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Helbereth wrote:before midnight

[Hype intensifies]

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:

Helbereth wrote:before midnight

[Hype intensifies]

Okay, so, apparently when given a simple mandate like "stay awake and finish the stupid thing" my body decides to go rogue and cause me to lose precious consciousness. Four hours later, I wake with cran-grape juice in my veins, and nothing but determination driving my fingers--no sleep 'til publication!

(that's the plan anyway--we'll see what happens)

This took far longer than I expected (explanation at the end).

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Act 4 - Cadence

As a piece of music nears its end, the composer often uses subtle tonal differences in reviving earlier remarks from the symphony in order to signal the coming resolution of the performance. The resulting cadence incorporates the earliest resonance, touches on the medley, and may even echo the dissonance in some way. All of it leads to the final flourish that may imitate a rousing march, or fall into the distance like a somber dirge, but strives always to leave the audience breathless.

So too can life imitate this kind of resounding resolution, often many times over within one's lifetime. As people enter and exit our lives, and the world continues its endless spiral, occasionally we're given a moment to reflect on the recent past and perhaps plan a better future. Remember then that a cadence may mean the end of a symphony is nearing, but there are always more symphonies, more stories, more life left yet to be lived, and more opportunities to have your breath stolen.


Chapter 40 - The Loneliest Number

Incessant pounding on my door stirs me from fitful sleep, each loud thump seeming to drill into my head, and I groan in protest. The knocking isn't the problem so much as the accompanying voice of my so-called best friend, screaming a stream of foul, hurtful language at the top of her lungs—it's enough to make me glad she'll be gone for the next three weeks. Since making her leave when she gets like this is basically impossible, the only choice I have is to get out of bed and help with whatever she needs done.

I don't have to be nice about it, though...

“I'm awake! Stop screeching, you harpy!” I roar, throwing a pillow at the door to try punctuating my statement. It lands dully against the doorknob and falls to the floor with an anticlimactic thump. Realizing the futility, I lean up on my elbow and grudgingly add, “Stop beating on my door!”

After a few more solid raps, she barks, “If I still had a key, I'd be in there already, Swimderella!”

I'm starting to hate that nickname...

“Well, you don't!” I retort, grinning a little at the slight edge I have in the conversation. Defiantly, I flop back down on the pillow and add, “So, you'll have to hurry up and wait until I'm good and ready!”

“I'll be back in five minutes! If you're not out by then...!” she warns, then I hear heavy stomping and her door slamming.

Well, at least she granted a reprieve...

Even though today is Wednesday, and I was supposed to swim this morning, I decided to sleep in because, well... I didn't feel like getting out of bed—it's summer break, dammit. Amaya apparently doesn't care. Of course, she does have good reason to come banging on my door: she's leaving on a train this afternoon and hasn't packed yet, which is really unusual for her. While I'm not sure what she was doing for the past week, she's apparently counting on me to help dig her out of that hole, much to my chagrin.

I should probably get up anyway...

It's almost heartwarming to think she's copying my tendency toward social delinquency, but that's probably not something I should encourage. Besides, the real reason is simpler: she's more nervous about taking Tadao home than she's willing to admit. The delays are probably a form of self-sabotage, and if it were me in her situation, she'd leap at the chance to help, but she only gave me five minutes. Then again, I'm almost positive she could break down my door if need be, so I shouldn't quibble over minor details.

I should encourage her to respect boundaries, maybe...

“Five minutes!” she yells, her piercing voice driving right through the wall, “After that, I'm coming in... with our without a key! I have an egg-timer set, Kurai!”

So much for boundaries...

As her door slams once again, I sit up and groggily mumble, “I like eggs...”

Did I eat last night...?

The fleeting image of a plate piled with eggs, bacon, and toast flashes across my mind, but that's just a fantasy—I've only actually had that breakfast once, and not recently. It's only nine o'clock and her train isn't due until five in the afternoon, but she has a month-long visit to pack for, and she's not nearly as utilitarian as my boyfriend; he took one bag home, while she'll probably fill four or more. With a resigned sigh, I start rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, grab my glasses, and set about getting dressed.

Being able to find everything without spending extra time clawing through my closet or tripping over stuff on the floor is strange, but I haven't had much else to do since Sunday. Cleaning wasn't the first option I considered, as I still had a book to finish reading, my laptop needed about a million updates, and I had to personalize the pretty new phone Mom bought me, but now I can look at Dad's photo without feeling ashamed of its surroundings. If anyone asks, though, I'll tell them I was tired of living in squalor.

I'm not sure which reason is more believable... or embarrassing...

Once I'm dressed, and I'm about to head out, I hear her door opening as though it were on cue. Thinking quickly, I spring to my door and open it before she can start knocking again—or worse. She's wearing sweat-clothes with her hair tied back, and there are dark circles under Amaya's eyes making her look comically tired, but her angrily pursed lips and scornful squint stop me from cracking any jokes. She glares at me with her fist raised for a few tense moments, but her ferocity quickly dissipates into a tired smirk.

I wonder if she stayed up all night just to pack...

“You're gonna end up breaking my hinges at some point,” I scold as she brushes past me, headed for my closet. Finding that curious, I inquire, “Hey, I'm not going with you this time...? Am I?”

Sometimes she makes plans for me without mentioning them...

“I need your suitcase,” she says absently, flipping the door open and pushing my neatly-hung clothes out of the way.

“I just organized that yesterday!” I protest, but she ignores me—she probably doesn't believe me.

I really can't blame her...

As she walks back toward the door with my suitcase in tow, she grabs my arm and commands, “C'mon, I need help... I've got coffee and hard-boiled eggs in my room.”

That would almost sound enticing if I weren't being dragged into slavery...

Too surprised to protest, I sigh and follow along with a confused smirk. Once I get inside her room, though, I realize the extent of the problem. Apparently she decided that just packing isn't good enough, so she tore her whole room apart with the pretense of cleaning, or so she says; I decide not to comment on how redundant that seems. Every article of clothing she owns is carefully laid out in piles on her bed, desk, and most every other flat surface available, and all her books are similarly stacked in piles on the floor.

“You're moving out?” I inquire confusedly.

“Getting a head start for February,” she replies, dragging my suitcase over and unzipping it as it falls to the floor.

“But, it's not even August yet...”

“Actually, today's the first,” she corrects with a shrug.

“Oh... um... right...”

Four days out of school and I already lost track... or is it five days...?

While I'm distracted, she starts rummaging through the piles on her bed. Picking a denim jacket out of the stack and holding it up in the light from the window, she frowns and shrugs, then tosses it into another pile. After letting out a frustrated sigh, she turns to explain, “Anyway, my folks will want everything in order when I graduate, so I'm getting all my stuff organized...”

“I... see that...”

I just don't understand it...

Pointing toward her desk, she adds, “Have some coffee and eggs—there's cups over there somewhere... I'll work on this while you wake up...”

