Author’s notes:
Tokyo University is considered by many to be among the most prestigious schools in Japan.
The research involved in writing this chapter made me want to go to Kyoto. I’ll be taking donations.
The Meiji restoration was a period in Japan after the policy of Sakoku ended in which Japan began to modernize itself. It began with the policy known asKaikoku, which was the result of the Treaty of Amity and Commerce. It started in 1868.
No, their room placements are not going to be for convenient extra-strength drama.
Have you ever buried your face in your hands because no one around you understands?
Have you ever
Sachiko had never been quite sure about the prospect of a “universal truth.” She believed devoutly in the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, but even then, she had trouble reconciling their gospel with the way the world worked.
Regardless of this, however, there was one absolutely undeniable truth which Sachiko acknowledged quite faithfully.
There are a lot of things in this world which are very difficult. Often times they are thankless things, tasks nobody will notice that you’ve done. Things we take for granted. Things we try not to consider as we think and plan for the future.
Out of all of these things, however, the most difficult, thankless task was often simply starting. Flying was easy; taking off and landing were the tough parts; one might write a novel if they could simply have an idea worth writing; if one could diet for one day, they could diet for the rest of the year.
Halfway into their remaining hour of road between the Velvet Roseand Kyoto, Sachiko decided that perhaps she ought to startsoon. This decision came from nobody’s wisdom at all, but rather from a queasy little feeling she got after a queasy little experience she had. A feeling like if she didn’t start soon, she might never start at all.
She didn’t even bother to ask herself precisely what she was starting.
She knew.
Yoshino, who was the band playing at Velvet Rose?
You don’t know, Shimako? That’s Beck! They’re amazing.
But I thought you said they were only okay.
I said they were pretty good, and that’s only because that guy was totally making a pass at me.
I don’t think that’s quite how it was. It looked more like he was looking at Onee-sama…
You only say that because that’s where you were staring the whole time.
school;
Yumi, are you applying for any schools?
I was thinking about applying to Tokyo University.
Are you serious?
Why are you saying it like that?!
Saying it like what?
You said that in the same tone of voice you might address Rei had she just announced her intent to marry the Emperor. Or fly.
I did not say it like that! Anyway, that was way too specific!
You did kinda say it like that, Yoshino…
even simple things like plans for Kyoto.
Do you think Sachiko will be able to handle something like a live house after she collapsed like that?
I think that if she has her mind set on such a thing, it is in all of our best interests not to attempt to stop her. The rich have better hired help, and better insurance.
You shouldn’t talk like that. I don’t think she likes it.
I’m…sorry.
Settle down, Yumi, she was just kidding. Nobody’s threatening your young.
Even after this, the thing feared most by those who are unlucky enough to earn the title socially awkward, the gaffe, it wasn’t so bad. Shimako felt the embarrassment and, worse, the fear begin to rise from her gut to her chest.
She looked over at Sei quickly. Sei was gazing out the side window, a bored look on the side of her face that Shimako could see in the reflection of the glass.
She’s not looking at me. A moment, barely visible, of childish intent in the private voice of her mind. And then, more comfortable. She’s not looking at me. She’s not looking, so nothing’s wrong. She’ll only turn her attention here if she needs to or if she wants to, and she doesn’t need to
(but she doesn’t want to either)
so everything’s fine. Handle yourself, the same as always.
(because she won’t)
Because she knows I can. And I can.
Shimako felt her heart slow and her skin cool. She leaned back, and felt two things which were fairly easily separable:
The first was a warm feeling; not exactly comfort, but maybe something like strength, coming up from the same place in her gut the fear came from.
The second was a brand new sort of fear. Sei was not looking at the road.
They didn’t crash, but Shimako felt that it was a matter of coincidence, as the road was utterly empty.
That was the other piece of her life that made her feel as though this feeling, that fitting in was something strange and alien, was unwarranted: She knew these people. She knew them well, and in ways more intimate than she could have known them as a mere observer.
She knew this very well. Observing was something she was very practiced at, and while it was nice to stave off loneliness, it very rarely gave one an accurate image of a person. She had known she was no longer observing when
(that)
happened.
