Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some Porn]
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
.
Last edited by Suox on Sun Jan 01, 2017 10:44 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
Ax Maverick
- Posts: 24
- Joined: Wed Jan 18, 2012 1:03 am
- Location: Buenos Aires, Argentina
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
As awesome as the first chapter. Though I took my time to find it, because of the title change xD
Go on, you have a very good story here.
Go on, you have a very good story here.
Lilly
"Stop telling me not to worry about you! Just this once... Let me cry..."
---------------------
Hisao
"I fell in love with you, and I refuse to let that be thrown away, just because you're afraid to lose me."
Emi
"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Stop telling me not to worry about you! Just this once... Let me cry..."
---------------------
Hisao
"I fell in love with you, and I refuse to let that be thrown away, just because you're afraid to lose me."
Emi
"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Dinner with the Family
Despite my suggestion to the contrary, Shizune and I take a moment to get dressed before we head downstairs. [I don't care how annoyed we are right now, I am not meeting your parents for the first time in my nightgown,] she insists. My further suggestion that we forgo the nightgown entirely is met with an angry glare that could kill a walrus at a hundred paces.
Her prior outfit being somewhat the worse for wear due to our extracurricular activities, Shizune decides to change into a pale blue blouse and black skirt and stockings, while I change into a button-down shirt and slacks. After a quick look in the mirror and a minute adjustment of her hair and earrings, we head downstairs to meet my parents.
My father, at least, has the good grace to look a little embarassed, as he reads his newspaper intently, trying to ignore the fact that it's taken me and my girlfriend about fifteen minutes just to come downstairs and we've obviously both had showers quite recently, what with the damp hair and all. My mother, on the other hand, disgustingly cheerful woman that she is, seems not to take notice of this at all. "My my, this must be Shizune," she says. "We've heard so much about you from Hisao. It's so nice to meet you at last."
[My mother says "Hi,"] I sign to my girlfriend.
Shizune nods back then, to my surprise, takes a rather expensive-looking smartphone from her skirt pocket. She taps the screen a few times, and a synthesized voice says, "Hello. It's very good to meet you both. Please take good care of me while I am here." She bows deeply and respectfully to my parents.
"My, what good manners! And so beautiful as well. You're even prettier than in the photos Hisao emailed to us. Come, sit down." She pats the couch next to her. I take a seat in the armchair across from them as my girlfriend sits down.
The conversation that follows isn't all that interesting: the usual probing questions any mother would ask her son's new girlfriend (family, plans for the future, things like that,) but it's a little awkward nonetheless: not only because my mother doesn't know sign language and I have to translate for her, but because of my father constantly looking back and forth between me and my girlfriend with a thoughtful expression. Eventually, he interrupts by clearing his throat and folding up his newspaper. "Dear," he says, firmly. "I'm sure these two are hungry. Perhaps we should start getting dinner ready?"
"Oh my, of course," my mother says, "where are my manners? I hope you like sukiyaki, dear. It's our special family recipe."
"Let me give you a hand, dear," my father says, getting to his feet. "Meanwhile, Hisao can show Shizune around the house."
I give my father a grateful look as he nods and walks with my mother into the kitchen. Shizune sighs and stretches out, the tension seeming to leave her body. [Your parents are nice,] she signs to me.
[They're not bad,] I admit. [The thing with the phone. Where did you find it?]
[It's an app originally meant for translating things into another language,] Shizune explains. [It's a pain to use for long conversations, but. . . meeting your parents for the first time demanded something special. I wouldn't feel right making my greetings to them using your voice. . . or just a piece of paper.]
Technically, it's not her voice either, but I can kind of see her point. [My mom seems to like you, at least. I haven't seen her talk this much in years.]
[Maybe it's because she likes me more than you?] Shizune says, grinning mischievously.
[I think she's just happy that I finally brought home a girlfriend. They were starting to worry about me.] I hesitate. [I wasn't. . . a very sociable kid.]
Shizune smiles sympathetically. [Show me your house, Hisao?] She puts her arm in mine, and I give her the grand tour.
It doesn't take too long. There isn't much to show that she hasn't already seen. However, something catches her eye as we walk back into the living room: something that had been hidden behind the big armchair from where she was sitting while talking with my mother. I know what it is even before she kneels down and takes it off the bottom shelf.
[Oh. . . that,] I say. [It belonged to my grandfather. My father tried to get me into it, but it never really appealed. I guess it felt like an old man game to me.]
Shizune nods. She runs a hand over the dust-covered goban, tracing the black grid pattern on the surface. A contemplative look crosses her face, and she adjusts her glasses.
That's about when my mother calls us into the dining room for dinner.
-----
Shizune puts down her chopsticks and clasps her hands together, mouthing the words, "Thanks for the meal." My mother smiles happily in response as she picks up the plates and busses them to the sink.
Dinner, as usual, was wonderful. My family doesn't eat together often, but when we do, my mother always tries to make it a special occasion. Sukiyaki is one of her best dishes, and she's justifiably proud of her family recipe.
"Delicious, as always, dear," my father says, getting to his feet.
[Hisao,] my girlfriend signs to me. [You should help your mother with the dishes.]
