Authors notes
Sometimes the Japanese call a dance club a disco. (Literally: Di-su-ko. Ouch, right?) I have, however, omitted this in favor of the more accessible club, as for an American reader the word disco is likely to conjure up shades of the seventies or, if one is moderately well traveled, Central and South America and their sometimes-infamous discoteca. (I, by the way, am not so well-traveled. I’m still taking donations.)
Let’s not forget the fun little dual-meaning of powdering one’s nose. I mean the one that doesn’t have to do with cocaine.
With regard to office ladies: What is expected of women in Japan (moderately recently, anyway) is that they will work until they are married, at which time they will quit and take care of the house and kids. This sort of person is called a sengyoushufu. Although recently (in the last fifteen years), the concept of the kengyoushufu (essentially a working mother)has appeared, this can be a very stressful lot in life as many Japanese women are still expected to shoulder the brunt of the housework and child-rearing responsibilities in a family, as well as the utterly inexplicable otto no seiwa wo suru, or “taking care of the husband.” This sengyoushufu idea, coupled with some serious undertones of sexism still in Japanese society, has led to many female workers being hired as ‘office ladies,’ whose function is to do things like make tea and take memos. (They are basically glorified –or perhaps not so glorified—secretaries. It is not a pretty part of Japanese society.
In Japanese society, it is not uncommon to make polite small-talk about the weather. Often times, instead of saying something like, “How are you?” (The nearest Japanese translation of which is considered something to say to a friend whom you haven’t seen in a while—a few days, usually) a person with whom you are friendly will comment to you on the weather when you see each other for the first time that day.
--
Say your goodbyes if you have someone to say goodbye to.
--
How far we’ve come
Yoshino flopped down on the bed the moment she entered the room, and Rei tried not to worry about it; after all, it had been a long trip, and a long drunk, too. Yoshino had gotten much, much better since her surgery—she rarely had to skip school anymore, and never because she was simply too weak to do much more than get out of bed. Rei had, therefore, tried to tell herself that it was okay to not worry as much, even if Yoshino had to sit down or nap from time to time to get rid of a little fever or some dizziness.
Even so, it was hard. It was sixteen-odd years of experience versus maybe two, if that. Before, if Yoshino had had to sit down—had to—there had been a decent chance she wouldn’t be able to get up for a couple of hours without feeling dizzy or feverish. It had been stressful and scary, to say the least, and that kind of feeling leaves an impact on a person. Even now, Rei found herself checking herself sometimes to make sure she wasn’t handling Yoshino with kid gloves.
She’s a grown girl now. She’ll be graduating at the end of the year. She probably won’t even stick around after that. If I were in her position, I probably wouldn’t, Rei thought this as Yoshino laid down with a grunt, and her heart sank a little. She had known this plenty well from the very day Yoshino had had her surgery—that since she was able to, she would certainly spread her wings, which meant putting Rei not at arm’s length, but at wing’s length.
There’s no use thinking about it. You can’t do a thing, and if you try, you’ll only push her away faster.
That’s the problem with family. People will stay in town for friends, but if it’s family, there’s something else there…some extra feeling of well, they have to love me, so it’s okay if I ditch them for a while.
Or forever.
Stop thinking about it, Rei.
“You feeling all right?” Rei asked, coming to the bed and sitting down gently next to Yoshino.
“Yeah,” Yoshino replied, her voice a little hoarse. “Just hung over.”
Was it worth it? Tsk tsk.
Don’t say it. You need to…
“Mm.”
A moment of silence, and then, from Yoshino, “That’s it?”
“What’s it?”
“Mmm? That’s all I get? No, was it worth it? No, you know your body can’t handle that kind of thing? Just mm?”
Rei shrugged. “You’re making your own decisions now, Yoshino. I’m not your mom.”
Yoshino scowled and turned over. “What the hell. That doesn’t suit you at all.”
“Maybe,” Rei said. “But maybe it ought to.”
Yoshino sat up. She put a hand over Rei’s, and smiled. “You’re an idiot, Rei.”
