Chapter 21 - Swooners and Crooners (part 1)
Posted: Sun Sep 16, 2012 6:50 am
Holy crap this is late! Rumors of my demise were greatly exaggerated. This vexing chapter took far longer than I expected to carve out, and I've had other things (real life) distracting me as well, so its late arrival is somewhat justified.
Also, it ended up being one of the longer chapters at 12,151 words. Feel free to use the break between parts as an intermission. This marks the first time I've used a made-up word as part of a chapter title, and I rather like it, honestly.
Author's note: having nine characters all in one place makes writing a story like this very difficult. In the future, I'll avoid having so many in one place while using the narrow first-person perspective.
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Chapter 21 – Swooners and Crooners
Waking to the sound of rolling waves and the hauntingly sweet smell of some unidentified confection wafting through the air, I feel warm and secure in this strange bed. Hidden under the covers, and stuffed deep within the darkness of the lower bunk, I'm not sure if anyone has even noticed I haven't gotten up yet, but that's fine; I was up late, anyway. Time seems immaterial considering I don't exactly have any obligations for the next couple days; the feeling is quite liberating. Huddling into the blankets deeper, I don't even care if I leave this spot all day.
However, as that smell begins to permeate the air, another sensation creeps over me, that of hunger. Feeling a little betrayed by that most primal of urges, I roll out of my comfortably numb state and flop the blanket off to the side, looking around for a clock. Not finding one, I notice I still have my watch on, and I pull my hand up to read it more closely.
They let me sleep until after ten? I love my friends.
Groggily, and slowly, I pull myself up out of the recesses of the bed and swing my feet out, grinning as I take a deep breath and stretch into a head-clearing yawn. Standing with the stretch, I place my hands on the top bunk and lean backward, practically inverting my spine, then bend down to touch my toes. Giggling as I stand and catch my balance with a few steps forward, I nearly fall onto the twin bed.
Rubbing my eyes as I cross the room to the closet, I realize I still have my khaki shorts and tank-top on from yesterday, but it doesn't matter. With my eyes half-shut, I pick out one of the sun dresses Mom bought for me, lay it out on my bunk, and head for the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower. Letting the warm water relax away the last of whatever worries kept me awake so late last night, I take longer than I normally might, but there's no reason to rush.
After using it to pat myself dry, I wrap the large towel around myself and take another smaller one for my hair. Stepping out into the bedroom, I expect someone, likely Amaya, to be waiting with a scornful look. Upon seeing Hisao sitting on the edge of the twin bed, drowsily reading through a magazine, I yelp and nearly rush back into the bathroom. Stopping mid-stride, I clasp the towel with my hand to ensure it stays up, and clear my throat to indicate I've caught him. Standing like he's set on springs, Hisao looks at me wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment; or maybe something else.
Repress the dirty thoughts!
“Amaya sent me to-” he starts to explain, but stops and shakes his head. “I... uh,” he sputters and chuckles nervously. Settling himself with a breath, he skips the explanation and greets me, “good morning!”
Maintaining my angry look becomes quite difficult when faced with his apologetic eyes; which is helped even more when he spins to avert them. Instead of being outraged, I smile sleepily, still hazy from the shower, and reply, “morning~!”
Hearing the forgiving lilt, he keeps his eyes away and asks, “hungry?”
“I could eat,” I say, still clutching the towel, “still waking up, though.”
“There's coffee and tea ready,” he informs me as I walk across to the dresser. Turning to keep his eyes facing away, he continues, “but it's just the four of us here to enjoy it.”
Based on him saying Amaya sent him, I assume the other two are her and Tadao, but I still ask, “four of us?”
“Amaya and Kenta, actually,” he replies, causing me to stare at him quizzically. Offering a dismissive wave, he heads for the door and turns as he pulls it open to add, “we're out on the deck whenever you're ready.”
I'm not even mildly offended by his veiled peek.
Quickly looking away, he rushes out the door and closes it swiftly. Part of me wants to ask him to stay, the dirty-minded part that often makes me envision all sorts of deviant behavior, but I repress that side of my psyche and reply, loud enough to hear through the door, “alright, I should be out in five.”
Oh the deviant things I had in mind...
After making myself presentable, I head out through the living room and outside to join the other three on the deck. Greeting me with tea and a fresh-baked and buttered croissant, Amaya bursts into laughter as I step outside, but apparently the source is Hisao's bewildered look. Like a good errand boy, I assume she sent him to fetch me for brunch, probably in the hopes of him catching me between dressed states, and now he sits, sipping coffee, shying away from eye contact; maybe he thought I'd get dressed in the bathroom.
I'm actually not mad, though.
Sitting down beside him, I smirk at his reaction and inquire, “you make a habit of invading girls' rooms while they're in the shower~?” Adding an accusatory lilt to my voice seems to make him shift uncomfortably, but I know he can see through my insincere tone.
“I saw nothing,” he states coolly, “though Amaya suggested I join you.”
“Join me?” I prompt, turning my raised eyebrow at Amaya's cracking visage. Whatever intent Hisao may have had with his visit, if what he says is true, there might need to be some shin-kicking in Amaya's future.
She squirms under my gaze and laughs nervously for a second, then holds up the plate of sweet-smelling breads and offers, “croissant?”
Oh no you don't, Little Miss Dirty Mind!
The discomfort around the table is palpable as she and I stare at each-other, this time with at least some actual animosity. Buying me frilly lingerie, I can forgive. Accusing me of unintentionally instigating an intimate encounter, I can deal with. However, straight-out suggesting the consummation of my relationship with Hisao is rather reprehensible; even though I wouldn't be completely against the idea.
“That's a lovely dress,” Kenta compliments, trying to break the tension. “I haven't seen you in a dress since last summer,” he continues, “green with white trim and nice yellow flowers; it looks nice on you! Really highlights your-” He stops and settles into his chair, frowning.
His attempt at levity is short-lived, falling silent when neither of us so much as turn a glance at him. Hisao remains quiet as well, though that might be due to guilt since he did just rat her out; though I'm happy to see he chose being honest with me over protecting my friend's indiscretion. Sitting at the table with my hands firmly against my hips, locking eyes disdainfully with my best friend, we carry on for a few minutes, but eventually something has to give.
Hisao finally speaks, “she was kidding, I'm sure.”
Amaya doesn't budge, but she does manage a small smile accompanied by puppy-dog eyes filled with apology. Looking at her, I realize I'm the one holding the tension, and I really just want to forget about the whole thing. “You're forgiven,” I say, “but try not to be so obvious next time.”
Kenta busts out laughing, apparently noticing my hidden suggestion and finding it hilarious. Hisao seems to realize it as well, but he's already flushed red enough to start a fire, so I think he's suppressing his reaction. Amaya, meanwhile, starts pouring me a cup of tea while a devious smirk spreads across her face; she clearly has plans to do just that.
That kind of tension can wait until after brunch.
The mid-morning sun is warm and inviting, and the gentle breeze brings with it the promise of another calm, seaside day, despite the tense beginning. The surf is less wild than yesterday, today's prevailing wind being much less intense, so it might be a nice day for a swim. Then again, I'm on vacation, and lately I've been associating swimming with regimented exercise, so that might seem like work rather than play. Perhaps in the right company, it could be enjoyable, though. Inspecting my three companions, I think I might make the suggestion after we eat.
Amaya has a her bikini on underneath a thin, white sun-dress with gold trim, so I have no doubt she'd be willing to go for a dip. Kenta is wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt, resting his feet up on the table as he nibbles on a croissant, apparently content to laze about. Next to me, dressed down as much as I've ever seen him, Hisao wears khaki shorts and a polo shirt, without a sweater-vest to be seen. He seems as surprised as Kenta to see me wearing something so girlish, but when he questions my attire, I retort by inquiring about his socks and sandals combination.