Taking her advice, if only because I don't think arguing will do any good, I sit in her desk chair and go about getting myself breakfast. While I'm eating what amounts to a prisoner's meal, I watch her fighting with the piles, shoving them around and picking out select items to fold and place in my suitcase. It occurs to me that I ought to tell her I'll probably need it while she's gone, but I've never really liked that banana-yellow monstrosity. If she takes it home with her, I'll be forced to get a new one, which I wouldn't mind.

I doubt she'd listen in any case...

“If you're done eating, I could use a hand with this,” she says, lifting the case up onto her bed.

Standing as I down the last of my coffee, I reply, “Hopefully you're not planning to get this all done before you leave...”

Turning a raised eyebrow at me, as though what I said makes no sense, she shrugs then retorts, “What makes you think I won't be able to?”

“Oh, I dunno... physics... temporal limitations... labor laws... the Heisenberg uncertainty principle.”

“The what...?” she prompts absently, apparently not in a mood for scientific debate.

Good thing, too: I barely know what I just said...

“Never mind... Why isn't Tadao helping?” I ask, if only because it might get me out of slogging through her closet. The question, however, causes her to turn away and let out a frustrated groan.

“He's busy,” she claims curtly, then swings back around and hands me a clipboard. “I need everything in column A to go home with me,” she explains, though I think she's just trying to change the subject, “and column B is being set aside for storage...”

As I start familiarizing myself with the precisely written lists, which look like they took her all night to write out, I absently remark, “You could do this in January, y'know...”

“I'll be helping you with this in January,” she retorts, smirking at my eye roll as she turns to start sorting through another stack of books. “I plan to have everything ready well in advance...”

This all seems very sudden and wholly unnecessary. Graduation isn't for another eight months, and there will be plenty of less stressful opportunities to get her stuff packed up before then, so I wonder what prompted her to start so early, and with such a narrow deadline—it's as though she wanted to make things difficult. All things considered, the way she shot down the idea of indenturing Tadao hints at a simpler solution, but I'm not about to jump to any conclusions.

I'm guessing they had a fight...

To test that theory, I send my eyes up over the clipboard, still hiding most of my face, and inquire, “Why not get Tadao to help, then? You might have more fun with him...”

I'll owe myself a brain-bleaching for that later...

Swinging around with a contemptible glare, she points a wooden ruler at me—which I didn't know she had—and barks, “Dumbass is busy being a dumbass! And I want this done now!”

Theory proven...

Reaching up, I press my finger against the ruler and push it aside slowly—I suddenly feel like I'm in an American cartoon. Smirking at her stony gaze, I nod slowly and reply, “Okay, fine... but you're telling me what happened when we're done.” It's a risky bargain to make, especially considering she's holding a weapon, but her bouts of misdirected anger usually don't last terribly long, especially when aimed at me.

“Fine,” she concedes, “Just... I don't wanna think about Dumbass for a while...”

I wonder what he did this time...

Setting aside my questions until later, I start going through her itemized list, being sure to follow her color-coded guidelines and alphabetical mandates. We mostly work in silence, though she frequently stops to tell me I'm doing something wrong, even when I'm not—she's nothing if not demanding. Eventually we have her suitcases packed—along with mine—so we're sorting out the remainder when she calls for a break. As I sit down in the middle of her floor and look around, I realize I've never seen her room looking quite so chaotic.

It's deceptive disorder, though, since everything is actually still organized. All her clothes—the ones she's not bringing home—are carefully piled based on season, type of garment, color, fabric, and sentimental value. The books are mostly going in boxes, but they're all categorized similarly. As I rest, I look through the impressive stack of books and realize I haven't actually seen most of them, much less read them. A few look quite old, and some of the binders are broken from repeated wear—mostly her favorites.

I've never quite understood her fascination with literature...

“If you want, you can borrow some of those over the summer,” she says, apparently noticing my prolonged gaze.

“Yeah, maybe,” I say as I reach out to pick one off a stack. It's a science fiction novel from the looks of the cover art, though the title makes me think it's about a desert. “How about this one?” I ask as I'm muddling through the English synopsis, “Dune?”

“Spice, strange eyes, intergalactic war, romance, betrayal... yeah, I think you'd like it—Hisao probably would, too,” she replies, though she sounds a little distracted.

When I look over to smile and nod at her, I find a forlorn expression clouding her typically cheerful face. Her unfocused eyes seem to stare toward the floor, and she's shaking her head slowly with her chin resting lazily in an upraised fist. Apparently she's thinking, and if I'm any good at reading her expressions, the subject is probably her boyfriend's questionable actions—whatever they may be. We aren't quite done organizing her things, but I'm not sure we'll actually finish in time, so I figure I'll take my chances.

Worst case scenario: she kicks me out and I don't have to help anymore...

“What did you two fight about?”

The question makes her shrug, but she still doesn't look in my direction. Instead, she continues staring at the floor. “He's still making a big deal out of this,” she says, her tone sounding more frustrated than surprised, “I think the round-table in class last week got to him, but...”

The incident in question is a hazy memory for me, but it probably meant more to Tadao. Amaya made a show of telling the whole class—what was left of it—all about her plan to bring him home for the break, and it wasn't met with many positive responses—there weren't any good reviews as I recall. Tadao isn't one to be swayed easily by public opinion, but he does have an overactive imagination. If he wasn't already thinking up worst case scenarios, then hearing them from a room full of peers probably got him started.

“Well, it is kind of a big deal,” I say, which draws a noncommittal shrug. “He's probably just worried about screwing things up,” I add, trying to fish for a more telling reaction, “It's not every day you have to make a first impression on your girlfriend's parents...”

Instead of replying, she laces her fingers together and lowers her cheek down to rest on her knuckles. Apparently nothing I'm saying sounds helpful—either that, or she's just tuning me out. It's also possible she blames me a little for him getting obsessive about the trip, since I was part of that round-table discussion. As I recall, Tadao was his typical stoic self throughout, but pretending it isn't there is something people sometimes do when faced with a terrifying situation—I'm guilty of it myself sometimes.

Okay, I do it all the time...

“He's probably just scared—I would be,” I remark, which makes her shrug again—a gesture that's starting to get on my nerves. “You're not making this easy, y'know!” I scold, folding my arms in frustration. When she still doesn't look at me, I groan a little and try rephrasing the question, “Okay, how about this: what does he say about it?”

She rolls her eyes, then looks at me and scoffs, but it's a reaction at least—it shows she's listening. After a few moments of thinking, or simply staring at me for dramatic effect, she finally replies, “He pretends he's fine around me—like he doesn't trust me enough to ask... not that I'd know what to tell him...”

“Weren't you just saying you're annoyed with his questions?”

“Yes, well... no, that's... different...” she sighs, but the sheepish smile tells me she knows I just caught her in a contradiction. “He wouldn't listen...”

“Oh, he hears you, I'm sure,” I say, shaking my head and smirking knowingly, “he just has a mental block stopping him from listening... and you can't do anything about it.”