Rei took a minute to look at Yoshino. Her face was pale and her body was obviously bitching at her about sitting up so suddenly. Her eyes, though, were grinning, just as clearly as her mouth. They masked no falsehood, and were not often able to. And Rei loved that. It wasn’t always easy being friends with people like Sei and Sachiko, who so consistently masked their feelings from everybody, so that Rei often found herself acting the adult in order to get them to discuss their feelings rationally. Sometimes she felt like a mother not just to Yoshino, but to everybody, and she knew that that was both arrogant and self-centered, but she couldn’t help it. Maybe it was in her nature.
So she was an idiot. And here was Yoshino, a girl who, despite her surgery, didn’t have a body strong enough for a night of heavy drinking and then a day of moderate activity, but who regardless was doing her best to comfort such an idiot. And that, in itself could not be anything but stupid.
“And you’re related to me. That means it runs in the family.”
Yoshino laughed. “We should probably never have children.”
Rei thought she was probably right. If Rei was turned out to be as overbearing a mother as her own parent, she would probably just produce another one of herself and the cycle of idiocy would continue.
If she had said that to Yoshino, she might have received a thump upside the head.
Yoshino might have said that the world needed more of Rei.
Something smashed outside their room. A massive, overpowering crack, like wood snapping over God’s knee, startling them both, but scaring neither. Thunder. Rei looked out the window, as did Yoshino.
Rain, again. It must have taken its head start after the hotel and used it to find a good spot to wait near Kyoto. God was a clever bastard when he put his mind to it.
“Son of a bitch,” Yoshino murmured.
“Something the matter?” Rei asked.
“You blind and stupid?” Yoshino nudged Rei’s sides. “It’s raining.”
Rei put her arms around her cousin and brought her tight to her breast. “And there’s not a thing in the world wrong with that.”
Yoshino let herself be held for a moment, and then spoke into Rei’s shirt, distinctly less soft than the breast underneath, but just as warm. “You think?”
“I know. It’s pretty to look at, and it’s not as though it’ll stop us from going out if we want. Not that I think you ought to be doing that anyway.”
“No way I’m going to miss out on a live house tonight.”
Rei started to say something, and then stopped. Yoshino said, “Go on, say it. You won’t feel right until you do.”
Rei smiled, felt her heart warm, and hoped that this was something that Yoshino could feel in spite of the breast, bra, and shirt between them. “You’re not going if you don’t feel better. I won’t have you collapsing in the middle of a club.”
“It’s not a club, it’s a live house.”
“It’s got loud music and a balance of people trying to kill one another and people trying to have sex with one another. It’s close enough.”
Yoshino smiled again, suppressing the urge to laugh, and then dislodged herself from Rei and flopped back down on the bed. “You talk like you’ve got experience.”
“I have. Every mother has, that’s how they’re allowed to be mothers. That’s what youth is—doing things you won’t want to tell your kids about in twenty years.”
Yoshino smiled. “Rei, the day you turn into my mother I’m dropping out and joining the military or the circus.”
Rei blinked, honestly surprised. “What do you mean?”
“You really think you act like my mother?”
“Don’t you?”
Yoshino shrugged. “Sometimes you act like everybody’s mother, but mostly with me, I guess I see you as a caring friend and distant relative.”
“Distant?” Rei frowned. They were first cousins and neighbors, for God’s sake. How much closer could they be? Or does she mean something else? She didn’t want to think about it.
Yoshino grinned at Rei, a little glint of something in her eye.
“Well,” she said with an impish smile. “I prefer to think of us as not being too closely related.”
Rei smiled and pondered that serenely for a while as Yoshino fell asleep to the sound of rain outside of their window. Somehow, the occasional cracks of thunder only made her feel more at peace.
--
Stubbornness was generally not considered an attractive trait in a Lady, as it was often considered to be synonymous with obstinate, which was, by many standards, simply a more sophisticated way to say annoying.
If there was one thing Sachiko had always struggled with, (and there was) it was this; Sachiko was a strong-willed woman, and she always had been. And out of those who were strong of will, even the most patient had their moments when they would have characterized themselves as stubborn. If she had been asked, she could have called up several recent examples of times in which she had had to force herself (against stubborn resistance, at that) to yield to somebody whom she was quite certain was in the wrong, simply to prevent herself from appearing too stubborn. Or perhaps from feeling too stubborn.
And so, because of this trait which she was adept at suppressing only on days when she had prepared herself to do so (which, in fairness, was most days, but not today, having woken up with a hangover and a girl) she was giving Yumi, as the younger girl would later put it, a hell of a time getting her to say more than two words in a row.
