Katawa Shoujo Forums

My god, what she did to Misha physically hurt me. You're a damn good writer, and you've got me hooked into this story pretty deep.

I think casting Saki as a cruel bitch really made her confession to Hisao hurt that much more.

I'll definitely be keeping a close eye on this

You can’t eat your feelings, and gazing at the soggy lump of cafeteria curry bread in front of me, attempting to do so would probably be harmful to your health.

I need to get away. I need to get away from her, I need to think of something else, anything but her, anything but now.

It’s been two days since we broke up, and she haunts me. At every vending machine the cans mock me. The hair bows I see as I pass by taunt me.

I want to be angry. I want to be the door-slamming boyfriend, I want to have a clear line of what’s right and wrong, a black-and-white answer as what to do. Anger. Hope. Anything to fill the void inside of me.

Anything to explain why. I would give anything to know why.

That being said, I would give anything to understand women in general.

I would ask Miki, but I can see her right now, and she’s busy shaking down a poor underclassmen for lunch money. The Miki-bird is hungry. I’m in no mood to feed her.

I’m tired of this cafeteria lunch. I’m tired of people. I’m just tired. So tired.

I think I’ll go into town.

The walk down the hill, as always, is terribly beautiful. Even though winter’s just ending, the cherry blossoms have already started to flower, so you can see the pink petals dazing their way down through the sky.

I sit on a bench in the park. I should get lunch to replace what I’ve missed, but in a way I just need some time to myself.

A meaty hand clamps itself on my shoulder. So much for some alone time.

That being said, given my current physical condition, so much for not being mugged and thrown into a dark alleyway.

“Hey, kid, aren’t you supposed to be in school?”

I heave a sigh as I turn to face my would-be-assailant. He’s tough-looking, burly, with a leather jacket thrown over a muscular frame. His voice sounds like gravel mixed with a bowl of nails. He looks kind of familiar.

He breaks into a grin. Sharp white teeth contrast with his thug-like appearance.
“Wait a minute… I know you! You’re in my brother’s class, dating that Saki chick! Nice score, kid!”

I remember who he is now. Mutou’s brother, Keiji. I don’t actually know what he does, but I bet it wouldn’t be something involving desks, pencils, and paper.

His disarming manner breaks right through my planned defense. I heave a sigh.

“I was.”

His creased face breaks down a bit. He understands.

“Huh, girl troubles.

He scratches the stubble on his chin.

“Well, let me tell ya, you’ve never had real girl troubles until you’ve woken up in a bed with two parents and her boyfriend standing over you.”

He pauses for a moment, then breaks into a rollicking laugh.

“AAHAHAHAHAAAHHhahaahahah.” He wipes a tear from his eye.

I give him a weak smile. He seems like a real guy.

“So listen, kid, whaddya say we get some lunch. I haven’t had any and I’m realllllll hungry.”

He emphasizes the point by making a puppy dog face and rubbing his stomach. A muscled giant make a puppy dog face. The wonder.

“Come on kid, it’s on me. All my brother does is talk about you and your science brain. You’ve reminded him of why he teaches. I at least owe you a bowl of ramen.”

It’s no good sulking in this park alone. And I am pretty hungry.

“Ok, Mr. Mutou.”

“Now that’s the spirit! AAHAHAAHAHHA!” He punches me in the shoulder, and points out a ramen restaurant on the corner.

----------

He sits across from me, breaking his prepackaged chopsticks in a deft, clear motion. He then takes a classical grip on the chopsticks, forming a clear, elegant point. It’s a surprise to me he doesn’t just manhandle them like most people do.

Something tells me there’s more to Keiji Mutou than meets the eye, just like his brother.

“Alright, kid, tell me what’s going on with you and the Saki. I know her name sounds like rice wine, and from what I can imagine, has a similar effect afterwards. But that doesn’t explain why you look like you’ve been hit by a bullet train.”

Like I said, there’s more to Keiji Mutou than meets the eye.

“I… I broke up with her.”

Our conversation is interrupted by the placement of two, steaming, bowls of ramen. Keiji carefully shakes some red pepper flakes in before gazing at me.

“Go on.”

“It—It was after the perfect night. I thought we had everything. But there was something missing.”

“And what was it?”

I pause. I don’t know how much he knows about Saki. Given their previous interactions, there’s a history in between them, but I have no idea what it is.

Keiji Mutou seems like a friend, but I don’t really know anything about him. If it’s anything my breakup taught me, it’s that people aren’t always what they appear to be.

“Saki… Saki wasn’t being the nicest to others. I wanted her to stop. I knew she could do better than that. I knew she didn’t have to be the biggest kid on the playground, but she wanted to be for some reason. And I told her so.”

“So what did she say?”

He doesn’t really miss a beat, Mutou’s brother. He slurps up a strip of beef as he studies me. A hard-boiled egg floats lazily among a sea of green scallions and buckwheat noodles. A beautiful, balanced, dish.

I look down at my own dish. I normally order mild chicken ramen, but for a change-up, made the mistake of ordering spicy steak ramen. Angry bells of chili pepper bob in and out of a red, unctuous chili oil. A kebab of rare beef sticks out the side of my bowl.

Stuck in between Keiji’s questioning and my recent breakup, I feel a lot like that beef—skewered.

“She…she just said some stuff about her history, and how she was tired of pretending for me…I don’t really know” I finish lamely.