“I wish he had parents for me to meet... at least then we'd be even...” she remarks, trailing off and resting her chin back on her fingers.

I won't point out that he probably wishes the same thing...

When Mom's introduction to Hisao was nearing, I didn't actually see what he went through, or how he psyched himself up for the meeting. Everything seemed to go smoothly, and he apparently didn't have any grievances worth mentioning, so I haven't bothered asking. Conversely, Amaya has been seeing Tadao every day leading up to their trip, and he undoubtedly has a million little nagging doubts. That probably translates to a lot of questions, many of which get repeated, and I really can't blame her for being annoyed.

That, I think, is why she's attacking her room so obsessively. Instead of fighting a losing battle with Tadao's stoicism, she dragged me out of bed to help put her room in order—something she can have control over. Since she can't really help Tadao, and listening to him whine will only make things worse, she indentured me for assistance—it's passive-aggressive friendship. While I should probably feel a little bit used at becoming a pawn in her neurosis, I really didn't have anything else to do today.

I got a book out of the deal, too...

“How did Hisao deal with it?” she asks, drawing me out of my thoughts.

“I don't know, really,” I reply, imitating one of her exaggerated shrugs. “We only knew Mom was coming for a couple days, and then she showed up early...” I explain, trying to think of something she might find useful. Failing that, I add, “He was worried about it for the few days he knew it was coming, but I didn't get to see him right before—Tadao probably knows what he was thinking better than I do... or Kenta...”

“Right...”

“Everything just kinda... worked out on its own...” I say finally, shrugging again and trying to offer a smile, “You saw when they met—it was sort of quick and painless... I still don't know what they were saying exactly, but there was no blood spilled...”

Resting her head against her knees, she concedes, “I figured there wasn't any secret to it... I just wanted to make sure. Tadao is probably worried for nothing, but... I don't like chaos...”

I never quite thought of it that way, but that would explain some things...

“You even clean in an orderly way,” I joke, which manages to draw a stifled chuckle out of her. “Just remember, you can't fix everything that's bothering him,” I add, which is something I'm still learning how to deal with. “Mom told me you just have to trust them sometimes—and I'm pretty sure he's worthy of that much, at least.”

I feel weird doling out relationship advice...

Her dimples finally make an appearance as a broad smile spreads across her face. “I dunno how you let Cowlick go half way across the country,” she says, which makes me tense up and grin anxiously, “I'm not even secure enough to leave Tadao here...”

I suddenly feel like I need to call Hisao... so much for trusting him...

“Sure you are, you just don't have to leave him here, so you're not,” I say, though I'm really just trying to justify Hisao and I separating.

She knows it's a touchy subject for me—I probably tell her too much about everything—so she's quick to offer a supportive nod. “Well, If you can handle that,” she says, reaching over to pat my shoulder, “I think I can handle Tadao being more neurotic than usual...”
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“Anyway,” I say as I take a deep breath and try not to lose control over my voice, “You should probably worry about your parents more than Tadao—you're taking a guy home,” I nudge her shoulder with my palm, “A guy they barely know exists...”

“They know all about it,” she retorts, which makes me raise an eyebrow. At seeing my reaction, she giggles and flashes a grin, then explains, “I only told Tadao they didn't to put him on guard... they already set up the guest room and everything...”

I figured there was more to her plan than she let on...

“Well, in that case,” I say, clearing my throat and smirking at her devious grin, “All you have to worry about is actually getting him on the train... and he follows you around like a puppy.”

“Yeah, I've got him trained so well... If you know what I mean...”

I don't, nor do I want to know...

“Thanks for not going into detail.”

“Glad to be of service,” she replies with a dubious wink, then sends her eyes back toward the piles. “All I ask in return is help with this mess.”

“That's psychological blackmail... but, whatever...” I say, hopping to my feet and scanning around the room. Waving a hand at the controlled chaos, I remark, “None of this makes any sense to me, but-”

“It's more blackmail,” she interrupts, making me stop and stare at her. “Before going home, I wanted to spend a day with you,” she explains, which makes me raise an eyebrow. “I'll see Dumbass every day over the break, and you and I haven't spent a day together in a while...”

“And your plot to spend the day just happens to involve cleaning your room?”

“Killing two birds,” she retorts with a sly grin.

“Right, well... anyway, don't worry about me, or Tadao,” I say as I reach down to offer her a hand getting up off the floor, “Your parents will eventually adopt him if you don't end up marrying him.”

Springing up, she aims an accusatory finger at me and balks, “Whoa! Cool it with the M word!”

Settling a sarcastic, tilted stare on her, I retort, “Oh, so sorry... do you find that word offensive?”

“It's on The List,” she replies, as though I'm supposed to know what she's talking about.

Raising an eyebrow, I prompt, “List?”

“Tadao's no-no list—words we're supposed to completely avoid for the next three weeks.”

“Ah...”

Her sheepish smile is almost disturbing. “My parents know he's coming along, and they're... okay with it, but...”

“Makes sense,” I reply as I start sorting through the books. “No sense giving them a coronary.”

“Right?”

That final word leaves us in relative silence, and I start counting the hours by the dwindling supply of eggs. Morning turns to afternoon almost without our noticing as the orderly chaos slowly condenses into neatly labeled boxes. At some point, she gives me a short reprieve to go refill the coffee pot, but most of our time is spent organizing her closet quietly. It's pretty amazing how much stuff is filed away in there, though that's coming from someone who regularly opts to leave her belongings wherever they fall.

I have less than half this amount taking up twice the space...

Looking up at her wall clock, I notice it's almost three o'clock, and while she's going through some old photos and other little keepsakes, I'm not being watched. There isn't really a lot left for us to sort through, and we'll probably have to set aside the rest for later anyway, so I pick up that book I was looking at earlier and take advantage of her distracted state. Somehow I find myself getting lost in the story immediately, and I don't notice her staring at me until it's almost too late.

“The sleeper has awakened,” she says, glaring at me weirdly from over the book.

“What?”

Laughing, she ducks back down and chides, “You'll find out~!”

Rolling my eyes as I close the book, I send a speculative glance around the room and ask, “Are we done? Can the rest wait?”

“Yeah,” she agrees, standing and glancing toward the clock before adding, “I have to check on Dumbass—you wanna tag along?”

From her tone, I can tell her question is rhetorical, but I had every intention of seeing Tadao before their grand exit. “What kind of sister would I be if I let my big, stupid brother leave without saying goodbye?”

“No sister of mine~!” she retorts playfully, “C'mon, help me stack this stuff—we can finish when I get back.”

“Oh, goodie... something to look forward to,” I groan sarcastically, “How will I ever contain my anticipation?”

“Just shut up and help,” she chides.

As I stand and start helping her move the remaining boxes over to the corner, I remark, “You've got this sister thing down...”

“Well, if your mom is gonna call me a third daughter, I should play the role.”

“I'm not complaining—except it might make calling Tadao my brother a little weird for you.”

