Previous Chapter|
Part 1|
Next Chapter
________________________________________________
Sometime later, I'm not sure how we got there, but Hisao and I are sitting on the octagonal platform atop the pool building, holding hands. Leaning against each-other, we look toward the dimly-lit pink sky, dotted with beautiful wisps of clouds, and wreathed by tiny dots of starlight. The gorgeous sunset lights our faces as we turn and lock eyes.
His smile is broad and lascivious, but so is my own; our thoughts seemingly in synch. Feeling intense gravity pull me toward him, he reacts similarly, and soon our lips meet. Closing my eyes, I feel a warm sensation spread across my entire body. Wrapping my hands around his neck, I swing around on top of him, centering my hips over his waist.
Pressing him against the cold metal grate, I deepen the kiss. Wincing at the discomfort, he squirms, but, as I sink my hips against him, his face lights up bright red and he sighs contentedly. His hands, meanwhile, trace along my sides and down to my waist where they catch on my sweater and start pulling it upward.
Breaking the kiss, I lean away and let him pull the sweater up over my head, sending my hair flying awkwardly over my shoulders. Feeling his hands tentatively reach for the clasp of my brassiere, I giggle as he fumbles to work the mechanism. Falling back against him, we resume the lip-lock while he makes annoyed grunts, still unable to release the clip.
Quickly growing tired of his inexperience with intimate clothing, I break the kiss again and sit up over him, looking down seductively and swaying my hips as I reach back. Unfastening the clip, I roll my shoulders to push the straps free and fall against him again, meeting his lips before the lacy black bra can slip away. Seeing disappointment in his eyes, I laugh a little through the kiss – he can wait a little longer.
Running his hands up and down my thighs, I can feel his erratic heartbeat quicken, but he shows no sign of distress; quite the opposite. Pushing his hot face against mine, he sits up and leans against his elbows. Retracting with him, I miss the sensation of his hands against me, but we've barely started this dance.
Parting lips once again, I hold up the brassiere with my hands and lean away. Slowly and deliberately, I pull downward, letting him stew in anticipation as I slowly reveal myself to him. Before I can finish, though, he opens his mouth as though he might say something or gasp, but instead a strange noise escapes his lips – and it's not his voice.
It's music, I think, but it sounds distant and muffled like it were being played behind a wall. The pink sky behind him begins to darken suddenly, and soon the whole world is blanketed in cold blackness. Hisao underneath me, his mouth still agape, stares blankly with his mouth open as I stare back at him confusedly; still holding my brazier.
Vanishing suddenly, Hisao is gone and the annoying music becomes louder. There's a strange orange glow to this darkness, and it takes a few seconds to realize I'm staring at my own eyelids. Opening my eyes and quickly squinting at the sunrise beating into my open window, I glare at my j-pop blaster, feeling betrayed.
Dammit, that dream was just getting good!
Still, listening to its perky tune, I can't help but smile. Vivid and visceral, the dream didn't get to the good part, but it left me to wake smiling wickedly with my body tingling and heart fluttering. Evidently the Aiko in my own dreams is the one I should be worried about, since she's obviously aggressive and dominant – forceful, even. Although, I imagine the Aiko in Hisao's dreams isn't much different, and somehow that's a comforting thought.
“6:00 am” the clock reads, and I realize I've just slept for almost ten consecutive hours. Feeling a little sweaty, probably because of that dream, I look over at the window and notice it looks a little damp outside. Apparently it rained a little overnight, but only lightly. Reaching up, I pull the window closed, catching a slight chill from the air along my bare arm. Turning, I wrap a blanket around me and bound off my bed, headed for the closet.
Glancing at the cleared carpet I haven't seen in months, dimly lit by the diffused light shining through the curtains, I smile at my recent industriousness. After yesterday's excavation, I'm able to walk across my room without fear of tripping. While there is still debris to be avoided, it's in little piles that only cover a quarter of the carpet it once did, so it's much easier to avoid.