I should have expected that, really.
Asking about the absence of the other five, Amaya mentions that Tadao left with Naoko earlier; some secret mission neither would disclose. There's a hint of jealousy in her tone as she describes their clandestine exit shortly after waking, but I don't think she's really worried. Kenta describes how Shizune and Misha convinced Yoko to go with them to the marina, apparently for another secretive mission. Having thought the secrets would be done with once they got me here, I'm a little disappointed, but, whatever they're planning, it's probably going to be fun.
Speaking of fun, I stand and start helping to clear the table, which Amaya takes as a cue to head inside for a brief chat. Once we've entered the air-conditioned bungalow, she immediately turns to apologize, “sorry about that whole shower thing, I thought it was funny.”
“Don't worry about it,” I retort, “can't say I didn't have similar ideas...”
She laughs hard at that, nearly dropping the plates. Seeing her mischievous expression, I decide to stop her dirty little mind before it can start planning anything. “Just ideas, though,” I tell her, keeping a straight face, “nothing I'd act on.”
“Yeah, right,” she says dismissively.
Deciding not to turn this into another staring contest, I brush past her to the kitchen and set about washing while she does the drying. After a few minutes, I turn and suggest, “how about we go swimming after this.”
“We just ate!” she complains, offering a childishly serious face.
“That's an old wives tale,” I retort, “besides that surf looks inviting.”
“Fine,” she agrees, “I've been meaning to see what he's got under that shirt anyway.”
That catches me off guard. Turning a quizzical look her way, I wonder if she knows about Hisao's scar. Then again, she could just be teasing me since I've basically seen him shirtless almost every day for the past month. Remaining vague, I ask, “why do you say that?”
“Something keeps you chasing after him like a lost puppy,” she says, adding with a lewd smirk, “maybe that box was more fact than fiction.”
Ah, that... She would bring that up.
Unable to stop the hot flush across my cheeks as she brings up the little box I left in my desk, I keep myself busy by repeatedly sponging a dish that was already clean. Squeaking resonates through the kitchen as I repeatedly brush circles around its surface, wearing away the enamel.
“You brought it, right?” she inquires, nearly causing me to drop the dish.
“What?” I prompt, keeping my eyes on the sink.
Flipping the dish towel onto her shoulder she replies, “the box.”
Why would I?
“No, why?” I ask, awkwardly trying to sound innocent.
“You're either very smart or very stupid,” she says, making me turn a bewildered look at her, “don't worry, though, I brought some you could borrow~!”
“Borrow what?” Hisao asks, causing us both to spin around and regard his quizzical expression. Evidently he picked up a few more dishes to bring inside, and we didn't hear him.
Bursting into resounding laughter after a short pause, she leans against the counter-top and nearly falls over. Meanwhile I have a hard time not dropping the dish on the floor as I start laughing nervously.
“Nothing!” I exclaim, probably too forcefully. “Just girl stuff,” I add as a flimsy explanation, “what did you hear?”
He blinks a few times, apparently confused by our suspicious reaction to such a simple question. Amaya finally settles herself and holds up her hands, professing, “tampons~!”
What? Seriously?
Closing my eyes, I start slowly shaking my head as Amaya cracks up again. That may have actually been worse than just telling him about the prophylactics. When I open my eyes again, I can see the shocked expression on Hisao's face, and his following comment comes in a monotone whisper, “oh... sorry I asked.”
That said, he places the plate and teacups he was carrying by the sink, then turns an about face and walks back out to the deck. Neither of us even try to add to the explanation, being too dumbstruck to even thank him for bringing in the dishes. Amaya continues having trouble keeping her composure until he's gone, then she just flops down on the floor laughing hysterically.
“Tampons!?” I blurt, once I'm sure Hisao is out of earshot, “that's the best you could come up with?”
“I'm sorry, I blanked completely!” she says between guffaws, her eyes starting to streak with tears, “would you rather explain Nurse's gift?”
Bowing my head in defeat, I proclaim, “no, probably not. You probably killed any chance of anything happening, now, though.”
Shrugging as she stands, finally regaining muscular control, her face twists into a devious smirk. Before she can put her lewd thought into words, though, the door bursts open and in steps Kenta, saving me from another lascivious suggestion from my increasingly debaucherous friend. Although, if Hisao told him about what we said we were talking about, he might be here to make things worse. Looking at his sarcastic grin, I think I'm right.
“Which one of you should I be avoiding for the next few days?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Damn you, Kenta!
Though I should probably blame Hisao, who walks in behind Kenta looking a lot more apologetic than when he left; something tells me he didn't exactly intend to say anything. Crossing my arms, I lock eyes with Kenta's ocean-blue irises and exclaim, “you should avoid both of us!”
He takes a step back and holds his hand to his chest, protesting, “moi!? What did I do?”
“You were born, Gimpy~!” Amaya retorts, “that's enough reason!”
Kenta recoils and imitates a shocked expression, still clutching the front of his shirt, and gasps, “I'm hurt!”
“You'll live,” I remark, rolling my eyes, “maybe.”
Deciding we should change the subject before this gets any more embarrassing, I smile and point toward my intrepid cohort. She looks a little confused for a second, until I start to say, “we were thinking of going for a swim.”
“Aren't you supposed to wait a while after eating?” Hisao asks, apparently eager to leave the previous discussion behind.
“And what about your... condition,” Kenta inquires, apparently being less willing to let the conversation die. Seeing all three of us offer him disdainful looks, he amends his inquiry, “er, well...”
Evidently he's at a loss for words, so Hisao helps him out, “it'll take us a while to get changed, right?”
“Unless you wanna go skinny dipping,” Kenta suggests, back to his normal, quick-witted self.
“By all means, Gimpy,” Amaya retorts, “what difference would it really make in your case?”
“Oh the barbs!” Kenta exclaims, spinning and starting to walk toward the bedrooms. Wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, he warns, “I might just decide to wear my banana-hammock!”
“Please, don't,” Amaya says quietly, “seriously~!”
Around twenty minutes later, we're headed out toward the beach in our swim-wear, carrying towels, a cooler filled with soft drinks, and some big umbrellas for shade. Amaya's bright yellow, solid knot bikini is complimented by a purple sarong around her waist, complete with big yellow smiley faces. Meanwhile, my black and white, low-cut, zebra-print bikini is drawing a lot of attention from both boys, despite the white sarong covering my hips.
Amaya hardly seems surprised by their lack of attention toward her, but I honestly don't feel bad. Since I started swimming regularly, I'm actually happy with my curves, and her mournful expression is not going to dampen my mood.
Kenta's leering I could do without, though.
Hisao has his school swim trunks on, apparently not having any other kind of swim-wear, along with a white t-shirt. Kenta has his a black t-shirt slung over his shoulder, but he still has the same pair of denim shorts on; I hope he wasn't serious about the banana-hammock. Though, I doubt Kenta ever planned to go swimming since he has a hard enough time walking.
Once we've got our little temporary beach-camp set up in the sand, which is around twenty feet from the high-tide mark, Amaya tosses the sarong under her towel and dashes off to play hopscotch in the surf, whining, “it's cold!”
“You're not a reptile, you'll adapt!” Kenta remarks, “wait, you're not a reptile, right?”
Turning back to regard him sardonically, she sticks out her tongue and shakes her head playfully before quickly turning back. In her defense, I swat his arm and smirk. He responds by dropping down to sit in the sand, turning his eyes out at the rolling surf, wearing a contemplative expression. Running a hand through his sandy-colored hair, he leans against his good arm, caught in a brief reminder, it seems, that he shouldn't try certain things. In the interest of preserving his dignity, I don't bother pointing out when I see him have these reactions.
