Do you wanna be a poet and write Do you wanna be an actor up in lights Do you wanna be a soldier and fight for love Do you wanna travel the world Do you wanna be a diver for pearls Or climb a mountain and touch the clouds above Be anyone you want to be Bring to life your fantasies But I want something in return I want you to burn burn for me baby Like a candle in my night Oh burn Burn for me Burn for me Are you gonna be a gambler and deal Are you gonna be a doctor and heal Or go to heaven and touch God's face Are you gonna be a dreamer who sleeps Are you gonna be a sinner who weeps Or an angel Under grace I'll lay down on your bed of coals Offer up my heart and soul But in return I want you to burn Burn for me baby Like a candle in my night Oh burn burn for me burn for me Yeah Ooh I want you to burn baby ooh Laugh for me Cry for me Pray for me Lie for me Live for me Die for me I want you to burn Burn for me baby Like a candle in my night Oh burn burn for me burn for me Yeah Ah yeah I want you to burn I want you to burn for me baby Ohh yeah "Endurance" Andeira Torvald was just finishing her resignation papers when a knock came at the door—was it opportunity? No, she knew better than that—probably some student or teacher come by to beg her to stay. She opened the door and found Kula Nanahara on the other end—not necessarily a surprise, since the fiery young woman was both a student and a confidante. Torvald was one of the few teachers whom Kula trusted and liked, probably because she knew the pain of leaving one's home very well, and also things like a language barrier were absent between them (Torvald spoke both Hawaiian and Japanese, amongst others). But on that day, well after classes had ended, she was surprised to find the hotheaded Kula weeping. "What's wrong?" she asked, maternal instincts rising once again. She didn't know how long Kula had been like that, but apparently the sight of a trusted friend and mentor uncorked whatever plug kept the dam at bay, and Kula rushed forth to be held in Torvald's arms. She even let out a cruel wail as she tried to explain herself. "They're taking her away," she managed. "They found out about us. We were so careful! So careful, and they found out. They're moving her again. What am I gonna do, T?" Andeira's heart, broken though it already was after so many years of torment, went out to the poor woman, and she put her arms around Kula, offering some meager protection in this storm of hers. "Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," she whispered. As Kula broke down and wept, Andeira Torvald knew that one of the great romances Stanton would ever know had reached its finale. Late February, that same year... When Usha Krishnan broke up with me, I was destroyed. I fell in love with the woman I hated, and I was so sure our passion would last and last, hot and swirling like the sun, until even the end of all things was powerless to stop us. But then she went and trampled over me, telling me that she had deceived us both. "My heart was not into this," she said, or some trash like that. Whatever. It was such a big mess that I barely even remember it. All I could feel was anger—no, not anger, but rage, pure and undiminishing. I hated and loved Usha, and now I lost her—that fiend, that beauty, that creature who captured my heart and choked it with razor wire. And she was gone, off on a quest of truth, to find someone she wouldn't need to deceive. She ended up with Blake, of all people, right back to where she had begun, leaving me in the cold. Just until now, I had forgotten how much I really hated the cold. I vaguely remember despising that frosty chill—after all, Hawaii was a tropical paradise, and the most frigid days there are heatwaves on the mainland—I hated the snow, I hated the ice and sleet, and the layers upon layers of jackets, coats, mittens, scarves, and mufflers I was forced to wear because of it. With Usha, I never did really feel cold—our passion was too fiery—but with her gone...I was thrust into the ninth circle of Hell, darker and deeper and colder that the most distant reaches of space. And I wept, too. But not for long. My anger consumed me again. Let's just fast-forward in time, okay? To spring break; that's when things started looking up. One day I was sent to detention—as usual, for starting or participating in a fight—and I had to endure Keeping's sweet scathing presence all over again. Sigh. Psychologists—what're you gonna do? Anyway, I just sat there quiet until another kid came in; I was the only one until then. I guess I was the only bad girl left that Stanton hadn't broken! Anyway, when I saw her come in, I gave a little smirk. Sweet adorable Mihoshi, sent to detention for dueling, or whatever nonsense was going through her head now. I was glad that a familiar face would be joining me, and hailed her over to my seat. From the look of her face, she was glad to see me, too. What a bold girl! She challenged me to a