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Thanks.

***

Btw, I've googled "Miyako Kitagawa" and found that there's a manga character of that name. Here. I don't know the manga, but the picture suggests a quite... different personality. (You also find fan-made role-play characters. If you leave out the "-ko", you'll find more real people with that name.)

"Atsuko Kitagawa" finds even more real people. My favourite would be a medical researcher whose speciality seems to be care for the elderly ("Interface pressure distribution of elderly Japanese people in the sitting position"...). Medical profile.

Hehe. It's sort of... inspiring: the inspirational name Miya's chosen has gone into medicine.

For story-post navigation please refer to the index post.


II.8. A Boyfriend to Show My Mother

Rain falls heavy on the pebbled roof-top. Rain streams down the door frame, drips from the roof. A wind is blowing, but it's driving the rain away from the door, so Miya doesn't get too wet. She is sitting in the doorway, hugging her knees, resting her chin on them. Occasionally, a fine spray hits her, drops of water bursting as they hit the ground. The steady noise of the falling drops makes it easy not to think. A smell of wet stone dominates. Nobody comes up here when it's raining. It's the perfect place to be.

But today: footsteps on the stairs. Oh, well. Miya stretches her back, stretches her arms, but doesn't let go of her knees. She yawns. For some reason she is not worried, and then knows why. Hisao's footfall.

There is a reason she is good at recognising footfall... She tries to think of something else, but it's too late. Skipping, striding, shuffling, and then a push, a poke, the initiation of a none-too-pleasant interaction. A single pair of feet, sometimes groups of three. Five, once, on gravel, and bicycle chains... but only after she had lashed out. Retaliate, they say, and they'll find a new victim. Well, it doesn't work if they hate you. It doesn't work if it's personal.

Here's what you do: You let them do what they want. You train yourself not to cry. You cultivate an expression of bored contempt, until your pretend boredom bores them in turn. You hear them coming, but you pretend not to. It's part of the game. It's how you minimise exposure. They never catch on. Otherwise they would approach her, do nothing, some of the time. Break the routine. Stop a habit from forming. But they never did. So predictable...

Hisao he will not attack her. She finds herself trembling. Hisao will not attack her. Hisao will not attack her. It's a mantra, but a bad one. She needs a distraction, and she needs it quick. Hisao will not attack her. Attack, attack, attack. It's the word that stands out. Miya squeezes her eyes shut, suppresses a whine.

Distraction. Right. Hisao. What does he do, coming up here in the rain? He is seeking her out. She knows, and this is what makes her uncomfortable. How does she know? How can she know such a thing. How does he even know she's here? Did he see her go up the stairs and hesitate? Stand in the hallway, a fool for everyone to see? Rumour bait. Maybe. His footfall is determined. He doesn't slow down. He's definitely seeking her out.

And then, abruptly, the footsteps end. A few steps behind her. A little to her right. The prattle of the rain takes over the scene, and Miya is calming down.

“Hey,” Hisao says.

“Hey,” she replies. It's not something she usually says. Imitation, they say, is proof of sympathy. Is it? She wonders.

“It's raining,” he says.

“The sound of the rain calms me, but I don't like to be wet.” she replies. It's like life. Trade-offs all the way. And sometimes only cost.

“Uh, can you speak up? The rain...”

Is she mumbling? She opens her mouth, pauses, then closes it. She cannot raise her voice. Not now. She doesn't have the energy. She's not ignoring him. How could she? But he may think she does. Well, that's the way it goes.

For a while, the rain is all she hears.

“Mind if I sit down?”

Beside her, he means. Instead of a reply, she shifts to the right, making space, but the doorway is narrow. Does he have enough space to sit down? She doesn't care enough to check. The gesture must suffice.

It turns out there is enough space, but he's closer than expected. They are not touching, but she can feel his warmth. She turns her head slightly, and looks at him from the corner of her eye. He's staring straight ahead, out at the rain. Is he embarrassed, being so close?

“I wanted to apologise,” he says.

And there it is. The apology pours down on her, as the rain would. It clings to her like wet clothing. People insist on apologies, but apologies never change a thing. “Don't,” she says. She should just accept the apology. Pretend to have been angry, or hurt. Maybe hurt would be better? She can't. Not now. Too much on her mind.

