Another omake scene from yours truly
Posted: Wed Nov 28, 2007 4:10 pm
I should stop doing these. It's killing me.
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It’s autumn now, you can feel it in the air. The leaves turning gold and red and falling like rain. The air turning colder as summer fades like a distant memory. The sky is turning cloudy overhead, dark masses ready to burst and shower the unsuspecting people below.
On this cooler air, the smell of the sea carries further inland. Down here, right at the harbour, it’s so strong that I can taste salt with every breath. Seagulls hover above the water, bobbing with the passing waves. People come here less and less now with the weather turning greyer each day. Not many people in this city own a boat, so only a few are moored here permanently at this time of year, including a big fishing trawler. It’s peaceful here now and not too cold yet, so this is the best time to come to be alone.
Alone… It’s a good thing there’s no one around to see me. I can’t seem to stop blushing at all this afternoon.
“Is something wrong, Hacchan?”
She knows I jumped. She knows I was daydreaming, barely awake at all, letting my feet do the walking. She knows that I’m blushing right now, too. She always does.
“N…no,” I stutter meekly, staring down at my shoes on the damp concrete. True. Nothing is wrong. Not here, with her, alone together. I look up at her again and she shows me that beautiful slow smile of hers, as if she knows just what it does to me and is using it to tease me even more. Her hair, free of the ribbon she usually ties it with, undulates slowly in the sea breeze. The hem of the long blue dress she wears billows out in much the same way around her legs.
“Well then, we don’t want to keep her waiting, do we?” With that, she turns and follows the railing along the dockside towards a small jetty, leaving me with the image of her in my mind.
“Lily,” I call out after her when I realise I’ve been standing here like a fool. “Wait!” But she knows I’ll run to catch up.
The jetty is right by the water, down a flight of concrete steps. We’re so low now that I could reach over and dip my foot in if I wanted to. The salt-stained wood creaks under my weight as I follow the angel in blue to the very end, where a boat is waiting for us it seems. She stops right at the edge, how does she do it, and turns to me with that gentle smile beckoning me on.
Boat is the right word. This is no ship, just a little motorboat with two padded black benches just wide enough for two people, and a narrow area at the front for the pilot to stand. It dips and sways gently on the water’s surface, tied to the end of the jetty from fore and aft. The pilot is already standing on the front of the hull astride the narrow gap with the prow rope in his hand, ready to cast off at a moment’s notice.
“H…hello,” I venture, feeling bold today. I have good reason. But the pilot only smiles down at me from beneath the white cap.
“Come now, Hanako,” calls that angelic voice with a hint of amusement. “We’d best be off.” She takes the helmsman by the hand with an air of practiced grace and steps aboard to slip into her seat on the far side.
I don’t think I’ve ever been on a boat before. I can feel the hull moving beneath me as I plant one foot, ready to climb aboard. But then comes the sound of that angelic laugh, and I know that if I do something foolish, she’ll be worrying all afternoon.
I take the pilot by the hand, how easily that brings more colour to my face, and he helps me into my seat. If I can’t try to show off my self-confidence, then sitting here by her side with her hand on mine is more than consolation.
I wonder if she knows how much it means to me, or does she simply find this contact relaxing? What does it matter?
I’m not sure how long it takes us to ride out to the ship. I haven’t been paying much attention. Watching the waves breaking against the harbour wall, gulls diving over the foaming spray, the sunlight glittering off the rolling ocean in the distance, why would anyone want to keep track of time out here? As the land fades into the distance until it’s just a thin black line on the horizon, I feel more and more isolated out here, more and more alone. It’s relaxing.
The ship is just a speck at first. Then a dot. Then a blur, then a shadow. It seems to rise up out of the waves as we approach, like a creature being born from the very depths of the ocean. By the time we come close, I can really appreciate how big it is. The main mast towers above the waves like an ancient tree of some colossal breed, thick cables trailing down towards the deck. The deck itself is well above our heads, the hull a gleaming white from bow to stern. It arcs elegantly up out of the water at the prow so that the end of the deck is suspended over the waves. At the back, there is a similar arrangement, though squared much like the rear of a cruise ship. A platform hangs from the stern just under the water’s surface, suspended by thick cables.
“What do you think, Hacchan?”
I turn to see Lily’s face gazing expectantly in my direction. Even under that wonderful smile, she can’t hide a hint of worry. Not from me.