Because I saw it coming. I saw it coming a mile away, and it was like some inexplicable leash pulled me towards it anyway.
She looked over at Sei.
Sei looked back.
She smiled, and Sei gave a grin back, and then went back to looking at the road.
It’ll be fine.
So long as Sei continued looking at the road. Shimako was able to relax a little. (The rest of the car breathed a collective sigh of relief along with her.) Sei snuck a glance—though this was probably too romantic a description for a glimpse out of the corner of one’s eye, Shimako liked it—a moment later.
Checking on me? Is that what this is? I can think of nothing else.
Sei has more layers than I thought.
This is why observation is worthless. I may as well have been staring straight into the sun.
The truth was, Shimako had a steady, meticulous mind. She had long been able to apply it to her studies with great effect, so she had thought it natural to apply it to the rest of her life. Her life was by its own virtue untroubled, and until she met Sei, she had not once paused to think that this was less because of her methodical approach to life than it was because she was a pretty middle-class Japanese girl living in Japan attending a private Catholic school while keeping other people at arm’s length.
Getting beyond observation is hard. Getting to know people is painful. But thinking about it, the way I went about life was simply…wrong. I barely even have any memories of my childhood. It’s not amnesia or anything, I just…didn’t make any. I stayed away from people and spent my time studying or just watching the world move around me. It’s a beautiful world, but I thought that just watching it was enough. What’s the point, though, if I forget about it a week later? What was the point of the whole thing? The next thing I know, I’ll be sitting in a desk at University and have no idea how I got there. A week later I’ll be getting a promotion at my new job and a month after that I’ll be getting married to somebody I barely know because it’s what father would want.
That’s what this is for, isn’t it. This road trip. It’s not just for Sachiko. It’s for all of us. We all need it.
“Hey, wake up. I can see Kyoto,” Yumi said.
Shimako looked up, and she saw it—the first bit of Kyoto, looming over the horizon in the form of a sign informing her of Kyoto’s population.
“You can’t see Kyoto,” Yoshino said.
“But Kyoto can see you,” Shimako said.
Yumi and Yoshino stared at the girl for a solid minute before erupting into giggles.
“We still have half an hour to go before we hit the bulk of the city, kids, so just settle down,” Sei said.
Shimako leaned back in her seat as her brain began moving. Like a computer’s memory, her mind. Address: Just settle down. Instruction: Fetch. The processor
(this is why moving closer is so …damn painful)
that was her brain returns:
Shimako, just settle down.
You were in love with me, weren’t you?
Shimako, what the hell are you talking about?
You were. That’s what I saw. You loved me, and so isn’t this what we should do?
Shimako, I—knock it off.
I love you too. I’ve decided that and it took a long time and I love you.
Shimako, I don’t know how the hell I confused you this badly, but—get offme, damn it!
…
Damn it, I’m sorry. Just…settle down.
You keep the people you love at arm’s length. You love Yumi and you keep her from seeing you by being very affectionate. You loved Mizuno-sempai and you kept her at arm’s length by acting independent.
What the hell are you talking about?
This is…
What you observed?
…It is.
And you’ve made conjecture based on your observations.
…Yes.
You’re a fool, Shimako. And the only reason I can’t say anything more than that is that I’ve been a fool all my life, and I don’t believe in calling the pot black when my mailbox reads kettle.
“Sei, if it’s all right,” Shimako spoke in a low voice, but not too low as to draw attention—nothing perked interest like a whisper—“could we speak later?”
“We certainly may,” Sei said like it was nothing at all.
We certainly may. Not sure, but why not here?; not yeah, is everything okay?; just we certainly may.
Sei’s vision was far-reaching.
Shimako thought she ought to take that down as a note.
About ten minutes into the road, they had encountered a sign which informed them of their close proximity to Kyoto. A moment later Suguru had said, “They’re going to Kyoto.” He had then instructed the one who was not driving to use his phone and come up with a list of all of the live house venues in Kyoto.