[Why?]
[Don't be ungrateful. Just do it.]
I shrug and pick up the dishes to carry to my mother in the kitchen. She's got That Look again, and I know better than to try to get in the way of my girlfriend when she's on a mission.
As I get the last of the plates, Shizune is in the living room writing something down on her notepad and handing it to my father. When I come back to get the wok, the two of them already have the board set up and are taking their first moves, Shizune playing black.
When I come back out to wipe down the table, the game is in full swing. My father scratches his chin as he considers the board position, then places his stone slowly, deliberately, with a solid clicking sound. Shizune's hand moves in a sudden slashing motion, as she places her piece with confidence and flair. My father nods silently, picks up his next stone, considers his options, then places it with a carefully precise motion.
I take out the burnable trash, and when I return, Shizune's face has lost its confidence, and she's frowning in intense concentration. I take a look at the board and realize that black is in trouble: white has an extremely strong board position, and is quickly starting to edge black into the center. If Shizune's not careful, she's going to end up losing a lot of territory.
It's like a moment from a samurai movie, with two swordsmen standing across from each other in a grassy field, each waiting for the other to make a mistake. My father is watching my girlfriend with the intensity of a hawk. My girlfriend's lips are pursed in thought, her piece perched between her fingertips, hovering over her bowl of stones, her eyes darting across the board from place to place, considering her options carefully.
Suddenly, Shizune's eyes widen, and she grins. She snaps her stone down onto the board with a loud, sharp sound. It sounds almost exactly like her trademark finger-snap: a bold, brassy declaration of herself.
My father looks down at the board, and his eyes widen as well. His intense facade breaks, and he smiles at my girlfriend. Shizune smiles back boldly. He gives her a respectful nod, then snaps his next piece down with a precise click.
The game goes for another hour or so, the sound of the pieces clicking against the polished oak wood forming a counterpoint to the evening news on the television. It's nearly 10 pm by the time my father and my girlfriend tally up the points and bow to each other over the board. Shizune writes something down in her notebook, and my father smiles as he reads it. He writes something back to her, and the two of them exchange a pleased, knowing grin.
"Did you enjoy your game?" my mother asks, looking up from her magazine.
"It was. . . fun," my father says thoughtfully. He scratches his chin and gives me another one of his contemplative looks. "Dear?" he says to my mother. "I'm running low on cigarettes. Let's go for a walk."
"I think I saw another pack in your dresser drawer," my mother says.
"It's not the brand I want. Come on," my father says. He takes my mother by the hand and leads her out of the room.
Shizune stretches out her back, sighing and rubbing her knees: not too surprising, as she's been kneeling in front of the go board for over an hour. [Your father is a wily man,] she signs to me. [That was one of the toughest games I've ever played.]
[Who won?]
[He did, but only by a few points.] She holds her hand out to me, and I help her to her feet. She doesn't let go of my hand, though, and instead plants a gentle kiss on the inside of my wrist. She presses the hand to her face, just enjoying the feel of my warm skin against her soft flesh. She places another kiss on the palm of my hand, then falls into my arms, snuggling into my chest.
I'm suddenly very aware that we're in the house alone.
Was this her plan?
Did she actually make a bet with my father to give us some time alone tonight?
She reaches up to her throat and begins to slowly unbutton her blouse.
I decide it doesn't particularly matter.
She shrugs out of her blouse and unclasps her skirt, lets it fall to the ground. She stands before me wearing her favorite black bra and panties, her eyes smouldering with passion, mixed with. . . something else.
Triumph.
I'm pushed down onto the couch, and she crawls over to me like a lioness claiming her kill. She straddles my stomach, pulls me in close, kisses me hard and strong. She tastes like salt and meat, soy sauce and cabbage. I guess that doesn't sound like the most romantic thing in the world.
I honestly couldn't give a crap. I'm madly in love with this girl. In this place, at this time, nothing else really matters.
-----
Author's note: Originally this led up into a porn scene, but honestly, it ended up feeling gratuitous and tacked-on, so I'll just end it here.
EDIT: The removed scene is here: http://ks.renai.us/viewtopic.php?f=52&t=5560
Her prior outfit being somewhat the worse for wear due to our extracurricular activities, Shizune decides to change into a pale blue blouse and black skirt and stockings, while I change into a button-down shirt and slacks. After a quick look in the mirror and a minute adjustment of her hair and earrings, we head downstairs to meet my parents.
My father, at least, has the good grace to look a little embarassed, as he reads his newspaper intently, trying to ignore the fact that it's taken me and my girlfriend about fifteen minutes just to come downstairs and we've obviously both had showers quite recently, what with the damp hair and all. My mother, on the other hand, disgustingly cheerful woman that she is, seems not to take notice of this at all. "My my, this must be Shizune," she says. "We've heard so much about you from Hisao. It's so nice to meet you at last."
[My mother says "Hi,"] I sign to my girlfriend.
Shizune nods back then, to my surprise, takes a rather expensive-looking smartphone from her skirt pocket. She taps the screen a few times, and a synthesized voice says, "Hello. It's very good to meet you both. Please take good care of me while I am here." She bows deeply and respectfully to my parents.