It's just not right using it against him like that.
Turning my gaze back out to watch Amaya, catching the rolling waves in her hand and tossing some of the foam back out to sea, I realize she too could potentially have a bad reaction just to the change of temperature. Rarely does she let things like that bother her, though. As much as her epilepsy really is on her mind all the time, she has developed a fairly Devil-may-care attitude when it comes to potential risks. Secretly, I think she's terrified of certain things, like the way she fears fireworks, but she never lets it show through that mischievous smile.
Hisao chose to keep his shirt on, which effectively hides the thin red line separating him from the so-called normal people of the world. Honestly, I don't blame him for wanting to hide it, especially considering he's still getting used to it himself. Looking at me with his warm smile, though it's mixed in with worried eyes, I'm hardly surprised when I see his hand moving up to trace along his sternum. There's a caged-animal quality to his expression, but he also looks determined; I've seen that look before.
Amaya reappears next to me as I apparently let my mind wander a bit while sharing a look with Hisao. Her giddy laughter breaking the spell as she exclaims, “Aiko! Fight the Swooner's powers~! Resist~!”
“What?” I prompt, sounding a little dazed.
Maybe I really am caught in some kind of spell.
She busts out laughing and sinks down to her knees. For a moment, she opens her mouth as if to respond, but just shakes her head and continues laughing, apparently content just to observe my spellbound state. Breaking out of my daze, I sit down next to her and smile up at Hisao, patting the sand, inviting him to sit with the rest of us. Something in his look tells me he intends to be up-front about his scar and his condition, and I'm ready to offer my support.
Taking my cue, he sits down between me and Kenta. Seeing his expression change, now hanging his mouth open as though caught between saying something and keeping a secret, my other two friends turn a quiet gaze at him. Giving him a slight nod, I glance at Kenta, then Amaya, and they both look like they know what's coming.
Deciding, apparently, to rip the band-aid off quickly, Hisao tugs his shirt off and sets it down beside him, puffing his chest out to ensure they notice the scar; though I doubt anyone within two-hundred feet wouldn't notice the surgically straight quarter-inch-wide red line curving ever so slightly as it snakes between his pectoral muscles. Letting out a sigh, he gives them a moment to inspect it, and perhaps wonder, before explaining about his heart attack, the four-month hospital stay, and even the seventeen pills he takes every day to keep his arrhythmia in check.
They've both heard similar tales before; two years at a school for disabled kids numbs you to a lot of medical jargon and related distressing emotions. However, I'm glad to see they're both sympathetic. This isn't just a random student to them; Hisao has become their friend.
“Tough break,” Kenta says after letting Hisao finish his entire explanation. Having been working against his condition since birth, he knows how difficult it is dealing with the associated pratfalls of being different and having physical restrictions. “If you wanna talk about it sometime, lemme know,” he says, pointing at himself with his thumb, “I've got some experience with that kind of stuff.” Assuming a delightfully flat expression, he adds, “no homo.”
Surprisingly, Amaya chirps, “we've all dealt with crap like that for a while.”
Turning a quizzical eye at her, I'm somewhat shocked she's saying anything; usually she clams up when someone starts talking about their condition. Shaking her head at me, she takes a deep, steadying breath and smiles, turning back toward Hisao and explaining, “I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was five.”
Whoa! Is she having a seizure?
Seeing Kenta, and probably myself, looking at her with shocked expressions, she lets out a nervous giggle and forces a smile. “Tadao convinced me I should be a little more up-front about it,” she explains, her cheeks flushing for a moment as she adds, “don't go blabbering to people, though.”
Hisao already knew about the condition, but, after seeing what it nearly did to her relationship with Tadao, I'm sure he understands this is new territory. He's also smart enough not to let on he was already informed. Shaking his head, he holds up a hand and smiles, replying, “I'll tell no-one.”
Realizing how monumental a change this is in Amaya's behavior, and knowing it's really a positive step, I can't keep the proud smile off my face. Whatever else it may have put them through emotionally, I've found that pushing my mismatched friends together has really been more beneficial than detrimental. Seeing my almost motherly expression, Amaya punches my arm and exclaims, “stop looking so smug~!”
Kenta's nervous laugh breaks into a maniacal guffaw, to which Amaya rolls her eyes and folds her arms. She knows how significant a change it is, though, so she chooses to join in rather than berate him. Hisao seems somewhat relieved, probably because he expected a lot more focus to end up placed on him after telling about his condition.
“I told you they probably wouldn't even care,” I chide, smirking derisively, “are you gonna hide it again when the rest of them get back?”
“Oh my God, wait~!” Amaya suddenly stops her laughter and places a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. Taking a few quick glances between Hisao and I, she lets out a singular, “Ha~!” then closes her eyes and remarks, “so, the Swooner has a broken heart~?”
Cracking up laughing, she falls backward and curls into a fetal position, apparently overwhelmed by the silliness of the realization. Having never really thought of it that way myself, I find the incongruity humorous, but not quite on the same level. Kenta is similarly less fazed by it, but, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he's shaking his bowed head as his shoulders bob with internal laughs.
After we all calm down, we don't end up swimming at all. Instead, we while away the rest of the morning telling embarrassing stories about our respective childhoods. Mostly Hisao listens, still remaining aloof about most of his past, but there are some topics that pique his interest.
Kenta grew up in the city like Hisao, which I already knew, but I had no idea how much he missed trolling the streets with his friends, and spending an inordinate amount of time at arcades. When he was sent to his first boarding school, at the start of middle school, he turned to online connections, and still maintains friendships with the same group through online gaming. Unlike Kenta, though, Hisao hasn't expressed any interest in reconnecting with his friends. Sharing a quick glance with me, he relates his distress with a simple look; he doesn't want to talk about feeling abandoned.
Feeling a little disappointed, but not surprised, I follow his cue. Changing the subject, I start telling about my late-night excursions tracking down fireflies while my parents thought I was safely asleep. Smiling mischievously, I tell them about the old seaman I met, or found, rather, out in a grassy field lying face-down; a story I still haven't told Mom. “He was passed out drunk, though I didn't quite understand that at the time,” I say, smirking innocently, “I thought he was dead, but I was curious, so I found a stick and-”
“He wasn't dead, right?” Amaya asks, looking shocked; I've never told her this story either.
“Hey, we listened to your tree-climbing story; let her finish!” Kenta scolds her, finishing with a laugh.
Crossing her arms, she sticks her tongue out at him and grunts, “hmph!”
“Anyway!” I continue, rolling my eyes at their exchange, “I started poking his shoulder. After a few solid shoves, he bolted upright and started screaming incoherently, slurring every word.”
Amaya looks relieved, but then screws up her face and asks, “what did you do?”
Laughing, I reply, “what else would a ten-year-old girl do?” Pausing for a second, for dramatic effect, I continue, “I ran away screaming; left the jar on the ground and bolted.” Cracking up laughing, quickly joined by three other voices, I flop down on the towel and let the laughter pour out of me.
After a few minutes, I hear Kenta shuffling a bit and look over to see him regarding me with a questioning look. Seeing my glance, he smirks and inquires, “what happened to the fireflies?”
Sitting up again, I shrug and offer a bewildered smile. “Never saw the jar again,” I explain, “though that wasn't the last time I saw the old man.”
As I'm about to continue the story, I notice Kenta's eyes shift; something behind me caught his eye. Turning, I can see a car in the driveway at the far end of the bungalow; a little blue sedan. Standing, I look over at Amaya, whom I figure might recognize the vehicle, but she shrugs and shakes her head.
