Valentines Day; It seems appropriate to begin Act 4 on this day of all days. Believe me I didn't plan for the date to line up like this, but sometimes fate is kind and deals us a hand worth playing - or at least using to bluff.
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Act 3 - Melody
Between the inspiring marches and somber dirges, betwixt the resounding flourishes and sobering lulls, there are the melodies. The seemingly inconsequential counterpart to those grand orchestral moments, melodies are a symphony's workhorse – the dutiful donkey on which all its grandness rests. The melodies are those sections of the song you hum to yourself, not even knowing why, for years following the performance, and one could argue they're truly the best part.
Everyday life is the backdrop for all one's greatest achievements. The greatest athlete, the most powerful politician, the most skilled doctor, the best mathematician, the most prolific author, and even the most notorious criminal mastermind all have everyday lives that support them. Birthdays, holidays, weddings, funerals, first dates, romantic evenings, and all those important days one circles on a calendar are book-ended by everyday life. Never forget that every moment counts.
Chapter 27 - A July Hisao
There's no point in trying to delay this, and I'm sure it's the truth even if there's a nagging flaw to the revelation. Whatever else happens, right now I'm sure of at least one thing: I love Hisao – denying it would be foolish. With that thought pushing me forward, I clear my throat and grin sheepishly, which has the effect of bringing a tiny smile back to his face.
“I love you, too,” I admit, my voice barely audible above the crashing waves.
The last few pops from the fireworks display fade from the distant sky while Hisao and I lock eyes atop my new throne. There's a certain lightness in having said that finally, and I'm sure he feels it too. While it's not as excited a response as he might have expected, his smile immediately improves. Maybe this day wasn't destined to be a bad one after all, and I've just been getting worked up about nothing.
A small eternity passes while we're both waiting to see what happens next, what the other one might say; I don't think Hisao planned the aftermath. With that in mind, I decide to take the initiative. Tilting my head, I lean forward and close my eyes, pursing my lips ever so slightly. He takes the hint and meets me half way, the contact sending a wave of tingles from my lips all the way down to my toes.
As the reverberations from the distant explosions fade, the kiss we denied ourselves during the festival fireworks finally plays out. With nobody watching, there's little hindering the lust hiding behind our coy facade, and it quickly degenerates into more groping than kissing. Hesitant hands find their way up along my waist, then slide up, stopping short of my breast; he's not taking any chances.
In response, I reach down and pull his hand up, entwining my fingers over his to guide it along. His inexperience, and my own, make the contact short-lived, the sensation making me pull away reflexively, but not before I breathe a delicate moan into his lips. That incites him to continue, pulling me closer with one hand while the other moves to my thigh, slowly stroking down to my knee, then back along my hip and snaking under my shirt. Strangely, despite knowing I'm ticklish all along those places, his touch fails to cause a single giggle – instead my whole body starts tingling and all the dirty thoughts I've had for the past month return all at once.
For once, it's not at a bad time...
Unfortunately, our precarious position atop the rocks brings a halt to his progress when Hisao nearly loses his balance. The momentary shock of feeling him start to fall away makes my heart leap into my throat and I yelp despite his immediate return. When he's righted himself, he smirks at me apologetically and leans forward, but, much to my chagrin, not to resume the kiss. Instead he leans his forehead against mine, and it's only then I notice he's panting heavily, as though he forgot to breathe.
Was he losing his balance or passing out...?
The dim reflection of moonlight in his eyes serves as a focal point, and his hard stare keeps me quiet while he catches his breath. Watching him recover, I wonder if this might have had more to do with his heart condition than his lack of kissing experience; I really hope not. After a long moment, he pulls away and glances down at the beach, looking back to ask, “You cold?”
With the excitement of our conversation, and the impassioned make-out session that followed, I've almost forgotten where we are. Seaside evenings can get chilly fast, and sitting up on a rock in the cold wind has gotten me shivering a little; it doesn't help that I started sweating during our tonsil examination. Now that he mentioned the cold, I find it hard to think about anything else.
“I'll be f-fine,” I reply, trying to bite back the quiver in my voice, “we can stay a while.”
“Yeah, that's what I thought,” he says with a sarcastic eye roll. “We have a bus to catch,” he adds, ignoring my protesting frown as he stands to start climbing down, “and Shizune's a stickler for schedules.”
But... but...
After all the thinking, the heady conversation, the confession, and the kiss, I'm a little overwhelmed. Besides that, I'd rather spend the whole night on this rock with Hisao than go back to school. Unfortunately, I know that's not really an option, so I'll have to contain myself for a while longer.
Stupid reality...
“Yeah,” I mumble, glancing toward the bonfire.
“C'mon,” he chuckles, hopping down the last few feet before reaching a hand up to guide me down, “we don't want Naoko starting any rumors.”
“Right,” I say, starting to climb down. Truthfully, I don't think I'd mind a few rumors getting around school about Hisao and I, but, then again, I wouldn't want them making it back to Mom.
What am I gonna tell Mom?
As that thought crosses my mind, I nearly miss a foothold and lose my balance. Before I can get far, Hisao's hand catches my back and I clutch against the rocks for a moment before giggling nervously. “One thing at a time,” I mutter, drawing a confused grunt from Hisao.
He probably thinks I'm commenting on the hand still pressed against my back because he pulls it away promptly. Since I'd rather not explain, I don't bother correcting him, but I do manage to turn an innocent pout over my shoulder. The apologetic look on his face brightens into a confused smirk, so I don't feel too bad about leaving him to wonder.