“It’s beautiful!” That it is. I never imagined when she told me that she had a private yacht that it would be something so grand. I can see the cabin from here, the wide window at the front must be the bridge, and enough space for…
…well now, what does one put on a private yacht?
“Her name is Ocean Flower,” says the girl with the white-gold hair. English isn’t a strongpoint of mine. It takes me a moment to realise.
“L…Lily,” I stutter, and she just laughs again.
The little motorboat settles onto its cradle with a judder. The engine cuts out and the sound of a winch above us rises over the gently lapping waves as the platform begins to lift up towards the deck. Soon, I find my hand in the pilot’s grasp once again and stepping down onto the polished wood.
“This is incredible,” I tell myself as I look around. Lily already has one hand on the rail that runs right around the edge of the deck, watching me with an expression that sometimes makes me wonder if she can see me.
“I’m glad you like it.” The pilot finishes tying up the boat behind me and walks off along the deck, disappearing inside. “In fact, it would be fair to say I’m quite relieved.”
“Eh?”
“All in good time, Hacchan.” Now she turns and leads me inside. Through a narrow metal door, down narrow metal stairs, to a broad hallway with thick red carpeting and a varnished wooden ceiling, white painted walls, double doors on either side at regular intervals. There must be five or six rooms here, and this is just the first deck. This place really is bigger than I expected!
My angel in her faintly translucent opal dress, with her golden hair flowing behind her like a trail of light, leads me down the corridor right to the end. The doors take up the whole breadth of the passage, the same formless white as all the rest, with polished brass handles in the centre. She clutches both and throws them wide with a giggle that seems so unlike her that I have to blush, seeing her so carelessly happy.
Lily’s room is the largest of all of them, she tells me. It’s certainly bigger than both our dorm rooms put together. We must be right at the front of the ship, because I can see the curvature of the bow edging into the walls at the far end, narrowing the room slightly where Lily’s bed nestles in, swathed in pale green sheets and bordered by lilac drapes on a semicircular rail. To the left is a wardrobe, free-standing, it looks like a priceless antique carved from darkly stained wood, and it takes up a good portion of the wall. To my right, opposite, is a small circular hardwood table and three matching chairs. I can just imagine seeing Lily sitting here, eating breakfast, talking with her father about his business, or relaxing by herself with some tea.
“Well?”
Her voice breaks me from my reverie. I bring my gaze back to her now, and feel heat in my face.
“What do you think? Do you like your bedroom?”
She sits perched on the end of the bed, her hands resting in her lap, with her head tilted up at me elegantly as ever. Sunlight hair falls about her face in loose tresses, framing her soft cheeks and brushing her bared shoulders. Her blouse now unbuttoned, lying limp on the bed behind her, unnecessary now that we’re away from the chilling autumn winds of the coast. The delicate straps of her dress don’t hide the equally fine, slender curvature of her collarbone from view, the graceful arching of her throat and neck, nor does the straight hem do much to conceal the milky skin of her upper chest. A lock of hair falls across the left side of her face, half hiding her eye, almost a mirror of my own. She seems not to notice, keeping me locked in her gaze, staring into those misty cobalt eyes of hers.
“Hanako?”
Her expression, so serenely content, tightens into mild curiosity at my silence. I feel both pain to see the hint of worry in her eyes, and a selfish spark of joy knowing that that worry is for me. My face burns again. What would she think if she could see?
“Sorry,” I mutter weakly, unable to bring my gaze away from her sightless stare. “I just…a little overwhelming.” Not exactly a lie. She once again treats me to the sound of sweet, musical laughter.
“Well then, I suppose it wasn’t fair of me to spring such a thing on you.” I frown. What does she mean? Spring what? Did I just miss something important? “You don’t have to decide straight away.”
“De…cide?”
“There are many other rooms,” she continues, nodding slightly to my half-formed question. “You could pick any one of them. But I would prefer…” The ever so slight emphasis she puts on “I” as if that may change my mind. How well she knows me. “…if you would use this one. This was my room, after all. It would only do to have you use it from now on.”
Her room. The thought makes me feel suddenly light-headed. Lily’s private yacht. Lily’s bedroom. Lily’s bed. Wait…
Realisation creeps up on me like a runaway train.
“This…you…you mean you…” I can only gesture inarticulately to the ship all around us, stuttering past my utter surprise. “This whole ship!?”