"My, what good manners! And so beautiful as well. You're even prettier than in the photos Hisao emailed to us. Come, sit down." She pats the couch next to her. I take a seat in the armchair across from them as my girlfriend sits down.
The conversation that follows isn't all that interesting: the usual probing questions any mother would ask her son's new girlfriend (family, plans for the future, things like that,) but it's a little awkward nonetheless: not only because my mother doesn't know sign language and I have to translate for her, but because of my father constantly looking back and forth between me and my girlfriend with a thoughtful expression. Eventually, he interrupts by clearing his throat and folding up his newspaper. "Dear," he says, firmly. "I'm sure these two are hungry. Perhaps we should start getting dinner ready?"
"Oh my, of course," my mother says, "where are my manners? I hope you like sukiyaki, dear. It's our special family recipe."
"Let me give you a hand, dear," my father says, getting to his feet. "Meanwhile, Hisao can show Shizune around the house."
I give my father a grateful look as he nods and walks with my mother into the kitchen. Shizune sighs and stretches out, the tension seeming to leave her body. [Your parents are nice,] she signs to me.
[They're not bad,] I admit. [The thing with the phone. Where did you find it?]
[It's an app originally meant for translating things into another language,] Shizune explains. [It's a pain to use for long conversations, but. . . meeting your parents for the first time demanded something special. I wouldn't feel right making my greetings to them using your voice. . . or just a piece of paper.]
Technically, it's not her voice either, but I can kind of see her point. [My mom seems to like you, at least. I haven't seen her talk this much in years.]
[Maybe it's because she likes me more than you?] Shizune says, grinning mischievously.
[I think she's just happy that I finally brought home a girlfriend. They were starting to worry about me.] I hesitate. [I wasn't. . . a very sociable kid.]
Shizune smiles sympathetically. [Show me your house, Hisao?] She puts her arm in mine, and I give her the grand tour.
It doesn't take too long. There isn't much to show that she hasn't already seen. However, something catches her eye as we walk back into the living room: something that had been hidden behind the big armchair from where she was sitting while talking with my mother. I know what it is even before she kneels down and takes it off the bottom shelf.
[Oh. . . that,] I say. [It belonged to my grandfather. My father tried to get me into it, but it never really appealed. I guess it felt like an old man game to me.]
Shizune nods. She runs a hand over the dust-covered goban, tracing the black grid pattern on the surface. A contemplative look crosses her face, and she adjusts her glasses.
That's about when my mother calls us into the dining room for dinner.
-----
Shizune puts down her chopsticks and clasps her hands together, mouthing the words, "Thanks for the meal." My mother smiles happily in response as she picks up the plates and busses them to the sink.
Dinner, as usual, was wonderful. My family doesn't eat together often, but when we do, my mother always tries to make it a special occasion. Sukiyaki is one of her best dishes, and she's justifiably proud of her family recipe.
"Delicious, as always, dear," my father says, getting to his feet.
[Hisao,] my girlfriend signs to me. [You should help your mother with the dishes.]
[Why?]
[Don't be ungrateful. Just do it.]
I shrug and pick up the dishes to carry to my mother in the kitchen. She's got That Look again, and I know better than to try to get in the way of my girlfriend when she's on a mission.
As I get the last of the plates, Shizune is in the living room writing something down on her notepad and handing it to my father. When I come back to get the wok, the two of them already have the board set up and are taking their first moves, Shizune playing black.
When I come back out to wipe down the table, the game is in full swing. My father scratches his chin as he considers the board position, then places his stone slowly, deliberately, with a solid clicking sound. Shizune's hand moves in a sudden slashing motion, as she places her piece with confidence and flair. My father nods silently, picks up his next stone, considers his options, then places it with a carefully precise motion.
I take out the burnable trash, and when I return, Shizune's face has lost its confidence, and she's frowning in intense concentration. I take a look at the board and realize that black is in trouble: white has an extremely strong board position, and is quickly starting to edge black into the center. If Shizune's not careful, she's going to end up losing a lot of territory.
It's like a moment from a samurai movie, with two swordsmen standing across from each other in a grassy field, each waiting for the other to make a mistake. My father is watching my girlfriend with the intensity of a hawk. My girlfriend's lips are pursed in thought, her piece perched between her fingertips, hovering over her bowl of stones, her eyes darting across the board from place to place, considering her options carefully.
Suddenly, Shizune's eyes widen, and she grins. She snaps her stone down onto the board with a loud, sharp sound. It sounds almost exactly like her trademark finger-snap: a bold, brassy declaration of herself.
My father looks down at the board, and his eyes widen as well. His intense facade breaks, and he smiles at my girlfriend. Shizune smiles back boldly. He gives her a respectful nod, then snaps his next piece down with a precise click.
The game goes for another hour or so, the sound of the pieces clicking against the polished oak wood forming a counterpoint to the evening news on the television. It's nearly 10 pm by the time my father and my girlfriend tally up the points and bow to each other over the board. Shizune writes something down in her notebook, and my father smiles as he reads it. He writes something back to her, and the two of them exchange a pleased, knowing grin.
"Did you enjoy your game?" my mother asks, looking up from her magazine.