After collecting my swimsuit from the closet, which I'm actually able to close now, I sit on my bed and shrug the blanket off my shoulders. If there's a chance Hisao actually might see inside here, then I want it to at least look partially organized. Aside from that, I need to find my sunglasses, and all the usual places are hauntingly empty. Perhaps Amaya borrowed them, or I simply discarded them and forgot, but she said to bring summer-fare and I intend to follow that imperative.
Taking a quick moment in a last-ditch effort, I crawl across my bed to the edge against the wall and pull at the mattress, trying to peer down behind in search of my missing shades. Not being able to see down into the darkness very well, I feel around, but none of the debris feels familiar. Sighing, I give up the search for now, deciding to get changed and head down for the morning swim with Hisao.
Meeting him outside by the breezeway, he ushers me through the door and keeps his eyes away; playfully avoiding eye contact to prevent temptation. This will probably be my last chance to wile information out of him, but I don't expect to be successful. The sway I try to put into my walk makes me giggle, but with him facing the other direction, it's sadly ineffective. Even if I thought it was working, I don't think I'd take advantage of his entranced state; it's actually more fun not knowing and playing these little games.
Well, okay, I'd bleed every bit of information out of him, but I'd probably feel bad about it; maybe.
Hearing a faint, familiar chuckle coming from the far side of the room, I glance over and smile at Joyce. Returning a slight nod, she doesn't leave her place by the wall; apparently choosing not to interfere. Previously she would walk over on some mornings to watch us swim, but now she does her watching from the far corner. Our quiet chaperone keeps an eye on us, as always, but she has been giving us a wide berth since before Tanabata.
Once we've stretched, I make a point of turning away to remove the track-pants slowly, willfully drawing his attention. He knows it's bluster, though, merely shaking his head and smirking sardonically at my display. The blush is there, but that's involuntary, and doesn't indicate anything more than biology. Tossing them at him with a playful grunt of frustration, I smirk and ask, “did you dream about me last night?”
Not waiting for his answer, I run toward the pool and leap into a cannonball, splashing into the water and letting myself sink to the bottom. Shooting upward with a strong kick, I break the surface and throw my hair back, turning my eyes up to where he stands by the side of the pool.
Reaching my hand up out of the water, I beckon him to join me, smiling seductively. His stoic expression falters for just a moment as he steps off and slips into the water like a spear, but when he breaks the surface again, he's laughing and shaking his head.
“You're enjoying this entirely too much,” he complains.
“I have to find enjoyment in it somehow, otherwise I'd just be a nervous wreck,” I explain, swimming over to him with a wry smile. “How do you even know I won't hate the place we're going?” I ask, knowing it's a loaded question.
“We have our sources,” he answers, not falling for the trap.
Giggling, I motion toward the side and explain, “I might not go easy on you today, just so you know.” Following me, he answers with a groan and gets set to start our laps.
Before we kick off, I lean toward him and kiss his cheek, then whisper lightly, “I had a dream about you.”
Then I kick away, putting all my might into distancing myself from him as fast as possible, giggling and carrying on as a blush flushes my face. Not really able to see him, I hear him start to chase after me, but I reach the far wall and kick off before he even gets half way.
Passing by him, I smile broadly at the bright flush of color on his face, but I don't slow my pace. Speeding toward the first wall, I glance back and see he picked up his own pace, already kicking off the opposite wall. Matching my pace as well as he can, we repeatedly meet in the middle and share glances.
After four laps, I start to see his pace slow, and I decide this has been enough torture. Slowing down as he approaches, I spin and prepare to join at his side for the rest of our laps. Grinning wickedly, I tread water and shake my hair, then stare willfully at him with a mocking pout. “Slow-poke,” I say when he gets close enough to see my face over the splashing water.
“Finally... feeling... tired?” he asks between gasps.
Grinning at him playfully, I don't answer. As he passes, I swim alongside, taking my usual place, though technically a full lap ahead of him. Resuming our usual pace, I listen to his breathing for signs of distress, but mostly I'm just content to watch him pull himself through the water.
Having dreamed about him before, I don't recall them ever being so vivid or explicit, and the echo of those images fills my thoughts. It's normal to dream like that, I think, but I don't think I'm ready to act on those subconscious longings.
That doesn't mean I can't revel in them.