It's not you, Hisao, it's my multi-track mind getting derailed.
The last few steps down are easy enough, and it's actually quite comforting when my feet hit the sand. Hisao seems happy to be back down to Earth, and the extra weight he was shouldering on the earlier climb seems to have gone. Iwanako's letter is sticking out of his pocket, but he doesn't even seem to notice its existence anymore. Instead his gaze is fixed on me, even as we start walking back along the beach.
If it were anyone else, his constant gawking would be creepy, but I've gotten used to being stared at by those eyes. Around most people, I'm a little shy and reserved, but Hisao has brought out my dormant extrovert ever since we met. Maybe it's because he's been shy and reserved himself, thus I've become the outgoing one to compensate; whatever the reason, I think it brings out some of my better qualities.
And some of my worse ones...
“So,” he says suddenly, catching me between thoughts, “why weren't you part of the relay?”
Relay?
“What?” I ask before realizing what he's talking about. Smirking slyly, I inquire, “Were you disappointed?”
“A little,” he admits, immediately sending his eyes on a rather obvious scan up and down my body. The scrutiny is a little unnerving, but I'm making an effort not to feel offended; I'm not naïve enough to think he hangs around with me just for my personality.
“You couldn't have handled it,” I remark, stopping to offer a quick curtsy. While he's rolling his eyes, I turn and break into a run, giggling all the way, until I reach the top of the hill near the bonfire. After stopping, I'm hit by a little wave of dizziness, a little reminder from my useless ear, but it's not enough to make me stumble. Turning back, I see him jogging to follow me, shaking his head and laughing lightly.
“Hey~!” Misha's sing-song voice calls from behind me, “you missed the fireworks~!”
“No we didn't,” I reply, not bothering to turn and see her confused expression, “trust me.”
The giggle gets closer, but I'm still watching my mildly stupefied boyfriend. That might not be the right word to describe the face he's making, which he's trying to keep frozen in a sour look, but I know he's not mad so much as frustrated; he probably wanted that conversation to lead somewhere. Foiling his plans is becoming a hobby of mine.
If my sprint away didn't take the starch out of his sails, the sudden addition of Misha standing beside me serves to deflate his ambition. “Hicchan~!” she lilts, waving hurriedly, “I hope you already packed~!”
Stopping for a moment, he turns a curious glance at me before shaking his head and letting out a nervous laugh. “Oh, you mean my suitcase,” he says, nodding dumbly, “yeah, that's all set.”
“Good~!” she says with a cheerful giggle. After a moment's pause, she turns to start leaving, but quickly stops and spins back to ask, “Wait, what did you think I meant?”
Yeah, what did he think she meant?
Caught off guard by the question, Hisao stammers for a second, and I'm pretty sure he's blushing hard, even in the moonlight. Stopping his senseless rambling with a quick cough, he finally starts to answer, “N-nothing, I was just-”
“You've got a dirty mind, Hicchan~!” she interjects before he can finish. Turning a derisive smirk at me, she asks, “How do you put up with him?” The following, “Wahaha~!” tells me I don't have to answer, but I feel obliged to provide one for Hisao's benefit.
“He's usually better at hiding it,” I reply, aiming my answer at him, “sometimes, though...”
Misha just walks away, giggling airily, while Hisao folds his arms and raises an eyebrow at my sly smirk. Instead of protesting, he leans to one side and looks past me toward the fire. Following his gaze, I turn and notice Misha had apparently been the only one left guarding the blaze. Looking back, I see a prideful smirk and notice he closed the gap to only a few feet.
“I have nothing but pure thoughts, I assure you,” he protests, closing the rest of the distance and placing a hand on each of my shoulders. “Except when I don't,” he adds, this time leveling his eyes on mine. It's a trick, I realize. Every time he does that I lose all sense of the world around me, and end up making a fool of myself.
That's not so bad, though, is it?
Now that I know it's a trick, though, two can play that game. Staring right back, I let him believe I'm mesmerized while I move my hands up to his sides, then down slowly; all the while trying not to crack a mischievous grin. Soon I find what I was searching for blindly, and Hisao is still unaware. With one quick motion, I pull the letter out of his pocket and back away, holding it up tauntingly.
Instead of being mad, he looks a little disappointed, but that's probably because I've never escaped like that before. “And what are you planning to do with that?” he asks, nodding toward my paper hostage, “you said you didn't wanna read it.”
“No, I said you don't wanna read it,” I retort, taking another step back toward the fire. As I do so, he begins to understand what I might be planning and his eyes widen in shock. When I thought to take it from his pocket, I didn't really have a plan, but, as I near the dwindling blaze, I recall something about burning your past.
Maybe it's just a bit of jealousy on my part, but when I watched Hisao explain about Iwanako, I could see the look in his eyes. Regardless of where he is now, with me, attending a school half a country away, there are still doubts in his mind. This letter brought them back to the surface, and I worry he might find more than a bitter apology inside if he were to open it during a moment of weakness. It's a little selfish—maybe a lot selfish—but, for his own good, and my peace of mind, this flowery reminder of what once was shouldn't remain available to wreak havoc on our future happiness.
I can't just toss it aside, though...
Gripping it with both hands and holding it up with a bit of reverence, I offer a weak smile and try putting my thoughts into words. “This letter represents your past,” I start, trying to make it sound less corny than it does in my head, “before you nearly died, before you came to Yamaku, and before you got lucky enough to meet me...”