duel right there in detention! I said yes, of course—I needed to whack something, and Yuki was one of the few people I knew of who would fight back. I also knew that, in her mind, challenging someone to a duel was her way of saying "I like you", and that I accepted suggested that I liked her too. Why? Oh, I dunno. I mean, she was really cute, and pretty strong and stubborn from what I heard, but there was something else, too. I think I was one of the few people who really got a kick out of hearing her say all that Bushido nonsense. I just laughed and smiled, not in a mean way, and wondered what cool saying she'd come up with next. I think I had a crush on her well before our first shy kiss on New Year's. As we went outside, I couldn't help but stare at her. The weather was now very warm and slightly windy, quite easily a perfect day. Spring was in full bloom, but I missed the exotic flora of my native land. Even as I reflected on this, though, something more beautiful and exotic stood before me, her snow-white hair flapping in the breeze like a banner. I held my breath and stared at this thing, not knowing whether it was really a girl or a goddess. "You're so beautiful," I told her that windy day. She had such a cute smile! "Arigato. Are you ready?" I had been given a shinai, a bamboo sword, and bowed politely to my opponent. Yuki was absolutely striking in the wind, wearing not school clothes but the gi and hakama of a real master, and her white hair, flecked with red, made her all the more ethereal. I began to wonder what powers were in effect that would lead me to face this beauty, and why I had never really noticed before. Being drawn into your own world, especially one of anger, does that to ya. At first we fought professionally, but soon every grievance I felt in the past came resurfacing. The move away from Paradise into Hell. The increasingly cold weather. Usha the Bitch. The Homecoming dance. The Protest. The War. The Tsunami. The death of Johnny Carson. Usha's two girlfriends. Our breakup. Everything. Every injustice I had felt was now being delivered in full physical force, against this humble individual who I had begun to like: stroke after stroke, like a lumberjack, until even the redwood called Kogure fell, struck down by my violence. It's a good thing I came to my senses. "Ohmygod, I'm so sorry! I didn't mean..." But Yuki, damn her, smiled through the tears of pain. I had never told her why I acted the way I did. We were never as close as we could've been; never the way I wanted to be. She didn't know, and yet... "What strength!" she whispered, clutching her torso. "What a skill! You...are truly...my superior...oh!" She stumbled as she rose; I was there to help her. I took her hand and held it, and felt just how rough, how worn-out, how perfectly beautiful and calloused it was. I think my heart skipped a beat. Our eyes met. I felt shame. I really did cry this time—"I'm so sorry, Yuki. I didn't mean to." But what else could I say? I had no right to get mad at her. Yuki never did me any harm. She had always been good to me. I'd've been better off hitting myself with that stick! I then let it all out, why I was so mad. It just blurted out from my mouth, words and words, until I had spoken a whole volume and was tired. I told her everything, as if an explanation would really excuse me. But she sat next to me anyway, so pretty and patient, and she was still there when I was finished. Then, she did the unthinkable, and took my hand. It was such a beautiful feeling, us and the wind and nothing else. She leaned over to kiss my cheek, pulled back a little, smiled, and blushed. "You have a strong spirit, Kula-chan," she whispered. "Stronger than mine. You have persevered through much sorrow, and still managed to come out fine." "I'm not fine, Yuki, I'm messed up. You saw me, you felt it." "But you were not mad at me." A pause. "No, I wasn't. I...actually like you. A whole lot." She looked over to smile at me, and once again, I let flow my words. "I know a lot of people can't stand to be around you because they think you're weird. Well, a lot of people can't stand to be around me because they think I'm dangerous—which is true, by the way. But I don't think you're weird," I added, slowly caressing that sweet field of moonlit flax. "I like you. You're funny, you're sweet, and you're the bravest woman I know of. And I think all that Bushido stuff you shout out is really awesome." Poor Yuki was summer rose red by this point, bashful and quiet, our hands now intertwined. "I don't think you're dangerous," she whispered, competing with the wind. "I really like you too. You're very strong, and you're very honest, and you know when you are wrong. I am personally attracted to the kind of fiery passion that must go coursing through your veins every moment of your life." "Stop it," I giggled, "you're embarrassing me!" We both shared a smile, grinning like silly little idiots, and slowly found