“Live houses, sir?” that one had asked skeptically. He had seen Sachiko around the house a few times (she did live there, after all—just not in the parts he tended to be assigned to) and she seemed like such a proper lady that the idea of her in a live house conjured in his mind the image of a woman standing in the middle of a mosh pit with a summer dress on. It seemed ridiculous. “That doesn’t seem like Miss Ogasawara.”
Suguru had smiled, and though the man wasn’t allowed to look back at him, he could hear it in the boy’s voice. “I think it does. She’s out here to get away, after all; what’s the use in getting away if you don’t do something unlike yourself?”
“So you don’t think she was kidnapped?” he thought himself idiotic the moment he said it—inside his head and coming from the Boss’s mouth (the old Boss in Kyoto, not the young Boss-to-be sitting in the back of his car) were the only places, in fact, that it didn’t sound stupid.
“Even though he only said it was a possibility, did you really entertain the idea for more than a minute?”
Truth was, he had. He had been told to, after all, and working at somebody’s beck and call kind of established that mindset inside of somebody without their knowing—after a while, if the Boss said it was blue, it was blue, regardless of how much light it reflected.
“I…I guess I did, sir.”
“Well, I suppose it does tend to leave an impact on somebody when the claim is made that a beautiful woman has been kidnapped,” Suguru said, and for some reason, the man felt better. “I can’t blame you. Now, please, could you check?”
“Of course, sir. If I can ask, though…”
“Of course.”
“How did you know? That she would come out this way in the first place, I mean. That the girl on the phone wasn’t lying.”
Suguru chewed on that for a moment. “I suppose…well, I knew Sei wasn’t lying. She was daring me to come after her, I think.” He laughed. “That’s Sei. You’d know if you knew her.”
The man had seen her once, on her way in. Greeted her, even. She had looked to him like a man-eater, and not the sort that was good for a night.
“But, I had thought she might head out here in any case. It’s peaceful out here.”
The man supposed Suguru simply knew his fiancé better.
He was very correct.
Kyoto began with a bridge, oddly enough, and there the resemblances to Tokyo began. As they neared the city, the two-lane highway turned into an eight-lane freeway which they eventually had to stop and pay to continue using. As they rocketed down the tollway at Satou kilometers per hour, the three of them who were not clutching onto the nearest steady handholds for dear life—Rei, Sachiko, and, of course, Sei herself—saw a skyline which looked remarkably like that of Tokyo: To their left, a skyscraper which towered up amidst a labyrinth of round-shingled houses, some with a modern twinge and some with a design more suited to the Meiji era. To their right, that labyrinth extended as far as they could see, eclipsed only by the shadow of a mountain. To their more immediate right, a man talking into a small speaker stuck in his ear cut them off angrily with a honk.
Remarkably like Tokyo. Remarkably like any god-damned big city on the planet. You couldn’t help but be a little grumpy sometimes when 1.5 million other people were sandwiched in around you.
Remarkably like Tokyo. I’ll bet there are Catholic girls’ schools here, too, ones that teach the girls to walk slowly and keep the hem of their skirts neat. I’ll bet there are families here that tell the girls that if they’re not polite they’ll bankrupt the company.
I’ll bet there are boys here, too. Ones who have bedrooms with latches that aren’t quite quiet enough to keep the boys from waking up when
(not thinking about that)
This caused Sachiko’s stomach a familiar lurch.
You’ll never get away from Tokyo. You’ll never get away from anything.
You’ll never get away from him
“Damn it, Sei!” Rei shouted. “You could drop twenty KPH and we’d still be speeding!”
“That’s the point!” Sei shouted back with a touch of giddiness that Yumi and Yoshino really wished they would have missed. “It means we’ve got options!”
Secretly, Sachiko wished that Sei would speed up. Like maybe, if they drove fast enough, they might more quickly come to a section of the city that didn’t look like Tokyo.
She wondered if Suguru had sent anybody after her yet.
“Let’s get off,” Sachiko said all of a sudden. “Let’s go into the city and find a small hotel in a quiet part of town.”
Maybe I can buy it and turn it into a house. Then maybe we can all live there. Just all live there and never have to worry about anything ever again, just stay there together with Yumi. Not them. Me. They can stay with their own
(their own what?)