The last part makes him chuckle, and I take a moment to smirk at my own false arrogance. The look on his face after the laugh subsides tells me he already understands, but I feel like finishing the show. “You're not the same person you were in February,” I explain, “and you're not even the same person you were in June.” Managing to confuse myself, I pause and shuffle my feet for a second before finishing, “You're very much a July Hisao.”
After a moment to think about it, he confirms, “Right,” but then has a question, “and what does that mean?”
Good question...
When I took the letter, I was just being playful, but thinking about it has turned my flirting into council. The letter represents something Hisao left behind, a person from his past, and something like an anchor. Even if I set aside all my own selfish reasons, I'd still think he's better off being rid of its influence. Holding it over the fire was originally just an empty threat, a way to goad him for no real reason, but I think I was on to something.
“You shouldn't let this thing hold you back,” I say, nodding toward the letter, “my Captain of the Guard shouldn't be weighed down by an anchor – it makes it harder to hunt dolphins.”
This was already corny, so tossing in the silly reference seemed appropriate, but I think he understands; he's nodding at least. For a second he just stands there, but, after a few moments spent squinting at the fire, he turns a smile at me and gives one last affirmative nod. “I've heard it's wise to let go of things like this,” he says, taking a few steps toward me and pointing toward the fire, “but I'd rather do it myself.”
His eyes stay on me while he walks over and reaches for the letter. For just a moment, I consider pulling it out of reach, but I'm lost in his eyes again and he has no trouble taking it from my hand. With one last nod, which I manage to echo, he flips the letter down into the blaze and we both turn to watch it smolder.
Perhaps because of the extra padding inside, or just because time seems to slow, it takes a while for flames to catch around its edges. Once the fire finds its way there, the paper begins to shrink and bend, turning black as the delicate script and scented paper are consumed. There's a little burst of light as the flames reach the interior, which is confusing for a moment until I realize she probably sprayed perfume inside. Soon all that remains of Iwanako's letter are a few delicate, charred scraps of burned paper that start catching in the light breeze.
After however long that took – minutes, hours, or mere moments – I turn a hopeful look at Hisao and see an expression I wasn't expecting; contentment. Telling me about the letter, what it meant, who it was from and everything that went along with it pulled a weight off his shoulders, but burning the remnants seems to have lifted him off the ground.
“Thanks,” he says, finally turning away from the blaze to face me, “I think I needed that.”
Not wanting to spoil the moment, I don't say anything. Instead, I take his hand, locking his arm with my elbow, and lead him away from the dwindling fire. Despite how happy it seems to have made him, I hope nobody returned and witnessed our little past-burning ceremony. Aside from Shizune, I doubt any of them know the letter exists – or existed, rather – and I think Hisao will want to keep it that way for a little while at least.
It's not for me to share, only to know.
The trek inside is uneventful – nobody was hiding in the bushes to spy on us, at least – but that's because all the chaos is contained within. Apparently only a few of us had the forethought to pack before sundown, so there's about half a dozen confused teenagers scrambling around, looking for whatever items they left strewn about the bungalow. The few of us who planned ahead – Amaya, Misha, Hisao and myself – gather around the dining room table and snack on the remnants of Nobuo's feast while waiting for the rest of our troupe to get their act together.
Even Shizune managed to lose track of time, which more than a few of us finds particularly amusing, though we don't dare mention it to her face. Tadao, on the other hand, who's probably the least organized of anyone, has to endure a constant stream of insults, mostly from Amaya. Yoko and Kenta are nowhere to be seen, though Misha assures me there's nothing to worry about.
Meanwhile Naoko moves around swiftly and silently, going mostly unnoticed by all but her brother; who, if the constant jingling of his keys is any indicator, is apparently in a rush to get on the road. Originally Naoko was to ride back with us, but, with her brother and his car available, they concluded it made more sense to ride home together; a decision they might both be regretting right now.
[You're getting sloppy, sis,] he taunts after catching her attention with a quick wave, [I think these friends of yours might be a bad influence.]
With her hands caught in the random pile of clothes she's trying to stuff into a plastic bag, the only answer Naoko can readily provide involves an angry glare and a quick, curt hand gesture even Amaya doesn't need translated. Nobuo just chuckles to himself, casually tossing the keys into his shirt pocket and sighing loudly, then shaking his head and folding his arms as he leans back against the kitchen counter.
With time running out until our ten-fifteen bus, Yoko finally emerges from the bedroom with her suitcase in one hand and a hairbrush in the other. Although she isn't the last to emerge, she bows apologetically as she crosses the room and stammers, “I-I had to take a shower.”
“She felt dirty!” Kenta adds as he exits the same bedroom, swinging his little suitcase triumphantly.
The disapproving glares he's met with cause him to stop swinging and instead grin sheepishly. “That's not what I meant, I swear!” he protests, and I'm not sure whether I should believe him.
“I had sand in my hair,” Yoko says meekly, trying to explain.
“That's enough!” Amaya commands, standing and moving to the middle of the room. The suddenness of her statement catches everyone by surprise, causing the room to fall silent, which is probably her intent. “Everything that happened this weekend is for our eyes and ears only,” she explains, casting her gaze around the room, “especially certain events that I will not mention.”
Nobody is really surprised by this, though a few faces look more disappointed than happy. Personally, I'm fine with most things finding their way into the Yamaku rumor mill, but not everything. A few moments of consideration leaves everyone nodding, but, judging by the fact that she's still standing in the middle of the room, casting her gaze around, scrutinizing each reaction, Amaya isn't finished.