our way to each other's eyes. We stared for eons. The moon and the sun might've crumbled, and the world brought to ruin, but that stare would've remained for all of time, a "Connection", if you will, of hearts, minds, and souls. She touched my cheek, the one she had kissed, with her hand. "Remember that kiss we shared on New Year's?" she whispered. I nodded. "I liked that. Do you..." I answered her question, though she trailed off without ever finishing it. I leaned in and took her pearly lips by surprise—first cautiously, then with invigoration, and finally wild, explosive passion. I had read several erotic stories where girls always yammered on and on about how their lover's lips were so soft, and I really had no idea what that meant. Usha tasted pretty good, but I dunno about soft: well, Mihoshi's lips were soft, and I mean that in a wild, dangerous, exciting, rock-and-roll, tidal wave, mind-blowing way (all that and more). We didn't just kiss, we yearned for each other, smothering and smunching with a flame far greater than desperation, and it lasted too long and too short. I guess I can safely call it love. We never called ourselves girlfriends or anything flowery after that, but one shared look between us, and we knew what was going on. We must've went on a hundred dates and took part in a hundred romantic activities, some so meaningless and trite that they were beautiful. We used to lie out in the park for hours, immersing ourselves in the leaves of grass, holding each other's hands and watching the clouds pass us by. I being somewhat good with the Japanese language, we could speak to each other in a tongue that comforted us both, especially Mihoshi, who told me of her home country and how she, too, hated being torn apart from there. "I left behind my very first crush," she said with a blush. "Her name was Mika, and she was the one who really opened me up to the ways of Bushido. Up until meeting her, it was just a passing fancy, a belief I had. I always did tell people I was descended from a great samurai warrior—a woman, no less—but Mika really brought it out of me. We were both cheerleaders too, and very fierce rivals, but good friends as well. She was so kind and friendly...and really pretty." "Did ya see her naked?" I asked her. Yuki laughed quietly. "Well, when one is a cheerleader, one sees many young women in that state. But...nothing came of it. I never told her how I felt. I was too scared of my parents finding out. I never heard from her again, even though I sent her letters." "Gosh, that's rough," I sighed. "But why would your parents ever be a problem?" "They are what the Americans call ‘homophobes', but I just think they do not tolerate it. It's not a matter of fear, just...hate, pure and simple. They say it's horribly wrong, and women should be with men. If that were really so, then all the world would be that way. But it's not, is it?" "Nope, certainly not. You raise a good point, Yukester," I said, rolling over on my side to look at her. "If we were meant to be a heterosexual world, we wouldn't have gay people, just like if people were meant to fly, they'd have wings. Um...bad analogy, I know, but you get the idea." She smiled back, and we clasped hands. I kissed her softly and asked how on Earth she had finally gotten the guts to reveal her feelings. "Simple," she answered. "Parting with Mika carved a great hole in my heart, and I swore that no matter what my parents thought, I would not be ashamed to profess my feelings the next time I fell in love. And so far," she added with a blush, "I have not been having much success. My friends say I try too hard. I just follow my heart. That is not a bad thing." "...No, it's not." I kissed her again. I love you, Mihoshi Kogure. And I told her that, without any shame or fear. After all, she said she liked my honesty. In return, she smiled and told me that she loved me too. For one single, magical evening, we had each other in the sweet blossom of sex. We were so careful. We hid it so well outside of the school. We were so careful. But not careful enough. Mihoshi's parents found us out—and worse still, they discovered our union while we were still in...that union. There's nothing more humiliating than having your lover's intolerant parents discover you wearing nothing but their daughter's skin. I fought past them, grabbed Yuki and my clothes, and made a race for the door. But she thrust me away at the last moment, begging me to go, save myself, or some stupid hero nonsense like that. I screamed and cursed those fools who dared to separate us—but in the end I ran, like a coward, and I went to the only person I knew that would understand me and my sorrow. Not mom. Not dad. Not even Avelina. Miss Torvald. Full circle. ......... After calming her student down a little (a bit of hot tea in a thermos and a lot of love will do it), Andeira heard Kula's story. She knew about the semi-secret romance, being Kula's confidante, and also