…their own…
Lovers.
(is that what you are?)
I don’t think I could ask for anything more.
(remarkably sudden for a girl who can’t make a simple life decision for herself)
I don’t think it’s sudden at all. I think I’ve just not been paying attention.
Sei grinned a touch wildly and swerved hard onto an exit ramp that they had damn near passed by the time she got onto it. Everybody in the car, herself included, shrieked a bit at this. Sachiko found Yumi’s hand in the confusion and took it, squeezed it. Yumi looked up, surprised, but then smiled at Sachiko, who could not help but smile back.
(isn’t it funny that you decide this, that the two of you ought to be lovers, only now, when your mind is on Suguru and the way you)
I am not fucking thinking about that.
(I’ll just bet that he is.)
Sachiko gritted her teeth and tried to shut that nasty little voice out of her head.
(I’m called the voice of reason, sister.)
She actually owned a set of plastic caps for her teeth. She wore it some nights when her jaw wouldn’t unclench for more than two minutes to avoid requiring nasty, expensive dental work.
“Lodging, half a kilometer,” Sei read off of a sign to her right. “Sounds good.” She took a left turn that was way too hard and sped off down the medium-sized street. About halfway down the street, they saw a large billboard which advertised, using absolutely no flowery language, that Taku Taku was two kilometers west of the street they were currently on. Though none of them had a compass on them, they safely assumed that this meant close.
(You better get your caps ready, because I’m not going away until you acknowledge the fact that you’re marrying him.)
I know that. But he’s not even interested in women.
(Maybe not, but that doesn’t mean you’re allowed to be. No other women, and no other men, no matter what he says. Tell me, when do you suppose was the last time your mother got any?)
You are revolting. Get away from me.
(No, tell me. When
“Onee-sama.” A gentle squeeze on her hand. Sachiko looked up, and Yumi was smiling at her. “You don’t need to worry. We’ll have fun.”
When did you turn psychic, Yumi?
Sachiko’s jaw unclenched, and after a moment, relaxed.
“I look around the car,” Sachiko said quietly to herself, “and I see not a single person worrying.”
And as far as she could see, that was the truth. In a moment, her tensions had eased significantly, so that even looking in the mirror, she saw a girl with fewer crinkles on the bridge of her nose, and more smile lines on her face.
Of course, she had not gotten a good look at Sei or Shimako.
“I suppose,” Sachiko said a moment after they entered, “that the primary draw of this establishment is its proximity to the live houses, and not its quality service and friendly staff.”
Indeed, the only person working behind the counter—a boy who didn’t look like he could have been out of middle school—seemed to be unable to decide whether to look bored or gape at the girls.
Sei said, “At least we know the rooms will be clean.”
“How do we know that?” Yumi asked.
Rei caught on. “The rooms can be rented by the hour. I suppose you want to clean those up if you don’t want to get shut down.”
Yumi blinked, nonplussed, for about half a second, and then yelped as her face turned a deep red. From behind the counter, the boy snickered audibly, and Yoshino shot him a nasty look. The boy stopped snickering, also with a little yelp.
“Though, if they’re this close to a live house, I’m not sure if there will be any rooms left,” Rei said, her tone as even as it might have been were she not talking about sex.
“It’s not late yet, so they’ll have a few spots,” Sei said, her voice just as neutral. “If we’d gotten here at 10 I’m sure all of the rooms would be gone for at least an hour.”
“Can we not talk about this right here?” Yumi protested, her face looking as though it might begin to steam, or perhaps be picked by a wayward beet farmer. “Or, for that matter, anywhere?”
(But why would you say that, Yumi, when the two of us—oh, I see, Sachiko, you want to rent a room by the hour here.)
Be quiet, you vile woman.
(Oh my, I thought we were being more honest with ourselves.)
“Anyway,” Sachiko said, “It can’t be too horrible, especially if it’s only for a
(couple of hours)
day or so.”
“Your choice,” Sei said with a shrug, and then approached the counter. Left unsaid in her wake was, just be careful not to get pregnant off the toilet seat.