"It was. . . fun," my father says thoughtfully. He scratches his chin and gives me another one of his contemplative looks. "Dear?" he says to my mother. "I'm running low on cigarettes. Let's go for a walk."
"I think I saw another pack in your dresser drawer," my mother says.
"It's not the brand I want. Come on," my father says. He takes my mother by the hand and leads her out of the room.
Shizune stretches out her back, sighing and rubbing her knees: not too surprising, as she's been kneeling in front of the go board for over an hour. [Your father is a wily man,] she signs to me. [That was one of the toughest games I've ever played.]
[Who won?]
[He did, but only by a few points.] She holds her hand out to me, and I help her to her feet. She doesn't let go of my hand, though, and instead plants a gentle kiss on the inside of my wrist. She presses the hand to her face, just enjoying the feel of my warm skin against her soft flesh. She places another kiss on the palm of my hand, then falls into my arms, snuggling into my chest.
I'm suddenly very aware that we're in the house alone.
Was this her plan?
Did she actually make a bet with my father to give us some time alone tonight?
She reaches up to her throat and begins to slowly unbutton her blouse.
I decide it doesn't particularly matter.
She shrugs out of her blouse and unclasps her skirt, lets it fall to the ground. She stands before me wearing her favorite black bra and panties, her eyes smouldering with passion, mixed with. . . something else.
Triumph.
I'm pushed down onto the couch, and she crawls over to me like a lioness claiming her kill. She straddles my stomach, pulls me in close, kisses me hard and strong. She tastes like salt and meat, soy sauce and cabbage. I guess that doesn't sound like the most romantic thing in the world.
I honestly couldn't give a crap. I'm madly in love with this girl. In this place, at this time, nothing else really matters.
-----
Author's note: Originally this led up into a porn scene, but honestly, it ended up feeling gratuitous and tacked-on, so I'll just end it here.
EDIT: The removed scene is here: http://ks.renai.us/viewtopic.php?f=52&t=5560
Last edited by themocaw on Mon Feb 13, 2012 8:58 pm, edited 4 times in total.
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
This is fine, no this is great, I can see this as being how Shizune and Hisao's realtionship post Good Ending devloping just lke this. Obviously not as lovely dovey as say, Lilly, but thinking about it, that really isn't her style.
And I promise to end it here, there are way to many "Shizune's route is/Shizune's route is crap" debates on this site. Keep it up I want more and I actually think of this as a good segue between the Good Ending and Shizune's epiloge
And I promise to end it here, there are way to many "Shizune's route is/Shizune's route is crap" debates on this site. Keep it up I want more and I actually think of this as a good segue between the Good Ending and Shizune's epiloge
-
Guest
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
yay continuation!
Just wondering how Shizune and Mother chatted, did Hisao translate and Shizune use her phone, did Hisao do both, or by writing notes?
I feel bad for Hisao if he had to do both translating and talking - it would feel extremely awkward?
Also surprised on how well Hisao's parents deal with Shizune's Deaf-Muteness, especially how talkative the mother seemed to a deaf-mute person
I guess its just who they are...
Good read, awaiting for more!
Just wondering how Shizune and Mother chatted, did Hisao translate and Shizune use her phone, did Hisao do both, or by writing notes?
I feel bad for Hisao if he had to do both translating and talking - it would feel extremely awkward?
Also surprised on how well Hisao's parents deal with Shizune's Deaf-Muteness, especially how talkative the mother seemed to a deaf-mute person
I guess its just who they are...
Good read, awaiting for more!
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
Clarified a few things for you, and fleshed out a few bits too.Guest wrote:yay continuation!
Just wondering how Shizune and Mother chatted, did Hisao translate and Shizune use her phone, did Hisao do both, or by writing notes?
I feel bad for Hisao if he had to do both translating and talking - it would feel extremely awkward?
Also surprised on how well Hisao's parents deal with Shizune's Deaf-Muteness, especially how talkative the mother seemed to a deaf-mute person
I guess its just who they are...
Good read, awaiting for more!
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
This is great, more or less how I figured that Shizune and Hisao's Post Good Ending realtionship would develop. Shizune has made progress with expressing her feelings though she is still, very, direct. But than again how else would she be if she wanted something.
Keep it up.
Oops didn't realiz my other post went through before the site went down
Keep it up.
Oops didn't realiz my other post went through before the site went down
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
.
Last edited by Suox on Sun Jan 01, 2017 10:43 pm, edited 1 time in total.
-
Mirage_GSM
- Posts: 6148
- Joined: Mon Jun 28, 2010 2:24 am
- Location: Germany
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
Hmm... Are there voice syntethization apps like that? I've never seen any before. Would be quite handy to have one.
I'm pretty sure there weren't any in 2008, but hey, Shizune can probably afford to have one custom-programmed for her
I'm pretty sure there weren't any in 2008, but hey, Shizune can probably afford to have one custom-programmed for her
Emi > Misha > Hanako > Lilly > Rin > Shizune
My collected KS-Fan Fictions: Mirage's Myths
My collected KS-Fan Fictions: Mirage's Myths
Sore wa himitsu desu.griffon8 wrote:Kosher, just because sex is your answer to everything doesn't mean that sex is the answer to everything.