My logic hits her quickly, and causes her face to freeze in horror for a moment. “Okay, yeah, that's a little creepy...” she says, trailing off and screwing up her face in thought, “how about we stay friends, and pretend I'm dating your brother.”

“That could work,” I agree, picking a stack of books up to carry them over to the corner. After setting them down, I add, “Of course, now that I said something, you'll have the idea stuck in your head.”

“Careful, or I'll start calling Hisao my brother—then we'll all be screwed.”

“Aww, but then we'd be family!” I remark, starting to giggle at the cross look on her face, “One big, happy, incestuous family...”

I scare myself sometimes...

After a few horrified moments, she cracks a smirk and retorts, “Let's never bring this up again.”

“Agreed.”

Once we've set the remaining piles aside, I follow her out, down the stairs, across the courtyard, and into the boys' dorm. She's eerily quiet, but her crooked smirk and disdainfully raised eyebrow are enough to tell me not to bother asking why. It looks strange, but I know her well enough to surmise she's preparing herself mentally—we're walking into the unknown. Tadao is many things: literary-minded intellectual, loyal friend, and uncompromising realist to name a few, but he gets distracted easily.

Like me, he'll take any excuse to procrastinate, especially when in situations he can't control. Having spent his youth in orphanages and foster care, one might assume Tadao would be used to change, but I think it actually frightens him more than the average person. When he and Amaya were still dancing around each other, it was usually him who asked to cancel potentially awkward social outings. His fears manifest differently depending on the situation, but, in this case, he probably avoided packing.

I've been asked along to help with that, probably more than to say goodbye...

When we arrive at his dorm room, I hang back while she goes for the door. Despite how long I've known Tadao, I have no interest in catching him doing what I know he probably does when he thinks he's alone and secure. Amaya has no such reservations, so she doesn't even knock before entering. When there isn't any yell of protest, or one of fury, I decide it's probably safe to look inside. It turns out he's not doing anything embarrassing, though my definition thereof is different from my cohort's.

Inside, his room is a disaster zone much like my own, except he has dozens of books strewn about instead of video game paraphernalia. Along with those are piles of clothes and other indeterminate refuse, and a few dozen crumpled pieces of paper—apparently he's been writing. At the center of all that chaos, sitting cross-legged on the floor against his bed, is a disheveled, shirtless Tadao, turned down with his eyes closed, bobbing his head to music from his headphones, and totally unaware of Amaya's threatening stare.

Like a seal, completely oblivious to the circling shark...

Loudly, and with an icy grimace that could freeze a volcano, she clears her throat to catch his attention. When that doesn't work, she steps over a pile of what might be socks—or a dead animal—and kicks his knee. For just a moment he looks angry at being disturbed, but upon realizing who kicked him, he pulls off the headphones and grimaces apologetically. Whatever she expected him to have done by now, he apparently fell short—probably by a lot—but, after staring at her for a few seconds, he just shrugs.

That was probably a bad move...

“You're impossible!” she balks, kicking his half-filled suitcase—which looks brand new—and turning to raise an eyebrow at me. “I swear he does this on purpose!”

Instead of saying anything, I just nod; it's probably best not to get in between them. While I'm doing that, he glances around the room lazily, trying to avoid her gaze, and she starts tapping her foot while doing the same—it's almost enough to make me laugh. However, laughing at this point would probably get me yelled at, so I turn my smirk into one of disdain and clear my throat to force down the chuckles. After a short, tense silence, Amaya lets out a frustrated sigh which Tadao echoes.

“What can I say; I always travel light,” he says, making her groan and turn a plaintiff stare up at his ceiling. “Are you done packing?”

“Of course I'm done!” she yells, turning to stare down at him. The fury behind her eyes is partially faked, as she actually adores his tendency to get distracted, and Tadao knows that, but he often forgets how strong she is, especially when he's being lazy.

“Get up off the floor!” she demands, reaching down to grab him under the armpits, “You have guests, for one thing,” she starts pulling him up, seemingly with no effort, “and you're gonna help us get your stupid bag packed!”

“Vacation's over,” I say with a generous smile once he's vertical, “Time to get ready for the rest of your life~!”

“Very funny,” he replies, rolling his eyes as Amaya lets go of his arms.

“You heard her!” Amaya barks, a delinquent smile forming on her lips, “If you want the rest of your life to last a while, you'll keep in mind how many ways I can kill you~!”

Ah, love: for some it's quiet fawning and horseplay, for others it's idle threats and violence...

“Yes, love,” he replies dutifully, though he looks a little confused.

“I brought help along,” she says, pointing at me, “so don't worry your pretty head about a thing.”

“Oh, right, I'm still in the room...” I say flatly, turning a smirk at Tadao, “Yeah, I'll help—I'm not touching your bondage gear, though.”

“I dress up as a gimp for one Halloween and you just can't let it go...”

“It's all she talked about for a month,” I say, pointing at Amaya. She turns to stick her tongue out at me in kind, but decides to forego a reply in favor of stomping toward his closet.

While she's ignoring us, Tadao turns to me and asks, “How'd you get roped into helping her, anyway?”

“Proximity, and persistence,” I reply, to which he nods.

“And by that you mean threats of violence.”

“Something like that, yeah...”

“I'm still here, y'know...” Amaya remarks, raising an eyebrow as she swings the closet door open. An avalanche of clothes falls to her feet in the process, but she's more amused by it than annoyed. “Do you still have those leather pants?” she asks, and I groan at the reference.

“Maybe I should leave...” I say, turning toward the hall.

“They're latex, and I don't know where they went,” he replies, then grins at me and adds, “Don't go—the police will need a witness if this turns ugly.”

“If she finds those pants, you're on your own.”

“That's fair,” he agrees with a nod.

Despite the chaotic nature of his room, Tadao has a strangely orderly system to his belongings—everything is in layers. It isn't an efficient way of organizing, but he can find almost anything. That makes getting his bag packed somewhat less of a chore, though Amaya and I end up doing most of the work. Not that Tadao doesn't want to help, but Amaya is a bit of a control freak, and she doesn't trust him to do things right; honestly, after seeing the state he was in when we got here, I don't blame her.

Thus, he takes a seat on his desk and tosses a basketball aimlessly while we search through the layers to find his essentials. Many of them are things Amaya picks out, and aren't necessarily choices Tadao would have made, but since the objective is to impress her parents, he takes her advice seriously. In our search, I end up uncovering a hidden wealth of hentai manga in his closet, which he claims is there for innocent research purposes; I don't want to think about the kind of research he could have been doing.

Or what he applied his findings to...

Oddly enough, after we hide them back in their place behind a file box, I find myself thinking about Hisao's room. Tadao has had nearly three years to grow various collections—and bacteria cultures—so I can't really draw any direct comparisons, but the only illicit thing in Hisao's room was that hidden box of condoms—or that's the only thing I found, at least. After two months I wouldn't expect to find a stack of pornography, or fetish equipment, but there ought to have been something he wanted to hide.

I didn't even have to search for Iwanako's letter... he just left it on his desk...