“I thought you read Iwanako's letter. The things you said...” He doesn't finish. This isn't easy for him either.

“I could have read the letter,” she says. “It doesn't matter that I didn't.” There aren't many thing that matter, and such trivialities aren't among them.

“How can you say it doesn't matter? It's... important. It means... It means... you have respect.” His voice sounds almost pleading. Why? Is he afraid that her indifference to his apology means an indifference to him?

“I might have read the letter. If you'd have come late enough, I would have read the letter. In any case, you were only angry. No big deal.”

Silence. “No matter how hard I try, I can't understand you. You seek my presence. You're open about details of your past. But I don't get any closer. It's... a wall of full disclosure. It's like you hide behind the truth.”

“Truth...” she repeats, tasting the word. “Stop trying so hard. You either understand me or don't. There's probably not much left inside me to understand. I'm your evil imaginary friend.” She stretches, and a ripple much like electricity runs through her body. But her outstretched feet are in the rain, so she withdraws them, bends her knees and tilts to the right, leaning against the moist door frame. “A wall of full disclosure? Right. Here I go. Two things are bothering me. One's half-good, half-bad. The other's terrible. Which one, if any, first?”

“The terrible one.”

“That Kenji, is that his name?” She remembers the name well enough. She doesn't forget names. But she wants a reaction from Hisao at this point. She feels herself coming back from that place where all she could do was look at the past. A wall of full disclosure, huh? Hisao might understand her better than he realises. What sort of relationship do they have? So different from the first time they met in the morning mists, when he accidentally pushed her over the edge. Now he's fetching her back, and it's just as accidental. They're looking at each other now. Hisao nods, on his face patient resignation.

“Well,” she continues, “the day he locked me into your room he... said something. He's found something out. Some sort of scandal. I was marginally relevant, and I'm pretty sure my name was never in the papers. But they did talk about me in anonymous terms, because I was...” She shakes her head free of the thought. No, she's not going down that road again. “How he knows? Beats me. Classmates on the internet? Maybe. Anyway, it set me off. And now I'm remembering... I can't talk about it. Not now, but I'm remembering.”

Hisao merely nods. No need to talk, his look says. Or so Miyako imagines. She takes a deep breath, closes her eyes. “The half-good half-bad thing, then,” she says. “Mum's coming to visit. I haven't seen her in a while, and I'm looking forward to the visit, but I'm also afraid. I can't deal with her worries. This might be the last time we meet, and we both know it, and that knowledge will... interfere.” She falls silent, and, mercifully, Hisao doesn't speak either.

“I'd like you to help with one of my Mum's worries,” she says. So this is how she asks for the favour. Unplanned, unprepared. “Mum worries I might be lonely, so...” It's more embarrassing than she thought it would be. Maybe it's that strange mood she's in. A smile appears on Hisao's face, gentle and sad. Miya loses track of what she's saying. She swallows, blurts: “I need a boyfriend to show my mother.”

Hisao's expression doesn't change. He should be saying something now, but he remains silent. Maybe it's the rain, washing all the words away, down the gutter. Silence has always been comfortable, but now Miya can't stand it. She speaks. “We'd be feeding the rumours. I can't imagine Ikezawa taking well to it, for example.”

Mood breaker. A look of surprise at Ikezawa's name. Then he chuckles. “We don't talk about you.” A pause. “On the bright side, Emi's impression of you seems to have improved.”

What? Everything today feels so unreal. “How?”

“Apparently you picked up a pencil she dropped and gave it back to her.”

“I did?”

“You don't remember?”

“I'm... exhausted. It's quite possible that I wasn't paying attention. I'm pretty sure I didn't mean to be nice to her. But... well... I'm not myself these days.” What did she just say? She wasn't joking, which in itself is embarrassingly funny.

“You forgot to curb your pencil pick-up reflex,” Hisao says.

“Ah.”

Hisao smiles. “Something Rin said.”

“Ah.” Rin. Maybe she should have presented a girlfriend? With Rin, the best strategy would have been to just bring her along, and let things run its course. At some point Rin would probably just walk away, and then Miya's mum could sort out her confusion.