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
I once had such a program on my iPod, though I used it for... quite different things. Unfortunately I cannot recall its name or... well, frankly, anything about it. Regardless, I concur, there probably weren't any in 2008, but hey, it's insignificant.Mirage_GSM wrote:Hmm... Are there voice syntethization apps like that? I've never seen any before. Would be quite handy to have one.
I'm pretty sure there weren't any in 2008, but hey, Shizune can probably afford to have one custom-programmed for her
As for the story itself, 'twas once more a good and a streamlined read. Danke.
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
I'm beginning to like this, and it's good to see sex isn't being shoved needlessly into each chapter.
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
Indeed, very much more tasteful.scott1and wrote:I'm beginning to like this, and it's good to see sex isn't being shoved needlessly into each chapter.
-
Ax Maverick
- Posts: 24
- Joined: Wed Jan 18, 2012 1:03 am
- Location: Buenos Aires, Argentina
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
Nice, very nice. You really got Shizune's attitude there
As it was said before, it's also a great detail that you don't just put forced porn en every chapter. Gotta keep the story.
As it was said before, it's also a great detail that you don't just put forced porn en every chapter. Gotta keep the story.
Lilly
"Stop telling me not to worry about you! Just this once... Let me cry..."
---------------------
Hisao
"I fell in love with you, and I refuse to let that be thrown away, just because you're afraid to lose me."
Emi
"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
"Stop telling me not to worry about you! Just this once... Let me cry..."
---------------------
Hisao
"I fell in love with you, and I refuse to let that be thrown away, just because you're afraid to lose me."
Emi
"Why are you doing this? Why can't you just leave me alone?"
Re: Weekend at Hisao's (Was: At the Train Station) - [Some P
I'll admit, I had some trepidation about the porn warning, but this was very good. Nice to see more Shizune stories.
I found out about Katawa Shoujo through the forums of Misfile. There, I am the editor of Misfiled Dreams.
Completed: 100%, including bonus picture. Shizune>Emi>Lilly>Hanako>Rin
Griffon8's Writing
Completed: 100%, including bonus picture. Shizune>Emi>Lilly>Hanako>Rin
Griffon8's Writing
Parenthood
Have you ever woken up late, with the sun shining through your bedroom window, the birds singing their joy to the new day, and found yourself next to a beautiful, naked woman whom you've just made love to the night before? An experience like that can make you feel rather smug.
I make no apologies. My life is incredible.
Shizune's curled up next to me like a cat, resting her head on my shoulder. My entire arm below the elbow is falling asleep. I really should move her off and restore some feeling to that arm. I don't want to.
Unfortunately, needs must. I seriously need to pee, and as romantic as it is to stay curled up with her like this in bed forever, biological imperatives must be respected soon unless I want to make my girlfriend furiously angry.
I somehow manage to gently extricate myself from under Shizune's sleeping body and pull on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. I make my way to the bathroom, carry out the neccessary bodily functions, and splash some water onto my face.
I look into the mirror. I look like hell. I have the worst case of bed-head in history. My wrists are chafing a little bit from where Shizune tied me to my headboard with those silk scarf-things that she brought with her (only the essentials: ha!). I know that there are some scratch marks on my back, and I'm pretty sure that there are some tooth impressions somewhere too. Despite it all, I can't stop smiling like a cat that's just caught the biggest damn canary on the planet.
Like I said, I make no apologies.
Coming back from the bathroom, I run into my father coming out of my parents' shared bedroom. His graying hair is flying all over the place, like in that famous photograph of Albert Einstein. There is a strangely smug and satisfied look on his face.
It is a disgustingly familiar expression. I just saw it in the mirror not more than ten minutes ago.
Where did my parents go last night, anyway, that kept them out until nearly 3 am?
My mind immediately cuts off that line of reasoning in self-defense.
My father looks at me a bit sheepishly, then rubs the back of his head.
I clear my throat and lick my lips nervously.
We give each other a respectful nod and continue on our separate ways.
-----
Shizune's awake when I come back to my bedroom. She sits up on her bed, stretching out languorously like a cat, carelessly naked in the mid-morning light. I stifle an urge to continue last night's activities with a session of morning nookie. My overworked testicles breathe a sigh of relief.
[Morning,] Shizune signs, smiling smugly at me. It's the same look I saw in the mirror and on my father's face.
[Morning,] I reply. I sit down on the bed across from her and favor her with a soft kiss on the lips.
[So, what's the plan for today?] she asks.
[Don't really have anything. I was just thinking I could show you around town a bit, then we can just hang out for the rest of the day.]
[Sounds good. It'll give me a chance to go shopping for tonight.]
[Shopping?]
[I'm cooking dinner for you,] Shizune signs. [And your parents if they're around. Your family sukiyaki recipe is delicious, but I'm very confident in my Korean-style grilled salmon,] she says, grinning audaciously.
Typical Shizune: even dinner is a contest with her. [I hope your cooking's improved since high school,] I reply teasingly.
[I'm going to make you eat those words,] Shizune replies, [right after you eat my cooking.]