All of us standing now, Hisao stretches upward on his toes beside me, making use of his height to see over the brush. “Tadao?” he mumbles, squinting.
Suddenly jealous of his height, I paw his shoulder and try to make myself taller, but it doesn't work. Instead, I sigh and ask, “are you sure?”
“Yeah, and Naoko... and...” he trails off, leaning leans his head forward and squinting; this time in thought. “I think it's her brother,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “I forgot his name-”
“Nobuo!” Kenta exclaims, starting to hobble his way up the sandy hill, “she actually did call him!”
Is that her surprise?
Hisao goes back and grabs his shirt before following us up the beach with Kenta. Catching Naoko's eye before she can run up the stairs, Kenta waves to her. While Tadao leads Nobuo through the kitchen door, both carrying brown paper grocery bags, she runs toward us with a giant smile on her face, signing, [Nobuo owed me a favor~!]
We all stop and let the little ball of energy run up to us, still grinning broadly. Once she's stopped, Kenta replies, [it was just a suggestion!]
For a second, I see her eyes catch something strange and I see a faintly shocked expression appear, but the smile returns quickly, redoubled. A fast glance at Hisao, and I realize he still has his shirt off; she probably saw the scar. He pulls it on quickly, shrugging, then assumes a neutral expression.
Never being one to bother about anything like that, she signs, [he agreed to cook for us and he brought some-] Stopping her signing, she glances at Amaya and I realize she might be looking for approval.
“She called in her brother to cook for us, and,” I say, then look back to Naoko and sign, [and?]
[Wine~!] she replies, [for cooking, and maybe some extra.] She pauses and starts swaying her shoulders for a second, then shrugs and adds, [okay, a lot extra~!]
“He brought wine,” I say, almost frowning, uncertain how Amaya might react.
The bright smile spreading on Amaya's face quickly dispels any thought I might have had about her wanting to follow her aunt's wishes. “Devious~!” she exclaims, practically singing the word, “I approve~!”
Naoko doesn't need a translation for Amaya's exuberant response, instead she bounces where she stands and grins happily. Glancing at Kenta, I get the sense he had something to do with this. “This is your doing, I imagine,” I accuse him, smiling playfully.
“I might have put the idea in her head, but it was really Tadao's-” he starts to reply, but stops himself and glances at Amaya. Shrugging, he lets out a sharp sigh and continues, “he told me there wouldn't be any booze, and I almost didn't come along.”
“You had nothing planned,” I retort. “You just wanna get us drunk and have your way with us!” I accuse him derisively, folding my arms and glowering.
Falling silent, he chuckles and shrugs again, apparently not having an argument; though I'm not sure which accusation is making him feel guilty; perhaps it's both on some level. Seeing him this quiet, maybe he hadn't really thought of it that way until just now. Feeling Hisao's hand come up on my shoulder, I remember it's not just Kenta and myself having this conversation.
“I'm sure his intentions were perfectly innocent,” Hisao says in Kenta's defense, though his tone is no less playful than my own, “besides, it sounds like a good idea.” That earns him an elbow to the side from me, and a dirty look, but I know he's just messing around.
Or is he? Hmm...
Kenta breaks his silence by adding, “see, maybe we'll get that harem going after all!”
Choosing to ignore his lecherous comments, Amaya brushes past Kenta and breaks into a jog headed for the stairs; likely to interrogate Tadao. While she's headed inside, I translate the brief conversation to Naoko, and she promptly directs a sneer at Kenta, but it's short-lived. Spinning and kicking sand at him, she beckons us to follow and heads inside.
Nobuo is already getting settled into the kitchen when we step in, and the bright smile on his otherwise sleepy expression makes me grin in response. Taller than his sister, really by a lot, he isn't wearing a chef's coat this time; opting for a faded blue polo shirt and black slacks. Inspecting the kitchen with his woodsy brown eyes, the delighted smile on his chubby features indicates he likes what he sees.
Glancing around the open areas, I notice Amaya and Tadao are nowhere to be seen. For a second, I wonder what debaucherous thing she might have dragged him away for, but I control the thought; I need to stop thinking such devious thoughts. Kenta heads for the bedrooms almost immediately, and I consider warning him, but I doubt he's any less observant where those two are concerned.
Naoko, meanwhile, waits expectantly for Nobuo to finish looking through the cabinets and testing the facilities. Leaning on her elbows against the island, her cheerful expression is edged with a little bit of anxiety. Whatever Nobuo thinks of the arrangement, she apparently wants him to enjoy the weekend.
Raising an eyebrow, he finally settles his gaze on her and shrugs. His monotone voice is accompanied by similarly drowsy signing, “this'll do.”
Naoko rolls her eyes at his lackadaisical response, but decides not to press him for anything further. Looking at me, she smiles and then glances past me to Hisao, who's inspecting the bags of groceries; though I'm not sure why, really.
Is he as interested in the alcohol as Kenta?
“What're you looking for?” I inquire, causing him to snap a surprised look on me and smirk nervously.
“Just looking,” he explains, “I don't know much about wine, but I'm curious, I guess.” Drawing out one of the bottles, he turns it over in his hands to read the label.
“There'll be plenty left when I'm done,” Nobuo reasons, his voice still in monotone. “I only agreed to this so I'd get some feedback,” he explains, “not so you can get my sister shitfaced.”
His vulgarity is a little surprising, but I notice he doesn't sign it for Naoko, instead substituting for the less antagonistic “drunk.” Evidently he doesn't want her hearing what he really said, and I don't want to seem ungrateful, so I don't mention the difference.
“He'd be getting me drunk, if anything,” I respond, quickly signing it for Naoko.
Hisao looks at me with an odd expression; something like an apology, but closer to shocked. Setting the bottle down beside Naoko, he looks over toward Nobuo and grins sheepishly. “Probably true,” he remarks, smirking at me, “maybe we can get her to sing for us, then.”
Blushing, I roll my eyes. Sometimes I wish he'd never found out I like to sing, but I can't help smiling at the vote of confidence. Still, I can't let him think he has the upper hand.
Feminine wiles, activate!
“Just sing?” I reply, turning my face into a mischievous pout, “nothing else?”
His eyes widen and he chuckles nervously while Nobuo translates for Naoko. Meanwhile, I lean against the counter and aim my considerable cleavage at him, maintaining the pout and adding a sway to my hips. The combination seems to be too much for him, and he turns away. The second he does so, I straighten up and stop swaying.
Naoko rolls her eyes at me and signs, [how long are you going to torture him?]
[I haven't decided,] I reply, giggling.
Hearing my laugh, Hisao turns back around. Still blushing, he protests, [no fair talking about me behind my back!]
“Sorry,” I reply, “just teasing.”
“I'm starting to think Kenta was right,” he comments.
“Right about what?” says a voice from behind me. Turning, I see Amaya and Tadao have emerged from their escapade. His question is accompanied by a derisive smile.
Hisao replies, “Aiko being a temptress.”
“Aren't they all,” Tadao remarks, reflexively pulling away from the oncoming jab to his ribs.
“Okay, for that, I'm gonna go change into something less revealing,” I say, grabbing Amaya's arm and walking toward the bedrooms.
She protests for a second, but, seeing my half-serious expression, she decides to go along with my plan; even turning to stick her tongue out at the boys. “You brought this on yourselves~!” she remarks as we disappear down the hallway.
Once in the bedroom, I head straight for the closet for a white t-shirt and then grab those cut-off jeans from my suitcase. Amaya puts her adorable white and gold sun-dress back on while I slip into the shirt and shorts.