Because Yumi was stubborn too, in her own way.
She began in the usual way, when the thunder first struck. It took her off-guard, and with Sachiko in the bathroom and thus unable to see her, she flinched and shouted slightly in alarm (she muffled the sound quite adeptly with one hand) and was not worried about being chastised for it. After her heart calmed down, she said, “I think it’s starting to rain again, Onee-sama,” in a voice loud enough to be heard but not too loud to be irritating or insistent, as per regulation. She regarded it as a success as she was ordinarily able to get this right on the first try perhaps once in four tries.
“I see,” was her answer, her voice flat. Yumi waited for a moment—perhaps Sachiko was pondering what to say next, or perhaps she was waiting for Yumi to speak next. These were the difficult silences—not the painful nor the awkward ones, but the I’m done, your turn silences that came about when one partner was speaking tonelessly, as Ladies were expected to do in a situation in which they should remain calm. Yumi thought that there ought to be some sort of hand gesture to indicate one was done speaking in these cases, and the image which immediately came to her mind was of Sachiko, dressed in a flattering blue dress (because, honestly, what dress was not flattering on Sachiko?) facing a group of faceless old men, saying something flatly, and then waving a pair of air-traffic flags around for a moment in a manner reminiscent of a coordinated dance. She stifled a giggle.
After another moment of nothing, Yumi frowned and said, “It seems like it followed us here, doesn’t it?”
“I suppose.” Immediate. Toneless. One flag up, one to the left, and then shift ninety degrees clockwise. Cleared for go.
What in the hell.
“Are you excited to go out tonight?”
“I suppose.”
Silence again. Yumi felt the first vestiges of frustration creeping up on her. Not an angry frustration—just frustration.
She was fine two hours ago. What happened so quickly?
And what is she doing in there? She has been in there for no less than ten minutes. Powdering one’s nose does not take that long, no matter how you use the expression.
“Are you nearly done powdering your nose, Onee-sama?”
Answer that with an I suppose.
Silence for a moment. Then, “No. Do you need to use the restroom?”
Eight words in a row. Success!
Yumi was not a devious girl by anybody’s standards, but this was in part because her face tended to give her plan away before it was half out of her mouth. Therefore, with a solid, opaque door between her and Sachiko, she was able to be sly without being noticed. “Yes,” she said. “Badly. May I come in?”
“I…” Sachiko paused. “Just a moment, please.”
Yumi thought she might be better served to simply barge in, but she didn’t. She gave Sachiko the requisite moment (equivalent to half a minute in Lady-speak) and then gripped the doorknob and said, “I’m entering.” When no fevered objection came from Sachiko, she opened the door.
What she found wasn’t what she expected. She had half been expecting to see Sachiko drying her eyes frantically, trying not to look at Yumi, her makeup streaked and a mess; she knew, after all, when Sachiko was not doing so well. What she found instead was completely different: Sachiko was simply sitting on the toilet lid, staring not at Yumi but at the wall. Maybe behind the wall. More than this, Yumi noticed that Sachiko was projecting that aura that she sometimes took, usually when her mood was dark; it was an interesting thing—though Yumi had never been the sort of off-kilter spiritualist that claimed to see auras and spirits leaving the body, she felt she could see this, even if she acknowledged it as simply a reaction to a set of stimulus that her mind processed without her permission: The way Sachiko sat, her back straight as it always was, but with her arms folded underneath her breasts instead of set gently in her lap, her legs crossed over one another (almost unthinkable for a proper Lady); the way she didn’t even look up to acknowledge that Yumi had entered the room. That, probably, more than anything else; Sachiko was nothing if not responsive.
Yumi took a breath and then went to Sachiko. It was easier than she expected. She smiled, and put her hand on Sachiko’s.
Sachiko didn’t face her. “What is it?”
Yumi suddenly found it harder to smile. She didn’t stop. “I thought I’d come in and talk to you, Onee-sama.”
“You don’t need to use the toilet.”
“No.” Yumi couldn’t help but be a little sheepish.
“Could you please leave me alone, then?” Her tone was not cold, but her words were. The opposite of her norm, but no less hurtful.
Yumi took a step back. “I just thought…you could use somebody to talk to, or…something.”