Hisao smiles. Again Miya notices how gentle he is, today. She wonders if it's the guilt of his false accusation that pushed him down that path. But there is something else. Something she has missed. Too self-centred today. Too focussed on Hisao's harmlessness. Too steeped in her past to remember that he has one of his own...

“I'll do it,” Hisao says. “I'll meet your mother and pretend to be your boyfriend.” He's been looking right at her all the while she was talking, but now his pupils swerve sideways. He looks away.

“You're thinking of your own parents, aren't you?”

He closes his eyes and tries to smile. He's half successful. “You're facing your mother's worries. I haven't even called them once.”

“I have no choice,” she replies. And then, out of the blue, she asks, “Would you like your parents to come and visit?”

Hisao turns his head away and stares out at the rain. When finally he replies his voice is too soft to hear over the mindless prattle of the rain. But that's all right. What matters in the end is never words.

This was very good. Nice short chapter. Good interactions. Miya is mysterious—shocking, I'm sure. But there are hints of what led to that mysteriousness. Maybe we'll learn more. I'm certainly looking forward to any more of this you write.

griffon8 wrote:This was very good. Nice short chapter. Good interactions. Miya is mysterious—shocking, I'm sure. But there are hints of what led to that mysteriousness. Maybe we'll learn more. I'm certainly looking forward to any more of this you write.

Thanks. You will learn more about her backstory, though clearly not on the detail level of the main story (that would be a novel of its own).

For story-post navigation please refer to the index post.

II. 9. It's Always Sex

The taste of sleep is in his mouth. Time and space come trickling in. Hisao blinks. Dark. And then again: the knocking sound that woke him. He sits up, confused. Knocking, again. Not too loud, but insistent. He sits up in bed. A slight headache. He takes a breath. Another series of knocks. He tries to call out but his lips won't part. A mumbling sound. He gets up, shuffles to the door, opens it.

Who else but Miya? She's wearing a t-shirt that falls down to her knees. Nothing else. Not even shoes. It has rained today and her feet are muddy. Hisao is vaguely aware that he should be embarrassed, but he's not quite awake enough for that.

“Can't sleep,” Miya says.

Hisao takes a step back, a step to the side. She slinks in, and he closes the door behind her.

“I'm afraid to sleep,” she says. “Too nervous. Might die. Wouldn't that be the surprise for Mum?” She chuckles nervously.

Hisao's eyelids drop. He squeezes his eyes shut, opens them again.

“Aren't you going to say something?” Miya asks.

“Sorry,” he says. “Don't quite get what's going on. Yet.”

“Woke you, huh?” Strange smile. “Please let me sleep in your bed with you, tonight. Touch me if you want, but don't leave me alone. Please?”

Bad idea, but he's in no mood to argue. And turning her down... it's the first time she said “please”. This means something, but Hisao's too tired to argue. “Fine,” he says. “Let's sleep.” He walks back to his bed, slips in. The practical problems with the situation become apparent. His bed's too narrow for two, and Miya's feet are muddy. Oh, well. He'll have to change the sheets tomorrow. He pushes against the wall below the window and holds open the blanket. Uncharacteristically, Miya hesitates before slipping in. Nervous, huh?

Touch me if you want. Something's wrong with that, but he can't quite tell what. She's aware of what she wants. She's aware of what she's doing to him. Hisao has known, too, in an abstract sort of manner, but now the situation sinks in. Miya is lying in his bed, her back to him, all bones and heat. Her muddy feet are cold. He feels an erection coming, pushing against her, but there's no wriggle room. Touch me if you want. This is an offering he cannot accept. She came here, because she's afraid of her condition, and here he is... He cannot move. It feels as if she has passed her sleeps paralysis on to him. But, no, he's not asleep. What a tasteless thought...

It doesn't take long until Miya is asleep and Hisao wide awake. This bed is too small for two. He daren't even breathe. His right hand's lying passively on her waist. He's lying on his left. The night's too long for this. He wants to get up, but now the second part of her line comes to mind: ...but don't leave me alone. How can he? Damned if he does, and damned if he don't. Miya's breath is regular. The sound fills the room. There's nothing else. His back's going to hurt, and so's his left arm. Will she wake if he moves? How deep is her sleep? She said she can't sleep, but she nodded off quite quickly. It occurs to Hisao that she might be playing with him, but it doesn't seem plausible. Please?