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Previous Chapter|Part 2|Next Chapter
Also, it ended up being one of the longer chapters at 12,151 words. Feel free to use the break between parts as an intermission. This marks the first time I've used a made-up word as part of a chapter title, and I rather like it, honestly.
Author's note: having nine characters all in one place makes writing a story like this very difficult. In the future, I'll avoid having so many in one place while using the narrow first-person perspective.
Previous Chapter|Part 2|Next Chapter
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Chapter 21 – Swooners and Crooners
Waking to the sound of rolling waves and the hauntingly sweet smell of some unidentified confection wafting through the air, I feel warm and secure in this strange bed. Hidden under the covers, and stuffed deep within the darkness of the lower bunk, I'm not sure if anyone has even noticed I haven't gotten up yet, but that's fine; I was up late, anyway. Time seems immaterial considering I don't exactly have any obligations for the next couple days; the feeling is quite liberating. Huddling into the blankets deeper, I don't even care if I leave this spot all day.
However, as that smell begins to permeate the air, another sensation creeps over me, that of hunger. Feeling a little betrayed by that most primal of urges, I roll out of my comfortably numb state and flop the blanket off to the side, looking around for a clock. Not finding one, I notice I still have my watch on, and I pull my hand up to read it more closely.
They let me sleep until after ten? I love my friends.
Groggily, and slowly, I pull myself up out of the recesses of the bed and swing my feet out, grinning as I take a deep breath and stretch into a head-clearing yawn. Standing with the stretch, I place my hands on the top bunk and lean backward, practically inverting my spine, then bend down to touch my toes. Giggling as I stand and catch my balance with a few steps forward, I nearly fall onto the twin bed.
Rubbing my eyes as I cross the room to the closet, I realize I still have my khaki shorts and tank-top on from yesterday, but it doesn't matter. With my eyes half-shut, I pick out one of the sun dresses Mom bought for me, lay it out on my bunk, and head for the bathroom to take a nice, hot shower. Letting the warm water relax away the last of whatever worries kept me awake so late last night, I take longer than I normally might, but there's no reason to rush.
After using it to pat myself dry, I wrap the large towel around myself and take another smaller one for my hair. Stepping out into the bedroom, I expect someone, likely Amaya, to be waiting with a scornful look. Upon seeing Hisao sitting on the edge of the twin bed, drowsily reading through a magazine, I yelp and nearly rush back into the bathroom. Stopping mid-stride, I clasp the towel with my hand to ensure it stays up, and clear my throat to indicate I've caught him. Standing like he's set on springs, Hisao looks at me wide-eyed, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment; or maybe something else.
Repress the dirty thoughts!
“Amaya sent me to-” he starts to explain, but stops and shakes his head. “I... uh,” he sputters and chuckles nervously. Settling himself with a breath, he skips the explanation and greets me, “good morning!”
Maintaining my angry look becomes quite difficult when faced with his apologetic eyes; which is helped even more when he spins to avert them. Instead of being outraged, I smile sleepily, still hazy from the shower, and reply, “morning~!”
Hearing the forgiving lilt, he keeps his eyes away and asks, “hungry?”
“I could eat,” I say, still clutching the towel, “still waking up, though.”
“There's coffee and tea ready,” he informs me as I walk across to the dresser. Turning to keep his eyes facing away, he continues, “but it's just the four of us here to enjoy it.”
Based on him saying Amaya sent him, I assume the other two are her and Tadao, but I still ask, “four of us?”
“Amaya and Kenta, actually,” he replies, causing me to stare at him quizzically. Offering a dismissive wave, he heads for the door and turns as he pulls it open to add, “we're out on the deck whenever you're ready.”
I'm not even mildly offended by his veiled peek.
Quickly looking away, he rushes out the door and closes it swiftly. Part of me wants to ask him to stay, the dirty-minded part that often makes me envision all sorts of deviant behavior, but I repress that side of my psyche and reply, loud enough to hear through the door, “alright, I should be out in five.”
Oh the deviant things I had in mind...
After making myself presentable, I head out through the living room and outside to join the other three on the deck. Greeting me with tea and a fresh-baked and buttered croissant, Amaya bursts into laughter as I step outside, but apparently the source is Hisao's bewildered look. Like a good errand boy, I assume she sent him to fetch me for brunch, probably in the hopes of him catching me between dressed states, and now he sits, sipping coffee, shying away from eye contact; maybe he thought I'd get dressed in the bathroom.
I'm actually not mad, though.
Sitting down beside him, I smirk at his reaction and inquire, “you make a habit of invading girls' rooms while they're in the shower~?” Adding an accusatory lilt to my voice seems to make him shift uncomfortably, but I know he can see through my insincere tone.
“I saw nothing,” he states coolly, “though Amaya suggested I join you.”
“Join me?” I prompt, turning my raised eyebrow at Amaya's cracking visage. Whatever intent Hisao may have had with his visit, if what he says is true, there might need to be some shin-kicking in Amaya's future.
She squirms under my gaze and laughs nervously for a second, then holds up the plate of sweet-smelling breads and offers, “croissant?”
Oh no you don't, Little Miss Dirty Mind!
The discomfort around the table is palpable as she and I stare at each-other, this time with at least some actual animosity. Buying me frilly lingerie, I can forgive. Accusing me of unintentionally instigating an intimate encounter, I can deal with. However, straight-out suggesting the consummation of my relationship with Hisao is rather reprehensible; even though I wouldn't be completely against the idea.
“That's a lovely dress,” Kenta compliments, trying to break the tension. “I haven't seen you in a dress since last summer,” he continues, “green with white trim and nice yellow flowers; it looks nice on you! Really highlights your-” He stops and settles into his chair, frowning.
His attempt at levity is short-lived, falling silent when neither of us so much as turn a glance at him. Hisao remains quiet as well, though that might be due to guilt since he did just rat her out; though I'm happy to see he chose being honest with me over protecting my friend's indiscretion. Sitting at the table with my hands firmly against my hips, locking eyes disdainfully with my best friend, we carry on for a few minutes, but eventually something has to give.
Hisao finally speaks, “she was kidding, I'm sure.”
Amaya doesn't budge, but she does manage a small smile accompanied by puppy-dog eyes filled with apology. Looking at her, I realize I'm the one holding the tension, and I really just want to forget about the whole thing. “You're forgiven,” I say, “but try not to be so obvious next time.”
Kenta busts out laughing, apparently noticing my hidden suggestion and finding it hilarious. Hisao seems to realize it as well, but he's already flushed red enough to start a fire, so I think he's suppressing his reaction. Amaya, meanwhile, starts pouring me a cup of tea while a devious smirk spreads across her face; she clearly has plans to do just that.
That kind of tension can wait until after brunch.
The mid-morning sun is warm and inviting, and the gentle breeze brings with it the promise of another calm, seaside day, despite the tense beginning. The surf is less wild than yesterday, today's prevailing wind being much less intense, so it might be a nice day for a swim. Then again, I'm on vacation, and lately I've been associating swimming with regimented exercise, so that might seem like work rather than play. Perhaps in the right company, it could be enjoyable, though. Inspecting my three companions, I think I might make the suggestion after we eat.
Amaya has a her bikini on underneath a thin, white sun-dress with gold trim, so I have no doubt she'd be willing to go for a dip. Kenta is wearing denim shorts and a white t-shirt, resting his feet up on the table as he nibbles on a croissant, apparently content to laze about. Next to me, dressed down as much as I've ever seen him, Hisao wears khaki shorts and a polo shirt, without a sweater-vest to be seen. He seems as surprised as Kenta to see me wearing something so girlish, but when he questions my attire, I retort by inquiring about his socks and sandals combination.