Panting and still flushed, though it's probably not entirely from the physical strain, Hisao leans against the wall when we've finished our last lap and smiles at me contentedly. “You... really are... a mermaid,” he says, still gasping for air.
In response, I take a deep breath, kick off the wall and dive down under the gently rippling waves. Streaking through the water, I spin and start gently pushing myself down until I land against the bottom. Opening my eyes, I feel the chlorine burning my eyes a little and I wince, but it's worth it for the view. Hisao has his face in the water and is looking down at me with a wide grin, but I'm watching his toned legs as they push gently against the water, keeping him buoyant.
Dad used to time Midori and I when we'd dive down, and see how long we could hold our breath. My longest record was ninety-six seconds, but I was twelve and my lungs have grown since then. Counting in my head, after about forty-five seconds, Hisao's face starts to twist into a worried expression, but I just smile at him and offer a thumbs-up. My lungs burn a little, but I'm not distressed at all.
Sixty seconds in, already having looked away a few times to refill his lungs, he looks like he's about to dive down and drag me to the surface. Deciding I've worried him enough, I pull my legs under me and kick hard, exhaling as I shoot upward. Breaking the surface, I take a deep breath and toss my hair back to get it out of my face.
Rubbing my eyes to get the sting out, I see my display had the desired effect on Hisao. Blushing and staring at me, his eyes are filled with wonderment – or maybe that's lust. Paddling over, Hisao stops and treads water right in front of me, unable to keep the lascivious smile off his face. “You could have stayed down longer,” he guesses, looking at me with a crooked smile, “good to know.”
What's that supposed to mean?
“Been doing this since I was eight,” I say flatly, offering a humble smile. “Dad used to call me his little mermaid, too,” I mention, wrapping my hand over his neck, “thanks for that, by the way.”
“What-” he starts to ask, but I cut him off by pulling him close and meeting his lips with my own. Momentarily forgetting to continue kicking, he begins sinking into the water, so I grab his elbow and pull him up awkwardly.
“Hey, no escape for you!” I scold through a giggle.
“You two kids done, or do I need to get a hose?” Joyce says suddenly, appearing at the side of the pool like a ninja stalker.
Hisao pushes away from me and laughs nervously, blushing fiercely while I spin and do much the same. Joyce is crouching at the side of the pool, grinning widely and stifling a laugh. Collecting myself, I take a breath and answer, “no need, we're just leaving.”
Hisao chimes in, “nothing happened, I swear!”
Way to keep cool, Swooner.
“Keep it that way,” Joyce advises, looking at Hisao sternly. “Remember what I told you,” she adds cryptically.
Hearing the little exchange, I'm not sure who to look at, so I just turn my eyes between both of them, trying to see if one of them is going to explain. Then again, if Joyce told Nurse about our relationship, there's a good chance they cornered him at some point, and might have similarly embarrassed him with a gift of prophylactics – or frightened him with threats of medication tampering.
I don't think I want to know.
The good news is neither of them is telling me, so I swim toward the ladder and practically leap out of the water. Joyce can't contain her laughter anymore and begins guffawing hysterically as she walks back toward her little corner of the room. Hisao follows me up the ladder a moment later, immediately reaching for his scar and rubbing it absently as I wrap myself in the bathrobe and start rubbing my hair with the towel.
Sitting on the bench, he shoots me a conspiratorial glance and pats the spot beside him, beckoning me to sit down. Looking at him with a confused furrow of my brow, I follow his beckoning and take a seat beside him, using the low angle to reach down and towel off my legs. “What's up?” I inquire, not bothering to look at him.
“Have you told anyone about my...” his voice fades and I turn to regard his solemn expression.
Nodding with understanding, I don't need to hear the rest of his question. “No,” I reply, “not even Amaya.”
Leaning back against the wall, he places both hands at his sides and sighs deeply. “This weekend, I'm pretty sure it'll end up coming up,” he mentions. Closing his eyes and wincing, he asks, “you think they'll freak out?”
Shaking my head at his apparent apprehension, I offer a disarming giggle and assure him, “don't worry about it so much.” He doesn't look convinced, so I add, “if they even notice, they probably won't care about that thin red line.”