knew that Kogure's parents were more than against same-sex relationships. But she didn't know they had been discovered, till' just recently, and she didn't know what happened after that. But then again, nobody did; this was all recent news. "I shouldn't have run away," mumbled Nanahara, glowering to herself in the corner. "I should have stayed there and helped her. We coulda told em', ya know, that we were in love. We coulda told em' and flung it in their faces, and dared them to say anything about it. The two of us together, that's what I mean. But I ran," she snorted, disgusted at herself. "Now she has to face all that nonsense on her own. Damn it...I oughta go back there and help her." "They won't let you set foot near the house," Torvald said. "Intolerant parents have a way of making the love life of their children complicated, especially in this case. I think you did the right thing, so beating yourself up over it isn't going to help." "Damn it, don't say that, Tee!" shouted Kula. "If I had stayed there—" "They would've forced you out anyway. The best thing you can do now is stay out of this." "What—and let Mihoshi's parents just move? Ya know, I think that's what they'll do: they'll pick their daughter up, move her away, and have her home-schooled for the rest of her life. I mean, she can't go to any school now that they know she's a lesbian! Whatever the case," she murmured, "it'll be painful. I love her, Tee. I love her more'n I ever loved anyone before. She understood me, y'know? And it's not just that! She even liked what other people hated about me! You know: my temper, my rash behavior, my bluntness, so on and so forth. She liked all that stuff. She didn't just accept me for who I was—she loved me for who I was. And I loved her too, every bit of her." She wiped her eyes with her sleeve, not bothering to explain away the tears. She was comfortable crying in front of her teacher; there was no emotion hidden. Andeira's motherly instincts wanted to hug Kula again, but that alone wouldn't get anything done. Comfort could only go so far—there needed to be action done as well. "I know you loved each other," she said, looking her student in the eye. "That's why I'm going to do everything in my power to keep the two of you together." "That'll be the day," Kula said, chuckling bitterly. "What, you gonna walk on over to the Kogure's house and tell Ma and Pa that it's okay their precious weirdo daughter's homosexual? They already think she's weird cuz' of the way she acts. This just added more fuel to the fire." "Actually, I was thinking of going over there to flex my diplomatic muscles," she replied, surprising Kula a little. "I do speak fluent Japanese, so maybe I could reach them. I'm also a teacher to the both of you, so I have credibility on my side, plus I have a few other wild cards in reserve." "Such as?" Andeira gave the young Hawaiian hothead a foxy smile. "Oh, secret things. Things only a parent could understand." "You have a kid?" "Like I said, secret things. Look. Don't worry. Just go back home so your parents don't worry about you. I'll call you if something comes up." "My parents don't care about me," she snorted. "If they had found us humping in bed, they wouldn't give it a second glance. Heh...guess I should've stayed at home, no? But what can ya do when your girlfriend's sitting on her bed, dressed in that foxy cheerleader outfit, practically begging you to—to, uh...well, you know." Kula was about to say something salacious, but even she knew to keep such things under control, whether around friends or enemies. And Mrs. Torvald didn't need to hear about "that". "Well, go home anyway. And let me handle the Kogures. Don't worry, I've faced worse situations. I promise I won't let you down." Kula smiled, reluctantly but sweetly, and gave the older woman another hug before leaving. There was no need to thank her, and even if there was, she could never express it, not with a whole library. ......... Torvald braced herself for everything as she waited for the door to open. Preparing for the worst wouldn't cut it: perhaps the Kogure family was not quite as intolerant as the rumors said they were. Maybe she might even slide through this without having to play any of her wild cards—just a few peaceful words here and there, and the problem would be solved. Of course, this probably wouldn't be the case, but why prepare only for the worst when the best was also a possibility? "Me, being optimistic?" she whispered to herself. "Heh, that's a laugh." She took another breath to be sure, and put on her most polite smile as the door opened and a mid-sized, mid-aged Japanese man poked his head through. "May I...help you?" he managed, his English slow. Torvald bowed and, in perfect Japanese, replied back. "Hello, Mr. Kogure! My name is Andeira Torvald, and I'm the foreign languages teacher at Stanton Public High School for Girls. Mihoshi is one of my students, and it's my understanding