I should have expected that, really.
Asking about the absence of the other five, Amaya mentions that Tadao left with Naoko earlier; some secret mission neither would disclose. There's a hint of jealousy in her tone as she describes their clandestine exit shortly after waking, but I don't think she's really worried. Kenta describes how Shizune and Misha convinced Yoko to go with them to the marina, apparently for another secretive mission. Having thought the secrets would be done with once they got me here, I'm a little disappointed, but, whatever they're planning, it's probably going to be fun.
Speaking of fun, I stand and start helping to clear the table, which Amaya takes as a cue to head inside for a brief chat. Once we've entered the air-conditioned bungalow, she immediately turns to apologize, “sorry about that whole shower thing, I thought it was funny.”
“Don't worry about it,” I retort, “can't say I didn't have similar ideas...”
She laughs hard at that, nearly dropping the plates. Seeing her mischievous expression, I decide to stop her dirty little mind before it can start planning anything. “Just ideas, though,” I tell her, keeping a straight face, “nothing I'd act on.”
“Yeah, right,” she says dismissively.
Deciding not to turn this into another staring contest, I brush past her to the kitchen and set about washing while she does the drying. After a few minutes, I turn and suggest, “how about we go swimming after this.”
“We just ate!” she complains, offering a childishly serious face.
“That's an old wives tale,” I retort, “besides that surf looks inviting.”
“Fine,” she agrees, “I've been meaning to see what he's got under that shirt anyway.”
That catches me off guard. Turning a quizzical look her way, I wonder if she knows about Hisao's scar. Then again, she could just be teasing me since I've basically seen him shirtless almost every day for the past month. Remaining vague, I ask, “why do you say that?”
“Something keeps you chasing after him like a lost puppy,” she says, adding with a lewd smirk, “maybe that box was more fact than fiction.”
Ah, that... She would bring that up.
Unable to stop the hot flush across my cheeks as she brings up the little box I left in my desk, I keep myself busy by repeatedly sponging a dish that was already clean. Squeaking resonates through the kitchen as I repeatedly brush circles around its surface, wearing away the enamel.
“You brought it, right?” she inquires, nearly causing me to drop the dish.
“What?” I prompt, keeping my eyes on the sink.
Flipping the dish towel onto her shoulder she replies, “the box.”
Why would I?
“No, why?” I ask, awkwardly trying to sound innocent.
“You're either very smart or very stupid,” she says, making me turn a bewildered look at her, “don't worry, though, I brought some you could borrow~!”
“Borrow what?” Hisao asks, causing us both to spin around and regard his quizzical expression. Evidently he picked up a few more dishes to bring inside, and we didn't hear him.
Bursting into resounding laughter after a short pause, she leans against the counter-top and nearly falls over. Meanwhile I have a hard time not dropping the dish on the floor as I start laughing nervously.
“Nothing!” I exclaim, probably too forcefully. “Just girl stuff,” I add as a flimsy explanation, “what did you hear?”
He blinks a few times, apparently confused by our suspicious reaction to such a simple question. Amaya finally settles herself and holds up her hands, professing, “tampons~!”
What? Seriously?
Closing my eyes, I start slowly shaking my head as Amaya cracks up again. That may have actually been worse than just telling him about the prophylactics. When I open my eyes again, I can see the shocked expression on Hisao's face, and his following comment comes in a monotone whisper, “oh... sorry I asked.”
That said, he places the plate and teacups he was carrying by the sink, then turns an about face and walks back out to the deck. Neither of us even try to add to the explanation, being too dumbstruck to even thank him for bringing in the dishes. Amaya continues having trouble keeping her composure until he's gone, then she just flops down on the floor laughing hysterically.
“Tampons!?” I blurt, once I'm sure Hisao is out of earshot, “that's the best you could come up with?”
“I'm sorry, I blanked completely!” she says between guffaws, her eyes starting to streak with tears, “would you rather explain Nurse's gift?”
Bowing my head in defeat, I proclaim, “no, probably not. You probably killed any chance of anything happening, now, though.”
Shrugging as she stands, finally regaining muscular control, her face twists into a devious smirk. Before she can put her lewd thought into words, though, the door bursts open and in steps Kenta, saving me from another lascivious suggestion from my increasingly debaucherous friend. Although, if Hisao told him about what we said we were talking about, he might be here to make things worse. Looking at his sarcastic grin, I think I'm right.
“Which one of you should I be avoiding for the next few days?” he asks, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Damn you, Kenta!
Though I should probably blame Hisao, who walks in behind Kenta looking a lot more apologetic than when he left; something tells me he didn't exactly intend to say anything. Crossing my arms, I lock eyes with Kenta's ocean-blue irises and exclaim, “you should avoid both of us!”
He takes a step back and holds his hand to his chest, protesting, “moi!? What did I do?”
“You were born, Gimpy~!” Amaya retorts, “that's enough reason!”
Kenta recoils and imitates a shocked expression, still clutching the front of his shirt, and gasps, “I'm hurt!”
“You'll live,” I remark, rolling my eyes, “maybe.”
Deciding we should change the subject before this gets any more embarrassing, I smile and point toward my intrepid cohort. She looks a little confused for a second, until I start to say, “we were thinking of going for a swim.”
“Aren't you supposed to wait a while after eating?” Hisao asks, apparently eager to leave the previous discussion behind.
“And what about your... condition,” Kenta inquires, apparently being less willing to let the conversation die. Seeing all three of us offer him disdainful looks, he amends his inquiry, “er, well...”
Evidently he's at a loss for words, so Hisao helps him out, “it'll take us a while to get changed, right?”
“Unless you wanna go skinny dipping,” Kenta suggests, back to his normal, quick-witted self.
“By all means, Gimpy,” Amaya retorts, “what difference would it really make in your case?”
“Oh the barbs!” Kenta exclaims, spinning and starting to walk toward the bedrooms. Wrapping his hands around the back of his neck, he warns, “I might just decide to wear my banana-hammock!”
“Please, don't,” Amaya says quietly, “seriously~!”
Around twenty minutes later, we're headed out toward the beach in our swim-wear, carrying towels, a cooler filled with soft drinks, and some big umbrellas for shade. Amaya's bright yellow, solid knot bikini is complimented by a purple sarong around her waist, complete with big yellow smiley faces. Meanwhile, my black and white, low-cut, zebra-print bikini is drawing a lot of attention from both boys, despite the white sarong covering my hips.
Amaya hardly seems surprised by their lack of attention toward her, but I honestly don't feel bad. Since I started swimming regularly, I'm actually happy with my curves, and her mournful expression is not going to dampen my mood.
Kenta's leering I could do without, though.
Hisao has his school swim trunks on, apparently not having any other kind of swim-wear, along with a white t-shirt. Kenta has his a black t-shirt slung over his shoulder, but he still has the same pair of denim shorts on; I hope he wasn't serious about the banana-hammock. Though, I doubt Kenta ever planned to go swimming since he has a hard enough time walking.
Once we've got our little temporary beach-camp set up in the sand, which is around twenty feet from the high-tide mark, Amaya tosses the sarong under her towel and dashes off to play hopscotch in the surf, whining, “it's cold!”
“You're not a reptile, you'll adapt!” Kenta remarks, “wait, you're not a reptile, right?”
Turning back to regard him sardonically, she sticks out her tongue and shakes her head playfully before quickly turning back. In her defense, I swat his arm and smirk. He responds by dropping down to sit in the sand, turning his eyes out at the rolling surf, wearing a contemplative expression. Running a hand through his sandy-colored hair, he leans against his good arm, caught in a brief reminder, it seems, that he shouldn't try certain things. In the interest of preserving his dignity, I don't bother pointing out when I see him have these reactions.