His worried look begins to crack into a smile and I feel relieved. Remembering a conversation from a few days ago, I remark, “Rin seemed to know about it, and it didn't bother her.”
He looks at me questioningly, “she never saw the scar, though. I had to tell her about the arrhythmia or she would have continued thinking the problem was in my pants.” He blanches as I offer him a raised eyebrow and he amends his statement, “she was trying to guess my condition and-”
“Right, whatever,” I interject, rolling my eyes and pouting playfully, “I don't need the details of your sordid affair.” He knows I'm just toying with him, but I do feel better knowing that him telling Rin wasn't intentional.
Finally releasing his white-knuckle grip on the bench, he leans forward and lets out a laugh, shaking his head. “I'm sure they won't mind it,” he says, “but I'm afraid what they might think.”
Placing my hand over his scar, I feel his heartbeat for a few seconds, quick and erratic as always; though that might be my doing. “I think it gives you character,” I remark, “like battle scars.”
Hearing that makes him smile, but he quickly frowns and says, “I've never been in battle, though.”
“Sure you have,” I retort, “you fought off a heart attack, had heart surgery, and cheated death itself – if that's not a battle won, I don't know what is.” Seeing his reaction, I'm not surprised by the incredulous expression. In light of that I add, “you're still fighting it, too. Keeping yourself healthy to ward off future attacks.” Softly punching his arm to drive the point in, I stand and go back to drying myself.
“Thanks,” he says after a long pause, “I guess it's just nerves.”
Realizing there was an implication in his nervousness, I inquire, “was that a hint at where we're going, by the way?”
Smirking as he stands, he replies with a cryptic, “maybe,” but otherwise says nothing.
Heading back to the dorms, walking arm-in-arm, we're pretty quiet, but my head swims through a series of questions. There have been several hints about our destination, but not enough to make a solid guess. Wherever we're going, apparently it's summer-themed, which really tells me nothing. Hisao will have to reveal his condition, it seems, so perhaps it's a theme park or something similar; a place where he'll need to be cautious about his condition.
Then again, he got evasive when I mentioned my uncle's beach house the other night, so maybe we're going someplace by the water. That could easily mean we're going someplace in the woods, like a mountain lake. Some other students are heading out on a camping trip, so perhaps we're going someplace similar. That would explain why he'd have to reveal his condition, too, if he planned on going swimming.
Unfortunately, the fleeting hints aren't enough to come to a solid conclusion, so as we part ways I'm forced to put it out of my mind. Hisao is pretty good at keeping secrets, and Amaya could be a spy if she had the inclination, so I don't expect to know where we're going until we get there. Wherever we're going, I'll just be happy to be there with my friends and not have them fighting about something stupid the entire time.
Friday classes are more review and careful warnings to set aside some time over the long weekend to study; advice that will likely go unheeded. Though, I'll probably bring my English textbook and my laptop; assuming we have access to electricity. Either way, I should probably focus on making sure my weaker subjects get some careful consideration, though I doubt we'll end up doing much studying.
Lunch passes by without incident, and the rest of the day feels like a battle with the clock. More than once when checking its hands, I'm sure they're moving backwards. By the end of history class, most of my classmates have abandoned the pretense of paying attention and instead chatter among themselves. Mrs. Owaku gives up bothering to keep us focused, and instead spends the last twenty minutes of class reading a romance novel she thinks is cleverly disguised in a different slip-cover.
When the bell rings, the class devolves into bedlam as whoops and yells echo from several classrooms. Being on the far side of the room, away from the door, I have the luxury of not getting trampled in the bottle-necking to escape academia. Strangely, I notice that Yoko, Kenta and Naoko stay in their seats, as well as Amaya and Tadao. Once the remainder have cleared out of the room, and I've collected my bag, I find myself flanked by Amaya and Naoko.
Each one hooks an arm around one of mine, Amaya on my right and Naoko on my left, and they walk me out of the classroom with the other three trailing behind. Evidently they planned this, I realize, so I'm not as apprehensive as they probably desired, but when they start walking me up the stairs, I get curious. Glancing behind, I notice we're being followed by Hisao, Shizune and Misha as well – silently marching me to some unknown destination.