Finally, Sachiko looked at her. Her gaze was not hard, but it was not soft, either. Yumi was used to Sachiko looking at her gently, and was not thinking clearly enough to consider that perhaps she had been spoiled in this respect. “Right now, Yumi, I just want to be by myself a while.”
This was something that Yumi could relate to, and certainly it was not a new sentiment coming from Sachiko. When her grandmother had died, certainly she had taken some time to herself. During finals, she had taken plenty of time to herself—Yumi had never seen so little of her as during finals season at Lillian School for Girls.
All of this, however, did nothing to explain to her why this time, this specific time, rather than just depressing her, it stung.
Maybe it was because, for the first time in a long time, and certainly the first time since they had
(oh just say it you silly girl)
kissed, Yumi had completely and utterly misread Sachiko.
“I’m very sorry, Onee-sama,” Yumi said as formally as she could, and then bowed and left as quickly as she could without ruffling her
(you’re not wearing a)
skirt, and shut the door behind her.
She sat on the bed, and Sachiko sat on the toilet.
Neither of them was at peace.
--
Sei wished she smoked. It would give her an excuse to be outside in the rain, just leaning against the wall as she was doing now. In spite of everything, she still could not help but mind a bit when people stared at her; and they did, because she was out of the ordinary, or perhaps not so much so: A pretty girl, leaning against the wall of a cheap hotel which could be rented by the hour, her hips farther towards the sidewalk than her back, which rested against the cheap bricking, her hands in her pockets. It was actually a position in which Sei was able to think very clearly, but for obvious reasons, she tended not to stand like that outside.
Oh, and the rain doesn’t help people not stare at me. I suppose I’m getting thoroughly soaked.
What she thought about was simply this:
Suguru was a cunning opponent. She should probably not have answered Sachiko’s phone in the first place.
In a game where you only had to be found to lose, she was probably going to lose. Suguru wouldn’t let them go, and he had more resources than she did and more brains than most people gave him credit for. It wasn’t a big deal for her; she could work through her stuff with Shimako on her own time. Probably that was for the best anyway, since only she and Rei seemed to be capable of keeping the group entirely on their feet (the burden of being the so-called adults), so she needed to be in top form. So to speak.
But for Sachiko…
She didn’t want to be caught for Sachiko’s sake. Sachiko was a girl who didn’t really get out much (though she technically did, Sei didn’t count family events). So, when she finally did, Sei wanted her to enjoy herself, but it was more than that.
The one night the quiet girl really cuts loose and you think that all that time whittling away at her was maybe worth it, it’s a nice feeling for the person who bought the booze and set the whole thing up. But more than that, unless you can keep inviting her out, or stick close to her for a while afterwards, she usually just tightens up even more after that, like she’s overcompensating. I feel like if this thing ends prematurely, we might not see the good Sachiko again after she leaves for University.
Sei sighed. I’m involving myself in this a bit too much. Sachiko can take care of herself; she’s an adult now. Probably moreso than I am.
But even so…
Even so, she couldn’t avoid the simple fact that she, like everybody else in their little group, simply wanted happiness for Sachiko.
It seems funny. There are hundreds of millions of people on this planet who would give their firstborn—and probably any other kids they may have—for the kind of money she was born into. This whole thing just seems overblown sometimes. Probably Sachiko would say the same thing.
But at the same time…it’s not easy being born into such a one-track life. She has virtually no options as to where her life will go, and while it will certainly land her in a better place than those in poverty, she has no more choices. I don’t even think I could do that; to not be able to leave my house without permission; to not be able to choose who I spend my time with; to not be able to flirt or get shitfaced with a pretty girl; to not be able to feel her up or fuck her depending on how rambunctious I’m feeling that night; to not be able to tell a man who rests his hand under your ass at a party to get fucked if he’s got enough money. She can go to college but she can’t do shit with her degree. Even if she does do this writing thing she talked about, she probably won’t be allowed to publish anything, at least not till her parents bite it and Suguru’s in charge of the company, and who knows what he’ll say then. Maybe he’ll actually listen to her, or maybe he’ll be okay just never seeing her at all. I wonder if she’d be all right with that.
At the same time, would it be any different if she were just an average, middle-class woman who gets her degree, works as an office lady making tea for fifteen years, and then retires when she gets married to stay at home and play tennis and go learn French and clean? She still doesn’t get to choose where she ends up, just her man.