“So, what are you gonna do while we're gone?” Tadao asks suddenly, breaking my train of thought. “Hisao's away, Naoko left yesterday, we're on our way out... is Yoko staying?”

It takes a moment for me to notice, but he sounds more concerned than curious. My pause draws a look from Amaya—which is doubly suspicious, but could mean anything—so I shrug slightly and reply, “It looks that way... she seemed a little gloomy about it, but I don't think she's spent the summer at a boarding school before.”

“Where is she, anyway?” Amaya asks, turning back toward the closet conspicuously. “I saw her heading out when I was in the kitchen this morning—she's been gone all day.”

Recalling a brief conversation with Yoko from Monday night, I reply, “Dunno, she said something about a city trip, but wouldn't say where, or what she was doing.”

“Y'think she's meeting Kenta at a love hotel?” she suggests, which leads her to giggling.

“Scandalous!” I retort before breaking into laughter myself. “I kinda doubt it, though...”

“Make sure you bring it up,” she says with a devilish lilt.

“Kenta's up in Hokkaido until next week,” Tadao mentions, “visiting his grandmother, I think...”

“Killjoy!” she scolds, “There goes that theory...”

Hearing her crestfallen sigh, he smirks and suggests, “Unless she followed him up to Hokkaido...”

After a moment of consideration, her devilish smirk returns as she giggles and replies, “I knew there was a reason I liked you,” she flits her eyebrows, “such an imagination~!”

I suddenly feel like I should make myself scarce...

“Anyway...” he says, directing his attention back toward me, “We don't wanna find out you spent the whole summer barricaded in your room, or something...”

That sounded... rehearsed...

“Yeah, you gotta get out of there sometime,” Amaya adds, turning back toward the closet—likely to hide her expression.

The suspicion I felt before returns, and I groan at realizing this is a sort of intervention. In past years, I've been known to disappear into my room for days at a time, usually when there wasn't anyone around to drag me out for whatever reason. That, coupled with my frequent disappearances, even when I'm not alone—I put effort into finding hiding places—gives them a source for concern. Explaining it to them is basically impossible because they're both naturally social, but sometimes I just need to get away.

I like being alone sometimes...

“I'll be fine! Really...” I protest, trying to sound confidently indignant.

“Yeah, well... call me if you think you're slipping,” she advises.

“Or me,” Tadao adds.

Their sincerity atops me from trying to argue, even though I want to say they're worried for nothing. There were good reasons for my being reclusive in years past, and they both know that. However, this year I have something good to look forward to, instead of something horrible to dwell on, so I'm cautiously optimistic about having a fun summer; I'm looking forward to spending time with my mysterious new red-haired friend, and hopefully getting into trouble with her and Midori.

I actually feel like being social this summer... at least partially...

“It's only a few weeks, and I've got Red here to keep me company... plus Mom is around, and Midi is due back tomorrow,” I explain, as much to myself as them, “And I told you I'm planning to visit Hisao in a couple weeks...”

“Oh...?” Tadao prompts, sounding uninformed.

“Did Chatty Cathy not tell you?”

“Wasn't sure she wanted anyone knowing,” she retorts, shrugging at him thoughtfully. That's enough explanation for Tadao, so he turns back to me with an inquisitive smirk.

“We're still ironing out the details,” I say, recalling my last conversation with Hisao, “but I already got Mom's approval, so once everything else is set up...”

“You'll be in exactly the same predicament as myself,” he concludes, flashing a wicked grin before adding, “We can trade horror stories after the break.”

“Assuming you survive my dad's scrutiny,” Amaya interjects, shooting me a quick smirk.

She really enjoys torturing him... but, who am I to argue...?

While he's looking toward her, I add, “Watch out for Mister Yamamoto—he's the one who started her Aikido training, and he doesn't tolerate weakness.”

“Or suffer fools,” she goads.

“Expect the unexpected,” I say, patting his shoulder, “and remember: he can smell fear.”

As I finish, he stands there with his eyes darting between us, playing the part of the terrified boyfriend. It only lasts a few seconds before he grimaces and rolls his eyes, then performs an exaggerated bow. When he snaps back upright, he grins and raises his hand up in a mock salute as he replies, “Noted.”

“Okay, I think we're done here,” Amaya announces, picking Tadao's bag off the bed. Nodding toward me she asks, “You have a schedule to keep, right?”

“Schedule?” I echo, glancing down at my watch.

“It's almost four,” she says while Tadao looks on with a perplexed smirk.

“Oh, right!”

I left my phone in my room...

“I'll be back in a bit to grab my bags,” she says as I start toward the door, “I already called for a taxi.”

“I won't hold her up for long,” Tadao remarks as I'm stepping into the hall.

I'm sure...

“Don't be late,” I say over my shoulder.

“No worries, I'm on the pill,” Amaya replies, making me stop and shudder before closing the door and heading for the stairs.
___________________________________________________________________
Previous|Part 1|Part 3|Next Chapter

Previous|Part 1|Part 2|Next Chapter
___________________________________________________________________
As I make my way across the campus, I try to close off any thoughts about the scene I left behind—if only to save myself from retching. Even if they aren't doing what their innuendos indicated, which I know is a distinct possibility, I need to avoid imagining such things. The promise Hisao and I made before he left is simple enough that keeping it shouldn't be difficult, but I'd rather not tempt myself—thinking often leads to doing. While I'm walking, I try to focus on something innocent and wholesome, but that's not how my brain works.

My brain is a little defective in more ways than one...

Luckily, as I'm entering the girls' dorm, I notice a slender figure sitting in the common room. Wearing a sleek black skirt and a red blouse with her hair wrapped up in a lacy black bow, Yoko stares dreamily toward the open window from her chair by the kitchen table, and I can hear the microwave running. She's facing away from me, but must have heard my footsteps as she turns to beam a welcoming smile. Wherever she went, it seems to have agreed with her, so I respond with a smile and a question.

“Hey, what's cookin', good lookin'?” I ask as I lean against the door jamb.

“Just reheating some leftovers,” she answers, nodding toward the microwave, “Did they leave yet?”

“Not yet—taxi is on the way,” I reply, then raise an eyebrow, “You're dressed up for something—hot date in the city?”

“Job interview.”

“Oh...?” I say, taking a step in to get a closer look.

Scanning over her attire as I cross the room, I find it's a step above what I'd expect to see anyone wear for a typical summer job interview; it's also much fancier than anything she usually wears. If I'm not mistaken, the blouse looks like pure silk with brass buttons and delicate embroidery along the collar. Her skirt is complimented by sheer black stockings that lead down to tasteful red, open-toed heels. Slung over the chair next to her is a large portfolio-like bag, which makes me even more curious.

Why haven't I seen that before...?

“You're an artist, too?”

“It's just fashion stuff,” she says, nodding at the bag, “clippings mostly, some drawings... you remember Lydia?” She pauses while I nod, and some of the pieces start falling together. “Satoru told her I had an eye for it, and she's looking for a summer assistant—I spent the day at her studio.”