Keiji pauses, taking a sip of tea before looking at me carefully. He sets his chopsticks down, running his finger along a scar on his temple.

I hadn’t noticed that before. He’s got secrets. Well, I guess we all do.

“Hmmmmmm.”

“Well, kid, I don’t know you too well, aside from the fact that my brother thinks you’re a genius. But let me tell you something a little about love.”

“Love isn’t some sort of faucet you can turn on and let it run. Love is a thunderstorm. Love is freezing in the rain waiting for a bus that’ll never come.”

“When I was your age, I wasn’t as half as smart as you were. I was in with the wrong crowd, and I did a lot of stupid stuff. But there was a reason why I did it—a girl.”

“She didn’t seem like she should be running in the same crowd as us—a bunch of lower-middle class hood rats smoking and drinking our teenage days away. She dressed like we did, but while we all wore parkas from the local store, she had an expensive import—a jet-black Helly Hansen jacket. I’ll always remember her for that.”

He pauses and looks away for a moment.

“She always had money, too. While the rest of us put away half-smoked cigarettes for later, she would always silently pull out a new pack and offer us one.”

He breaks into a remorseful smile.

“The funny thing was, she didn’t even smoke. She just carried them around in case we wanted one. Could you believe that? And when all of us were hungry on Friday nights, she would disappear and reappear with a steaming pizza, a weak smile on her face while she stated, ‘dig in.’ And she never ate with us either. She just watched us eat, a smile on her face.”

“Her name was Nina, and she was beautiful too. She had this dark-red brown hair that cascaded down her shoulders, with elegant, tapered hands and dark blue eyes. She was always so quiet—but everyone loved her—a beautiful porcelain doll that didn’t belong with the rest of us hood rats.”

He looks back at me.

“I loved her. We all did. But I loved her more than everyone else—she was so special, so beautiful—I enjoyed just being around her—watching her sing, dance, laugh. She was like a goddess among men.”

His face darkens, and he rubs his scar. He takes a long pull of tea before looking down.

“One day, we were hanging out in front of a convenience store. Nothing big. We weren’t a gang—just a bunch of hoodlum kids. Sure, we’d done a few burglaries, but never anything serious. But some punk was starting beef on our turf—messing with my dude Tase’s mom, breaking windows, you know. Punk stuff.”

“We confronted him. Nina was with us. We made sure she wasn’t around during the dirty stuff like crime. She knew we did it, and we knew she knew, but we didn’t want her to get hurt in any way. But this time, she was there.”

“We all had knives, like any good gang. But he pulled a gun. It was obvious he didn’t know how to use it. But none of us had guns.”

His rugged face creases for a tiny bit. In my bowl, the chili peppers bob up and down, unaware of their past or future.

“I can see it clearly now—a trashy Glock 17. Battered, chipped, evidently been through the ride of a life on the streets. But he pulled the trigger. I was his target.”

“A flash of red-brown came before me. She had dived, dragged me out of the path of the bullet. The scar is the result. She covered me with her body as she checked my wound, worried that I had been hit.”

“But our thug didn’t miss a second time. He was nervous, so he fired again. And again. Each slug hit her, not me. I felt the thud on my chest as she was stricken again and again. And in my shock-dazed state, I could only cry. The tears rolled down my face as I felt her warm body press on me, the life slowly leaving her body.”

“My friends rushed him and made sure he never fired a gun again. But it was too late. She was gone.”

“I went to her funeral a week later. It turns out she was Japanese nobility. Can you believe that—the daughter of a Japanese princess hanging out with hoodies. It explained everything—her looks, her money, her jacket. Her jet-black Helly Hansen jacket, stained red with blood.”

“I remember meeting her mom. She was so elegant. She knew who I was—some hood rat in his father’s suit, tie a mess, shoes scuffed, lapels down to my knees. But she simply embraced me. She said, ‘You’re Keiji. She always talked about you—said you didn’t belong with them—that you had love in your heart.’

Keiji Mutou looks at me. I can see the age on his face now, the years and ages of responsibility on his shoulders. He removes his finger from his scar.

“I’m a detective now. Detective Keiji Mutou, Juvenile Crimes Division. Every day I see kids like me on the streets, stuck in a life they don’t deserve. But every now and then, I see her again.”

“I don’t know how much you know about Saki, Nakai, and if you’re wise enough you won’t tell anyone. But I remember when I first met Saki.”

“She was angry, Hisao, angry at the world. Something tells me she’d been dealt a raw hand and she didn’t like it. I first met her posing as a girlfriend to pickpocket others. I then watched her kick the shit out of two hoodlums who tried to mug her.”

He gives me a weak smile, evidently worn out by his memories.

“But the funny thing was, they weren’t trying to mug her. They had been taking this little kid’s backpack and hanging it on a tree, until he just sat down and cried. So she took that crutch of hers and WHAM—nailed one of them right in the solar plexus. They took that bag down and got the hell out of there.”

A side of Saki I never knew.

“She handed the bag to the kid and ruffled his hair. I thought they were related, but the kid just toddled off.”

“I see a little bit of Nina in your girl, Hisao. And if I know anything, she’s worth saving. It’s just that she’s so angry, so raw, that she feels she has to fake it.”

He pokes at his noodles.

“I don’t know too much about teenage girls nowadays. But I think your girl’s worth something. Listen to her, and don’t forget what she says. Listen, and you may get a second chance. Listen, and you might understand why she is and why she feels the way she does.”