They approached with her. The boy looked ecstatic.
“How many people can a room sleep here?” Sei asked, her tone none too polite. She probably figured it was best to be forceful with the youth from the get-go, and this was not such a bad idea.
“Two,” the boy said. “Three if you like to squeeze.”
Rei reached out and knocked the boy on the head a bit. “Please be more careful with your tongue.” The gentle punch was just strong enough to rock him a bit, certainly not intended to hurt, but he rubbed the area anyway, his head a bit low. It seemed, maybe, like something he was used to.
“All right, then. Three rooms, please.” And then, before the boy could ask, “For the night.”
“All right.” The boy seemed to be doing his best to keep the resentment out of his voice, but at the same time, the boy was no older than fourteen, and resentment was what fourteen year-old boys did best. Sachiko thought that Yumi could have told them that; even from the few stories Yumi told, Yuuki had certainly had his phases, though he was more grown-up than most boys his age.
(Maybe that’s why Suguru takes such an interest in him. Maybe you ought to act more like a fourteen year-old boy.)
This time, Sachiko could not even muster the energy to snap back. She felt tired all of a sudden; she wanted to rest.
The boy handed the room keys to Rei, who divvied them up using the same pairs she had last time around—by soeurs—though something about it niggled against her better judgment. This time, they were not all adjacent to each other—not surprising, since this hotel, being in the middle of a city next to a live concert venue, would logically be fuller than Kiyomi’s had been. As it was, none of them were on the same floor: Sachiko and Yumi were on the second floor, Rei and Yoshino on the third, and Sei and Shimako on the fourth.
“Well, I suppose this is good-bye,” Sei said as they approached the elevator. She was met with silence, and so, after a moment, she whirled around to face Yumi, seizing her hand. She bent down on one knee so as to make eye contact with the girl, and said, her voice positively waxing dramatic, “Promise me that if I lose my life in this, the most dangerous, eerie, and moldy of dungeons, that you shall never forget me, and that you will scrub the mold from your room in my honor at least once a week.”
Yumi blinked, completely taken by surprise. Sei planted a kiss on her hand, and the girl yelped, which Sei considered to be a much better reaction. Looking up out of the corner of her eye, she could just barely see the look that Sachiko was giving her—possessive as always, yes, and angry at Sei’s inappropriateness, as always. But also…
Do I sense a hint of jealousy, my dear?
Sei regarded that to be a plus. She had never regarded herself to be much of a matchmaker, and indeed, at the hotel, she had struggled with the prospect of losing Yumi so permanently, but Sei was a smart girl. She knew the difference between being defeated and never having had a chance.
Besides, whenever Sei looked at Yumi and Sachiko, a small part of her felt only impatience.
“Rosa Gigantea, please control yourself in front of my soeur,” was what Sachiko might have said in such a situation.
Not this time, though. Sei waited a moment, and then straightened up, glanced again at Sachiko out of the corner of her eye. The woman remained silent and stoic, entirely unreadable.
What the hell?
What the hell, indeed.
Knew, though, that was a funny little word. Lots of people knew things, but few of them could—or should—confidently say that they knew them for certain. After all, what was really certain, anyway? The past, and about half of the present, maybe.
“May we talk now, Sei?” Shimako asked.
It still feels funny having her call me Sei instead ofOnee-sama.
“Sure,” Sei replied.
Shimako sat down on the bed. It made a sound which might have sounded to the casual observer like a creak, but to Sei—perhaps only because it was on her mind already—it sounded like a squish.
After a moment, Shimako patted the bed next to her. Sei hesitated a moment, and then sat as well.
There was silence for a moment—Sei hoped that Shimako was not waiting for her to say something, because she wasn’t sure what to say.
Shimako let out a breath, and then leaned back, resting on her open palms. Sei, her stomach tightening into a knot of anxiety, chanced a look at the girl’s face, and saw somebody who looked like they were doing their very best to make peace with themselves. This did nothing for her anxiety.
After a moment, Shimako spoke.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “For pushing myself on you like that. It was a dumb idea, and I deserved what I got.”
