would make sure her petite soeur got some aspirin in her before they went too far—and Yoshino put her hand over Rei’s.
“Your hand is very cool.”
Rei simply sat there for a minute, savoring the feeling of Yoshino’s skin but not showing it as Yoshino did.
“Rei,” Yoshino said finally.
“Yes?”
“Did we do the right thing last night?”
“You mean, did you do the right thing?”
Yoshino didn’t seem happy with this, but she nodded her acquiesce anyway. “Yeah.”
“I don’t know. I think so, but I don’t think so, too.”
“What do you mean?”
Rei gave her a half-grin and sat down next to her. “I mean, I think you helped somebody last night, and whether you ask Jesus or your neighbor, that’s always the right thing to do. If anybody needed a chance to stop thinking so hard all the time, it was Sachiko. At the same time….” Rei sighed, and shook her head in the way she often did when she wanted to say, you’ll learn someday, Yoshino, but didn’t want to be shouted at. “At the same time, you drank enough to kill yourself, I think, and if you had had anything more than a light fever this morning I would probably have strangled you.”
“Out of worry.” In spite of herself and in spite of being told off—in a way—by Rei, Yoshino could not help but smile.
“Out of worry,” Rei agreed.
Yoshino leaned her head against Rei’s shoulder. It was one of the places she liked best in the world. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“It’s fine. I brought along plenty of aspirin.”
“Wasn’t this supposed to be a spontaneous trip?”
“It was. I always have plenty of aspirin.”
Yoshino gave an obligatory sigh and then flopped back onto the bed. To Rei, the sigh may have sounded don’t-mother-me frustrated.
In truth, Yoshino just didn’t want Rei to see her grin about an aspirin collection.
Those were the sorts of things that she held onto by herself. Maybe because she didn’t want anybody else to see the shape of them. Maybe because she thought they would not understand—after all, with a shape so ragged, how could they understand what it meant?
That was okay. She understood.
Since speaking with Sei, she certainly felt better, but, for the first time in a long time, she felt simply…drained. For somebody whose production of energy was typically in the range ofprodigious, this was a mildly unsettling feeling. She liked to think that by taking a small break from seeing anybody—as she had done after Sei left and she opted to hide out in the hall rather than return to her room and talk to Sachiko as she, presumably, made herself up for the day—she had done a lot of work towards recharging herself, but in truth, it had just made her lonely.
The first two to filter out into the hall were Rei and Yoshino. Yoshino was holding a small, moist handkerchief to her forehead, which didn’t surprise Yumi in the least—not after she had been to Italy with Yoshino. If a flight had tired her out enough to make her a bit ill, Yumi didn’t want to think about the effect a hangover would have on her.
Shimako had come next, and a minute or two later, Sachiko. She and Yumi had conversed politely, but it had felt a bit…dead. Maybe that was the hangover, but maybe it wasn’t, too. Yumi had allowed herself a brief moment to become convinced that it was, indeed, the hangover, before she shoved that, too to the back of her mind. Trains of thought which were distinctly and uniquely negative belonged there. Bad roads, her mother had always told her, are marked clearly enough that anybody who pays attention can see them coming and avoid walking them.
I just need time, that’s all. That’s all. Time to get used to this ragged teddy bear, to understand it, she had thought.
And then, the worst thing of all: Doubt.
Should you really have to get used to somebody that you love?
Sei might have told her.
Sei didn’t.
Sei, they found when they entered the lobby, was speaking with Kiyomi and Satoi at a table in the small coffee shop. Yumi couldn’t see the proprietors’ faces, but she saw one of them holding a handkerchief to her mouth. Sei looked more serious than Yumi had seen her in…maybe ever. More serious, and more gentle.
There was something in that gentleness that called to her. You won’t need to get used to that, it said. You can just fall down into it and forget everything.
Yumi did her best to put that away, as well. It was harder.
“Let’s wait by the exit,” Rei said quietly, startling Yumi, making her jump. “We don’t want to distract them.”
“What are they talking about?” Yoshino asked, and Rei put her head on the girl’s head.
“Nothing you need to concern yourself with.”
Yoshino frowned.
“Call it laying old demons to rest,” Sachiko said. Her voice was raspier than Yumi was used to, and raspier than it had been in the hallway—had something happened, so close under her nose, without her noticing? Instinctively, she moved slightly closer to Sachiko, worry niggling in the back of her head as though it was the most natural thing in the world. “I think that would be appropriate.”
Rei nodded her agreement. “In any case, it’s a private matter, so let’s let them be.”
What could it be, though? It looks like they’re…crying. It looks like Sei is having a hard time not doing the same, in fact. I don’t think I’ve ever even seen Sei come close to crying.
Something heavy set gently on Yumi’s head, and Sachiko murmured in her ear, “Privacy is something you need for the times when you have to let your guard down.”
Yumi understood, and understood more than that, too. Because even though that hand of Sachiko’s was heavy, it, too, was gentle.
Maybe that was what being with the people you truly loved was. Maybe that was friendship in a nutshell. Maybe it was none of the millions of convoluted metaphors that would-be philosophers had assigned it over the years; maybe it wasn’t companionship or camaraderie, or the feeling of belonging.