---------

We step outside the ramen restaurant.

“Hey, Mr. Mutou?”

“Yeah, kid?”

“Thanks—and not just for lunch.”

“No problem, kid.”

We part ways as the sun settles down to sleep beyond the hills.

The timer blinks off in my hand. 00:00.

Wait. That’s not a lap. People can’t go that fast.

A voice calls over from the other side of the track, noticing the apparent time of 00:00 on the scoreboard.

“Hisao, you dolt, you hit reset, not lap!” drawls out what could be a Californian surfer.

Another voice, far bouncier, rings out from the other side as well.

“Woooooww, Hisao, can’t you even run a timer?”

I sigh. It’s a Sunday afternoon at Yamaku, and track stars Miki Miura and Emi Ibarizaki are squaring off in a private duel.

How did I end up in the middle of this? Oh. Right. Nurse.

---------

An hour ago, I showed up at the Nurse for my weekly checkup. I had nothing new to report and had a book in my bedroom I was dying to read. I figured I’d be in and out within 20 minutes.

But Nurse, being the excited medical professional he is, has a new prescription in stock.

After he dumps all of my old pills and slapped a new bottle in my hand, a strange, warped smile fills his face.

I notice this smile but say nothing. He is a bit of an eccentric dude.

I swallow the pills and down them with water.

The smile gets larger. What is it that’s making him smile like a maniac?

As I shrug my shirt back on, his smile practically reaches his ears. What is it with this guy?

“So, Hisao.”

“Yes?”

He looks like the Chesire Cat now. I wish he’d just fade off and disappear.

“You, uh, ever worry about getting fat?”

What? Can he even ask me that question?

“Uhhh… I don’t think so.”

“Well, tell me what that little orange bottle in your hands says.”

“Rythmol. Propafenone-B. Side effects: Dizziness, light-headedness, gastrointestinal upset, hypothyroidism.”

I don’t really know what the last one is, but given that the other ones are pretty normal, I’m sure he’s going to tell me.

“Right. So, Hisao, you used to take Rythmol, which is just Propafenone. This is an isomer of Propafenone, so it’s chemically the same but is slightly better at regulating your heart. I won’t go into the details, but this isomer has another effect—it decreases the efficiency of your thyroid.”

I’m not sure I like this at all. Nurse continues.

“So, your thyroid sort of regulates how your body consumes fat. If it’s less efficient, you might get a little chunkier.”

Groan. What have I gotten myself into. What a clever guy, dumping all my pills before this lecture.

The grin gets impossibly bigger. He leans in close to my face, his excitement barely concealed.

“So, Hisao, you know how you can still get all the ladies with that junked out thyroid of yours?”

“I don’t know, Nurse.”

He throws up his arms and clipboard into the air, letting papers fly everywhere, shouting

“You can EXERCISE! Like I told you to in the beginning of the year! AHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHHHAHAHA

What a funny guy.

He slows down, wiping the tears of laughter from his eyes. He leans in close again, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“But you know what I’m gonna do, Hisao?”

I hope it’s not another prescription.

“I don’t know, Nurse,” I monotone.

“I’m gonna help you out.”

With this kind of help, I’m not even sure I need a heart problem to keep my hands full.

“You see that track over there?”

“Yes, Nurse.”

His voice takes on its now-usual tinge of excitement.

“There’s a running, bouncy girl over there who’s been instructed by me to wait for your first running lesson. Her name’s Ibarazaki—“

Emi—I haven’t really seen her in a while. Hmm.

“--and she eats young boys with heart problems for breakfast. She might even set you up with a date. So it’s best you’re not late. Go now. Shoo shoo.”

I button up my shirt and head out the door, glad to be out of this madhouse. As I close the door I can hear him shaking with laughter. I sigh. Nurse. What a character.
It’s probably best not to keep Emi waiting, so I hurry back to the dorms, change into athletic shorts and a t-shirt, and head out to the track.

As I step onto the tarmac, I hear two voices arguing in the bleachers. Miki’s tall drawl contrasts with Emi’s bright, squeaky cheer.

“… Listen, short stuff, what’re you doing here? Sunday afternoons are Miura time, which is not inclusive to other persons named Ibarazaki.”

Emi pouts. Cute.

“Buuuuuttt Miiikkki, I’m waiting for a frieeennndd the Nurse sent. I promised him!”

“Ems, if you’re going to monopolize the track for the rest of the week, cantcha just give a girl her time on Sundays? Meet your friend some other time, if he even exists.”

Damn. What am I supposed to do now? Do I walk in while they’re arguing or do I just let them hash it out?

I decide to go with the proactive approach. Richard of York lost the battle in vain.

I step in. Both girls stare at me incredulously.

“Hisao?”

“Yeaah, that’s right Miki! Hisao! And Nurse said I have to train him! So THERE!”

I immediately regret stepping into the war zone. I give Miki a look of “sorry.” She screws her lips in thought, then throws her hands up.

“Okay, I give up. I don’t know why Nurse would pick you to train Hisao, but whatever.”

“It’s because I’m faster than you. That’s why.” The words slip out of Emi’s mouth faster than she realizes.

Oh no. Hisao. What have you gotten yourself into. You could have just been reading books this Sunday afternoon.