“Awesome!” I exclaim, then pause to pull out a chair, “I think... How'd it go?”

While I'm taking a seat she waits, and her expression goes dark, which makes me feel sorry for asking. Just when I'm about to reach out a consoling hand, she laughs loudly and beams, “She offered me a job!”

It takes a moment for the information to register, but my smile soon follows, along with a light slap on her forearm. “Quit toying with me!” I demand, starting to chuckle as she leans back to avoid further strikes, “Are you gonna take it?”

“I haven't decided,” she replies, glancing toward the microwave, “It's... complicated.”

“Going for the interview wasn't complicated,” I assert, pointing out her stylish attire with an extended hand, “why get indecisive now?”

The beep from the timer pulls her attention away, and leaves me without an answer. While she's extracting the paper container, I watch intently, waiting for her to look my way again, but she keeps her eyes on the food. For a moment I wonder if she's messing with me again, but if that were the case she'd probably be watching my reaction instead of hiding hers. Before I can come up with another way to ask, or anything else to say, she turns to head for the door.

“I need to change, and I'm starving,” she says, to which I simply nod, “We'll talk later.” Before I can reply, she disappears out into the hall and I'm left listening to her heels click along the floor.

I guess that ends that for now...

Left by myself in the kitchen, I sit and try to think about what could be on Yoko's mind, or more specifically, what could be stopping her from leaping at such an opportunity. It's likely there's nothing I can do to help make the decision, but I'd like to know why she's having trouble. Unfortunately, I'm left with the same problem she always presents: I know next to nothing about her, really. Sitting down for a nice chat with Yoko is something I've wanted to do for a while, but it seems there's always an interruption.

I still don't really know what happened at Tanabata...

With Yoko vanishing into her room, I'm left to wander back to mine so I can take my pill and wait. As I think about it, I realize I almost don't want to know what's bothering her, since it would just be one more thing to worry about. Last week was one long stream of drama, and I could use a break from the stress, even though I still want to know. If she opens up, so be it, but sometimes I just need to disconnect. Amaya and Tadao are worried I'll become a hermit, but being alone gives me the chance to decompress.

I can't help being a little introverted...

When there's a light knock on my door, I'm still lost in thought, and slow to react, but Amaya isn't in a rush. After she spent the morning in sweats, I'm a little surprised to see her in a frilly black blouse and long tan skirt, but she wouldn't be caught dead wearing anything less for the train ride home. Strangely, she's wearing glasses, but the rectangular black frames don't look familiar, and they don't have lenses. The curious side of me wants to ask why, but my practical side doesn't want to know, so I decide not to ask.

I thought she hated wearing glasses...

Before stopping for my help, she went and found a flatbed cart for her luggage, which I assume is why Tadao isn't with her. “Did you two kiss and make up?” I ask, immediately regretting the question.

“Something like that...” she replies, flitting her eyebrows, “He won't be fidgety on the train—let's just say that.”

“If your parents heard you talk like that...”

“That's why I say it to you,” she retorts, sticking her tongue out at me for good measure, “Besides, it'll help him relax, y'know?”

“Right.”

“It's great stress relief.”

“So I've heard...”

“You should try it sometime,” she goads, trying to make me react, “I'm sure Hisao would-”

“Shut. Up!” I demand, sending an icy glare at her smirking dimples.

Sometimes I just have to react...

With a victorious guffaw, she leans over to elbow my side and adds, “Just making conversation.”

As I'm tossing the last bag up onto the cart, I roll my eyes and decide to change the subject. “Is this everything?” I ask, not waiting for her to answer before adding, “I assume you're leaving your dignity here.”

“Oh, now don't go getting mad at me—you're just frustrated,” she taunts, maintaining her smirk and adding a raised eyebrow, “It's not my fault you bargained away your alone time.”

I should never have told her about that...

Remaining indignant, I start trying to explain, “You don't understand! The benefits-”

“Yeah, you tried that excuse,” she interrupts. “Don't worry. I might think it's stupid, but I also think it's romantic,” she adds, shrugging enviously as she takes the cart handle and starts walking toward the elevator, “If you can both hold out...”

Smiling at her change in demeanor, I reply, “So you're just jealous?”

“No,” she asserts, giggling as she looks away, “I'll need details—preferably in person.”

“You're shameless, y'know that?”

“It's just not a good romance novel without a steamy sex scene,” she retorts, backing into the elevator and turning to add, “I'll be especially interested in how you got around his parents being there.”

“You're assuming a lot,” I say, pressing the button for the ground floor.

“I know you too well,” she says, flitting her eyebrows again and leaning against the cart with a dreamy smile, “besides, I'll need the excitement after a month at home in the hospital ward...”

“Right,” I say, backing out into the hallway.

“Hey, you're not coming?” she asks as the doors start to close.

“I'm taking the stairs—you need to cool off.”

“Hey, I'm just fooling-”

The doors close before she can finish her sentence, and I chuckle as I start toward the stairs. When we meet down near the exit, she stays quiet, but it's out of respect rather than anger. Since we both started our romantic endeavors, we've kept each other updated on even the more embarrassing details, but there's a line we agreed not to cross. She hasn't crossed it yet today, and I don't think she would have, but in her zeal to instigate me, she could have forgotten herself and delved into the demilitarized zone.

We don't talk about specifics...

“Sorry, I'm just poking fun,” she says as we're nearing the gate, “I think it's sweet in a Machiavellian sort of way. Maybe a masochistic kind of way...”

“I'm not sure you could classify not touching oneself as masochism...”

“Self-torture, then?”

Before we can get too deep into that disturbing line of reasoning, Tadao pokes out from behind the brick wall and remarks, “You two took your sweet time—anything I should know about?”

“No,” we answer simultaneously, leading him to raise an eyebrow.

“Okay, I won't ask—taxi's here.”

“Already?” Amaya prompts, picking up her pace.

“Just pulled up,” he says, “right on time, actually—what were you two talking about?”

I thought he wasn't going to ask...

Realizing he directed the question at me, I shoot a look at Amaya, then at the ground before replying, “Nothing you wanna hear.”

“You realize she'll tell me later, right?”

Nodding noncommittally, I reply, “Right, but I won't be around for you to taunt when that happens.”

“Simple logic,” he agrees with a smirk.

“Okay, great, whatever, can we get the car loaded? We do have a train to catch!” Amaya remarks, breezing past Tadao with sudden urgency.

“We've got time, 'Maya,” Tadao says, grabbing a bag off the cart as she passes.

His assurance doesn't do anything to slow her down—it actually makes her move faster. “This whole trip is a bust if we show up late!” she scolds, lifting the trunk open and flinging one of her bags inside, “Don't just stand there—help me!”

“We'll be there, and right on time,” he says, dropping his bag in beside the first, “Your plan is perfect—no worries.”

“He's right,” I say, taking the cue, “The taxi being here just saves you from standing around waiting.”