His body's rigid, his mind's a mess. And then, after who knows how many minutes, his bladder announces itself. It's almost a relief. A welcome excuse. He's moving slowly, trying not wake her. The only way to leave the bed without crawling over her is the foot end. By the time he manages to leave the bed, without waking her, his bladder is ready to burst. He goes to the toilet, relieves himself, and returns. She's still lying on her side, asleep. No way is he crawling back into bed now. There's a felt blanket in the wardrobe he's never had a use for, until now. He fetches it, trying not to make too much noise. Then he sits down on his chair, covering himself with the blanket. He closes his eyes and listens to Miya breathe. Eventually, he falls into the rhythm and, finally, falls asleep.

When he wakes, the curtain is drawn back. The feint light of the moon floods the room. Miya is still lying in his bed, looking at him. He stares back at her, blankly.

“You left me alone,” she says. Hisao cannot tell if she's angry, disappointed, relieved.

“I'm still here,” he says. It's a deflection. She wanted him to stay in bed with her. He knows that much.

“Yes, but not here,” she says. “I'm alone in this bed.”

“I'm sorry,” he says.

“Well, it's okay. Nothing happened.” She's still looking at him, but he can't make out her expression. Nothing happened. If she'd died in his bed tonight, how would he ever have explained that?

“I...” He almost mentions his erection. “It's... I was embarrassed.” Is this an apology? An explanation? Hisao is at a loss.

“It would have been okay to touch me,” she says. “With any body part.” Her voice is flat. She doesn't sound like she's teasing him. Something is off.

“Miya.” Hisao says. “Look, I don't know what you want. You say it's 'okay'. But okay's not good enough. You didn't want to be alone. I get that much. Beyond that?”

“You get that much, but you're still in that chair over there.”

“You're disappointed? Sad? Angry? Miya, you come here, wearing little, get into bed with me, and tell me it's okay to touch you, if I don't leave you alone. And you expect me to... what? Spend the night touching you while you sleep? Should I have kept you awake? I... I like to know what I'm doing, and with you, I rarely do. This is too... too intimate. I'm twice as... insecure as normal. Miya, you can't just... you...” He doesn't finish. What is there to say.

“Well, you don't have to touch me. It's not a big deal.”

“It's not a big deal? Miya, you're a girl. In my bed. I can't just ignore this.”

A strange noise from Miya. Then silence, and then: “I'm confused, too. But it's... different for me. Different.”

“Different how?” His voice is getting to shrill. He takes a deep breath.

From Miya, nothing.

“Can I switch on the light?”

“I'd rather... dark... if you don't... mind.” Her voice is strange, buckling in all the wrong places.

If you don't mind? Is this really Miya? “Okay,” Hisao says, trying for gentleness. “It's okay. I just thought... Miya, are you... crying?”

She manages an affirmative sound.

Never in a million years! Hisao is stunned. Silence. No sobs, nothing. Then, suddenly: “It's always sex. I'm so tired of... it always gets in the way. Always, always, always. I'm so tired of sex getting in the way. Why can't we just...” She doesn't say what they can just...

“I'm sorry,” Hisao says, again. “Miya, I...”

But she interrupts. “And apologies. I'm tired of those, too. Look, you didn't do anything wrong. I brought it up first, didn't I? I'm as much to blame as anyone. Let's just stop blaming... judging... I'm so tired of it all.”

“I'm not judging...” His voice trails off. His words sound like denial even to him.

“Let's let it go,” she says. “Let's let it go.” And after a long silence: “I'm really grateful that you're meeting my mum. You're really helping.”

“I'm not much good at pretending, but, well...”

She makes a strange noise, half-way between a chuckle and a sob. “You'll do fine,” she says. “But... there's something you need to know about my mum and me. Why the act is... helpful. Why we... don't get along as well as we might, my mum and I.” A pause. “I'm sure you figured out that I don't know who my father is.”

“I was pretty sure. A line in your letter implied as much.”