Miki, cool as a cucumber, just makes a cut motion with her hand. She’s not getting into this. She doesn’t even turn around to acknowledge Emi’s words. Probably a smart move.

Emi, on the border of whether to pursue the point or not, takes the aggressive approach.

“And I can prove it. I bet I can beat you in a race right now. If I win, I get to train Hisao this Sunday and whenever I want. If you win, you get to train Hisao and keep your track slot.”

A pretty biased bet, if you ask me. But Miki’s turned around. The purple glint is present in her eyes.

Oh no.

“Seven 400m heats, first to four wins” states the Miki.

“Deal.”

-----------------

So here I am, sweating in the sun, watching Miki and Emi go at it.

They’re just warming up now, Miki’s long, tanned legs flashing in the sun compared to Emi’s carbon fiber blades.

A lot of people would peg Miki as the winner due to her height. However, as my middle school track coach taught me, shorter legs equals faster turnover, and as a result, Emi actually gets off the line faster than Miki. Theoretically, Miki will only be able to exploit her height midway around the track, where her longer legs will give her a higher top speed.

I think all this science is my attempt to avoid the fact that in one hour, one of these girls will probably hate me.

Emi pants to a stop in front of me. She’s ready for the first heat.

Miki stop a moment later, looking winded.

Isn’t a warm-up supposed to warm you up, not exhaust you?

Hmm. I guess I’ll figure that out later.

First heat.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

Both Emi and Miki flash out from the line, with Emi taking a clear lead. Miki seems to lag in the middle of the track, while Emi powers away to a clear victory by two seconds.

I wonder what’s gotten into Miki?

Second heat.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

Again, both Emi and Miki flash out from the line, but Emi powers away in the final straight of the track. Miki seems almost lackadaisical, jogging the final stretch after Emi’s finished.

Third heat.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

At the start of the line, Emi stumbles, her blades slipping on the tarmac for a quarter of a second. Miki gains a few meters on Emi, but appears to run out of energy again in the third turn of the track, while Emi pants her way to victory.

I wonder if this is Miki’s way of telling me that she doesn’t want to train me.

Fourth Heat.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

Miki and Emi run out from the line, but instead of lagging, Miki extends her legs into the fourth turn, snatching victory from Emi’s grasp.

Miura on the scoreboard: 3, Emi, 1, Miki.

Emi’s panting now, looking out of breath. In contrast, Miki looks composed—a picture of determination on her face.

Fifth Heat.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

In the fourth quarter, Emi puts on a burst of speed, but is matched and overpowered by Miki, who beats her to the line with a foot to spare.

Wait a minute, why is Miki so fast all of a sudden?

Then it hits me. No way.

Miki had been strategizing all along. She knew Emi would go all out, and that she’d never beat her in a one-on-one race, so she chose a long-race format and let Emi wear herself out in the first heats.
Sixth Heat.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

Miki beats Emi off the line this time, a tan flash with no equal. Emi jogs the last lap. She’s caught on to Miki, and needs to save her energy for the final lap.

Miki’s strategy has paid off until now, but can it really beat Emi?

Seventh Heat.

Miura, 3. Ibarazaki, 3. All the money’s on this one.

“Ready… Set… Go!”

Both Emi and Miki rip the line, spikes digging into the tarmac. Emi takes the lead initially, her blades pumping as she gouges into the second turn.

Miki lags, apparently defeated. But into the third turn, she picks up, her legs winding their way through the white lines.

The gap closes to one foot. Then a few inches. Then they’re even.

Emi matches Miki stride for stride, but Miki stretches her legs out even further.

A purple flash crosses the finish line moments before a pigtailed one.

“Yeah!”

“AHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

Emi looks on the verge of tears. I bet she rarely loses, and given the way she takes track (and her rivalry with Miki) I bet this one’s personal.

I look at Miki, who’s basking in the glow of victory. She looks at Emi, then at me, then nods.

“Listen, Emi, I’ll still run with you in the mornings”

Emi starts to cry. Look what you’ve done Hisao. Dammit.

“B-bbut I lost! You don’t want to run with me! I’m slow!” Emi blubbers.

“No, not at all. You’re really fast and I’d be honored to train with you in the mornings. Nurse said you’re a really great teacher and I bet he’s right.”

“Bb-bbut the bet w-with Miki?”

“That’s okay. Miki and I have cracked a deal where if you let her steal me every morning now and then, or use the track in the afternoons, it’ll all be okay.”

“Bbu-but everyone will know I lost!”

“No, no, we’re keeping this a secret among us three. Right, Miki?”

“You got it, Hisao. And Emi, I’m sure if you train really hard, you’ll beat me next time.”

Emi grins through her tears. Despite their rivalry, Miki knows how to handle her pretty well.

“Okay.”

“I-i-I’m going to run a little more. I feel better now.”

Miki grins and punches me in the arm.

“You got it, Emi. Come on Hisao, let’s hit the showers. You haven’t even run and you smell like a dumpster. We’ll take a run tomorrow.”

Huh. I guess I’d better set my alarm.

My life, for once, seems to be getting itself back into order.

Your nurse in this chapter was so over the top that I thought this was a dream sequence at first...
Looks like Hisao got himself into quite a training regimen considering that he didn't want to train at all. The race was nicely written, even though the bet and the bargains afterward were a bit confusing^^°

Mirage_GSM wrote:Your nurse in this chapter was so over the top that I thought this was a dream sequence at first...