Amaya levels a broad grin at me as we approach our apparent destination, the math lab, and we slow to a stop. Shizune walks around ahead of us and unlocks the room, beckoning us to follow. At the door, Amaya and Naoko push me off to the side while the others file into the room, Misha bringing up the rear. When Hisao walks in ahead of her, she turns and glares at me with her Cheshire-cat grin, and remains in the hall as the door closes – assigned to guard the door against my entry, apparently.
“So they stuck you with guard duty,” I remark sardonically.
“Wahaha~!” Misha booms, “Yep~!” Placing her hands on her hips and puffing out her chest, she smiles proudly. Whatever else I might say about Misha, she's always ready to carry out an assignment. The way she looks, I think she may have volunteered.
Wondering what they're discussing inside, I inquire, “you probably can't tell me, but I should probably ask, what's with the meeting?”
“Details~!” she replies, her one-word answer being both cryptic and completely unusual for her normally verbose speaking style. Although, most of the times I've talked with Misha, it has really been as she parroted Shizune's signing, so perhaps that's just a result of her translation.
Come to think of it, I don't recall ever talking to Misha alone.
Unfortunately, as I look into her golden eyes, I realize we basically have nothing to talk about. The way she follows Shizune around most of the time, acting as her interpreter, I find that I know very little about Misha herself. Obviously she's her own person, but I typically only meet her as she's relaying messages from the loudest mute in the world. Usually, it's difficult to tell where Shizune ends and Misha's editorializing begins.
Looking her over, I marvel at her drill-like haircut. I can't imagine the time it must take her to maintain that ridiculous pink hairstyle, but it suits her better than the long, straight brunette style she had when we first met. Always so bright and cheerful, I admire her positive outlook; even though her persistent loudness can be grating. After a few minutes of rather uncomfortable silence, I begin to wonder how I can have spent so much time in a room with her and barely know her.
Just a few weeks later, I can safely say I know Hisao better than I know Misha. Hell, after only a few hours, I probably know more about Yoko than I've learned about Misha in the past two years. The only thing of a personal nature I think I can recall is that she's among the students at Yamaku who actually aren't physically disabled. Sensing she's having a similar internal discussion about me, I glance over and offer a smile. Still not knowing what to say, I remain silent.
For her part, she returns the smile, but, as we both wait, I see a strange expression cross her face. It's slight, but, on someone whose expression is typically incomprehensibly cheery, even a slight frown looks alien. Never having known her to look anything less than bombastically chipper, the maudlin frown cutting at the edges of her cheerful demeanor is rather surprising.
Seeing my perplexed reaction, she quickly smiles again, but I'm left wondering what thought crossed her mind to suddenly make happy-go-lucky Misha frown for any length of time. Trying not to seem too concerned, I look away to wonder if I could have upset her somehow. Maybe it's just fatigue stemming from the extra time she had been putting into studying lately, or I just imagined the frown.
Whatever it was, I don't get very long to wonder as the door pulls open behind her, and Amaya beckons us both into the room. Hisao takes my hand as we step through the door and leads me over to a table. Looking around at the various grins and smirks, I'm pretty sure they're not bringing me in here to tell me where we're going; I think that's the part I was kept outside to miss, actually.
“Now that we're all assembled,” Amaya says, “let me reiterate that Aiko is not to know our destination.”
Saw that coming.
As she speaks, I notice both Tadao and Misha translating. Having not seen Tadao sign in a while, I smile at the difference between their signing styles. While Misha tends to sign quickly and with a lot of animated motions, similar to the way Naoko does, Tadao signs close to his body and hardly moves at all. Misha's vocabulary contains a lot more specific signs, and she uses a few that seem more like special signs she and Shizune use for various purposes. Tadao sticks to more traditional JSL, and only uses a few special signs – mostly for people's names.
This meeting is basically her getting everyone together to go over the specifics of the trip, so it's mostly things I've already been told. Carefully avoiding the topic of our destination, Amaya explains that we all need to be packed and waiting at the bus stop by five thirty tomorrow morning. Reiterating on her advice to bring summer-fare, she advises bringing sunglasses, sunscreen and something to read on the long bus trip. Once she's gone down her short list of recommendations, she adjourns the meeting and we break off into groups headed to the dorms.