“Well, my mum doesn't know who he is either. At the time of my conception... well, she's not even quite sure about the number of candidates. She can remember five occasions. Only two of the men even told her their first names. She was... quite active.”

“Active,” Hisao repeats. “With... strangers?” A... professional? Oh, shit. Did he just say that?

Miya laughs. But it's a strange laugh; she's been crying not too long ago. “She's not, and she was not a prostitute, if that's what you're wondering. It was all just for fun.”

“Fun.” Hisao's reduced to repeating Miya's lines. He's not sure he wants to know this. How can he face her mother, knowing these intimate details?

Miya sighs. “At least try to pretend you're not judging her. It would make it... easier for me, okay?”

“I'm not judging her,” Hisao says. “I mean, everyone makes mistakes. It doesn't mean...”

“Mistakes, huh? That's what all the well-meaning, righteous citizens say, isn't it?” She's pushing him into a corner. He's squirming inside, but it's also a relief: The Miya he knows is back.

“I'm....” He stops himself from apologising. When he looks back at himself, though Miya's eyes, he looks like a judgemental prude. But is this really how she sees him? Is she judging him? Let's let it go!

She continues: “When I was little, don't remember how old, I told my mum I hate her. Because she didn't marry my dad, like all the other mums. Because she didn't think of me at all. Charming, wasn't I? Child logic. It's not like I existed back then. I was almost immediately sorry I said that. It's not like Mum believed I hate her, but... well, she was a bit sadder after that. Or maybe she looked like that, to me, because I felt bad for what I said? It makes sense: I confirmed one of her fears. Anyway, after that I didn't want to upset her. There was the Atsuko-phase. And so on.

“And then I started bleeding down there and the hormones... boy, was that a revelation. You sort of understand your Mum a bit better, then. I was thirteen, middle school. And I started to defend my Mum. Oooh, big mistake. Big, big mistake. You know: the daughter of a slut, defending her mum's life style? Must be a slut herself. And once you've got that reputation? Get propositioned by idiot boys. Get blamed by frustrated one-way-love girls... Wasn't fun, I tell you.

“And at home? If I'd said anything, my mum would have apologised to me. It's her fault, don't you know? I mean I said it myself; never mind my age back then. But, you know, my mum's not stupid, and my mood wasn't that hard to read.

“And then the threat of Sudden Death. Fun, no? I'm thinking it's social stress in my case. Not sure if that's even possible, but it makes sense to me. In any case, that's when Mum really freaked. She does her best, and all I get is a sucky short life. Coming here was my idea. When we're together, Mum feels she's the worst mother in the world, and I feel I'm the worst daughter in the world. We both know that we're only blaming ourselves, but that doesn't really help. So we additionally frustrate each other with our respective guilts. Well, are you glad you volunteered to get between us?”

“Miya...” Hisao is still processing that. Always sex. Some people are more promiscuous than others, and some of those act out... How messed up the situation is! Responsibilities all around. Miya's father never took responsibility himself, but then he never got the chance to. All those years, that chorus: poor fatherless child, with such a mother. And what do they know? What does Hisao know? And isn't he, deep down, blaming her Mum, too? Contributing to the problem? What a messy messed-up mess.

“Don't worry, though,” Miya says. “Mum and I, we'll pretend everything's all right. We're good at that. It's how we get along. We love each other. All we have to do is pretend we get along. And it's not always pretending, either. I bet she's eager to meet you. She's worried I isolate myself, you know?”

Now, where might she have gotten that idea? “I wish I knew what to say.”

“Oh, say nothing.” She stretches, and then she sits up. “I guess, I'll give you back your bed. I slept a bit, at least. Thanks, for that.”

“I wish I could have given you what you need. But I just can't... relax enough to... You know...”

“It's okay. I asked too much.” But it isn't, is it? Hisao has disappointed her. Or at the very least failed to fulfill a tiny hope. He doesn't like that feeling. Is that how things develop? Feelings of insufficiency that stem from unrealistic expectations about “closeness”, about saying and doing “just the right thing”? And these feelings get between what you could achieve?