Agreed. The same could be said for Emi as well.

SemisoftCheese wrote:“Seven 100m heats, first to four wins” states the Miki.

SemisoftCheese wrote:turn

SemisoftCheese wrote:lap

Excuse me what? You shouldn't be turning or lapping in a 100m race. Each straight arm of a running track is 100m long by itself.

SemisoftCheese wrote:“You got it, Emi. Come on Hisao, let’s hit the showers. You haven’t even run and you smell like a dumpster. We’ll take a run tomorrow.”

Wait, how? Also that's rather suggestive of Miki.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: Excuse me what? You shouldn't be turning or lapping in a 100m race. Each straight arm of a running track is 100m long by itself.

Haha, you're absolutely right. I guess this is why I play tennis in the spring, not run track. Corrected, and thanks for noticing.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote: Wait, how? Also that's rather suggestive of Miki.

I always thought Miki was a terrible flirt. It is a little overhanded, yes, but I'm working it out into a further plot development. fffooorrreessshaaadddooowwiiinnngg

Mirage_GSM wrote:Your nurse in this chapter was so over the top that I thought this was a dream sequence at first...

I have to be completely honest: I had a ton of difficulty writing this chapter. There were seven different versions of it, one with Lily, one with Molly, one with Takashi, etc. and they all didn't fit. I felt like I needed to break Hisao from his "doom and gloom" mood, and no-one seemed able to do it.

I always felt that the Nurse's personality belied a super-intelligence, and, after a year or two in this job, he'd start to go loopy from boredom. This was my attempt to break him in.

As for Emi, writing her in was hard. I always thought that the TheHiveMind did an amazing job of writing her, because he walked the fine line between making her a child and giving her maturity. I have the gut feeling here that I made her extremely child-like, which fit in with the overall theme of "break-up Hisao is now caring and attentive," but at the same time didn't pay her respect as a character. I definitely want to work her in later.

Thanks for your feedback, guys.

Well damnit, I was getting all into this and now there's none left to read =(

Always love Miki, I'm really impressed with the range of characters you are using and I think it definitely helps to characterize your particular Hisao by showing how he reacts(or doesn't) in all these different situations with different characters and influences around him.

Color me excited for the next chapter =)

Fartlek. What a funny word.

It’s what I’m doing right now on the track with Miki. She’s stolen me away from Emi this Saturday morning, claiming that she needs to “check up” on my training.

Anyway, back to the Fartlek. Swedish for “speed-play,” a fartlek is an interval workout in which you run set intervals at a “fast” pace and then intervals at a “slow” pace.

For instance, today I’m doing a 2-3-3-2-4. Two minutes fast, two minutes slow, 3 minutes fast, 3 minutes slow… you get the picture.

I guess Emi’s really shaped me up into a proper runner. She taught me all the proper stretches, plyometric warm-ups, gait changes, the lot. She’s even taken an interest in my diet (read: snatching fried foods out of my hands).

After she saw me show up in soccer flats, she even insisted we go shoe-shopping in the city. However, Emi and I have a very different idea of “shoes.” I picked out a pair of Asics Gel-Kayano 16s in about 15 minutes. It took her two hours to pick out a pair of Marc Jacobs “mouse” flats.

I guess I can’t complain. The shoes do feel great, after all.

Regarding my current workout, I guess I can’t complain either. The sun’s out, the air’s warm, and I’m breathing hard, but in a good way.

Miki waves from the other side of the track. She’s done. Glancing at my watch, I’m done as well.

“Hey Hisao, whaddya say to breakfast in town? 30 minutes, main gate?”

Truth be told, I haven’t seen Miki a lot during these past weeks. I’ve been bouncing scientific ideas around with Mutou—he’s always handing me papers to read—and we’re even considering starting a club. He’s even taken me out to dinner a few times.

Note: While Keiji Mutou knows how to use chopsticks, Mutou is the only native Japanese I’ve seen who asks for a fork.

It wouldn’t be bad to have breakfast with Miki. It’s not like I’ve got anything better to do, anyhow.

“Sure, see you in thirty.”

After another awkward encounter in the bathroom (Kenji passed out on the counter, head in the sink, fully dressed), I manage to shower and get to the gates in time.

Miki, as always, is perky and prepped as ever, a trademark grin on her face as she greets me with a wave.

“Yo, Hisao, Shanghai?”

“Sounds good.”

The walk down the hill is perfectly serene. It’s deep spring now, so the hills are lush and bloom with flowering trees. Each floating petal seems to have a secret to tell, just as each frenzied bee warns me of the finals in six weeks.

There’s a lot of time until then. I don’t have to start studying now.

I look over at Miki. There’s a semi-uneasy look on her face. She’s normally pretty laid-back, so I wonder what’s bothering her.

“Hey, Miki, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.”

I don’t really want to press her on it. If she wants to discuss it, she will.

The rest of the walk passes in a peaceful bliss. The grey asphalt rolls off the heel of my shoes, giving me a spring in my step.

Sometimes, I’m so exhausted by dealing with people during the week. You have to smile, and laugh at jokes, and crack some of your own. You have fun while you’re doing it, but there’s always something false.

For example, the joke Rika cracked at lunch yesterday wasn’t that funny, but I laughed anyway. Because everyone else did. And because it was the nice thing to do. If someone tells a joke, you’re supposed to laugh with them.

