This is the second part of Miki's arc in my post-Lilly-neutral-end mosaic, 'After the Dream'.
It follows immediately from the previous part and leads to this part of Rin's arc.
Miki 2: Changing Rooms (T -16)
Well, it’s me, Miki. Again. I can respect that you’re hardcore, you want the story, the scoop, whatever you call it. It’s your job. Someone like you, you see all sides, you want the truth. I can even see why, honest. First thing on my mind was to tell you, fuck off, it’s none of your business. But then, in a way it became everyone’s business. Although for me, it’s too late. Damn, it’s hard to say what I wanna say. He was a nice guy? That’s just weak when you’re talking about a friend.
So let me tell you a bit about Yamaku in general. My point of view, right? You can tell me yours later.
Back in school, I used to hang out with the track team. It was all locker-room stuff. Frankly, I’m not the cheerleader type, I was Big Sis. Some of them tried it on, some learnt the hard way that I go whichever way I wanna go, and I’m particular about what I like. Miki’s a tough gal, the word goes round, she’s got nice legs but she doesn’t put out.
I’ve got my reasons. In the end, everyone’s got their reasons. But I always believe, don't judge. You can make up your mind about people, doesn’t mean you’re right. Use your judgement, but don’t judge? That sounds weird, but it works for me.
So the girls, they say, ‘that Miura’ as if I’m dirty cos I hang out with the guys all the time. Me, I think they’re jealous. In my year, only Satou is taller than I am, and while she's good-looking, I'm not bad myself. She’s a princess, but with less character than Hakamichi, who at least tries not to act like the one she is. Got nothing against Satou, really. She's just not my type.
Yeah, you’d know all about that, right? Sorry, rambling, needed to get it off my chest.
Back to 2008. I’m shit out of luck, cashless, finding ways to live that my parents would’ve been very sad about. People don’t know how bad it can get in the big city, when the only ones who talk to you just want a quick screw. One night, I just said to myself, “There’s nothing. Nothing at all.” Life had dumped on me big time, and though I always say if life sucks you gotta suck back harder, it was just one big long suck.
Don’t judge, y’know what I’m saying? But there’s a Miki in me that wants to be clean, that knows she ain’t good, but she’s trying. And in May 2008, trying is not working out for me.
Then, like I said, Nakai comes along. He’s no white knight fairy tale crap, he’s just there at the moment when I’m choking to death from whatever shit I’ve downed. Life, it gives back sometimes what it takes out, I believe in that too.
He sets me right, he drags me home, and then everyone wants to know what we do next. Well, I’m drunk like an empty bottle, and if he did do me, I wouldn’t know. But I seem to remember he asks permission to clean me up a bit, probably doesn’t want puke all over his walls, and there’s a lot of flailing around and comedy central. Next morning, I wake up in an unfamiliar room.
Let me tell you this. There’s helluva lot of difference between a cubicle that you crawl into at night and a big warm airy space with a view. My eyes open, and that’s the first thing I feel. I feel it. There’s light from a window and I fall in love with that window. Very quietly, I sit up and I look around, and I do the things I do when I wake up in a strange place.
I’m clean and dry. I’ve not shared this bed. It’s a bit old, but the sheets are good. Heck, I’m still in my own clothes, or the more important ones, anyway. The rest, they look clean, folded on the chair next to the bed. Everything looks pale and worn, but also comfy. Old furniture, second-hand stuff, I’m guessing.
I get my feet on the floor, then panic. Where’s my stuff? There’s a desk under the window, and there’s my pouch on it. And my wristwatch. The pouch looks full enough to still have my phone and spare glasses in it. There’s also a pile of t-shirts. Huh. Too big, which is fine with me. I check my arms. Left one looks ok, right one’s still there. Shit, did he change my stump dressing? That’s too much.
I pad softly to the edge of the space. It’s a little loft, not as big as I thought, but nice. Simple interior curtains in peaceful brown. I take a peek out. It’s kinda boring, but tidy. I smell bleach. Somebody’s been housecleaning. I feel a bit guilty, cos it’s probably on my account.
“Nakai?”
I’m loud enough that I can hear myself. But the breeze and the sun don’t say anything. What? He went out and left me alone? I feel upset, but maybe it’s a sign of trust. Maybe he just wanted to let me sleep in. I don’t know. Don’t judge, Miki, don’t judge. Especially since I’m a bad judge of character.
I go down the stairs and look around some more. Hallway that’s also living space with low dining table and potted plants. Two small rooms on one side, bigger one with a closed door. The smaller one has books and a folding exercise cycle. Small kitchen space and laundry. Another space under the loft. I turn the lights on. Compact cupboards. No TV, but some kind of console and desktop rig.
I think about it a while. This place isn’t cheap, but not so expensive. It’s what parents do for a son who’s got into Todai, I suppose. I feel sad, somehow. This is the apartment of a guy who knows what he’s doing, his next few years all worked out.
I hear voices outside the apartment door. Oh shit, at least two people. And I’m walking around in exactly three pieces of cloth, one of which is a bandage and probably has more material in it than the rest combined.
I listen carefully, ready to hide.
“He said he’d be back by noon, Mother.”
“Nakai-san, your son, he’s always late. We should have come a bit later, give Hicchan some time to rest. We might give him a shock and then what? Father, you rush around too much! We’re too early!”
“Dear, we can wait for him outside, then he’ll see we’re here and he won’t panic. Then it’s a surprise but not too much, right? Besides, there’s a pair of ladies’ shoes out here and I’m interested to hear his story.”