Holding up both hands, palms out, she threatens, “As far as our classmates and teachers are concerned, we had a pleasant, wholesome weekend. If word gets out about our more depraved extra-curricular activities,” she pauses for a moment, smirking evilly, “and I find the leak...” As she trails off, I have to hold back a giggle. Sometimes Amaya is a little over-dramatic, but this is becoming ridiculous. Spinning on her heel, she snaps her icy glare on Naoko specifically and barks, “You can expect to add paraplegic to your list of disabilities!”
Despite being unable to hear exactly what she said, Naoko is quick to nod complicitly; the deadly serious stare from Amaya's icy eyes causing her to shrink away with the motion. Misha takes a moment to translate the exact message once Amaya breaks eye contact, and, apart from the ticking clock in the living room, there isn't another sound for a while.
Watching our dimpled commander walk back toward the middle of the room, Kenta chuckles a little and comments, “Hey, I'm practically half-way there-”
“You'll be a quadriplegic, then!” Amaya interjects, pointing a scolding finger at him, “so don't tempt me.”
That sounds a little extreme, but it's not likely she would actually follow through on a threat like that; at least I don't think she would. Basically she just wants this weekend to stay between us, which is kind of sweet despite her forceful nature. Nobody takes her warning at face value, but most everyone has reason to keep some things a secret.
Amaya most of all, probably... and Yoko for that matter.
With her warning suitably received, the grimace flips into a broad smile and the cheerful lilt returns to her voice. “Alrighty, then, we have a bus to catch~!” she remarks, picking up her pink suitcase and practically skipping toward the door, “single file, people~!”
Walking back along the still-bustling boardwalk is as quick and quiet as it is uneventful; relatively, at least. The bus station we emerged from upon our arrival is dimly lit by incandescent street lights, but I was completely blind my first time here. It turns out the small station is built across the street from the boardwalk, and we're not alone boarding. The local Sea-Day event ended with a fireworks display shortly after our own, and there are crowds of tourists loitering about, waiting for their scheduled rides.
Nobuo follows along with his sister as she insists on seeing us to the bus, but I don't think he minds quite as much as he tries to appear. Whether it's intentional or not, I think she insisted because she's worried about Yoko riding back without a chaperon between her and Kenta. The three of them walk in front of Hisao and myself, and Naoko walks in the middle, acting like a barrier. It's kind of cute to see her being protective like that, though Kenta is looking a little annoyed by her presence.
While I'm watching them, I feel a hand on my shoulder and glance at Hisao, who's shaking his head disapprovingly.
Right, don't poke the bear...
Being reminded that I might tend to meddle too much, my thoughts change tracks and focus on the reminder. Feeling his hand in mine, I'm a little surprised I didn't even notice it was there until he breaks away to load our bags into the bus compartment. During Amaya's speech earlier, I was thinking about how it would effect the rest of the group, but Hisao and I have leaped a few hurdles this weekend ourselves; some of which I'm not sure I handled properly.
When he returns to reclaim my hand, there's an easy smile on his face. It's a look he seems comfortable with, and I like to think it's because of me, though that might just be narcissism. Although he's been looking at me like that almost since the first day we met, so I'm confident it's the former. Even if it is just a figment of my imagination, seeing him smile makes me smile, so I'm not going to complain.
Ahead of us, Naoko has pulled her new friend off to the side while Kenta climbs aboard, and I see a familiar look on Yoko's face. Like Hisao looking at me, she's watching Kenta with a strangely neutral expression; like she's trying hard not to smile. There's a tinge of uncertainty that I'm not seeing in Hisao's expression, but that's probably just nerves. Knowing I've probably made that face, I smile despite myself; it's like watching my own sweet misery.
Instead of signing, Naoko is writing out her messages on a notepad, which is probably partly for secrecy and also because Yoko is a novice when it comes to sign. Whatever advice she's offering, I'll probably never know since Hisao starts pulling me along toward the door; trying to quell my curiosity by forcing me up the stairs. When I smirk over my shoulder at him, he raises an eyebrow and shakes his head as if to say, “No. Bad Aiko.”
Shrugging, I follow his silent advice and give up on snooping. Admittedly, he's probably right and I ought to pay less attention, but sometimes I just need an outlet. Now is probably not the best time for it anyway, since we're in the middle of a crowd of people and about to spend six hours on a bus; I don't want to draw attention to myself. That same thought doesn't hold true for Kenta, though.
Squirming past me, he leans out the door, nearly knocking a little girl off the steps as he waves at Naoko and signs, [Can I have my girlfriend back now?]
For a second I feel bad for Yoko, but she probably doesn't know what he said. Hisao, ever the tactful friend, sighs loudly as he passes Kenta, shaking his head disdainfully. If he notices, Kenta doesn't acknowledge the disapproval. Unfortunately for my peace of mind, that's the last I get to see of the exchange as the crowd fills in behind Hisao, forcing us to continue down the aisle.
Sitting near the back again, we find ourselves across from Amaya and Tadao like before, though both of them are already examining the inside of their eyelids before we can get comfortable. The rest of our troupe gets separated, but that doesn't bother me. The idea is to sleep for most of the ride, through the night, disembark at Yamaku, return to the dorms and pass out again so we're all somewhat fresh for our exams tomorrow morning.
It's probably not the best plan we've ever had, but everyone agreed to it before we left; everyone except me, that is, but Amaya knew I wouldn't object. This gives me an excuse to sleep against Hisao again, after all, and that was the best part of the ride down.