I feel sort of bad for thinking like this. I wonder if other people actually laugh because they think the joke’s funny. Or if they’re just like me.

Maybe that’s why I enjoy moments like these. On a peaceful walk into town, you don’t have to pretend at all.

We stop in front of the Shanghai. Miki’s normal grin looks like it’s been twisted seventy degrees sideways, and she’s gritting her teeth.

“Miki, seriously, are you ok?”

“Errgghhh… homemade Tabasco burritos last night… poor decision.”

I can't help but chuckle. I can picture Miki microwaving a dorm-kitchen tortilla concoction, then wolfing it down in a frenzy. Then deciding to run the next morning.

“So, right now, Hisao, the Miura is about to vomit all of her three past meals. Why don’t you go in and find a table, while I violently assault the nearest restroom.”

Miki makes another grimace, bending slightly at the waist.

Well, you are what you eat.

As Miki bashes through the door, I follow after, giving a nod to a (as always) harried looking Yuuko while casting my eyes about for an open table.

For a Saturday morning, the place is expectedly empty.

I step among the wooden dividers, watching the green leather glow dimly in the reflected sun. It’s peaceful here at the Shanghai, with a wafting smell of coffee and freshly baked pastries.

A smell I could definitely get used to.

As I step around one of the wooden dividers, a flash of yellow catches my eye. Sure enough, another glance reveals it’s Lilly, calmly sipping tea.

I guess I should say hello.

“Hey, Lilly.”

“… Hisao?”

“Yup.”

She seems to ponder this information for a moment. Eventually, she comes to a decision.

“Care to take a seat?”

Hmmm. I did promise Miki I’d secure a table, but it’d be pretty rude to decline Lilly’s invitation.

I’m certain the two of them get along.

“Sure.”

As I sit down, Yuuko slides a beautiful looking cappuccino in front of me. There’s even a bear drawn into the frothed milk.

I sit and savor the morning silence. A cup of coffee, and a pretty girl. Seems to be all you need on a Saturday morning.

I look across at Lilly. Her eyes are a cloudy, unblinking, sky blue, a gentle smile on her face.

She really seems to be in control of her life. What I’d give for that.

Looking at her, another thought strikes me. The last time I saw Lilly… I…

I should address that.

“Hey, Lilly?”

“Yes, Hisao?”

“About earlier in the year… when I yelled at you and Shizune… I’m sorry. I was really stressed from being a new student, but that’s no excuse for rudeness. And then I got caught up in the entire Saki thing and I never had the chance to apologize.”

She giggles into her tea. Her blue eyes look up and impossibly focus on me, a gentle smile on her face.

“It’s alright, Hisao. If I thought you were a bad person, we wouldn’t be having tea right now, would we?”

“I guess not. Thanks, Lilly.”

“No problem at all, Hisao.”

We sit and sip our drinks quietly. I wonder where Miki is.

Probably still dealing with the effects of her “Tabasco burritos.”

Suzu once related the recipe to me. Apparently it involves a tortilla, some beans, a lot of Tabasco… and nothing else. Typical Miki.

It’s something Saki would have done. I’ve got to stop thinking about her.

I wonder if it’s this way with all relationships. They never leave you, no matter how hard you try.

I look at Lilly again. Her lips are pursed in deep thought. I wonder what she’s thinking about.

She breaks the silence, a gentle question posed through the air.

“A penny for your thoughts, Hisao.”

The question catches me off guard. My answer springs out before I even think about it.

“Hmmm… I guess I’m just thinking about life in general. Taking it a day at a time, you know. ”

“You just seemed a little worried there, Hisao. Are you alright?”

Lilly must be pretty good to catch me thinking about Saki. I guess she heard the change in my breathing patterns, and deduced something from that.

It irritates me a little how perfectly perceptive she is, a master at social interaction.

I gaze across at her, looking for any sign of smugness, but she instead offers me a weak, supplicative smile.

I guess Lilly cares about the people she meets, even if it’s just for coffee on a Saturday morning.

I think I can trust Lilly. It’s only been five minutes, but I get a sense that she genuinely cares. Just how to phrase it, now.

“I… uh… I guess I’m still thinking about Enomoto” I offer lamely.

Lilly purses her lips again, lost in thought before voicing her next question.

“What about her?” she asks gently.

“I…” I’m at a loss for words. I don’t know what I really miss about her other than the fact that she’s gone.

I…

I wonder why I do miss her.

I look to Lilly. A concerned furrow of the eyebrows mixes with her gentle, warm, smile.

I think I can trust Lilly.

“To be honest… I guess I don’t really know.”

A thought strikes me.

“I guess I miss Saki because I miss being close to someone—having an intimacy with someone not even on a sexual level, but just as friends. Someone where you don’t even need words to express humor.

I think when I was with Saki, I didn’t feel a need to worry about my heart condition or what other people thought of me. I just felt like a normal teenager with his girlfriend. I felt secure for once.”

Now that I look back on it, I’m not really sure what I was doing for myself. I watched Saki hurt a lot of people, but I’m not sure why I didn’t step in.

I guess I was afraid of losing her, because I thought if I lost her, I’d lose myself.”

Lilly opens her mouth but closes it, second checking her thoughts.

I’m curious as what she has to say. Maybe she can lend me a female perspective on it.

But before I can hear her response, a purple flash slams into me, shouldering me deep into the booth.

“Gee, Hisao, I never knew you were such a Gaylord.”