Shizune and Misha head off together, both looking at me with conspiratorial smiles; the frown I thought I saw seeming to have never happened. Hisao leaves with Tadao and Kenta, and I'm happy to see the three of them getting along as I'd suspected. The rest of us walk back to the dorms together, and Yoko seems excited to have a guest for the evening. Naoko looks a little confused about spending the night with Yoko, who doesn't sign, but I suggest giving her some perfunctory lessons.
Stirring the pot, one might say.
Amaya and I end up in my room, where she insists on helping me sort out my junk piles and get the floor cleared of debris. Once we've cleared it out a bit, she insists that I leave the room while she collects a few things she thinks I'll need, but won't know to pack.
“No peeking,” she demands, pushing me into the hallway.
Shrugging in response, I lean against her door, wondering why I'm letting her dig through my room; regardless of the reason she gave. Frustrated by her secrecy, I guess I'm letting her do it because, while I'm curious about our destination, I'm excited to be heading for an unknown. That she's putting this much work into keeping it a secret tells me she cares a lot about making it a surprise, and I guess that's comforting.
In a backwards kind of way.
When my door opens and I see a strange accusatory look in her eyes, I stare back confusedly for a few moments. Dragging me back into the room by my elbow and closing the door swiftly, she leans in close and places an upraised finger against her chin, observing my bewildered expression with her analytical stare. Uncertain why she's looking at me so curiously, I can't even guess what brought on this sudden inspection.
Stepping away, she lets out a quick breath and then inhales deeply. “What the hell, Aiko?” she says, her other hand coming up in front of her. Within its grasp is a small, oddly labeled cardboard box that I'd forgotten about.
Goddammit, Nurse!
Upon noticing the paling realization on my face and the inevitable blush, she pushes the box out toward me, making me flinch. “In a drawer by your bedside?” she asks in an accusatory tone, her dimples pulled taught by an angry grimace.
“It was- I didn't- There was never- Nurse said-” my explanations keep starting and stopping, and Amaya looks a little more frustrated as I stutter through each preposition. “Nothing happened, I swear!” I finally blurt.
Nice and cool, just like the Swooner.
“Damn straight!” she yells, sounding less angry and more relieved. Placing her hands on her hips, she continues to glare at me, the box wrapped in her slender fingers. “Swooner or no, these are way too big!” she balks, but the statement makes me raise an eyebrow.
Having never really inspected the packaging, being too embarrassed to do so, I never noticed the whole label. Amaya holds it up at me and starts giggling, apparently losing control over the angry face she had been faking. Evidently, there was more to their joke than just giving me condoms – they had given me a box of the largest size available.
My mind wanders a bit as I stare that the box, and I wonder if Nurse may have been trying to tell me something. He is a medical professional, after all, so it's completely possible he's seen Hisao's... region. Maybe it wasn't a joke, and there's a kernel of truth in the seemingly obvious jest. Then again, I'm probably just letting my dirty mind get the better of my sensibilities.
Time to stop thinking about that.
Shoving the musings back into whatever dark corner of my mind they came from, I snatch the box from her hand and stuff it back in the drawer. Regaining my senses, I turn back to regard her giggling countenance with a stern glare and accuse, “you're not supposed to look in that drawer!”
“Okay, I was snooping a little,” she admits, “can you blame me?”
Her question is valid, I suppose, but the constant giggling is disarming the earnestness of her serious tone. The query makes me wonder if she knows about my late-night excursion to meet with Hisao, but I'm not going to bring it up if she doesn't. Instead, I lean against my desk and continue my accusatory glare; edging it with knowing eyes.
I know things about you, Amaya... dirty things.
“Are you done snooping?” I ask, deciding not to play those cards over something so frivolous.
“I found what I needed, yeah,” she says, still stifling her laughter.
“Good, then, vamoose, I have packing to do,” I scold, pointing at the door. Seeing her stare dumbly for a moment, I add, “I know secrets about you, too, little miss judge, so don't tempt me.”