Hell. That’s depressing. Now I really want to take up smoking.
Sei stood up straight, and something moved in the corner of her eye.
“You were pondering things you would do better not to worry about,” Shimako said by way of greeting. “Weren’t you.” It wasn’t a question.
“And just what do you mean by that?” Sei asked.
“Just that you can’t always fix things by thinking hard on them. If that were the case, the world would be a much better place.”
“I’m not so sure about that.”
“It would be better for me, anyway.”
Sei smiled. “You want to take up smoking together?”
“That’s bad for you, Onee-sama.”
“So they tell me. But certainly it can’t be any worse for you than pondering things you would do better not to worry about.”
“Maybe. Maybe you should come out of the rain before you catch cold.”
I can never decide if she doesn’t give a shit what I’m thinking, or just doesn’t think it’ll do me any good.
Or maybe she is just concerned that I’ll catch cold.
“Maybe I should. I guess it’s getting kind of chilly, huh.”
“I can tell,” Shimako said in a musing tone. It took Sei only a moment to remember that the shirt she was wearing had not been loose-fitting when it was dry, and therefore left very little to the imagination now, especially with regards to the temperature. (Though it was not white, so she still maintained her dignity.)
Sei grinned, gave a little oops, and, to the credit of every nun at Lillian who had tried their very best to mold the woman into a proper Lady, blushed and turned away from the street, folding her arms over her breasts.
Shimako smiled, and, a little shyly, took her friend by the arm and led her inside, both of them shivering and dripping. The boy at the counter ogled them openly, and while Shimako did her best to ignore him, Sei flipped him a rude gesture, to the credit of every rock-and-roll concertgoer she had ever spent more than half an hour with.
“That was a terrible idea,” Sei said as she stepped into the elevator.
Shimako didn’t say anything. Sei didn’t ask her to. Shimako let go of Sei’s arm and Sei didn’t question her. She would do her own thing.
The elevator dinged. Shimako walked out ahead of Sei, and folded her arms underneath her breasts.
What in the hell? Sage advice to cold shoulder in five seconds flat? Is she just upset about getting ogled?
They entered their room. There was silence for a moment, in which Shimako looked not at Sei but around her, willing her vision to pass the girl entirely. After the moment had passed, she said, “Please use the shower ahead of me, Onee-sama.”
Oh.
Not this again.
Shimako grinned as best she could. “Don’t worry. I won’t…you know. Do that again.”
Shimako was shivering as she said it. Her body was probably weaker than Sei’s. Sei was colder, but Shimako was more likely to catch cold, and the odds of her actually agreeing to go in before Sei were slim to none.
And I don’t think we’re quite ready to be showering together yet.
This is going to disappoint the hell out of her.
“You use this one. I’ll go over to…” Not Sachiko’s room. As tempting as it is with Yumi in there, no. “Rei’s room and use hers.”
This was probably the kindest thing she could have done. Shimako nodded, a little gratefully, and visibly relaxed.
Sei grinned, patted her on the shoulder in what was quite possibly the worst gesture she could have made (though she did not understand this, for all her experience and knowledge) and left the room.
Rei’s room was just down the hall, and she knocked, hoping she could get a good reaction out of Rei.
She got no such luck. Rei opened the door quietly, and whispered, “What happened to you?”
Yoshino must be asleep. Sei whispered back, “It’s raining outside.”
“I noticed. What were you doing out there?”
“Getting wet.” As an afterthought, “To come over here.” By itself, this was nothing, but Sei gave such a grin with it that Rei broke down and smiled. “You need to use our shower, is that it?”
“When did you get psychic powers?” Sei asked as Rei let her in.
“You and Shimako ought not to be showering in the same room for a while.”
“My question stands.”
“I pay attention is all, Sei. You’d be amazed what you can catch if you keep your eyes and ears open, and don’t look for anything specific. I think if I wanted to think that you two were having an affair I’d have no idea what was actually going on.”
Sei smiled. She liked Rei, and this was why. Rei was probably the brightest girl this side of the Pacific, except when it came to Yoshino. And even then, most of the time, she had a leg up on everyone else, Yoshino herself included.
“I won’t be long.”
“Take your time. You look cold.” Rei glanced at exactly the same place Shimako had.
Again, Sei blushed only a little. Maybe it was her day to be hit on by her friends.