Until I sat down, I hadn't realized how tired I felt; it has been a long day. Hisao looks no less fatigued, blinking through ever-drooping eyelids as he squirms to find a comfortable position against the window.
“You'll be sleeping this time, right?” I mumble through a yawn.
“Unless you wanna sleep in shifts,” he replies, glancing around at the gathering crowd of passengers, “what with all these miscreants around.”
“You mean like the little girl in the Hello Kitty jacket, or the white-haired grandmother?” I ask, nodding toward the people in question, “I'm sure they're both pirate-ninjas in disguise.”
“Exactly! That or organ harvesters,” he replies with a chuckle, “if we're not careful, we'll wake up in a seedy hotel bathtub full of ice with our kidneys missing.”
“Don't say that~!” I chide, slapping his shoulder with my free hand, “I'll end up dreaming about it.”
He starts to laugh, but it's cut short by a yawn. “Sorry,” he says, “the prospect of seeing Kenji again has me thinking strange thoughts...” The pause after he trails off gives me a moment to recall my few meetings with his hall-mate, and I'm left smiling despite how odd those experiences were. “We'll be fine, I think,” he adds, landing his arm across my shoulder as the yawn ends, “Amaya can fight them off, I hear.”
“At the very least she'll avenge us,” I whisper, leaning my head against his shoulder. Turning a quick glance at her, and seeing her leaning against Tadao, mouth agape, and completely dead to the world, I shake my head and giggle.
Despite the discussion, I can feel myself drifting, and Hisao's slowed breathing isn't helping me stay awake; not that I'm trying. “Did Tadao tell you about that?” I mumble into his arm.
With my eyes closed, and my senses dulling, I can barely tell he's nodding. “Yeah,” he replies, sounding close to unconsciousness, “Aikido, right?”
It's subtle, but I'm pretty sure I'm nodding. Whether he can tell is another question, but I'm not worried about that. Hearing his heartbeat and feeling his warmth as I rest against Hisao's side, the drifting soon turns to sailing; next stop: dreamland.
I hope I don't drool on him this time...
Despite the engine noise, chatting crowd and lights whipping by the windows, I manage to sleep through most of the ride back to Yamaku. Waking to a gentle shove, I blink my bleary eyes and squint at a sleepy, cherubic grin. The dimples in her cheeks give Amaya's face an almost child-like quality, and I'm a little surprised by how close she is until I realize she's sitting next to me.
“Hello,” I croak, feeling grit in my throat. Spending time at a windy beach has left its mark on my larynx and for the moment all I can think is I need a drink of water. When that thought passes, I notice there's a definite lack of a warm body on my right side, so I turn a surprised look that way as if expecting to see him dangling out the window. “Where's Hisao?” I mumble.
“Swooner needed to pee,” she replies, nodding toward the back of the bus, “I stole his seat.”
“I see,” I say, trying to look in that direction. The back of the seat prevents my view, and I'm still too tired to bother standing, so I just nod and smile while she starts giggling. It's a girlish giggle I recognize, and usually it's accompanied by some measure of playful banter, but I think she's too tired to voice her mockery.
“So,” she leads, hanging on the word for a second before smirking and asking, “what'd you two kids talk about?”
Although it's a somewhat vague question, I immediately understand what she means. Usually she has a little more patience, but the absence of Hisao and the relative privacy afforded by the high backs of the bus seats probably gave her the idea to ask sooner than usual. Unfortunately for her, I'm not in any mood to talk about it quite yet, so I decide to be vague and misleading.
“Stuff,” I reply, trying to sound coy, “y'know... schoolwork, politics, anime...” I add, making things up as I go, “he's not really into any of those, but who is, right?”
“I'm not that tired, Aiko,” she replies, casting a dour grimace at me, “I want details!”
“Can I sleep first?” I whine, trying to deflect her unwanted questions, “we have tests tomorrow, remember? Finals. Y'know, important tests and-”
“Fine~!” she groans, shaking her head, “keep your secrets... just... don't keep them too long.”
If she knew the half of it...
After that, she stays for a few minutes, silently ignoring me, until Hisao returns. Glaring at her, he groans, “Swooner tired.”
Hearing him talk about himself in the third person makes me giggle, and it catches Amaya off guard. She stumbles out of the seat and returns next to Tadao, quickly cuddling against his shoulder and shooting me a dirty look before hiding her face and probably falling right back to sleep. Meanwhile, Hisao drops onto the bench and aims a weary smile at me. “We're almost there,” he mumbles, “you gonna stay awake?”
“Wasn't planning on it,” I reply.
“You mind?” he asks, leaning toward me.
Apparently he means to use me as a pillow, and the prospect is a little frightening, but I suppose fair is fair. Although answering wouldn't matter anyway since he's resting against my shoulder before I can even think of agreeing. Watching him curl up, unhindered by the lights, or the noise, I wonder if he's used to sleeping in strange, seemingly uncomfortable places; either that or I make a really nice pillow.
It's probably all of the above...
Actually, after a minute or two, I'm not even the slightest bit unhappy with our circumstance. Leaning against the window lets me look out at the city lights as they're passing by, and I feel like I could fall asleep, but now my brain is working. It's too dark to read my watch, but I'm sure it's somewhere around three in the morning, which is prime time for me to wake up and stare at the ceiling if I were at my dorm.
Lately I've been better at sleeping, but this isn't my fault; I blame Amaya. So eager to ask questions I don't want to answer, she got me to start thinking and now I'm unable to stop. With Hisao leaning against me, I have to be careful not to start rambling under my breath, or move around too much, since I can't risk him catching on to what's keeping me awake; or that I'm not sleeping for that matter. Now that I've had a little time to think about it, I'm not sure I did the right thing telling him I love him.