She is standing already, takes a step forward. Her face is suddenly very close. A strange smile is on her lips. “You're really bad at pretending to be my boyfriend.” Hisao bows his head, a silent apology. He cannot help it. Miya's plants a quick kiss on his brow. Before Hisao can react, she takes two steps back and looks herself down. “I'd better get back to my room as long as it's still dark. Did I really come here dressed like that?”

Hisao nods. It's all he can do. Even after Miya has left, Hisao doesn't return to his bed. Instead he stares into the darkness of the room. In his bed, Miya's warmth dissipates, but the mud from her feet presumably remains. He's too conventional for her. A conventional little boy, with conventional little morals, conventionally judging people he doesn't even know. But he can't help it. All he's ever known is his conventional little life. A mother and a father, and friends at school, and nobody to scorn him. Then: A heart attack, and a string of little failures to measure up to the little shoulds in life.

Miya's string of little failures, he imagines, is a lot longer than his.

I think it'd be neat if, at some point, Hisao threw Miya a curveball and said something like "I'd like to try not pretending." I wonder if she'd even know what to do at that point.

That "wall of full disclosure" line really hits the mark, I've gotta say. It's like reading a biography, stating all the facts and circumstances but never really giving you a picture of who this person really is, inside. And then when she does let her true self show it happens too fast, all at once and without the proper context to make any sense of her, or perhaps too many contexts and no way of knowing which are relevant.

Rin made perfect sense to me, but Miya isn't just a riddle, she's a code; Without a decryption key you're just wasting your time trying to solve her. And yet, I still want to know...

Sorry for replying so late. I've read both replies days ago, but I'm currently a bit distracted. I'll probably not write anything today. I might tomorrow, but that means it'll lie around until next week to be edited, so no extension tomorrow (as I hoped).

Bagheera wrote:I think it'd be neat if, at some point, Hisao threw Miya a curveball and said something like "I'd like to try not pretending." I wonder if she'd even know what to do at that point.

Miya's reaction to that might be, depending on context, anticlimactic. I'd be interested what sort of resolution on Hisao's part could bring forth such a line. He'd have to know what he wants.

Actually, in some extended sense this might be the theme of part 4. Not sure if I interpret the line right, though.

nemz wrote:That "wall of full disclosure" line really hits the mark, I've gotta say. It's like reading a biography, stating all the facts and circumstances but never really giving you a picture of who this person really is, inside. And then when she does let her true self show it happens too fast, all at once and without the proper context to make any sense of her, or perhaps too many contexts and no way of knowing which are relevant.

Rin made perfect sense to me, but Miya isn't just a riddle, she's a code; Without a decryption key you're just wasting your time trying to solve her. And yet, I still want to know...

I'm glad this worked out so far, and I hope I'll give an at lest somewhat satisfactory conclusion. (I'm not known for well defined conclusions; actually, I'm pretty much unkown, but if I were known, it probably wouldn't be for strict closure. Heh.)

Miya's reaction to that might be, depending on context, anticlimactic. I'd be interested what sort of resolution on Hisao's part could bring forth such a line. He'd have to know what he wants.

I could imagine hisao popping that as a what-if-question - Miya's reaction to such a question would be interesting...

Dawnstorm wrote:Miya's reaction to that might be, depending on context, anticlimactic. I'd be interested what sort of resolution on Hisao's part could bring forth such a line. He'd have to know what he wants.

Actually, in some extended sense this might be the theme of part 4. Not sure if I interpret the line right, though.

"I don't like pretending to be your boyfriend. I think I want to be your boyfriend for real."

It's a perplexing thing to say! After all, she's not a nice person. She's defective. Why would he want such a thing? Whatever could possess him? And yet, he's not a mean person. Not like her. So he wouldn't say it to toy with her, right? But then why? What to do, what to do.

He doesn't ask because he loves her, because of course he doesn't. But even still the request is genuine. There's a . . . legitimacy, I suppose? . . . to her actions that is obvious even through the masks she wears. She is real. Even when she is unkind, she is real. And she has let him see that. He can't ignore it and, moreover, he doesn't want to. And so he asks the question.

Put another way, Miya is always defending herself. She's always manipulating others, ensuring that she can strike first so that they can never hurt her. It's an obvious defense mechanism. But what happens when someone wants her, when he cuts through her defenses and sees her for who she is and still accepts her? I think she might break at that point. But after? What then?