She shut the door behind her, and Rei said, “I’ll hang your clothes up.”
“Where?”
“Closet. Normally I’d be worried about the carpeting, but frankly, I think that’s the last thing to worry about in these rooms.”
“At least they get hot water.”
“For about ten minutes.”
“Does that mean there’s none left?”
“Just an estimate.”
Sei began to peel her clothes off—they came off a little like a second skin. Rei brought her a towel, and Sei did not notice Rei’s eyes dawdling a little bit. This was probably for the best. As Sei walked into the bathroom, Rei said, “You know, you’re not going to have dry clothes for the concert.”
“That’s fine. Nothing stays entirely dry at a live house anyway.”
“Too much information, my friend. I’ll dry them off with a hair dryer after you’re out.”
“That’s not entirely pleasant.”
“You’ll get by.”
Sei shut the door and Rei took her clothes to the small walk-in closet. Hanging them up, she paused. Hair dryer.
She walked to the bathroom. She didn’t notice that there was no sound from the shower. She opened the door, not bothering to peek inside first; maybe it was just that she was too used to living with Yoshino, around whom she felt no real sense of modesty. Regardless, entering, she got a very good view of something about which Sei had only recently begun to feel modest about again.
Rei froze, for the first time in a long time, her eyes locked on Sei. Sei looked back, also frozen, not really sure how to react. On the one hand, there shouldn’t have been much to be embarrassed about; Sei was Rei’s senior by a year, and while the two hadn’t been close, precisely, they had been friendly, anyway. But on the other hand, both of them suddenly felt the urge to look away, though neither could. Both felt like deer in headlights.
It was Rei who moved first, pulling the door shut quickly, putting a hand to her chest, and taking a deep breath.
Sei remained frozen for a moment.
They both thought something to the effect of, What in the hell was that?
Yoshino, who was, in truth, awake, and had been watching, thought something distinctly different—significantly less pretty, significantly more bitter.
It was never, after all, a pretty scene when two women compared attributes of themselves over which they had no real control.
--
The sun was setting, and that was when all the naughty boys and girls came out of their hotel rooms and flocked to Kyoto’s nightlife like moths to a blowtorch.
That, at least, was what Sachiko thought. She looked out the window, and saw nothing but the bricking of the neighboring building. She strained her head, and got a peek at the sidewalk—still crowded.
Yumi sat on the bed, looking at Sachiko—the two had been watching television up until this point, which had been interesting unto itself, since Sachiko watched television perhaps once a month. This had only lasted them so long—Sachiko had found that she was having a hard time dealing with the awkward silence between the two of them; she had snapped a little harshly at Yumi in the bathroom, who had simply been trying to help, but she couldn’t quite bring herself to broach the topic. She knew that if Yumi would only bring it up, she could apologize on the spot, but for some reason, she felt a sort of fear at the prospect of bringing it up herself. As if maybe Yumi would snap at her.
This sort of timid attitude doesn’t suit you at all.
But it should. Isn’t that what the boys all want?
A knock at their door. Sei’s voice: “We’re getting ready to go. Are you in your Sunday best? Or, failing that, your Saturday night best?”
Both of them were dressed only in towels, having both showered after their little ordeal (Sachiko, it turned out, was still feeling a little sick from the previous day, as was Yumi). Yumi looked at Sachiko, Sachiko looked at Yumi, and they both stifled a giggle, and Sachiko felt a touch of relief. It’s not so bad, maybe. Maybe I can even, soon…
“Not quite,” Yumi called. “Give us about ten minutes, please.”
“Slowpokes,” Sei called. “I’m coming in here in ten minutes, so please feel free to wait another nine to start dressing.”
Sachiko shook her head.
“What?” Yumi said, and in her voice was something Sachiko had not expected—something which was not anger or frustration, but a little near it.
“I…nothing.”
Is she that angry?
“All right. We should probably get changed. Would you like to use…” Yumi stopped and shook her head. “No, I’ll use the bathroom.” She stood up.
“Yumi, I—” Sachiko paused, and then stood up. “I’m very sorry if I offe…no, if I hurt your feelings before.” She gave a little bow. “I really am, so don’t be angry.”
Yumi shook her head. “I’m not angry, Onee-sama. Sometimes, it’s just…hard when I just want to help, but get nowhere but shut out. Please just give me a little time to get over it.”