Not that it's untrue, but he made the effort to tell me his secrets before getting around to his confession. That whole walk was so he could tell me what the letter meant, who Iwanako was, and tell me, in no uncertain terms, that he's here for me. That ought to make me happy, and it does, but now I feel like I've betrayed his trust somehow, which is the last thing I wanted to do.
Still, it's not the end of the world if he doesn't know my biggest horrifying secret yet, is it?
That's what scares me now; that it might be too late. Despite how uncomfortable it made me, I had already decided to tell him; Amaya helped with that. Figuring out when was supposed to be the hard part. Looking at his grinning face as he dreams the bus-ride away, I consider waking him to be out with it right now; rip it off like a band-aid.
That probably wouldn't go over well, though: shake him awake, wait until he's coherent, then tell him I'm dying and it's okay to freak out. Even if I thought that was a good idea, I don't think I'd be comfortable having a bunch of strangers on a bus hear it; not to mention Tadao or any of my other friends. Unlike most of my other plans with Hisao, I'll need to get him alone somewhere, if only for my own comfort, before I drop that particular information bomb on him.
That's not likely to happen this week. With finals, and studying, and trying not to fall asleep in class tomorrow morning, and avoiding prying questions about our trip to the beach, and a million other issues yet to be named, finding time alone with Hisao probably won't be possible until next week. At least I'm somewhat lucky where finals are concerned, since the first one will be Calculus, but if I can't get back to sleep I might be ruined for the whole rest of the week, and I was looking forward to my actual birthday.
Damn you, Amaya! Damn you!
Then there's dealing with Mom when she shows up, which is usually the week before summer break. She often delights in surprising me by showing up a few days early, though it isn't always a pleasant surprise. Mom already knows about Hisao, or at least she knows I'm dating someone named Hisao; the conversation was over before I could relay any details. If I'm lucky there will be a storm, or a knife crisis, or a grease fire to deal with and she'll be stuck in Italy for an extra week. That would give me just long enough to drag Hisao to someplace secluded and have my way with him.
Explain things to him, rather... maybe after I have my way with him? I hate my brain...
Perhaps because of that thought, Hisao decides to stir and crack his eyes open, which causes me to slam mine shut and freeze in place; to try appearing asleep. Of all the times I could have been broadcasting my thoughts, that's not the one I'd like for him to have heard, so I'm really hoping he's just shifting to a more comfortable position.
For a few minutes, I keep my eyes closed and try to imitate slow breathing while Hisao jostles around. Eventually he stops moving, but only after he wraps an arm around my waist and crosses the other over my leg; I'm starting to think he's doing this on purpose. Finally his head rests against my shoulder like before, which makes me confident enough to peek through one eye.
Instead of being asleep, he's staring at me, eyes wide, grinning like an idiot. “I knew you were awake,” he says, immediately pulling his hands away, “you're not great at playing asleep.”
“Neither are you,” I accuse, trying not to raise my voice, “what kind of behavior is this for the Captain of the Queensguard?”
Maybe making him a Captain was premature...
“You were mumbling to yourself, is something up?” he asks, changing the subject, “finals got you worried?”
For a moment, I start to tense up thinking I might have to go through with talking about this on the bus, but his second question allows me an escape. “Kind of,” I reply, shrugging, “I'm fine with tomorrow's exam, but the rest of the week is gonna be torture.”
At least I'm not lying again, but it's still subverting the truth; although I could probably have said anything and he wouldn't doubt me. He trusts me. He loves me.
Now I feel awful...
Unfortunately, I can't change the subject now that he's nodding so willfully. “We can meet up after class and go over the rest of the week's finals if you want,” he suggests, which doesn't surprise me at all, “I don't think Shizune or Misha will mind another sharp mind.”
“Always with the hidden compliments,” I reply, smiling despite myself, “That sounds like fun... almost.”
“Almost?” he prompts.
“Wouldn't you rather ditch the council?” I suggest, trying to sound coy.
My tone of voice, and the innuendo behind my suggestion, hit Hisao quickly, forcing a nervous chuckle out of him. Meanwhile, I stare at him with the most lascivious pair of pouting bedroom eyes I can muster. “That-” he starts, fumbling over the word a few times before blurting, “You're just toying with me, I know!” Taking a quick breath he smirks wryly and adds, “Don't ever stop.”
“Noted,” I answer, easing back against the seat and shaking my head, “but I guess it makes sense to bring as many brains as we can.”
“It's a date then,” he agrees.
“A group date,” I add.
“Yes-” he replies, quickly stopping his answer when he realizes what that might mean. Shaking his head, he stammers, “W-wait, I-”
“Don't worry your pretty little head,” I chide, snickering at his bewildered expression. “I'll invite the mush brigade, too,” I explain, nodding toward Amaya and Tadao, “so you don't get any ideas.”
“I wasn't getting any ideas!” he blurts, loud enough that I'm sure most of the bus passengers heard him. Realizing this, he shrinks down to hide behind the back of the seat and whispers, “I wasn't, I promise.”
Just to make him nervous, I cross my arms and raise an analytical eyebrow at him; toying with him really is starting to become a favorite pass-time. Like a mouse caught in a cat's mouth, his eyes widen and he starts glancing around nervously, but I think I've had enough fun. “I know. I'm just practicing,” I say, leaving out the full explanation, “besides, you're cute when you're scared.”