Staring back with an innocent expression, she fumbles with a few responses, but decides to stick her tongue out at me instead. Grabbing a pillowcase she apparently used to hide whatever items she actually went looking for, she storms toward the door, reminding me, “I'm waking you up at five; don't stay up all night.”
Wouldn't dream of it.
Leaving me to pack and count down the hours, I hear Amaya stomp across the hall through her door, and I wonder what she could have taken. Immediately looking through my closet, I try to identify what could be missing, but, considering the usual disarray and the recent upheaval, my chances of finding what's missing are almost incalculable. The only thing I know I can't seem to find is my sunglasses.
They really should be easy to spot considering the frames are shaped like a star and a heart, and they're practically glow-in-the-dark neon green, but they seem to have been swept off to another part of the world by Hurricane Aiko. Picking through the closet, I don't have any luck identifying any missing objects, so I decide to give up and start packing.
Aside from the basic essentials like my hair brush, toiletries, sunscreen, and the anklet Hisao gave me, I figure I'll need a few changes of clothes. Nothing really indicates what I should bring, but Amaya isn't one for formal wear and neither am I, except for occasional yukata, so I assume it's a casual weekend. With that in mind, I grab a few pairs of jeans, some shorts and matching t-shirts, along with some sweaters and a couple nice sundresses Mom picked out for me during last year's summer visit.
Packing it all neatly into my bright yellow suitcase, I close the lid and sit next to it on the bed, trying not to think about what I could be missing. Amaya knows me well enough to have thought of whatever other essentials I'll need beyond her vague suggestion, but I'm still anxious I'll end up missing something important. Glancing at my desk drawer, I wonder if I should toss that little box in my suitcase, but that might be presumptuous; not to mention exceedingly embarrassing if someone else found them by chance – especially Hisao.
Scanning around my room, I take note of my school bag and wonder if I should bother bringing my English textbook. The idea has merit, but I think I really want this to be a vacation from school-work. When we get back, I'll be able to get Amaya and Tadao, and maybe Yoko, to help me cram for the final, so I should be able to get through it even if I likely forget everything later. Hisao already volunteered to help with Mutou's final, history is easy enough to remember with a little word association, and everyone will be asking me for help with calculus.
Thus my eyes skip the school bag and instead center on my laptop. Whether or not we have electricity where we're going, I sort of doubt there will be much time to bother cracking it open for anything. Amaya tends to plan everything, so she probably has a full itinerary mapped out and written down; complete with bullet-points, time stamps and check-boxes to indicate which things we've finished. Short of something drastic happening with the weather, I won't likely get much chance to make use of my laptop, so I'll leave its extra weight here.
One less thing for Hisao to carry.
That thought makes me giggle excitedly. Imagining Hisao with his own bag slung over his shoulder, as well as carrying my suitcase and schoolbag, I can see his face straining under the weight. Meanwhile I'd be dancing around him and smirking playfully, calling him slow, weak and other unmanly adjectives. Watching him climb up a long grassy hill to some undisclosed location, red-faced and panting, I'd revel in his distress – fair punishment for making me wonder all week.
It won't come to that, I'm sure, but thinking about it sends me into a giggle-fit and I fall back on my bed, caught up in the mirth. Looking at the time, I glance outside and see the sky is lit up in a hazy pink glow, and it's a comforting sight. Remembering an old saying Dad used to use to calm us down when we went out deep-sea fishing, I smile and bound up to get a closer look.
Pink sky at night, sailor's delight.
It's a good omen, I think, and, as I'm kneeling there watching the sunset, I hear my phone again. Excitedly bounding off the bed, when I reach the phone, I calm myself before answering. For whatever reason, I don't want Hisao to know I'm so completely carefree about this weekend.
Well, mostly... kind of. Okay, not really.
“Hello,” I answer, forcing a melancholy tone through my grinning teeth.
There's a brief pause as he's assessing the tone of my answer, followed by a stilted reply, “uh, hello?”
“Oh, hi Hisao,” I offer, trying really hard not to laugh.