I'm curious, that's all. But perhaps I'm getting ahead of myself. There is part IV, as you said. Perhaps the question's addressed there.

Mirage_GSM wrote:I could imagine hisao popping that as a what-if-question - Miya's reaction to such a question would be interesting...

A what-if might work for Hisao, but that's too much like pretending to work on Miya. Even the straight line, said with genuine feeling, may be too much like pretending for Miya, though I'm not too sure about that.

Bagheera wrote:Put another way, Miya is always defending herself. She's always manipulating others, ensuring that she can strike first so that they can never hurt her. It's an obvious defense mechanism. But what happens when someone wants her, when he cuts through her defenses and sees her for who she is and still accepts her? I think she might break at that point. But after? What then?

It's an interesting line to pursue. She'll have to see he's serious; words alone won't do.

I do think part iv part iii (sorry, my mistake) will address this in one way or another, just not as straight-forwardly. (Come to think of it, a planned scene might come close to that...) If it's not addressed by the end of the story, I might write a bonus scene, who knows?

For story-post navigation please refer to the index post.


Soul Dissipation (#1): Mother

Hotaru Kitagawa's daughter is trying to separate a too big piece of meat with her chopsticks, but her grip is unusually loose and she cannot control the sticks. They almost slip from her hand. This shocks her to life; she twitches, manages to hold on to the chopsticks, but then she freezes. The sticks are sticking in the bowl as much as they are lying in her hand. She is looking down at them, or at her hand, or the table, or at nothing at all.

“Miya? Did something happen?”

Miya lowers her head even more. She scrapes the chopsticks around in the bowl, achieves nothing. Miya is trying to look busy. She is a good child, who almost never lies. Trying to look busy is her way to avoid lying. Hotaru is familiar with that silence. Gentle prodding rarely gets results, and Hotaru has never been firm with Miyako. It hasn't been necessary, or so she likes to tell herself. Now she thinks she may have been wrong in her approach. Her theory has always been that Miya would come to her when she really needed to. No pushing things on her. Maximum freedom. The immature ideas of a sixteen-year-old single mother, and yet Hotaru has stuck with them for five years. What now?

“Miya. Something happened. I can see that something happened.”

Miya's hands start trembling. She lets go of her chopsticks. They tilt, then fall. One tumbls out of the bowl onto the table. Miya looks at it as if she had made a terrible blunder. She's five. She's never been punished. Hotaru knows it's not about the sticks, but still... Why is she afraid to talk?

“Miya. Talk to me. What happened?”

No reply.

“Miya!”

When she finally speaks, her voice is soft, but the words are crystal clear. “Are you a slut?”

What? Hotaru's mouth is dry. Where... Who... “Miya, please. What happened?”

She always looks at whoever she's talking to. Always. “You're not stupid, and if you're not stupid, then maybe you're a slut. Kotori got mad and said you're not stupid and you're not a slut. But she doesn't know what a slut is. I don't know either, but it's something bad. Everyone was arguing.”

Arguing about whether Miya's mother was stupid or a slut? In Kindergarden? “Miya, that's a bad word. Nobody should ever call someone else that.”

Miya isn't happy with that. She still doesn't look up, but there's a subtle change in her posture. Maybe she has turned a tad more towards Hotaru, maybe there's a new determined stiffness. Hotaru can't tell, but something has changed. Something is wrong. Badly wrong. Then, suddenly her face shoots up, and her voice comes out in a wail. “But what is it? Are you one? Why don't you know who my daddy is? Why didn't you marry him?”

And now what? Hotaru slept around and made Miya. She has behaved exactly like what people call a “slut”. There is, perhaps, a technical term for that, but Hotaru can't think of one. The answer is, yes, Miya, your Mum is a slut, and it is her right to be one, and those who do not agree can go to hell. Except she hasn't had sex in years, and her daughter is too little to understand the issue. Raising a child on your own is hard enough, without having to deal with the twilight zone between honesty and practicality. Clearly she's been too honest. Why don't I have a Daddy? How do you answer such a question? A lie would have been easy. She could have been a widow. Would pity have been easier to deal with than... the truth? Why don't I have a Daddy? – You do. But I don't know who he is, so I couldn't tell him?” – ”Maybe you'll find out one day?” – Maybe.