When you put it that way, it sounds awfully selfish.
Maybe it is.
Sachiko nodded. “Please feel free to change in the bathroom.”
Yumi nodded back, picked up her clothes, folded on the bed, and headed into the bathroom. Sachiko didn’t like the way she shut the door behind her—it was not ladylike, but that didn’t bother her. What bothered her was that it felt deliberately so.
--
Suguru was relatively sure this would be the place. It was the “big-name” joint in Kyoto, one of the few that out-of-towners would be able to find easily, thanks to several road signs that didn’t seem to have been afforded to any of the other live houses in the city. After all, with reputation came power.
He knew this all too well. The problem was, with reputation also came bitterness, because keeping up a reputation to please others meant not living within the bounds of one’s own sanity.
--
“We’ll be back,” Rei said to the boy at the front desk, who looked half asleep. He didn’t respond, and Rei supposed that was best, since she didn’t feel like going out of her way to knock his head around again. They headed out the door, grateful for the break from the rain, though not so pleased with the humidity it had brought. Sachiko and Shimako, in particular, had noticed their hair starting to curl a bit throughout the day, though both of them had wet heads at this point, so it wasn’t a big deal. Sei wondered, as she stood a safe distance from Rei
(what in the hell was that, anyway?)
(I haven’t seen anybody react to me naked like that since…maybe Rei is not so observant as I’d thought)
if Sachiko’s wet head, in particular, might be a blunt-force hazard at the live house, though in the next moment, she considered that the girl would have to start bouncing and probably head-banging for this to be a problem, and the very idea of that made her want to giggle.
“How are we getting there?” Yoshino asked, from her spot a little too near Rei.
“Walking,” Sei responded. “You gonna be all right?”
“Of course I will.” A little obstinate. Yoshino was, indeed, a territorial beast.
Sei herself felt a little bit of anxiety. She was probably being stupid, but she couldn’t shake that phone call with Suguru. That fucker was smart and that fucker was rich, and the two together did not make for a pleasant opponent in anything but cards, where Goddess Luck could take a dump on any rich, smart motherfucker at any time, and, indeed, often did. (Sei liked cards.)
And so they walked. Sei tried to take Rei’s advice, and simply observed:
Shimako and Yumi were conversing. Sachiko was walking slightly behind Yumi, talking to nobody (Sei thought that she should probably fix that, and indeed, began to drop back a bit in the pack). Rei was walking and trying not to knock ankles with Yoshino, who didn’t seem to want to move more than three centimeters away from her cousin.
Could Yoshino have been awake? That
(what the fuck was it)
would certainly trigger her territorial instincts.
She was more concerned about Sachiko, and so, moved back to talk to her.
“Had another shower, did you?” Sei asked, keeping her voice pleasant.
“I found I was feeling mildly ill even after breakfast, or perhaps due to breakfast,” Sachiko responded diplomatically, not wanting, perhaps, to say outright, that Prairie Oyster was probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever had in my life. “A hot shower felt quite nice.”
“Be careful with that hair of yours, all right? You go flinging it around the live house too much, you could hurt somebody.”
Sachiko simply stared at Sei, and Sei couldn’t help it—she laughed aloud, quickly covering her mouth with one hand as she attracted the attention of the rest of them, a move which was the result of years of training and social indoctrination.
They rounded a corner and saw a large, neon sign in katakana which read, Taku Taku. Sei said, “Okay, everybody, let’s pair up. Remember to use the buddy system, and don’t let your partner get lost, raped, or high, children.” She clapped her hands twice, as though she were addressing third graders.
They had advanced about five meters when they realized that Sachiko had stopped following them. They turned around, looked at her, and found that she was staring at a black car, parked along the sidewalk they were taking. They looked back at the car.
The window rolled down, and Suguru Kashiwagi said, very politely, “Good evening, everybody. I trust you braved the rain successfully.”
He then met Sachiko’s gaze, and said, “Sa-chan. I am glad you have had a good time, but I think it’s time that we went home. Your parents are very upset with me for…” he appeared to struggle with the next words, “losing you, and they are worried that this will translate into an appearance of my weakness before the shareholders.”
To Sei this sounded remarkably sexist, but Sachiko understood. She understood all too well.