that she's been in some trouble recently. I was hoping I might speak with the family as a whole to see if I could placate things." Mr. Kogure was mildly surprised that an American could master his language so well, and at first returned her smile with equal length and merriment. But mentioning "Stanton" caused him to falter a little, and mentioning Mihoshi's troubles nearly erased it. But no matter what he was, he wasn't impolite, and asked her to come in. "I'm glad you know my language," he said, switching back to Japanese. "I don't know English very well, as you've heard, and I'm not comfortable listening to it either. Please, come, sit." Andeira took her shoes off and joined the man in the den; his wife came in at his bidding, but Mihoshi was nowhere to be found. In her room, perhaps? "I first want to tell you what a delight Mihoshi is," Torvald said, not sure whether she could call her by her nickname in the presence of her family. "She's very helpful and enthusiastic, and keeps most of the school in...good spirits. Of course, she's not without her problems, and I have not seen her attempt to tone down her...actions. You know the ones I mean?" "Only too well," gestured Mr. Kogure. "We're tired of it ourselves. We are glad that Mihoshi embraces our culture, but to this extent? Honestly, sometimes I don't know whether she is really serious, is still playing like a child, or has developed a charming insanity." "She's not dangerous," added his wife, and everyone agreed on that. "I think she simply needs something to guide her, some other activity. Cheerleading and kendo are both good, but perhaps it's her mind that needs placating, not her strength." Andeira nodded, not sure what else to add. She pushed Yuki as hard as she could without overwhelming the girl, so any other holes would have to be filled by the other teachers. Then, Mr. Kogure brought out the main course: he pointed at Torvald and stared suddenly. "You mentioned something about her troubles. What do you know of them?" Well, here went nothing. Torvald sat up, looked Mr. Kogure in the eye, and spoke calmly, slowly, and graciously. "I have been informed that she found a relationship the two of you did not approve of. I also heard that you took actions to prevent this relationship from continuing." "Most correct," grunted Mrs. Kogure, almost growling. "Mihoshi has surprised and shamed us with this newest oddity. We thought we could just ignore the last one. She did nobody any real harm, except by causing us embarrassment. In time we even learned to smile at some of it. But this!! This is outrageous! Never before have I imagined my own daughter to be like...that!" "This is not only shocking and humiliating," added Mr. Kogure, "but it goes against everything we believe, everything we know and trust. Are you aware of the societal structure in our homeland?" "Certainly not as well as you two," admitted Torvald. The answer pleased the couple. "No, I suppose not. But you are aware that we, and many others, encourage what is called the ‘nuclear family'. It must consist of one husband, one wife, one child at least—three or more, perhaps—and time permitting, a pet for companionship. This is not merely a choice or a belief; it is a system, a priority. And as you must know, values may change, but priorities do not." "I understand completely," said Andeira. "May I ask you a question?" "Go ahead." "Do you hate your daughter for what she has done, or do you only hate the action?" "We abhor it!" barked Mrs. Kogure. "Up until now, Mihoshi was a good child, one whom we both loved. We had high hopes for her and her sister." Ah, so Yuki has a sister, mused Torvald. Something to think about. But back to the subject. "But then," sighed Father, "this falls into our lap. What are we to do, except move again, where she cannot be influenced by that girl we saw her with. It pains us to move—we only just arrived, and we love it here—but if we stay, the two will have contact between them. Even now our daughter is under house arrest, and is confided to her room except when it is time to eat. Tomorrow we will petition for her withdrawal from your school." "I don't mean to sound disrespectful," Torvald said, "but doesn't that sound a little extreme?" "No," they both said, looking shocked that she should ever suggest such a thing. "It does not." "Did you talk to your daughter about this?" "What's to talk about? We know what she'll say. She will only insist that she loves this girl, and does not want to be apart from her. Children are so foolish sometimes!" "Mihoshi may be young, but she's old enough to think for herself. Don't you think she knows what's best for her?" "How could she? She's not even eighteen yet! Kids that age don't know what they want! They're like a river with too many tributaries, all going in multiple directions until you can no longer keep track of it. What she needs is guidance. She is too young for independent thought." "I disagree." "With