It's just not right using it against him like that.
Turning my gaze back out to watch Amaya, catching the rolling waves in her hand and tossing some of the foam back out to sea, I realize she too could potentially have a bad reaction just to the change of temperature. Rarely does she let things like that bother her, though. As much as her epilepsy really is on her mind all the time, she has developed a fairly Devil-may-care attitude when it comes to potential risks. Secretly, I think she's terrified of certain things, like the way she fears fireworks, but she never lets it show through that mischievous smile.
Hisao chose to keep his shirt on, which effectively hides the thin red line separating him from the so-called normal people of the world. Honestly, I don't blame him for wanting to hide it, especially considering he's still getting used to it himself. Looking at me with his warm smile, though it's mixed in with worried eyes, I'm hardly surprised when I see his hand moving up to trace along his sternum. There's a caged-animal quality to his expression, but he also looks determined; I've seen that look before.
Amaya reappears next to me as I apparently let my mind wander a bit while sharing a look with Hisao. Her giddy laughter breaking the spell as she exclaims, “Aiko! Fight the Swooner's powers~! Resist~!”
“What?” I prompt, sounding a little dazed.
Maybe I really am caught in some kind of spell.
She busts out laughing and sinks down to her knees. For a moment, she opens her mouth as if to respond, but just shakes her head and continues laughing, apparently content just to observe my spellbound state. Breaking out of my daze, I sit down next to her and smile up at Hisao, patting the sand, inviting him to sit with the rest of us. Something in his look tells me he intends to be up-front about his scar and his condition, and I'm ready to offer my support.
Taking my cue, he sits down between me and Kenta. Seeing his expression change, now hanging his mouth open as though caught between saying something and keeping a secret, my other two friends turn a quiet gaze at him. Giving him a slight nod, I glance at Kenta, then Amaya, and they both look like they know what's coming.
Deciding, apparently, to rip the band-aid off quickly, Hisao tugs his shirt off and sets it down beside him, puffing his chest out to ensure they notice the scar; though I doubt anyone within two-hundred feet wouldn't notice the surgically straight quarter-inch-wide red line curving ever so slightly as it snakes between his pectoral muscles. Letting out a sigh, he gives them a moment to inspect it, and perhaps wonder, before explaining about his heart attack, the four-month hospital stay, and even the seventeen pills he takes every day to keep his arrhythmia in check.
They've both heard similar tales before; two years at a school for disabled kids numbs you to a lot of medical jargon and related distressing emotions. However, I'm glad to see they're both sympathetic. This isn't just a random student to them; Hisao has become their friend.
“Tough break,” Kenta says after letting Hisao finish his entire explanation. Having been working against his condition since birth, he knows how difficult it is dealing with the associated pratfalls of being different and having physical restrictions. “If you wanna talk about it sometime, lemme know,” he says, pointing at himself with his thumb, “I've got some experience with that kind of stuff.” Assuming a delightfully flat expression, he adds, “no homo.”
Surprisingly, Amaya chirps, “we've all dealt with crap like that for a while.”
Turning a quizzical eye at her, I'm somewhat shocked she's saying anything; usually she clams up when someone starts talking about their condition. Shaking her head at me, she takes a deep, steadying breath and smiles, turning back toward Hisao and explaining, “I was diagnosed with epilepsy when I was five.”
Whoa! Is she having a seizure?
Seeing Kenta, and probably myself, looking at her with shocked expressions, she lets out a nervous giggle and forces a smile. “Tadao convinced me I should be a little more up-front about it,” she explains, her cheeks flushing for a moment as she adds, “don't go blabbering to people, though.”
Hisao already knew about the condition, but, after seeing what it nearly did to her relationship with Tadao, I'm sure he understands this is new territory. He's also smart enough not to let on he was already informed. Shaking his head, he holds up a hand and smiles, replying, “I'll tell no-one.”
Realizing how monumental a change this is in Amaya's behavior, and knowing it's really a positive step, I can't keep the proud smile off my face. Whatever else it may have put them through emotionally, I've found that pushing my mismatched friends together has really been more beneficial than detrimental. Seeing my almost motherly expression, Amaya punches my arm and exclaims, “stop looking so smug~!”
Kenta's nervous laugh breaks into a maniacal guffaw, to which Amaya rolls her eyes and folds her arms. She knows how significant a change it is, though, so she chooses to join in rather than berate him. Hisao seems somewhat relieved, probably because he expected a lot more focus to end up placed on him after telling about his condition.
“I told you they probably wouldn't even care,” I chide, smirking derisively, “are you gonna hide it again when the rest of them get back?”
“Oh my God, wait~!” Amaya suddenly stops her laughter and places a hand on my shoulder to steady herself. Taking a few quick glances between Hisao and I, she lets out a singular, “Ha~!” then closes her eyes and remarks, “so, the Swooner has a broken heart~?”
Cracking up laughing, she falls backward and curls into a fetal position, apparently overwhelmed by the silliness of the realization. Having never really thought of it that way myself, I find the incongruity humorous, but not quite on the same level. Kenta is similarly less fazed by it, but, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees, he's shaking his bowed head as his shoulders bob with internal laughs.
After we all calm down, we don't end up swimming at all. Instead, we while away the rest of the morning telling embarrassing stories about our respective childhoods. Mostly Hisao listens, still remaining aloof about most of his past, but there are some topics that pique his interest.
Kenta grew up in the city like Hisao, which I already knew, but I had no idea how much he missed trolling the streets with his friends, and spending an inordinate amount of time at arcades. When he was sent to his first boarding school, at the start of middle school, he turned to online connections, and still maintains friendships with the same group through online gaming. Unlike Kenta, though, Hisao hasn't expressed any interest in reconnecting with his friends. Sharing a quick glance with me, he relates his distress with a simple look; he doesn't want to talk about feeling abandoned.
Feeling a little disappointed, but not surprised, I follow his cue. Changing the subject, I start telling about my late-night excursions tracking down fireflies while my parents thought I was safely asleep. Smiling mischievously, I tell them about the old seaman I met, or found, rather, out in a grassy field lying face-down; a story I still haven't told Mom. “He was passed out drunk, though I didn't quite understand that at the time,” I say, smirking innocently, “I thought he was dead, but I was curious, so I found a stick and-”
“He wasn't dead, right?” Amaya asks, looking shocked; I've never told her this story either.
“Hey, we listened to your tree-climbing story; let her finish!” Kenta scolds her, finishing with a laugh.
Crossing her arms, she sticks her tongue out at him and grunts, “hmph!”
“Anyway!” I continue, rolling my eyes at their exchange, “I started poking his shoulder. After a few solid shoves, he bolted upright and started screaming incoherently, slurring every word.”
Amaya looks relieved, but then screws up her face and asks, “what did you do?”
Laughing, I reply, “what else would a ten-year-old girl do?” Pausing for a second, for dramatic effect, I continue, “I ran away screaming; left the jar on the ground and bolted.” Cracking up laughing, quickly joined by three other voices, I flop down on the towel and let the laughter pour out of me.
After a few minutes, I hear Kenta shuffling a bit and look over to see him regarding me with a questioning look. Seeing my glance, he smirks and inquires, “what happened to the fireflies?”
Sitting up again, I shrug and offer a bewildered smile. “Never saw the jar again,” I explain, “though that wasn't the last time I saw the old man.”
As I'm about to continue the story, I notice Kenta's eyes shift; something behind me caught his eye. Turning, I can see a car in the driveway at the far end of the bungalow; a little blue sedan. Standing, I look over at Amaya, whom I figure might recognize the vehicle, but she shrugs and shakes her head.