A lie would have been so easy. Abortion would have been even easier. Everyone said so. Her parents, her grand parents. Well, not her big brother, but he didn't speak up. Hotaru would raise her own child, it was her own decision. There was an ultimatum: abort the child, or be disinherited. Hotaru, as proud as her father, chose to raise the child. Perhaps, nobody expected that decision from her. Perhaps, everyone was at a loss. Hotaru certainly had been hard to deal with; she can see that now. There were no negotiations. No talk about adoption, no talk about upkeep. When she left she got a handsome sum of money to get her started and what she could carry in two suit cases. That was all she had. That, her daughter, and a headful of ideals of how to raise her.

Honesty, kindness, freedom. And look what it got her. Ideals don't get you a happy child. Again: “Miya, what happened?”

And then the words burst forth from Miya. “Everyone was arguing. Rina said it's stupid not to know who your father is. And then Kotori got mad and said I wasn't stupid. And then I had to say that you don't know either, or Kotori would be in trouble. And then Rina said that you are stupid. And Kotori got even madder. And Fuuka said that maybe you're a slut, and she said it in a strange way, as if being stupid is better. And then Kotori said you're not a slut either, but she didn't know what a slut was and Fuuka knew and Kotori turned red. And then Fuuka said a slut is a mother with no husband. And Rina said that was a widow. And Fuuka said a widow is a mother with a dead husband, that's different. And then Rina left, and then Fuuka left, and Kotori stayed and was mad. And I just wanted to play with them. You are a slut. You would have said you're not, if weren't one. I don't get why it's bad, but it is. Nobody will like me if I'm a slut.”

And Hotaru is staring down at her daughter and has no idea what to say. A terrible, harmful silence. A shameful silence. A silence which Miya filled with an uncharacteristic outburst:

“You're a slut. You're a slut. You're a SLUT!”

Hotaru starts trembling. Self control, where art thou? “Miya!” Her voice was a strange squeak. “Don't ever say that word again! Don't...”

“Slut. Slut. Slut. I hate you. Nobody will ever like me, and it's all your fault, and I hate you.” And her little daughter jumps up, and she stares at the bowl with its solitary chopstick, and she hits its edge with enough force that the bowl tilts over and spills Miso over her hand: But she doesn't even flinch, and she dashed away, and locks herself into the bathroom – the only opportunity for privacy in their little apartment.

Left alone at the table, Hotaru stares at the upside-down bowl and doesn't know what to think. In the bathroom, the tap is running. That gives her a fright. “Miya?” she calls. “Are you hurt? Was the Miso still hot?” No reply. Only the sound of running water. “Miya?” Nothing.

There is no way this outburst was only about today. Do the children tease her? Do the parents talk? The Kindergarden personnel are open minded about these things, aren't they? Hotaru has checked. How can she find out more? Ask Kotori? She has to do something; it's her responsibility. Responsibility, huh? She's taken it willingly, always knew she would, even while having fun, fun, fun. It sounds so romantic, so grown-up to a sheltered teen with a sculpted future. She's traded her family for that responsibility, and a good trade it was. She has Miya, now. A small new family. The responsibility is hers, but the life? That young life, five years and counting, is Miya's. And Hotaru doesn't know what to do.

Longest break yet, and not sure at what pace I'm going to continue. I'm not giving up on it.

Btw, have there been interface changes? I can't seem to edit my posts anymore.

Dawnstorm wrote:Longest break yet, and not sure at what pace I'm going to continue. I'm not giving up on it.
Btw, have there been interface changes? I can't seem to edit my posts anymore.

Well hey there, stranger! Can't say there's much of anything here that couldn't be inferred from earlier posts, but it's nice to see you around again. Kids can be so cruel, but the truth is adults are just as bad... they just hide it better.

And yes, you can both quote and edit things. The buttons are still there in the top right corner, it's just that the graphic isn't loading for whatever reason.

Please don't give up on it! This is an excellent story, one well worth telling IMO. It would be a shame to lose it.