Sei felt that she could not argue with that. After all, she kissed me. When I was naked, of all times. And not, like, dancing on a pool table with a broom-naked. Like, changing-naked. And after that, she just wouldn’t…
Settle down.
It felt like an ambush. I can’t say I felt violated, if only because it was Shimako, but if I had, nobody would have faulted me for it.
And then, that old, tired cliché: Why don’t you tell herthat?
Sei looked at Shimako, who looked as though she was trying very hard to hold her expression. She didn’t feel anger like she had immediately after Shimako had pressed their lips together, nor frustration as she had tried to push the girl off and had been met with depression and something bordering resentment rather than a sudden snap of clarity as she had been hoping for. In Shimako, she did not see a scared schoolgirl confessing to her first crush; not now, not then.
She saw a girl, now, as she had then, who had simply been afraid of losing her Onee-sama to feelings that she didn’t fully understand, and certainly had no tools to deal with.
I had still thought she was straight.
I think if I’d said that she might have run into the hall crying, naked or no.
How do you even deal with feelings like that? It’s not like there’s really many people around to talk about it with, doubly so at a damned Catholic school. One minute, you’re the same as nine-tenths of the people around you, and the next, you realize that you’ve caught yourself in the middle of a fantasy about, of all people, your Onee-sama. I think I might have been scared assless too. It’s not one of those things you can deny or brush over, like finding the newscaster pretty or having fun little thoughts about the girl who sits next to you in class.
“It was scary, wasn’t it?”
Shimako nodded. “It was. It was terrifying.”
“Are you still scared?”
“A little.”
“Of me? Or of yourself?”
Shimako shook her head. “Neither of those things. Or maybe a little of both.”
Sei leaned back, placing herself parallel with Shimako, also resting on her hands. After a second, she thought, fuck it, I think she got the idea before, and put one of her hands on Shimako’s, offering a silent prayer of please, don’t let her get the wrong idea, and hoping she waxed comforting more than she thought she did.
“Onee-sama?”
She’s calling me that again. It feels kind of nice.
“Mmm?”
“Can we just start over?”
“From what point?”
Shimako hesitated, and while Sei didn’t see her clenching one hand tightly behind her back, she wouldn’t have been surprised, either. “I was hoping from just before I went after you naked.”
“So you’re hoping for…”
“I guess…I…” Shimako shook her head. “I…my feelings haven’t changed; I don’t think so anyway. But if I try again, I’d like to try and avoid all the,” her voice changed a bit here, and it took Sei a moment to realize she was doing an impersonation of none other than Sei herself, “melodramatic, girly bullshit. I guess…from before. Start over from before.”
Sei was dumbstruck for a moment until she caught the impression, (I said that very same thing to Kei not two weeks ago; Shimako was in the room, too) and then she smiled.
“Sure,” she said, and then squeezed Shimako’s hand. “Start over, then. From before.”
“Do I…”
“Have a shot?” Sei gave up leaning, and flopped back onto the bed completely, pretending she didn’t hear the squish. Or telling herself that she imagined it. Maybe she did.
Does she?
Sei took a look at Shimako, catching only the girl’s slender back and neck, her pale skin, and the gentle outline of her left breast. She thought, Mind out of the gutter and answer her seriously, please.
Really, there was no thinking involved.
Who, in all the world, understood her better than Shimako? Understood the need ingrained deep within her to simply live and let live, an idea that, sometimes, it felt like the rest of Japan couldn’t catch onto to save their fucking lives.
(Yumi)
(Maybe Yumi. But Yumi is not interested, and you have to live and let live. You have to do your best for Yumi to stay out of her way, just as you always have, interfering only in small doses to give her a nice, open-palmed, metaphorical pat on the behind.)
And how wonderful a thing it is to simply be understood.
“I think so.”
Shimako exhaled, and Sei could hear the relief. “Thank you, Onee-sama.”
Sei sat up again and grinned. “Hey, no problem. Besides, this way, all the girly bullshit stays in our heads where it belongs.”
Shimako smiled a little airily, already seeming more herself. She leaned back, thought a moment, and then said, “Indeed it does.”
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