Speaking of parents, argh! Up the stairs like a cat, quickly get some clothes on, something decent. Doesn’t he have a hairbrush? Of course not, his hair is always messy. Fuck. Clothes, oh gods of course he doesn’t have a decent skirt. No, wait, my clean one from last night… argh, please, something that doesn’t make me look like a slut.
Yeah. Tie an extra-large t-shirt round the waist. You can do this, Miki, just overdress a bit. Calm down, calm down. Heh, why not. Surprises work both ways, I can get a bit of revenge for being abandoned… I could’ve sworn I saw a tea-set in the kitchen. And yeah, Miki, you can look different.
“Good morning!~” I say, when I open the door. I tell myself, pretend to be Mikado and you’ll be fine. Can't do Satou, sorry.
Two very surprised middle-aged faces greet me, so I bow carefully, right hand over left arm. Can’t remember exactly what you do when meeting boyfriend’s parents unexpectedly, but won’t hurt to look polite.
Nakai Senior looks like the jolly sort, like Junior but broader. Mother Nakai, however, looks very shrewd, sharp-faced but pretty. I can see her measuring me up for a wedding dress already. Chills, man.
Mother is the first to return my bow, and Senior recovers in time to join her.
“This humble junior lady’s family name is Miura. I am Nakai-san’s associate, looking after his home while he is away. He will be home soon.”
Struggling here, but getting inspiration from memories of a certain Natsume Ooe. Keep a straight face, Miki. And flush the mouth. Get into the mindset.
“Ah. Miura-san, I am Nakai-san’s father and this is his mother. Pleased to meet you.”
“Please come in, I should not delay you in your own son’s home!”
I catch them exchanging husband-wife type glances. We make all the polite gestures and sounds, and then I sit them down for tea and back my way into the kitchen. I hear them whispering, but this time I’ve got to concentrate, so no eavesdropping, too bad.
Soon, the water’s reached the right temperature. I bring the tea-set out and place it on the little table. Then I pour carefully, putting my left hand behind me as usual. Five cups to be polite: one each for us, one for their son—since my ‘boyfriend’ is taking his own damn time getting home—and one for courtesy, because five’s better than four.
They nod their appreciation at my thoughtfulness. Can’t help noticing that they’re politely ignoring my bandages, though. I think, hey, wait till you see his other girlfriends. Miki, that’s mean! Sorry! I slap myself inside my head.
“We’re pleased to meet such an attractive and intelligent young lady,” says Senior. Mrs Nakai nods in agreement. I’m secretly very happy. Great success! Miki in glasses with hair tied up at the back is very different from Miki with hair down and contacts on.
In fact, I can hear Junior coming up to the apartment and then noticing the extra footwear. There’s a pause. I can imagine the look on his face. Haha! Then cautiously but resolutely, he opens the door.
I rise to greet him as gracefully as I can. Bloody Nakai, he’s completely confused at first, doesn’t recognize me. But his brain kicks in, he’s not that dense after all, and when he sees the look on my face, he knows the fix is in. The bow I give him tells him all he needs to know.
He nods at me, then bows to his parents. Good, formal stuff. Game on!
“Father, Mother. Your son apologizes sincerely for his tardiness. I am sorry also for not introducing Miura-san to you, she is my classmate from Yamaku and a very decent young lady.”
“Not at all, son! Miura-san has welcomed us very politely,” says Senior, gesturing at the table.
Mrs Nakai chimes in, “We can see she is a most acceptable young lady. When were you going to introduce us? One should never be ashamed of one’s friends!”
Nakai blushes. If I had a mother like that, I’d blush too. But I don’t have any parents at all. This could be your family, Miki, my suddenly heavy heart says to me. They’re good people. Doesn’t have to be an act.
Nah, don’t kid yourself. This isn’t your life, it’s his.
*****
A week later, I’ve moved all my stuff out of the budget room I was occupying, all four square metres of it. Hisao’s loft is bigger than that. But that’s not the problem. The problem is that I’m really thankful to him, and one evening I give him a big hug because he’s been a great friend.
“No, Miki,” he goes.
“What?”
Then I get it. The idiot thinks I’m hitting on him. I’m not. Or I don't think I really am. But mainly, I’m pissed off because he’s saying ‘no’ so rudely. Dumbass.
That’s the beginning of our first fight. But at some point, when we’re being just plain hurtful to each other, he lets it out, and then I’m just sorry we’ve quarreled. See, he’s still in love with Satou. Oh gods, he still is, all these months later. Can’t fault a man for that.
“Hisao,” I say—we’re on first-name basis already, “Y’know what? Fuck it. I’m sorry I shouted at you. My bad. I’ll go apologize to your neighbours if you want.”
He looks shocked, since he’s winding up to lay into me again. Then he looks all guilty and depressed. That’s what I’m feeling too, but he deserves it. I’ve gotta be the bigger person.
I’m not, though. I’m just about big enough to ignore his apologies, walk away quietly, go up to the loft, and lie down.
Things get a lot better after that. I teach Hisao what a friendly hug is and what it means for friends to hold hands. I tell him the whole school knows he’s not a virgin by now, but I don’t care. Miki doesn’t have a reputation to maintain.
All this is shock treatment to him, I guess. You can be buddies with someone without having sex on your mind all the time. Yeah, it’s always gonna be there between people who are close friends, but it doesn’t have to be the main thing. With Hisao, I know for sure that if we fuck, it’s sex and he’ll still be in love with Lilly Satou.
It’s a few weeks later that Rin Tezuka enters our lives again. This time, I get to do the rescuing.
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