[I think you're the one going to get eaten,] I shoot back, looking her over like a hungry lion considering a wounded gazelle. My overworked testicles groan in frustration and prepare to put in a little more overtime for the good of the company.
Shizune puts an end to that line of thought with a careless toss of her head and a sharp snap of her fingers. [Later. After the tour of the town. I love you, Hisao, but I don't intend to spend my entire weekend on my back.] She pauses. [Just a significant portion of it.]
-----
I come downstairs after taking a shower, taking my pills, and getting dressed to find my parents sitting in the kitchen having breakfast. My father is eating rice and miso soup with one hand as he reads his newspaper with the other. My mother is pottering around in her apron, humming and sashaying like a newlywed bride. "Good morning Hisao!" she says. "Come, sit down and eat."
She looks incredibly happy and disgustingly smug. My train of thought immediately derails in self-defense before it can draw the obvious conclusion. "Morning," I reply cautiously, taking my seat.
My mother serves me an extra-large portion of rice with my soup, and gives me a little kiss on the forehead as she literally skips off. I immediately duck my head and devote myself to eating.
My father puts down his newspaper, clears his throat, and puts something down next to my rice bowl. I glance over. It's one of those little bottles of energy drinks. He gives me a knowing grin.
I nearly choke on my miso soup. My dad laughs.
-----
[Hisao, are your parents always this happy in the mornings?]
[No, not really.]
Breakfast was a hurried affair, what with me hustling Shizune out the door as quickly as humanly (and politely) possible. I'm no prude, but no young man wants to be in the room when his parents start exchanging THOSE sorts of glances, not to mention the constant smug looks my father kept giving me. It's more than my heart can take.
[They're cute,] Shizune says, smiling wistfully. [They remind me of my parents, when I was little.]
I try to imagine Jigoro Hakamichi as a lovestruck newlywed. The image makes me shudder, as if I were seeing an attack dog wearing a pink tutu. [I find that hard to believe.]
Shizune frowns. [My father wasn't always like. . . how he is now,] she signs. [Back when my mother was alive, he was a lot. . . happier.] She smiles. [He was still just as loud, though. He used to tell me. . .] She strikes a pose, as if she's six inches taller and holding a sword, before going back to signing. ["You're going to be as beautiful as your mother some day. . . so you must marry a man who is cooler than me!"] She mimes her father's uproarious laugh.
I can't help laughing. It occurs to me, though, that this is the first time Shizune has ever told me about her mother. Maybe the same thought occurs to her, because she smiles sadly at me and clasps her hands behind her back. We walk together down the tree-lined path in quiet, companiable silence.
[My mother was very beautiful,] she signs, at last. [She was. . . a true "Japanese Flower," Yamato Nadeshiko. She was very gentle. . . but very strong too. She was the one who put her foot down and made my father stop hiring tutors to try and get me to talk.] A quiet look of reserve comes over my girlfriend's face. [It was the first time I ever saw them fight.]
[It seems like a cruel thing to do to you,] I sign back.
Shizune shakes her head. [He meant well. He never really thought of me as his daughter, you know. . . never expected me to just get married and have kids. He always expected me to be more than just a dutiful housewife: a doctor, a lawyer, a businesswoman, a scientist.] A sour look crosses her face. [My mother once told me that the reason he tried so hard to get me to talk is because. . . being a woman, and deaf, in Japan. . . it's not easy. He wanted to make sure I had every advantage possible, because I was starting with so many disadvantages already.]
[It's still overly cruel to do that to you. For twelve years, too.]
Shizune shakes her head. [My father's stubborn, but he's not stupid. He wouldn't have kept trying if he didn't think it was working.]
Realization sets in. [So it worked?]
Hesitation. [It did. I learned to talk for a while. I stopped talking, though, when I noticed how everyone looked at me when I did.] There is a grim, set look to her lips, and her eyes are elsewhere. . . many years in the past, I think. [I can't hear myself talk, so I never know if I'm being too loud, or too soft, or even if I'm doing it right. Everyone used to stare at me when I spoke. I knew I must sound funny, but I couldn't tell what I was doing wrong, so I could fix it.] She throws her head back defiantly, and that old, familiar, combative look that she has when she sees a challenge flares in her eyes. . . but without that playfulness, that sense of fun, that makes playing games with her such a joy. [I don't like doing things if I can't be the best at it,] she signs, her hands slashing the air like blades.
She clasps her hands behind her back like a soldier, and we walk on, together, in silence. The air is cool and crisp, and the leaves under our feet crunch like snow. Across the park, a group of little kids laugh and scream as they chase each other around the playground in some arcane game whose rules I can't being to figure out. A pair of teenagers, a boy and a girl, sit by the duck pond with sketch pads propped up on their laps: probably working on some school project.
[I love my father,] Shizune signs, as we exit the park and return to the town proper. [But he makes me tired sometimes. I appreciate how he's never treated me any different from Hideaki, even though I'm deaf. But. . . there are some things I just can't do. He never seems to understand that.] She sighs. [And I wish he wouldn't always take it so personally, too. Just because I don't always do what he says doesn't mean I hate him or want to defy him. Idiot.]