all due respect, you are only her teacher, and you do not see her every day. We do." "But surely you must know that kids will act differently in different environments. Surely you don't expect Mihoshi to—" "Acting differently is what caused this in the first place!" screamed Mr. Kogure suddenly, standing up with a jerk. He continued, blasting at poor Andeira: "Why would she hide something like this? Why not tell us, spare herself the future humiliation, and allows us to change her mind before she gets herself in a hole? Or maybe being in a school where only women teach has affected her! Perhaps you encouraged her along the way!" "I did nothing of the sort," Torvald replied, her voice still even. "I only encouraged Mihoshi as a teacher should. What she did with her relationships were entirely up to her. And I see no reason to shout." "You've agitated me," he spat, trying his hardest to sit down again. His wife seemed a little suppressed, but then she came around and offered a more icy palette. "I know why Mihoshi kept this from us. It's because she knew we would react this way if we found out! That's why she kept it a secret. And yet she dares to defy our wishes, and goes along with this anyway. Apparently she is not only foolish, but forgetful as well." "I do agree with that," murmured Torvald throatily. "But your daughter also loved this other woman very much—so much that she would fight to keep it hidden for as long as she could. Do you know how much she wept when you put her in her room—or how badly the other girl must've felt?" "She deserved it; she seduced our own daughter!" "I'm afraid that's incorrect. Mihoshi might have been like this long before either one of you knew about it." "And nobody did anything to tell us!" "Because they knew what would happen! Mihoshi's a good student and a good friend. Nobody wants to uproot her! Why are you even doing this!" "We already told you!" they both shouted. "Now—excuse us, we have nothing else to say. We will move and our daughter will not see that other girl again." "No," wailed Torvald suddenly. She then pulled out one of her aces, and threw herself on the floor in abject humility. "Please, reconsider what you're doing," she murmured. "I beg of you. Mihoshi is your daughter, for God's sake. Can you not rule her with love, and let her do things on her own, instead of dictating everything for her? I beg of you, esteemed parents, not to do this. Don't do this, please, I beg you. Don't uproot her. It will kill her." "She should have thought of that before she went to bed with that whore!" snapped Mother. Andeira flashed the other woman a rare expression of anger. "Don't you dare speak that way about my students. Especially the ones that confide in me their secrets. Yes...I knew about this too," she added, ignoring their harsh stares. "I've known about it for a long time, and I was happy for them. I was happy for them. In my life, I've know nothing but sorrow. I've been exiled from my own country for an accidental discretion I wanted nothing to do with. My husband and my son are miles away, and I've not heard one word from either of them since the incident. One of my students was killed back then, and I was forced to come here so I would not further humiliate my family. But even so, I can still be happy." "Did you have a relationship with another woman?" barked Father. Torvald glared. "I did, but I did not want it. Regardless, it happened. And it happened again when I came to the states, so you could say I didn't learn my lesson. Even now, I'm planning on running away so I won't have to confront the ghosts of my past. But if I do run.........then I'll just make more ghosts, I know. I know I have to face everything now. I have to stop, turn around, and look at my demons right in the eye. I have to find a definition of happiness; I have to make a heaven out of this hell, and not just for myself, but for Mihoshi, for people like your daughter, and the girl she loves. They need me here. I know that now. After speaking with you, I know they need me now more than ever." Andeira took a few breaths after being winded from her speech, and waited for their reaction. But all they did was walk away, leaving her laying there on that floor. She went to pursue them, but they shouted back—"Leave! Or we'll call the police!" Torvald was a tough woman, and she stuck up for her students like a mother, but even she knew when to back away, and calmly walked out the front door, feeling like she had accomplished nothing, save encourage the Kogures to move away. "I'm sorry, Kula," she whispered. "I failed you. But I'll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, I swear." ......... Andeira hardly ever drank, and when she did, it was hardly anything to get excited about. But she went to a nice bar later that evening, and had a nice alcoholic beverage to clear (or muddle) her thoughts. She only had the one, knowing she would need sobriety for the ride