The collective soothing words from her closest friends is usually enough to help calm her when she gets wound up like this, but she doesn't show any signs of calming down. “We're already behind schedule by two minutes,” she asserts, tossing another bag into the compartment, “and Shinkansen are never late.”

“Neither are Yamamotos,” Tadao remarks, trying to stay out of her way.

“My dad won't wait if we're late,” she says, almost to herself.

I'm pretty sure she's exaggerating...

Since there isn't enough room for me to help with the bags, I hold the cart in place and try to lighten the mood by asking, “What's your dad gonna say when he sees the extra sixty-four kilos you brought along home?”

My intent was to get a reaction from Tadao, but instead it's Amaya shooting me a disapproving glare. “It'll be fine, he'll be fine,” she says with a nervous laugh, “they're gonna love Tadao, just like I do...”

That sounds more like a mantra than a declaration...

The absence of a reaction from Tadao makes me suspicious—as though he suddenly knows he's expected, even though she seemed intent on keeping him in the dark. Unless she had a sudden change of heart, which I wouldn't necessarily find unusual, it should be him starting to fumble with the bags. After she nearly drops my suitcase on her foot, she leaps back and stands with her shoulders tensed, hiding her face behind her hands. Clearly something is bothering her, and I no longer think it has anything to do with Tadao.

“Can you get that, Tadao?” she requests meekly, still hiding her face.

“Yeah,” he replies, casting me a concerned look as he lifts the bag up into the compartment.

All day I've expected Amaya to show some nervousness about the trip, and not just where Tadao is concerned, but actually seeing it is less than satisfying. Despite exuding confidence most of the time, she's still very aware that her parents aren't the forgiving kind, and the reality of this trip seems to have just struck her. She once described them as being equal parts protective and demanding, which can probably be said of anyone's parents, but I've actually met hers, and they live up to the myth.

I guess it can be easy to forget that when they're so far away...

“You're right, y'know,” I say, pulling the empty cart back up onto the curb. When my cryptic affirmation doesn't get her to uncover her face, I add, “Your parents, I mean—they'll love Tadao.”

“How can you be so sure?” she asks, keeping the hands up defensively.

“Because you love Tadao,” I say, which leads the man himself to clear his throat.

“What she said,” he confirms, stepping over to pat her shoulder, “If they love you at all—and I know they do—they'll want you to be happy.”

Instead of the typical brash confidence, her voice sounds weepy as she replies, “You do make me happy—they can't deny that...”

“If ever you are left wanting, I have failed in some way,” he says quietly, low enough that I probably wasn't supposed to hear.

So much for subtlety...

“Hear that?” I prompt, almost tauntingly, “That's why they'll love him—he's not even smirking when he says that stuff.”

Finally letting her hands down, she cracks a slight smile and looks up to meet his sympathetic gaze. “I'm sorry,” she groans, “I thought I was ready for this...”

Rolling my eyes and leaning heavily against the cart, I exclaim, “You are! Otherwise you wouldn't be dragging him along with you.”

“And so am I, or I wouldn't be going,” he adds.

In the time it takes for her to heave a deep breath, I can see the tension drop out of her shoulders. As the long exhale leaves her mouth, it turns into a laugh, followed by a spring-loaded hop up to kiss Tadao's cheek. “Everything loaded?” she says, turning to inspect the empty cart, “Good—sorry for the moment of doubt.”

Another sharp turn and her mood is reset...

“Better to have it here than in front of your parents,” Tadao remarks, casting a quick look toward the taxi before finishing, “They might take it as a sign of abuse...”

“But you do abuse me,” she retorts, casting me a sly wink, “not that I'd ever complain~!”

I don't think I need to watch this...

“I'll bring the cart back,” I say, turning away before I have to watch anything I don't want to see.

As I start walking toward the gate, I hear Amaya's clattering footsteps chasing me, followed by a sudden grip from behind. “You're not getting away without a goodbye hug~!” she says with a giggle, “tell Yoko I'm sorry I missed her?”

“She got back earlier—you didn't-”

“Gotta go!” she yells before I can finish, releasing her hold and dashing away before I can even turn around. “I'll give you a call from ground zero—fill me in then!”

She disappears into the back seat while I look on and shake my head, and Tadao follows close behind after a quick wave. As the taxi pulls away, I watch them both staring out the back window making silly faces, and I find myself pondering what they were saying earlier. Although I have every intention of having fun this summer, I'm not actually sure how to accomplish that. Yamaku is a lively place when school is in session, but it gets really quiet during breaks, and the nearby town isn't much of a vacation destination.

It's far from being the most magical place on Earth...

That leaves me with few options. On one hand, it might give me a chance to meet some other students, but it could also lead me right back to old patterns of solitude. Last year I spent a couple weeks with Amaya and her parents, which got me out of my shell for a while, but it didn't last. When I got back, I could have spent some time with Naoko, but I didn't, and I felt like I'd be betraying Amaya by spending time with Tadao. The irony is, now that I actually want to use those avenues, none of them are available.

My timing sucks...

It feels wrong to discount Mom and Midori being available, but hanging around with them isn't the same as with friends. The fact that I only see them for a few weeks out of the year probably has something to do with that, but I got almost more than I wanted from Mom within a few days of her arrival, and Midori is changing so fast I can barely keep up. Not all is lost, of course, as Yoko will be around, although if she takes that job she might not be here as much as I expected—or hoped.

Is it wrong to hope she doesn't take the job...? Yeah, probably...

After placing the cart back in storage, I make my way up the stairs slowly, trying to decide whether I want to go back to my room or do something else. Having been on my feet practically all day, the thought of going somewhere to be social sounds particularly unattractive, but that might be the point. If I want to start being open, make more friends, be personable, and not end up secluding myself, I should fight the urge to spend my time alone. That doesn't mean I have to start right now, though.

Does it...?

One is the loneliest number, they say, but they can't always be right. Maybe other people have an unquenchable need for social interaction, but I never counted myself among them. Even before I found myself being ostracized and teased by my peers, I often spent most of my time by myself, or with Midori, and that always seemed like enough. It's not that I'm avoiding people, I'm just not pursuing companionship. It shouldn't matter that I want to have some alone time—it's nobody's business but my own.

I can always start making more friends tomorrow...
___________________________________________________________________
Previous|Part 1|Part 2|Next Chapter

An explanation for the long delay between chapters(mild spoilers, nothing specific):
Okay, so, when I set out to write this story--as a whole, not just this chapter--I had a plan. There was an outline plotted from the beginning that, for the most part, I adhered to at least on the basic level. Over time, as I've been writing and publishing each chapter, that outline has acted as a guideline rather than a strict, canonical, one-way street. The problem is that the guide I had actually ran out at the end of the previous chapter--it was originally the final chapter.

Yeah, wrap your head around that for a minute or two...

That changed a long time ago, honestly. Although I always knew Hisao's departure would end up being the end of a story arc, while I was working my way through the last act I realized it didn't function properly as a place to end the story for a number of reasons. Most obviously, it didn't provide enough literary space to provide a decent ending for a number of story threads--Yoko to name one, but also the Amaya/Tadao relationship, and, of course, the underlying Aiko/Hisao conflict.