Just to prove I'm not really worried, I lean down to meet his uncomfortable-looking slouch and kiss his cheek. “I don't think I'll be sleeping the rest of the trip,” I admit after waiting a few moments for his expression to go back to normal, “maybe once we're back at the dorms.”
“We?” he prompts.
Smooth, Swooner...
“The collective 'we', not the you and me 'we',” I clarify, dashing his hopes, “as much as I like using you as a pillow, I don't think campus security would let me bring you in this late.”
“Early,” he corrects, then smirks slyly and adds, “I can be sneaky.”
He's trying too hard now...
To show my reluctance, I look away, out at the passing streetlights, and roll my eyes. It doesn't make him give up, though. Instead he leans over me and looks out where my eyes are trained. That's just a ruse, since his hand finds its way to my hip in clandestine fashion. After a few moments, I glance at him briefly and sigh, “Subtle.”
That makes him lean back finally, grinning boyishly. “Have I told you you're beautiful when you're annoyed?” he remarks.
“Only then?” I ask, pouting.
“Well, no, but you get a glint in your eye...” he starts to explain, but smirks when he sees through my facade, “it's almost like when you're plotting, but somehow better.”
After saying that he gets really quiet and just stares at me for a while. For exactly how long, I couldn't say, but probably a few minutes at least. It's a calming stare, which is probably why I don't feel uncomfortable, even though there's nowhere for me to run. Obviously he wants to take things further, and I have to admit I've thought the same thing, more than I'd care to admit, but I'm not quite ready for what he's thinking; not after this day, at least.
As we're staring at each-other, I notice movement over Hisao's shoulder and glance toward Amaya. Not only is she awake, but, for whatever reason, she's leaning against her hand staring at us dreamily. When she notices me looking, her head spins away, but it's too late to hide her interest. She looks back quickly and smirks at me sideways then slumps her shoulders and groans, “You two are no fun~!”
“Sorry we're not keeping you entertained,” Hisao answers, still looking at me.
“You could at least kiss her,” Tadao remarks groggily, his hand reaching up to wave lazily.
“The Swooner abides,” Hisao replies, leaning closer and smiling, “wanna go bowling later?”
Before I can start laughing at his ridiculous reference, he pushes forward and catches my laugh in his lips. Behind him I can hear a slight gasp followed by some cheerful giggling, but for the moment I'm a little preoccupied. It's brief, and I'm left feeling like I wasn't finished, but when he pulls away with his eyes closed, I'm nothing short of captivated. Maybe I ought to have Tadao command him to kiss me every time.
No, that would just be weird...
Despite the comments from the peanut gallery, Hisao doesn't bother acknowledging their continued encouragement. Opening his eyes slowly, he looks toward me for a moment before glancing out the window. “We're almost there,” he remarks, nodding out at the darkness, “should be passing through town soon; we should make sure everyone else is awake.”
Before we can point this out to Amaya, she's already standing and stretching, then stumbling down the aisle to check on the rest of our troupe. Tadao remains in his seat, turning and putting his feet up to stretch. At some point he put that cowboy hat back on, and he's using it to hide his face, but it doesn't rest low enough to hide his grin. “Nine point two,” he remarks, reaching up with his index finger to push the brim high enough to see under, “not bad for a city kid.”
Is he rating Hisao's kissing skill...?
Undeterred, Hisao rolls his eyes and shakes his head, slowly turning to meet Tadao's judgmental gaze. “You grew up in a suburb of Tokyo and you're calling me a city kid?” he protests, “That hat doesn't make you a country bumpkin.”
Shrugging, Tadao pulls the hat back down and smirks; he's done arguing, apparently. Despite his previously stated approval, I think he's still testing Hisao. Befriending him secured an easy way to keep an eye on both of us, I think, though I'm just happy they get along so well. Since coming to Yamaku, Tadao really has been like a big brother to me, and I find myself trying to impress him like a little sister should sometimes. Exactly what stake he has in seeing our relationship flourish isn't clear, but I'm happy for the support.
Does that mean my big brother just told my boyfriend to kiss me...?
Shaking my head to push that disturbing thought aside, I glance at Hisao and shrug, then turn to stare out the window; I don't think he needs to hear about any of that, ever.
Nor do I ever want to think about it again...
Amaya returns a few minutes later and reports that everyone else is awake, at least partially. Soon after, Hisao points out that we've started up the hill toward Yamaku and it's only then I notice the number of passengers has thinned quite a lot. There must have been a stop while I was asleep – probably in the city somewhere.
Only ourselves and a few stragglers remain, but that makes exiting easier – less people to get annoyed when it takes our sleep-addled bodies a bit longer than usual to extract the baggage from the side compartment. Once all our cases, bags and assorted accessories are accounted for, Amaya peeks into the bus and thanks the driver for his patience. As the bus disappears down the hill, I notice the scene on the sidewalk is reminiscent of Saturday morning, except in reverse. Where Amaya and I were the last to arrive, the crowd begins to disperse while we're getting everything together.
Kenta apparently slept through the whole ride, and he's swinging his little suitcase around in circles like a child; ever a bundle of energy. Yoko seems cold more than tired, wrapping her arms around herself as she walks, but she looks more happy than nervous. They're the first to depart, side-by-side, walking briskly into the darkness behind the cast-iron gate. When they're out of sight, I think back to watching them step out of the bedroom and have to suppress my thoughts before Hisao notices my thousand-yard stare.