Lilly’s look of thought is replaced by one of complete confusion.

“… Miura?”

“Whaddup, Satou! But you can call me Miki.”

Shit. Shitshitshitshitshit. I forget to tell Lilly I came here with Miki.

“Uhhh… sorry I forgot to mention this, Lilly, Miki came with me to have breakfast…”

Fuck. Now I made it sound like Lilly’s third-wheeling.

Luckily for me, Miki comes to the rescue.

“But now that you’re here, Lilly, we can all have breakfast together!”

“… is that alright, Hisao?”

“I wouldn’t want to have it any other way.”

Lilly gives me a weak smile again. It seems to be a trademark of hers.

“Yo, Yuuko, breakfast?” rings out Miki.

Despite the lack of customers, or maybe because of, Yuuko dashes around the corner with terrifying speed.

“HhHow can I help you?”

“Sup Yooks. Huevos Rancheros with a side of hash browns, please.”

I suppose Miki hasn’t learned anything from her encounter with spicy foods last night.

“A-and for you, Hisao?”

“I’ll just have some egg whites, please.” Gotta keep it healthy.

“Lilly?”

“A croissant would be lovely, Yuuko.”

Yuuko looks at us anxiously, worried that there’s a fourth person she’s somehow omitted. Eventually satisfied that she’s covered all the bases, she hurries off to the kitchen.

“So, we were talkin’ bout Saki, huh?”

Miki seems like she drank a red bull or two in the bathroom. That, or that stomach thing really had her down.

Understandably, Lilly looks uncomfortable discussing her personal opinion of Saki around others.

To be honest, I’m sort of uneasy too. It’s one thing discussing it with Lilly, but entirely another thing discussing it with Miki.

It’s almost like Miki and I have an unspoken agreement—she doesn’t bring it up, and neither will I. But now, when it’s on the table, I have a sense that she’s terribly interested. That, or she’s just abnormally peppy this morning.

Urrrrggghhh. What do I say. What. Do. I. say.

Fuck.

Luckily for me, a bobbing blue ball appears outside the Shanghai. A dazy, rolling ball of blue hair.

Suzu?

Miki glances out the window, sees Suzu, and nearly flips the table over.

“Oh jeez, is that Suzu? What’s she doing down here? I’ve got to make sure she’s okay!”

Without a second word, she bolts outside. I hear a familiar roar in the distance.

“SNOOOOOZZUUU, WHATCHA DOIN HERE?”

Inside the Shanghai, Lilly and I both breathe a sigh of relief.

I sip at my coffee. I’m glad I didn’t have to talk about Saki in front of Miki. But I sort of wanted to hear what Lilly had to say.

I guess it can’t hurt to ask.

“Lilly, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, but what were you going to say about Saki?”

Her mouth forms a small o, blindsided by the directness of my question.

She then gives me a warm, genuine, smile, breaking into a small giggle.

“My, my, Hisao, aren’t we the curious one?”

She places a hand on her chin, choosing her words carefully.

“Hisao… you like to read, don’t you?”

“Sure, I go through about a book or two a week.”

“Do you read any poetry?”

“Yeah, I actually went through a couple of volumes.”

Lilly purses her lips again, picking her words.

“I loved you, and I probably still do… “

She looks at me expectantly. Surely she can’t expect me to know a poem from just the first line.

Luckily for her, (or maybe more for me), I’m all read up on my Pushkin.

“And for a while the feeling may remain…” I trail off, letting her take the next line.

“But let my love no longer trouble you…” she looks at me expectantly again. I guess we're to alternate line-by-line.

“I do not wish to cause you any pain…”

“I loved you; and the hopelessness I knew…”

“The jealousy, the shyness –though in vain-…”

“Made up a love so tender and so true…”

“As God may grant you to be loved again.” I finish.

Lilly flashes me a weak smile and resumes sipping her tea, giving me time to process what she’s said.

Well, Pushkin did get shot through the spleen for challenging his wife’s lover. But I’m pretty sure that’s not what she’s getting at.

I sit and ponder for a moment, drinking the coffee in front of me.

Ah. Clever.

According to Pushkin (or Lilly), it’s okay for me to miss Saki, and even more, it shows that we had a real connection.

But, dwelling on the past produces nothing. If anything, one should look to the future, where the possibility of love, either from the original or to a new horizon, lies.

“I think I get it. Thanks, Lilly.”

“No problem, Hisao.”

We sip our drinks quietly. Yuuko arrives moments later, overladen with an array of succulent looking food.

“Thanks, Yuuko.”

“Thank you, Yuuko.”

Moments later, Miki comes sliding through the corners, looking out of breath and frazzled.

“So sorry guys, Suzu was on the verge of falling asleep and I had to pump her full of Tank Fuel, which is an energy drink, to get her up the hill and…”

She trails off.

“Wow, is that food! I’m starving!”

She plops herself down next to me, narrative all forgotten. She digs in noisily to her food, green salsa forming pools on yellow eggs.

I give Lilly a nudge. She returns a brilliant smile, knowing exactly what I’m thinking.

I guess… it’s time for breakfast.