I step aside to let a small group of elementary-school kids run by, putting a hand on Shizune's arm so that she doesn't bump into them. It gives me a moment to think. [When I first came to Yamaku, my parents didn't say good-bye. They left me a note on my bed after they unpacked my things,] I explain.
Shizune nods in return. [I hated that. It was just another example of how they never really loved me. Just like how they were always working late nights and were never around to spend time with me. Or how they were never able to come to school festivals or sports days because they were too busy working. Jerks.]
[But,] I go on. [My parents worked their fingers to the bone for twenty yearsto buy the house we live in. They did it because they never had a nice house as kids, and they wanted me to grow up in the kind of house they never had a chance to enjoy. They love that house so much. . . but when I had my heart attack, they wouldn't have hesitated to sell that beautiful home that they'd worked so hard to buy, if it meant I could be cured.]
I blink back the moisture in my eyes and take a deep breath. Shizune places her hand on the crook of my arm. [I guess I'm just trying to say. . . my parents aren't perfect, but they tried their best. I guess that just makes them human, in the end.]
Shizune nods and puts her arm around my waist, squeezing once. I take a deep breath and steady myself, letting the emotions flow out of me like water. [Your dad is still a jerk, though,] I sign.
Shizune giggles silently. [The biggest,] she agrees.
I make no apologies. My life is incredible.
Shizune's curled up next to me like a cat, resting her head on my shoulder. My entire arm below the elbow is falling asleep. I really should move her off and restore some feeling to that arm. I don't want to.
Unfortunately, needs must. I seriously need to pee, and as romantic as it is to stay curled up with her like this in bed forever, biological imperatives must be respected soon unless I want to make my girlfriend furiously angry.
I somehow manage to gently extricate myself from under Shizune's sleeping body and pull on a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. I make my way to the bathroom, carry out the neccessary bodily functions, and splash some water onto my face.
I look into the mirror. I look like hell. I have the worst case of bed-head in history. My wrists are chafing a little bit from where Shizune tied me to my headboard with those silk scarf-things that she brought with her (only the essentials: ha!). I know that there are some scratch marks on my back, and I'm pretty sure that there are some tooth impressions somewhere too. Despite it all, I can't stop smiling like a cat that's just caught the biggest damn canary on the planet.
Like I said, I make no apologies.
Coming back from the bathroom, I run into my father coming out of my parents' shared bedroom. His graying hair is flying all over the place, like in that famous photograph of Albert Einstein. There is a strangely smug and satisfied look on his face.
It is a disgustingly familiar expression. I just saw it in the mirror not more than ten minutes ago.
Where did my parents go last night, anyway, that kept them out until nearly 3 am?
My mind immediately cuts off that line of reasoning in self-defense.
My father looks at me a bit sheepishly, then rubs the back of his head.
I clear my throat and lick my lips nervously.
We give each other a respectful nod and continue on our separate ways.
-----
Shizune's awake when I come back to my bedroom. She sits up on her bed, stretching out languorously like a cat, carelessly naked in the mid-morning light. I stifle an urge to continue last night's activities with a session of morning nookie. My overworked testicles breathe a sigh of relief.
[Morning,] Shizune signs, smiling smugly at me. It's the same look I saw in the mirror and on my father's face.
[Morning,] I reply. I sit down on the bed across from her and favor her with a soft kiss on the lips.
[So, what's the plan for today?] she asks.
[Don't really have anything. I was just thinking I could show you around town a bit, then we can just hang out for the rest of the day.]
[Sounds good. It'll give me a chance to go shopping for tonight.]
[Shopping?]
[I'm cooking dinner for you,] Shizune signs. [And your parents if they're around. Your family sukiyaki recipe is delicious, but I'm very confident in my Korean-style grilled salmon,] she says, grinning audaciously.
Typical Shizune: even dinner is a contest with her. [I hope your cooking's improved since high school,] I reply teasingly.
[I'm going to make you eat those words,] Shizune replies, [right after you eat my cooking.]
[I think you're the one going to get eaten,] I shoot back, looking her over like a hungry lion considering a wounded gazelle. My overworked testicles groan in frustration and prepare to put in a little more overtime for the good of the company.
Shizune puts an end to that line of thought with a careless toss of her head and a sharp snap of her fingers. [Later. After the tour of the town. I love you, Hisao, but I don't intend to spend my entire weekend on my back.] She pauses. [Just a significant portion of it.]
-----
I come downstairs after taking a shower, taking my pills, and getting dressed to find my parents sitting in the kitchen having breakfast. My father is eating rice and miso soup with one hand as he reads his newspaper with the other. My mother is pottering around in her apron, humming and sashaying like a newlywed bride. "Good morning Hisao!" she says. "Come, sit down and eat."
She looks incredibly happy and disgustingly smug. My train of thought immediately derails in self-defense before it can draw the obvious conclusion. "Morning," I reply cautiously, taking my seat.
My mother serves me an extra-large portion of rice with my soup, and gives me a little kiss on the forehead as she literally skips off. I immediately duck my head and devote myself to eating.
My father puts down his newspaper, clears his throat, and puts something down next to my rice bowl. I glance over. It's one of those little bottles of energy drinks. He gives me a knowing grin.