All of us standing now, Hisao stretches upward on his toes beside me, making use of his height to see over the brush. “Tadao?” he mumbles, squinting.
Suddenly jealous of his height, I paw his shoulder and try to make myself taller, but it doesn't work. Instead, I sigh and ask, “are you sure?”
“Yeah, and Naoko... and...” he trails off, leaning leans his head forward and squinting; this time in thought. “I think it's her brother,” he says, raising an eyebrow, “I forgot his name-”
“Nobuo!” Kenta exclaims, starting to hobble his way up the sandy hill, “she actually did call him!”
Is that her surprise?
Hisao goes back and grabs his shirt before following us up the beach with Kenta. Catching Naoko's eye before she can run up the stairs, Kenta waves to her. While Tadao leads Nobuo through the kitchen door, both carrying brown paper grocery bags, she runs toward us with a giant smile on her face, signing, [Nobuo owed me a favor~!]
We all stop and let the little ball of energy run up to us, still grinning broadly. Once she's stopped, Kenta replies, [it was just a suggestion!]
For a second, I see her eyes catch something strange and I see a faintly shocked expression appear, but the smile returns quickly, redoubled. A fast glance at Hisao, and I realize he still has his shirt off; she probably saw the scar. He pulls it on quickly, shrugging, then assumes a neutral expression.
Never being one to bother about anything like that, she signs, [he agreed to cook for us and he brought some-] Stopping her signing, she glances at Amaya and I realize she might be looking for approval.
“She called in her brother to cook for us, and,” I say, then look back to Naoko and sign, [and?]
[Wine~!] she replies, [for cooking, and maybe some extra.] She pauses and starts swaying her shoulders for a second, then shrugs and adds, [okay, a lot extra~!]
“He brought wine,” I say, almost frowning, uncertain how Amaya might react.
The bright smile spreading on Amaya's face quickly dispels any thought I might have had about her wanting to follow her aunt's wishes. “Devious~!” she exclaims, practically singing the word, “I approve~!”
Naoko doesn't need a translation for Amaya's exuberant response, instead she bounces where she stands and grins happily. Glancing at Kenta, I get the sense he had something to do with this. “This is your doing, I imagine,” I accuse him, smiling playfully.
“I might have put the idea in her head, but it was really Tadao's-” he starts to reply, but stops himself and glances at Amaya. Shrugging, he lets out a sharp sigh and continues, “he told me there wouldn't be any booze, and I almost didn't come along.”
“You had nothing planned,” I retort. “You just wanna get us drunk and have your way with us!” I accuse him derisively, folding my arms and glowering.
Falling silent, he chuckles and shrugs again, apparently not having an argument; though I'm not sure which accusation is making him feel guilty; perhaps it's both on some level. Seeing him this quiet, maybe he hadn't really thought of it that way until just now. Feeling Hisao's hand come up on my shoulder, I remember it's not just Kenta and myself having this conversation.
“I'm sure his intentions were perfectly innocent,” Hisao says in Kenta's defense, though his tone is no less playful than my own, “besides, it sounds like a good idea.” That earns him an elbow to the side from me, and a dirty look, but I know he's just messing around.
Or is he? Hmm...
Kenta breaks his silence by adding, “see, maybe we'll get that harem going after all!”
Choosing to ignore his lecherous comments, Amaya brushes past Kenta and breaks into a jog headed for the stairs; likely to interrogate Tadao. While she's headed inside, I translate the brief conversation to Naoko, and she promptly directs a sneer at Kenta, but it's short-lived. Spinning and kicking sand at him, she beckons us to follow and heads inside.
Nobuo is already getting settled into the kitchen when we step in, and the bright smile on his otherwise sleepy expression makes me grin in response. Taller than his sister, really by a lot, he isn't wearing a chef's coat this time; opting for a faded blue polo shirt and black slacks. Inspecting the kitchen with his woodsy brown eyes, the delighted smile on his chubby features indicates he likes what he sees.
Glancing around the open areas, I notice Amaya and Tadao are nowhere to be seen. For a second, I wonder what debaucherous thing she might have dragged him away for, but I control the thought; I need to stop thinking such devious thoughts. Kenta heads for the bedrooms almost immediately, and I consider warning him, but I doubt he's any less observant where those two are concerned.
Naoko, meanwhile, waits expectantly for Nobuo to finish looking through the cabinets and testing the facilities. Leaning on her elbows against the island, her cheerful expression is edged with a little bit of anxiety. Whatever Nobuo thinks of the arrangement, she apparently wants him to enjoy the weekend.
Raising an eyebrow, he finally settles his gaze on her and shrugs. His monotone voice is accompanied by similarly drowsy signing, “this'll do.”
Naoko rolls her eyes at his lackadaisical response, but decides not to press him for anything further. Looking at me, she smiles and then glances past me to Hisao, who's inspecting the bags of groceries; though I'm not sure why, really.
Is he as interested in the alcohol as Kenta?
“What're you looking for?” I inquire, causing him to snap a surprised look on me and smirk nervously.
“Just looking,” he explains, “I don't know much about wine, but I'm curious, I guess.” Drawing out one of the bottles, he turns it over in his hands to read the label.
“There'll be plenty left when I'm done,” Nobuo reasons, his voice still in monotone. “I only agreed to this so I'd get some feedback,” he explains, “not so you can get my sister shitfaced.”
His vulgarity is a little surprising, but I notice he doesn't sign it for Naoko, instead substituting for the less antagonistic “drunk.” Evidently he doesn't want her hearing what he really said, and I don't want to seem ungrateful, so I don't mention the difference.
“He'd be getting me drunk, if anything,” I respond, quickly signing it for Naoko.
Hisao looks at me with an odd expression; something like an apology, but closer to shocked. Setting the bottle down beside Naoko, he looks over toward Nobuo and grins sheepishly. “Probably true,” he remarks, smirking at me, “maybe we can get her to sing for us, then.”
Blushing, I roll my eyes. Sometimes I wish he'd never found out I like to sing, but I can't help smiling at the vote of confidence. Still, I can't let him think he has the upper hand.
Feminine wiles, activate!
“Just sing?” I reply, turning my face into a mischievous pout, “nothing else?”
His eyes widen and he chuckles nervously while Nobuo translates for Naoko. Meanwhile, I lean against the counter and aim my considerable cleavage at him, maintaining the pout and adding a sway to my hips. The combination seems to be too much for him, and he turns away. The second he does so, I straighten up and stop swaying.
Naoko rolls her eyes at me and signs, [how long are you going to torture him?]
[I haven't decided,] I reply, giggling.
Hearing my laugh, Hisao turns back around. Still blushing, he protests, [no fair talking about me behind my back!]
“Sorry,” I reply, “just teasing.”
“I'm starting to think Kenta was right,” he comments.
“Right about what?” says a voice from behind me. Turning, I see Amaya and Tadao have emerged from their escapade. His question is accompanied by a derisive smile.
Hisao replies, “Aiko being a temptress.”
“Aren't they all,” Tadao remarks, reflexively pulling away from the oncoming jab to his ribs.
“Okay, for that, I'm gonna go change into something less revealing,” I say, grabbing Amaya's arm and walking toward the bedrooms.
She protests for a second, but, seeing my half-serious expression, she decides to go along with my plan; even turning to stick her tongue out at the boys. “You brought this on yourselves~!” she remarks as we disappear down the hallway.
Once in the bedroom, I head straight for the closet for a white t-shirt and then grab those cut-off jeans from my suitcase. Amaya puts her adorable white and gold sun-dress back on while I slip into the shirt and shorts.
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