Hmm. Far too many phrases in brackets for my liking. In fact, with prose like this, there shouldn't be any at all. Mutou's first name is Akio. Severe mood whiplash with Miki. Very little reason to name brands unless the brand name is a plot point. No need to linebreak successive sentences of speech by the same person, especially when the same format is used elsewhere with mulitple speakers. I wouldn't suspect a teahouse such as the Shanghai would serve Mexican food, let alone any kind of chili-based meal. Why is Suzu even there? Why is Miki surprised to see her food has arrived? Why mention Rika, let alone her telling a joke, for no reason? "A penny for your thoughts" is not a question.

That's all for now.

I agree that Miki in this scene is WAY over the top.
Also, I find it hard to believe that Hisao, well read though he may be, would be familiar with Pushkin.
I think Keiji Mutou is Akio Mutou's brother.

Mirage_GSM wrote:I think Keiji Mutou is Akio Mutou's brother.

Oh, you're right. Nevertheless, naming two Mutous in two sentences and only writing out one given name seems a bit silly. Why would Akio Mutou just be referred to as Mutou, especially in such a situation in which both he and another Mutou are present?

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:Hmm. Far too many phrases in brackets for my liking.

I'm not entirely sure what you mean by brackets. Do you mean parenthetical () or quotes ""?

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:No need to linebreak successive sentences of speech by the same person, especially when the same format is used elsewhere with mulitple speakers.

Oops, the line breaks were meant to signify they were repeating poetry together, alternating one line at a time. Fixed, and thanks for clarifying.

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:I wouldn't suspect a teahouse such as the Shanghai would serve Mexican food, let alone any kind of chili-based meal. Why is Suzu even there? Why is Miki surprised to see her food has arrived? Why mention Rika, let alone her telling a joke, for no reason?

I guess my only reply is things happen, because they happen. Suzu often wonders into town because she has insomnia. Huevos rancheros isn't that difficult of a meal to make--it just involves salsa and eggs. Hisao mentions Rika because he probably hung out with her in the days before. I'll try and clarify next time, but I didn't think that those details were important to the story.

Mirage_GSM wrote:I agree that Miki in this scene is WAY over the top.
Also, I find it hard to believe that Hisao, well read though he may be, would be familiar with Pushkin.

Hmm, yeah, I did make Miki a little crazy in this chapter. I initially wanted it to be that she was nervous because she had a crush on Hisao, but that plot choice never really came up when I wrote it... maybe I should have fixed that. I think you got me fair and square.

I guess the Pushkin thing was a little far-fetched, but I figured it's something very Lilly-Hisao. Lilly, well-read, loves books, and so does Hisao. It was an excellent connection point, and further pushed Lilly's idea of "faith" in that she believed that Hisao knew his poetry. Maybe it was me being a hopeless romantic.

Thanks for your feedback, guys

SemisoftCheese wrote:I'm not entirely sure what you mean by brackets. Do you mean parenthetical () or quotes ""?

Parentheses. I can't say I've ever heard of quotation marks being referred to as brackets, but whatever. Maybe it's different outside of Australia.

SemisoftCheese wrote:Oops, the line breaks were meant to signify they were repeating poetry together, alternating one line at a time. Fixed, and thanks for clarifying.

I was referring to the following passage:

SemisoftCheese wrote:A thought strikes me.

“I guess I miss Saki because I miss being close to someone—having an intimacy with someone not even on a sexual level, but just as friends. Someone where you don’t even need words to express humor.”

“I think when I was with Saki, I didn’t feel a need to worry about my heart condition or what other people thought of me. I just felt like a normal teenager with his girlfriend. I felt secure for once.”

“Now that I look back on it, I’m not really sure what I was doing for myself. I watched Saki hurt a lot of people, but I’m not sure why I didn’t step in.”

“I guess I was afraid of losing her, because I thought if I lost her, I’d lose myself.”

Lilly opens her mouth but closes it, second checking her thoughts.

SemisoftCheese wrote:Huevos rancheros isn't that difficult of a meal to make--it just involves salsa and eggs.

The difficulty of the recipe - or lack thereof - isn't relevant. Remember, these characters are in Japan. I would not suspect that Mexican food would be common in general, and again, be served at a tea house. A.k.a. a café. Think Starbucks or something.

SemisoftCheese wrote:I didn't think that those details were important to the story.

If they're not important, either don't write them, or be more subtle about it and make them important later (Chekhov's gun/gunman/etc).

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:I was referring to the following passage:

SemisoftCheese wrote:A thought strikes me.

“I guess I miss Saki because I miss being close to someone—having an intimacy with someone not even on a sexual level, but just as friends. Someone where you don’t even need words to express humor.”

“I think when I was with Saki, I didn’t feel a need to worry about my heart condition or what other people thought of me. I just felt like a normal teenager with his girlfriend. I felt secure for once.”

“Now that I look back on it, I’m not really sure what I was doing for myself. I watched Saki hurt a lot of people, but I’m not sure why I didn’t step in.”

“I guess I was afraid of losing her, because I thought if I lost her, I’d lose myself.”

Lilly opens her mouth but closes it, second checking her thoughts.

I'd actually fix that by dropping the closing double-quote at the end of the second, third, and fourth lines. That's how you indicate that the same speaker has the next line. The breaks help convey the passage of time between each line as Hisao formulates his response.

It's kinda odd. This route is making me like Miki more

I like what you tried to do with Miki's reactions on the way to the Shanghai, but it kinda made me think she was setting him up (like arranging a lunch with Saki and bringing him along) more than it conveyed her crush on him.

Perhaps making her more nervous than evasive?