“Heya, Aiko,” he greets, worry edging his voice. Perhaps I won't get to see him lugging all our luggage, but I have to torture him somehow. After I don't say anything in response, he continues, “thought I'd call and say hi before you go to bed.”
At this point, my eyes are closed and there are tears running down my cheeks as I bite back the incoming laughter, but I can't hold it any longer. “Bwahaha~!” I start laughing over the phone, and after a few seconds, when he decides it isn't crying, he joins in; though in much more subdued fashion.
Once I regain enough control to speak, I scold him, “you made me laugh, dammit!”
“Sorry, I- wait, what? You're the one who-” he stops himself and there's a pause while he chuckles a little. “You're impossible sometimes, y'know that,” he states.
“Yeah but I'm cute,” I reply, back to myself again. “Did you see the sky?” I inquire.
“Yes, on both counts,” he replies, making me smile shyly. “Pink sky at night, sailors delight,” he recounts the old saying, adding, “kinda appropriate considering where we're-” he cuts himself off and goes silent.
Oh! Now that's a hint!
A few seconds pass as we both remain silent. Eventually one of us speaks, and surprisingly it's me. “I won't tell her you slipped,” I assure him.
He sighs audibly and replies, “thanks, I'm not gonna say anything else, though.”
“I'd expect no less,” I say, then add emphatically, “this whole thing has me wrapped up in knots, but I'm loving every minute of it.”
“I'm glad one of us is enjoying it,” he complains, sounding a little stressed, “Amaya's a little taskmaster, y'know.”
My giggle is response enough, and he laughs a little, too. “She's getting me up at five,” I mention, “so I think I should go to bed.”
“Right,” he affirms, “I should too.” Hearing him let out another sigh, I wait for him to continue, “Kenta said he'd be down here battering my door if I'm not outside by ten past.”
“Oh he's harmless, and was probably kidding,” I assure him, “Kenta likes to mess with people.”
There's a short silence, followed by an agreeable grunt. “Well, I'll see you bright and early tomorrow, then,” he says cheerfully, “good night, Aiko.”
“Sleep well, Hisao,” I reply, quickly adding, “dream of me.”
Laughing lightly, he whispers, “you too.” The line cuts and I'm left being reminded of last night's dream.
Oh not again...! Well, okay, it wasn't a bad dream...
Grabbing the suitcase, I set it down on the floor at the foot of my bed and spin around to turn off the light. The diffused sunset filtering in the window is light enough to see as I remove my uniform and quickly pull on my nightshirt. With the floor cleared, and the twilight glow highlighting my room with a pink haze, I have no trouble getting back to my bed and crawling under the covers. Finding my pillow, I curl up and smile contentedly.
Part of me is really anxious about this whole weekend, but the giddy, excited, optimistic side of me is in control. That's the side I like to shine with; the lighter side that sees the good parts of the future instead of the dire possibilities. It's the side that keeps me moving forward instead of hesitating, that makes me go for things I'm reluctant to pursue, and that affords me the ability to forget, if only temporarily, that I'll someday be someone's distant memory.
I'll be a good memory, though, like Dad – I hope.
__________________________________________________
Previous Chapter|
Part 1|
Next Chapter
This is probably a spoiler of epic proportions if you didn't read the chapter yet:
Yeah, so, Aiko inherited Huntington's from her father. Having mentioned the disease before, I never really stated whether she ended up with it, though it was probably assumed. She was told about it before starting at Yamaku, and the prospect has loomed over her since. Being among many reasons she meddles the way she does, and wants to push ahead without regrets, the reality of her doomed future is what she's been shoving out of mind on occasion throughout the story.
Lighter spoilers:
Yeah, I got nothing. I think the chapter speaks for itself. Put a bow on a few previous little conflicts and finally set down the basis for the major conflict. Also assembled the complete trip group - which contains 9 people. The Fellowship of the Trip. Yeah, I'm still not saying where they're going, but there have been hints and it's possible to guess.
That was my first partial H-scene, for what it was. Turned out to be a dream, but I decided not to italicize it because, until the end, Aiko doesn't think she's dreaming.
Stories of Hisao's endowment are likely carefully crafted lies... probably.