She nodded. Suguru got out of the car, and Sachiko passed the group without a word, giving only a stray glance towards Yumi, who met it with wide eyes that bordered on fearful.
Sei moved, fast as a cat, and caught Sachiko’s arm. Sachiko stopped, but didn’t look up.
“Please,” Sachiko said, subdued. “I need to go.”
“The hell you do,” Sei replied.
“Sei,” Rei said. “What are you going to do? Kidnap her?” She put a hand on Sei’s shoulder, and Yoshino stepped forward.
“To hell with that,” she spat angrily, her mouth picking up the Sei’s vulgarity in a way that ought to have made Rei uncomfortable. “Sachiko, you’re a grown woman, you can make your own damn choices.”
“She’s right, Sei,” Rei said. Yoshino glanced at Yumi, who was looking away. She didn’t see Yumi biting her lip, hard enough to make it bleed.
Sei took her hand off of Sachiko and said, “Okay, fine. You’re a grown woman. Make your own choice.” As she said this last bit, she looked not at Sachiko but at Suguru, who did not quite meet her gaze as he usually did.
Sachiko hesitated for a minute, a bit like a hanging computer. She took a look at Yumi, who could not bring herself to look up. Who, in fact, was struggling just to keep upright, by Sei’s estimate. Then she looked at Suguru, maybe seeing something in his impassive face that Sei couldn’t see, or maybe couldn’t understand.
And then she kept walking. She took a seat in the car.
Suguru allowed Sachiko to pass, and then sat down next to her. Yoshino wore a look that was remarkably similar to that of a woman betrayed.
“You’re a son of a bitch,” Sei said. “Did you know that?”
Suguru met her gaze, and then, incredibly, dropped it, looking away. “I look forward to playing cards with you again, Miss Satou.”
Sei did not know what to say to that.
He closed the door. The car started.
And in the span of no more than two minutes, their vacation had ended.
It looked like rain again.
--
Ryuusuke Amasegawa, the owner and proprietor of Velvet Rose, had rather been hoping to act the gentleman and the hero and rescue Sachiko Ogasawara from the clutches of this man. He had even been willing to brave the big, scary motherfuckers he had seen come into his restaurant for this. He had been not twenty meters behind Sachiko when she first saw Suguru. He had made the decision to come to town after Suguru had stopped by his place asking after Sachiko—it hadn’t sat quite right with him. At best, he had thought, he would get to enjoy a show by Thirty Matchboxes, and at worst…
Well, this is “at worst.”
But then he had seen the way she walked. The way she simply got into the car, without any objections, save for that one glance at Yumi. And he knew that any effort on his part would just be rubbing salt in the wound, because she was going home, one way or another.
So, as they drove off, it was all he could do to make eye contact with Sachiko as she drove by. He didn’t smile, he only looked. He hoped he looked sympathetic, but he couldn’t be sure. He knew, though, that she had seen him, as well.
So, he, who had taken such an unusual shine to such unusual girls who had simply wandered into his shop, could not help Sachiko. He wanted to. It was in his nature. But he couldn’t.
It was all he could do, then, to help her friends, gathering them up, paying special attention to Yumi, who had begun to cry very quietly—even going so far as to put one arm around her, which she did not reject—and lead them back to their hotel, which Rei directed them to.
He spent most of the rest of the night with Yumi, Shimako, and Sei, the latter of whom spent most of the time holding the former’s hand while the former fell asleep, her eyes red from crying. He met also with Rei and Yoshino, and reinforced Rei’s insistence that there was absolutely nothing that could be done for Sachiko at this point, in spite of Yoshino’s fierce urges to go after that motherfucker and have his head.
Other than that, he knew very well that there was absolutely nothing that he could do.
Because, Ryuusuke had seen the look in Suguru’s eyes when he dropped Sei’s gaze. Rei had seen it too, and they both understood.
There was nothing Suguru could do, either.
When you were fucked, sometimes you were just fucked.
--
Very early that morning, when everybody else had finally gotten to sleep, Ryuusuke called Chiharu for the first time in half a year and asked her if she would like to get a cup of coffee with a man who hadn’t slept at all. He woke her and, apparently, her man for the night, who sounded angry.
She agreed, and they made plans to meet. When he hung up, he told her he loved her. She paused a moment before hanging up, and he smiled, satisfied knowing he had gotten to her a little.
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