home, but that one might've been enough. Besides, this now gave her the time to think. She had professed, before two total strangers, that she would not leave Stanton so long as somebody else needed her. After all the fuss she went through, and all the trouble she caused Bernie and the others, it took two stubborn Japanese parents to make her realize what was important. And she would live up to her word—after all, she owed it to Kula, if nobody else. She finished her drink and sighed, deciding to wait a few minutes just in case the alcohol took its time going through her system. The bar was colored with rich red velvety wallpaper—it was almost like curtains surrounding the room—and the music was sometimes jazz, sometimes classical. Everyone dressed up, showered, and shaved for that kind of place, and if anyone smelled improperly, it was probably because of the nice cigar smoke or the awful cologne/perfume they wore. It was a classy place, right up Torvald's ally—one she didn't expect to find a familiar face in. "Two martini," said a familiar accented voice to her right. She glanced around and saw Mr. Kogure, of all people. He reached for the martinis, and offered one to Torvald, smiling broadly. She declined. "No thank you, sir," she spoke, again in his language. "One's my limit. I have to drive home." "Nonsense, I'll call a cab for you! Here, drink, relax! Have a good time! I owe it to you for being rude earlier." She really didn't want to imbibe any further, but neither did she want to appear rude, so she took the drink, one sip at a time. He practically guzzled his down, then asked for beer. "What, no sake?" she asked playfully. He scowled, she apologized—then he chuckled. "I deserve a little ribbing. I was most disrespectful to you earlier. I'll buy the drink and hail a cab as an apology. You don't mind if I sit next to you, do you?" "No, please." He did so, and took the great big mug of beer in his hands, smiling broadly. The man must've had an excellent constitution, because he downed almost a quarter of the glass without backing down once. Then he slapped his hand on the counter, sang "Madadayo!", and chuckled at Torvald. She merely smiled back. "I like Kurosawa as well. Might I ask why you're suddenly in a good mood?" "Ehh...I've been naughty," he said with a drunken chuckle. "Actually, I've been terrible. I thought about what you said and discussed it with my inner being. Then I felt like I needed to apologize for my outburst. I didn't know where to look for you, so I called your school and was able to contact a few friends of yours who told me where you'd be. You certainly do have excellent taste!" "I really don't come here very often," she admitted. "Mostly when I really want to clear my head." "Booze will do more than clear your head," he chuckled, ribbing her. Then he got serious again. "I want to say I'm sorry. I've been nothing short of an ass, and so has my wife. But you have to understand, Mrs. Torvald, the truth behind our intolerance is not close-mindedness. A true man, or woman, cannot hate what they cannot understand. For example, if I don't know how a volcano works, it would be foolish of me to shake my fist at it when it erupts. Only by understanding the inner workings of the volcano may I come to better terms with it. I may even respect it. The same goes for my daughter's condition." "How so?" asked Torvald, even though she could guess where this was going. "My wife and I are not strangers to same-sex relationships," he sighed, becoming woeful all of a sudden. "For example, when I was Mihoshi's age, I fell in love with another boy. I thought I was going to live with this young man for the rest of my life. His parents were not as intellectual as we are, I humbly say, and they hated him for what he did, and they hated me. In the end, he chose them over me, and I was crushed. A few years later, I met the woman who would become my wife, and the two of us gradually fell in love. But she had her share of heartache as well." "She was in love with another woman?" Torvald guessed. He sighed. "I think so. I really don't know all the details. She tells me she did, and she cries every time it's mentioned. ‘For Mihoshi', she said, ‘we cannot allow her to experience this. We must hate same-sex relationships because they've devastated us both in the past.' I agreed with her. You must understand, Mrs. Torvald. We love our daughter very much, and we want to spare her as much pain as possible. We know we can't shield her from every arrow that grazes by, but we want to do what we can. This is just one of our methods." He stopped talking then, and attended to his beer. So, this was the whole truth, then. Andeira knew it all now. And, not for the last time, she forced herself to wonder why people did this. Was it really genetic? Or was it a choice? If it was a choice, why choose pain? If it was genetic, why not fight it? There must be some greater meaning behind the whole puzzle. She