Between March and June, I was flying through Act 4 with reckless abandon. Not as quickly as the initial two acts, but I released a chapter every week, and established a lead on my schedule. While that was going on, I realized I didn't have a defined place to take the story after the train station, but couldn't focus on figuring that out while working on the sequences leading up to that point. Once I finished that arc, and published it, I realized I had to face that problem, and it wasn't pretty.

Although I had several ideas for events to take place over the course of the final act, many of which are obvious corollaries to previously established arcs, figuring out where to start, and how to piecemeal the divergent stories together proved the biggest problem. Essentially, I spent the past two months figuring out where to pick up the story, and how to plot the remainder. Now that I have some semblance of an outline together, things should start flowing, but I can't guarantee a schedule.

Helbereth wrote:“Well, you don't ... until I'm good and ready!”

Bit of a run on sentence between the dialogue and prose here. Break it up a bit. "Conversation" ends a sentence. Also, "...and wait" isn't "[flopped]", it's "said, as [she flops]".

[quote="Helbereth"This all seems very sudden and wholly unnecessary.][/quote]
Indeed. Something's up. Oh, wait, there it is. Well that was a short mystery.

Helbereth wrote:Tadao's no-no list

This is more hilarious than it has any right to be.

Helbereth wrote:One big, happy, incestuous family...
bondage gear
wealth of hentai manga
love hotel
I'm on the pill
He won't be fidgety on the train—let's just say that.

Welp.

Helbereth wrote:It's just not a good romance novel without a steamy sex scene,

How delightfully meta.

Helbereth wrote:I have some semblance of an outline together

Good to hear. Don't overdo yourself trying to get back into a schedule, though. In any case, a very big welcome back to writing!

BlackWaltzTheThird wrote:"Conversation" ends a sentence. Also, "...and wait" isn't "[flopped]", it's "said, as [she flops]".

Okay the fist part I understand... but, what's this flopping business about?

Well that was a short mystery.

It's one of those "well that's odd... oh wait, right; that's probably it." moments.

Helbereth wrote:One big, happy, incestuous family...
bondage gear
wealth of hentai manga
love hotel
I'm on the pill
He won't be fidgety on the train—let's just say that.

Welp.

I'm never sure if you're pointing these out in a /facepalm kind of way, or just so you can snicker about them again.

Good to hear. Don't overdo yourself trying to get back into a schedule, though. In any case, a very big welcome back to writing!

[/quote]Considering I just posted this on a Monday, I think it's safe to say any schedule I might have planned is shot.

Helbereth wrote:Okay the fist part I understand... but, what's this flopping business about?

It's to do with the speech tag. The whole sentence is,

Helbereth wrote:Defiantly, I flop back down on the pillow and add, “So, you'll have to hurry up and wait until I'm good and ready!”

So you need to - Wait. Damnit Helbereth, you changed it on me. Well, I was pointing out that you previously had that flopping clause in the middle of the dialogue up there, and didn't use a synonym of "say" to connect them. It was something along the lines of:

"So, you'll have to hurry up," I flop back down on the pillow, "and wait until I'm good and ready!"

In that case, the verb describing the dialogue is "flop", and you certainly can't "flop" a sentence. I was pointing out that you would have to write something like:

"So, you'll have to hurry up," I say, flopping back down on the pillow, "and wait until I'm good and ready!"

Which you have since done. Well, not really, but you've fixed the problem regardless of the solution you applied.

Helbereth wrote:I'm never sure if you're pointing these out in a /facepalm kind of way, or just so you can snicker about them again.

Bit of column A, bit of column B.

A few thousand words of people packing their bags? Looks like Helbereth is back
Looking forward to see more Yoko.

“Oh, he's listening, I'm sure,” I say, shaking my head and smirking knowingly, “he just has a mental block stopping him from hearing...

Shouldn't it be the other way around?

I feel weird dolling out relationship advice...

One "l" too many...

Mirage_GSM wrote:A few thousand words of people packing their bags? Looks like Helbereth is back

Would you rather I just sit them around a picnic table for these existential discussions?

Looking forward to see more Yoko.

As am I, really. It's kind of sad I had to eliminate almost the entire cast to get to her, but that's neither here nor there.

“Oh, he's listening, I'm sure,” I say, shaking my head and smirking knowingly, “he just has a mental block stopping him from hearing...

Shouldn't it be the other way around?

Thank you! That section looked wrong every time I went to edit but I couldn't figure out why.

I feel weird dolling out relationship advice...

One "l" too many...

[/quote]Goo goo...

I should point out that you have Hoitash to thank for my not referring to Tadao's weight in pounds--I don't think in metric naturally.

Helbereth wrote: I should point out that you have Hoitash to thank for my not referring to Tadao's weight in pounds--I don't think in metric naturally.

Neither do I, but fortunately I do know what Mirage is most likely to pick up on and critique (having done almost everything to earn his critical eye myself. Twice over usually) .

As it is I'm still not sure how widespread Imperial is; if its just the 50-ish% of the world formerly a part of the British Empire that uses it, or if its more convoluted then that (I know the sciences are very strong on metric because its so... um, whats the word... good for math and science...er.... uh... well scaled? Well laid out? Something like that.)

Officially speaking, only three countries nominate Imperial measurements as the primary measurement system; the United States, Liberia and Myanmar. Source and a diagram. That said, many countries that officialy use Metric still informally use Imperial measures in non-regulated practices such as journalism.

As it is I'm still not sure how widespread Imperial is; if its just the 50-ish% of the world formerly a part of the British Empire that uses it, or if its more convoluted then that

It's not really hard to remember. Apart from the US the only countries who do not use metric as their primary system are Burma and Liberia. (Okay, Burma adopted it in 2011, but they've not yet completed the process.) The British themselves seem to have some exceptions (apparently they still sell their beer in pints and have tempo-limits in miles and such stuff), but officially they're using metric since 1965.
So, if you write a story set in any nation other than the US, your best bet is to assume they are using metric.

EDIT:
Blackwaltz beat me to it^^°

Another good chapter. I'm afraid, though, that, despite my attempt otherwise, I have no more specific commentary than that.

Mirage_GSM wrote:A metric ton of measurement miasma.

Personally, I'd write everything in imperial measures if I could. The only reason I've bothered even trying to use metric measurements--which have not always been particularly accurate, mostly because I have no concept, spatially, of their values--is that it's the standard in Japan. The only metric measurement I can almost get my head around is the meter, and that's only because I know it's just a little longer than a yard. When someone breaks it down into centimeters, I immediately lose all awareness of the object's size.

Reese8 wrote:Another good chapter. I'm afraid, though, that, despite my attempt otherwise, I have no more specific commentary than that.

Don't worry about it, I'm just glad when people read it--comments are icing, and critiques are delicacies. It's possible that I'm hungry as I write this response.