Maybe it was just something gentle that knew when to leave you alone.
Maybe.
Sei came back to them five minutes later, smiling as wide as she dared without risking exposure of the gentle quiver of her lips. Her face was bright and perky and, to Yumi, obviously fake.
As they went to the front desk to wait for Kiyomi and Satoi to collect themselves, Shimako took Sei’s hand, squeezed it once, and then released it. Sei responded by putting a hand on the girl’s head for a moment, and then letting it drop again.
Maybe, Yumi thought, that was the form of Sei’s teddy bear. A simple touch, and a simple response. I’m here, you know. Yes, and thank you.
It was in this manner that they checked out of the hotel, quiet and supportive of those who seemed to need it. After they began to move towards the door, Sachiko lingered for a moment at the desk, and spoke to Kiyomi and Satoi directly.
For a moment, they looked at each other in silence, and then Sachiko spoke, quietly, but without hesitation, as a lady ought to.
“Did you find what you were looking for?” is what she asked.
Kiyomi nodded. “We did. Did you?”
“I think so. I hope so.”
She smiled, and then bowed and excused herself.
“Whatever it is, when you do find it,” Satoi said, just loud enough to be heard by Sachiko, “don’t duck it at the last minute. It becomes far too comfortable sitting on the floor instead of standing up.”
Sachiko stopped, and turned her entire body, so that she did not appear to be speaking on an off-note, impolitely. “I know,” she said with a smile.
And that was that. And for the first time in many months, the only feeling that Sachiko could find inside of her was optimistic.
Precisely the feeling that Yumi was struggling to find within herself, for the first time in years.
As they loaded into the car, Yoshino said, completely out of the blue, as though acting in Sei’s place, “So, Yumi, did Sachiko talk in her sleep?”
Sachiko jerked to a halt, and both Rei and Sei burst into the kind of laughter one only finds in oneself when one cannot quite believe what is being heard.
Yumi blinked twice, floating to the surface of her mind again, where she belonged.
“Now that you mention it,” Yumi said, and then a funny memory came to her. “She did.” Yumi turned to face Sachiko. “Onee-sama,what exactly were you dreaming about, do you remember?”
“What…what was I saying?” Sachiko said hesitantly, almost afraid to hear.
“It was almost frightening,” Yumi said. “You kept rolling around, and then you said, I can’t hear you, talk to two by four. Do you know what that means?”
Sachiko blinked twice, memories of her dream drifting in and out of a place where she could see them—memories of blood and violence—and then her phone began to ring.
Sachiko froze. There was precisely one person that would be calling her at this point.
Sei spoke up, life returning to her in an instant. “Don’t answer that,” she said. “Give it to me.”
Sachiko did as she asked. She was, honestly, terrified of answering it herself.
Sei opened the phone. “Hello?” A moment’s pause. “Nope, she’s sleeping.” A pause. “In a ditch. In the car, where do you think?” Sei grinned while the person on the other end said something, and Yumi and Yoshino held in laughter. “About halfway to Kyoto…Three days, if I feel like it. Whups, sorry, looks like this thing’s running out of batteries. Sorry, Kashiwagi, we’ll have to chat it up later.” With that, Sei shut the phone, and, for good measure, opened the battery case and pulled the battery out, stuffed it in her pocket, and handed the phone back to Sachiko. The verbal sparring with Suguru seemed to have brightened her spirits significantly. “You can have the battery back when we get past Tokyo’s city limits.” She considered for a second. “Or if we’re attacked by highway bandits.”
Sachiko had absolutely no idea what to say to this.
And so, even though it was Sei, and even though the idea was absolutely preposterous, she simply nodded. “Fair,” she said.
Sei grinned, and the sight of this was refreshing in many ways, to many of the people in the group.
“Then, shall we get our pretty little selves down to Kyoto? I’m still driving, and this time you can’t complain, since I’m probably the only one not hung over.”
“I’m not hung over,” Rei pointed out.
“You’re a pansy behind the steering wheel,” Sei countered. “I’d like to get to Kyoto this year, thanks.”
“I am not!” Rei said. It was as close as Sachiko had ever heard to indignant out of Rei.
“Rei, you are the old lady that deliberately drives on one-lane highways just to see how long of a snake’s tail she can pick up. You are seventy-five at the age of nineteen.” And before Rei could come up with something to say to this, Sei was in the drivers’ seat. She had apparently pilfered the keys from Rei at some point, though when, nobody could precisely say.
Maybe it was a testament to Sei’s character, or maybe it was simply timing, that it was at precisely the time when everybody filed into the van and nobody was watching her that Sei whispered, thank you, her voice barely a whisper.
After all, even Sei couldn’t help how she felt sometimes. Even Sei.
Everybody was like that sometimes.
They pulled out of the parking lot and tore off down the highway. One hundred and seventy miles to Kyoto, a sign informed them shortly thereafter.
Sachiko found herself wishing for a power of ten to multiply that by.
She was not the only one.
Back to Fake Index - Back to Maria-sama ga Miteru Shoujo-Ai Fanfiction