was just not wise enough to decipher it. "Will you really go through with the whole thing?" she asked quietly. He sighed. "Better to give our daughter a lash across the back than stand witness as her heart is torn in two." "But you do realize that you'll be breaking her heart even if you do move." "I know," he moaned, covering his head in agony. "It's so hard for all of us. But it's better for Mihoshi this way. We know it is." "Is it really?" she whispered. "What would happen if you didn't move? Or else, what will happen in the future if, say, a man breaks her heart?" "...I don't know," he moaned, "I just don't know!" "That woman will face heartbreak no matter where she goes," murmured Torvald, now talking about Yuki and herself. "No matter where she runs off to, there will be ghosts to face. She can't just keep running; otherwise, she will never find the strength to fight back. But if you stay, where you love it and your daughter loves it, she can be given the chance. You all can." "We can't, we can't..." "I won't leave," she told him, placing her hand on his shoulder. "Before all this happened, I was really going to leave Stanton for good—put my back to my problems and go somewhere else, somewhere where nobody would know my name. But talking to you has made me realize that I'll just face more problems along the way, no matter what. And I can't run forever. So I'm going to stop, turn around, and look my problems right in the eye. ‘I am Andeira Torvald,' I'll say, ‘and I am no longer afraid of you'. I'll stay behind, and I will do everything in my power to help Mihoshi—and to help the two of you—with every crisis that comes up. I'll stay as long as it takes." For a long, long, long time, Mr. Kogure said nothing; he just kept rubbing his face. He finally released himself, drank a few sips, then turned to look at Andeira. "You are, without a doubt, the strongest person I have met. You have more guts than anyone I know, including myself. I was fearful for my daughter, but now that I know you will be here to help her...perhaps the Kogure family can settle down and find roots here. But there is still the matter of this other girl. I wonder...is she the kind who will break Mihoshi's heart?" "For all I know, Kula is a great, sweet, strong woman, and she loves Mihoshi for who she is. She even likes her oddities." "That such a love could exist," he sighed, staring into his golden drink. "That anyone could find happiness with what our daughter does. A person like that could never break her heart." He then finished his drink, and the smile returned. "It is good that we spoke, Mrs. Torvald. Sometimes the ass needs a gentle word before it can move on." "Indeed it does," she said. "And sometimes it needs to be reminded of what it could leave behind if it runs off. Here's to two abominable asses and the hopes that they learn from their ways." They clinked their glasses together, and Mr. Kogure ordered one more round for the both of them. Luckily, Andeira's intoxication was almost gone by that point, so she could tolerate one more drink before she hit the road. I got off lucky, she reasoned on the cab ride home. If the Kogure family had been any different, Mihoshi and Kula would both be devastated. I'm just glad they have some wisdom in their heads. More than I do, anyway. So, I guess I kept true to my word to Kula after all, but Bernie and the others are going to have a field day when I tell them of my decision. (Sigh), I'll never hear the end of it! ......... The next day, Kula walked to school like she was carrying the rock of Gibraltar on her back. Yuki was probably gone by now, and Mrs. T, bless her, would be moaning and groaning about how she failed her. It wasn't Tee's fault—Japanese people could be so stubborn sometimes, and she knew that from being raised by one. She would miss Yuki horribly, and might never stop mourning her absence. To think, the one person who honestly loved her for who she was, taken away by bigoted parents! Such was the fate of many couples, but why did it have to happen to her?! She knew she had done bad things in her life, but nothing this dire! As she absently trudged down the hallways to her first class, she thought she heard her name being called. Probably some idiot out for a prank. But there it was again, a sweet song-maiden's melody, Kula! She turned around—be still, my beating heart!—and beheld the snowy-haired samurai she believed lost forever. The smile she had on was greater than a mountain of diamonds. "...Yuki?" she dared hope. The other girl nodded, and the two ran towards each other, their hearts drawing in for a wonderful collision. A few doors down, watching the reunion with a quiet smile, was the one responsible for making such a dream possible. She was merely content to observe; there would be plenty of time later to celebrate. After all, she was here to stay. Next time: The Magnificent Performance
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