Shizune apparently didn't sleep on the bus – choosing to spend the time studying instead – but she looks amazingly alert. On the other hand, Misha looks like she hasn't slept in days, though that might be due to her hair being a tangled mess; the drills losing cohesion as they rested against the bus window. Her eyes look alert, and she's handling her enormous suitcase like a trooper, but I can tell she's eager to get back to their dorm for a few more hours of sleep.
Glancing back at Shizune, I'm surprised to see she's pulling her little notepad out and scribbling something down. She keeps looking up at me and back to the note, then frowns and tears out the page, quickly stuffing it in her pocket and starting over. It's curious behavior, even if this wasn't the stoic, all-business Class President, so she draws confused looks from everyone except Misha, who's leaning against her suitcase with her eyes half-closed.
Finally, she writes something short, tears out the page and walks over, folding it as she goes. Handing it to me, she signs, [Your eyes only,] and walks back over to Misha. They exchange fatigued glances, then set off toward the dorms.
“What's it say?” Amaya asks, but I realize I can't tell her.
At least not until I read it...
“Don't know,” I say, turning it over in my hand, “but she said it's for my eyes only.”
“Uh-oh,” she groans, “that can't be good.”
“Oh c'mon,” Tadao sighs, “she's not that bad.”
“You've only liked her since the race,” she quips.
“It's a good reason,” he replies.
Either because she doesn't feel like arguing, or she thinks he's right, Amaya just groans a sigh and walks over to me. “Anyway,” she says, turning a quick glance at Hisao, “there will be no stealthiness tonight~!”
Stealthiness...?
“Tadao, you know your job,” she adds, smirking over her shoulder.
“Yep,” he replies, turning toward Hisao, “C'mon, Swooner, we have exams tomorrow, so you'll have to wait on the exam you were planning for Aiko.”
Oh God, they heard that?
It really shouldn't surprise me; Amaya can fake sleeping better than most people actually sleep. Hisao's face looks like it might freeze in that shocked expression, but Tadao's hand catching him by the arm breaks the stone-faced gaze. Casting a final look over his shoulder as Tadao leads him away, Hisao's eyes beg for some kind of absolution, but all I can think to do is shrug.
“There,” Amaya chirps, “you can thank me later~!”
Yes... preferably with a baseball bat.
“Hey, you got your good-night kiss already,” she adds, smirking at my darkening expression, “and we need our beauty sleep, or something like that.”
Although there's a very real voice down deep inside saying I should kick her, or at least yell at her, the rational side of my brain is actually winning. There's truth to her claims, and maybe finals week is not the best time to be distracting myself. It's also true that I wasn't planning on trying to sneak Hisao into my room; Amaya merely removed the option.
She knows she's right, I know she's right, and she knows I know she's right, but I still feel a little betrayed. Hefting my suitcase up, I nod curtly and start walking toward the gate. After a few paces, she catches up and walks alongside, but keeps quiet as we follow the winding path. Like always, I'm not able to stay mad at her for long, so, as we approach the doors, I turn a mildly apologetic glance toward her, to which she grins broadly, deepening her dimples.
“You ready for the exam tomorrow?” I decide to ask, drawing a mixed expression as a response; something between shock, worry and disbelief. Calculus is definitely not her best subject, and I know how daunting it can be facing a test you don't think you're ready for – especially after recent events. “We could stay up and do some crash studying,” I suggest. She doesn't look convinced, so I add, “I won't be sleeping anyway.”
Stopping at the bottom of the steps, she takes a moment to consider things. Even though I don't need the review, I'd rather have company if I'm going to be awake anyway, and somehow I don't think she'll be sleeping much either. “Alright, you convinced me,” she replies finally, “I'll put some coffee on while you find the Idiot's Guide to Calculus...”
As she steps around past me and pulls the door open, I raise an eyebrow and comment, “But, I am the idiot's guide to calculus!”
“Exactly~!” she replies, not breaking her stride.
Why do I suddenly feel like she planned this?
The inner walls of the girls' dorm are a welcome sight. As strange as I think it sounds, this place is like home, and the familiarity is comforting. Amaya veers off to the common room to pilfer the coffee maker, promising me she'll return it before anyone notices. Smiling as I walk, I recall more than one late-night study session with her, though none came after cramped bus rides with beach-smelling boys in sweater-vests.
Trying to walk through quietly becomes difficult as I'm climbing the stairs; I'm more tired than I was ready to admit, but a few loud bangs in the stairwell shouldn't cause much stirring. When we've arrived at our little section of the hall, Amaya nods while I head into my room to drop off my luggage. Things appear exactly how I remember them; the closet is actually closed, the floor is mostly clear and my bed is a cluttered mess of blankets and assorted pillows – I've never really bothered making it up since I tend to destroy it every night.
Retrieving my books and laptop, along with my notes, and a stack of flash cards Amaya made for English class, I stuff everything in my school bag and head for the door. Rejoining her after a trip to the bathroom, we set up on her floor and dig in with fresh coffee for a few hours of repetitive equations and flash cards, only stopping after the sun is beaming through the window.
I love the smell of calculus in the morning...
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I really don't know what to add here, so I'll just mention that getting past the crowd-heavy portion has definitely made writing this easier, so I might be able to resume a more regular release schedule. I'm not going to promise anything, though; you never know what might happen. My final thought as I click 'submit' is that I hope I don't have to go back and split this in two; it's probably pushing the limit for a single-post chapter.
I feel like the decision to ignore Iwanako's letter was an interesting choice, though I know not how it will play out. I can only say you've got me hooked, as if I weren't already. Good job, man.