I nearly choke on my miso soup. My dad laughs.
-----
[Hisao, are your parents always this happy in the mornings?]
[No, not really.]
Breakfast was a hurried affair, what with me hustling Shizune out the door as quickly as humanly (and politely) possible. I'm no prude, but no young man wants to be in the room when his parents start exchanging THOSE sorts of glances, not to mention the constant smug looks my father kept giving me. It's more than my heart can take.
[They're cute,] Shizune says, smiling wistfully. [They remind me of my parents, when I was little.]
I try to imagine Jigoro Hakamichi as a lovestruck newlywed. The image makes me shudder, as if I were seeing an attack dog wearing a pink tutu. [I find that hard to believe.]
Shizune frowns. [My father wasn't always like. . . how he is now,] she signs. [Back when my mother was alive, he was a lot. . . happier.] She smiles. [He was still just as loud, though. He used to tell me. . .] She strikes a pose, as if she's six inches taller and holding a sword, before going back to signing. ["You're going to be as beautiful as your mother some day. . . so you must marry a man who is cooler than me!"] She mimes her father's uproarious laugh.
I can't help laughing. It occurs to me, though, that this is the first time Shizune has ever told me about her mother. Maybe the same thought occurs to her, because she smiles sadly at me and clasps her hands behind her back. We walk together down the tree-lined path in quiet, companiable silence.
[My mother was very beautiful,] she signs, at last. [She was. . . a true "Japanese Flower," Yamato Nadeshiko. She was very gentle. . . but very strong too. She was the one who put her foot down and made my father stop hiring tutors to try and get me to talk.] A quiet look of reserve comes over my girlfriend's face. [It was the first time I ever saw them fight.]
[It seems like a cruel thing to do to you,] I sign back.
Shizune shakes her head. [He meant well. He never really thought of me as his daughter, you know. . . never expected me to just get married and have kids. He always expected me to be more than just a dutiful housewife: a doctor, a lawyer, a businesswoman, a scientist.] A sour look crosses her face. [My mother once told me that the reason he tried so hard to get me to talk is because. . . being a woman, and deaf, in Japan. . . it's not easy. He wanted to make sure I had every advantage possible, because I was starting with so many disadvantages already.]
[It's still overly cruel to do that to you. For twelve years, too.]
Shizune shakes her head. [My father's stubborn, but he's not stupid. He wouldn't have kept trying if he didn't think it was working.]
Realization sets in. [So it worked?]
Hesitation. [It did. I learned to talk for a while. I stopped talking, though, when I noticed how everyone looked at me when I did.] There is a grim, set look to her lips, and her eyes are elsewhere. . . many years in the past, I think. [I can't hear myself talk, so I never know if I'm being too loud, or too soft, or even if I'm doing it right. Everyone used to stare at me when I spoke. I knew I must sound funny, but I couldn't tell what I was doing wrong, so I could fix it.] She throws her head back defiantly, and that old, familiar, combative look that she has when she sees a challenge flares in her eyes. . . but without that playfulness, that sense of fun, that makes playing games with her such a joy. [I don't like doing things if I can't be the best at it,] she signs, her hands slashing the air like blades.
She clasps her hands behind her back like a soldier, and we walk on, together, in silence. The air is cool and crisp, and the leaves under our feet crunch like snow. Across the park, a group of little kids laugh and scream as they chase each other around the playground in some arcane game whose rules I can't being to figure out. A pair of teenagers, a boy and a girl, sit by the duck pond with sketch pads propped up on their laps: probably working on some school project.
[I love my father,] Shizune signs, as we exit the park and return to the town proper. [But he makes me tired sometimes. I appreciate how he's never treated me any different from Hideaki, even though I'm deaf. But. . . there are some things I just can't do. He never seems to understand that.] She sighs. [And I wish he wouldn't always take it so personally, too. Just because I don't always do what he says doesn't mean I hate him or want to defy him. Idiot.]
I step aside to let a small group of elementary-school kids run by, putting a hand on Shizune's arm so that she doesn't bump into them. It gives me a moment to think. [When I first came to Yamaku, my parents didn't say good-bye. They left me a note on my bed after they unpacked my things,] I explain.
Shizune nods in return. [I hated that. It was just another example of how they never really loved me. Just like how they were always working late nights and were never around to spend time with me. Or how they were never able to come to school festivals or sports days because they were too busy working. Jerks.]
[But,] I go on. [My parents worked their fingers to the bone for twenty yearsto buy the house we live in. They did it because they never had a nice house as kids, and they wanted me to grow up in the kind of house they never had a chance to enjoy. They love that house so much. . . but when I had my heart attack, they wouldn't have hesitated to sell that beautiful home that they'd worked so hard to buy, if it meant I could be cured.]
I blink back the moisture in my eyes and take a deep breath. Shizune places her hand on the crook of my arm. [I guess I'm just trying to say. . . my parents aren't perfect, but they tried their best. I guess that just makes them human, in the end.]
Shizune nods and puts her arm around my waist, squeezing once. I take a deep breath and steady myself, letting the emotions flow out of me like water. [Your dad is still a jerk, though,] I sign.
Shizune giggles silently. [The biggest,] she agrees.