“Indeed,” she replies with a firm nod that tells me she’s decided this already, whatever I may say. To decline her would be heartless of me now, not that I would anyway. “Consider it a gift.”
“But…” I can’t really think of anything to say right now. Part of me wants to faint. Another part wants to… I can feel myself slowly turning crimson. At least, an answer comes to mind. “O-of course! But…why?”
The smile she gives me now, I can’t help but think all the others were just for show, to appease anyone else who might be watching. This moment of tranquil beauty before me outshines them all. It is as if she can simply open her chest, and let her soul shine out at me in all its radiance.
“Because, my dear Hanako,” she explains, and I thrill to hear her tongue caressing my name however subtle it may be, “had I two such beautiful flowers in my life, one of which makes the other appear as plain as a blade of grass, I would fear that she would become awfully jealous of you.”
“Lily…” How can she make my knees tremble like this, my heart flutter in my chest, tears spring to my eyes?
“Happy birthday, my sweet little flower.”
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Yes I'm aware that Hanako's birthday is probably at some other time of year. Call it a very late present.
Also, apologies for the utterly sappy ending. Even I gagged at that last line.
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It’s autumn now, you can feel it in the air. The leaves turning gold and red and falling like rain. The air turning colder as summer fades like a distant memory. The sky is turning cloudy overhead, dark masses ready to burst and shower the unsuspecting people below.
On this cooler air, the smell of the sea carries further inland. Down here, right at the harbour, it’s so strong that I can taste salt with every breath. Seagulls hover above the water, bobbing with the passing waves. People come here less and less now with the weather turning greyer each day. Not many people in this city own a boat, so only a few are moored here permanently at this time of year, including a big fishing trawler. It’s peaceful here now and not too cold yet, so this is the best time to come to be alone.
Alone… It’s a good thing there’s no one around to see me. I can’t seem to stop blushing at all this afternoon.
“Is something wrong, Hacchan?”
She knows I jumped. She knows I was daydreaming, barely awake at all, letting my feet do the walking. She knows that I’m blushing right now, too. She always does.
“N…no,” I stutter meekly, staring down at my shoes on the damp concrete. True. Nothing is wrong. Not here, with her, alone together. I look up at her again and she shows me that beautiful slow smile of hers, as if she knows just what it does to me and is using it to tease me even more. Her hair, free of the ribbon she usually ties it with, undulates slowly in the sea breeze. The hem of the long blue dress she wears billows out in much the same way around her legs.
“Well then, we don’t want to keep her waiting, do we?” With that, she turns and follows the railing along the dockside towards a small jetty, leaving me with the image of her in my mind.
“Lily,” I call out after her when I realise I’ve been standing here like a fool. “Wait!” But she knows I’ll run to catch up.
The jetty is right by the water, down a flight of concrete steps. We’re so low now that I could reach over and dip my foot in if I wanted to. The salt-stained wood creaks under my weight as I follow the angel in blue to the very end, where a boat is waiting for us it seems. She stops right at the edge, how does she do it, and turns to me with that gentle smile beckoning me on.
Boat is the right word. This is no ship, just a little motorboat with two padded black benches just wide enough for two people, and a narrow area at the front for the pilot to stand. It dips and sways gently on the water’s surface, tied to the end of the jetty from fore and aft. The pilot is already standing on the front of the hull astride the narrow gap with the prow rope in his hand, ready to cast off at a moment’s notice.
“H…hello,” I venture, feeling bold today. I have good reason. But the pilot only smiles down at me from beneath the white cap.
“Come now, Hanako,” calls that angelic voice with a hint of amusement. “We’d best be off.” She takes the helmsman by the hand with an air of practiced grace and steps aboard to slip into her seat on the far side.
I don’t think I’ve ever been on a boat before. I can feel the hull moving beneath me as I plant one foot, ready to climb aboard. But then comes the sound of that angelic laugh, and I know that if I do something foolish, she’ll be worrying all afternoon.
I take the pilot by the hand, how easily that brings more colour to my face, and he helps me into my seat. If I can’t try to show off my self-confidence, then sitting here by her side with her hand on mine is more than consolation.
I wonder if she knows how much it means to me, or does she simply find this contact relaxing? What does it matter?
I’m not sure how long it takes us to ride out to the ship. I haven’t been paying much attention. Watching the waves breaking against the harbour wall, gulls diving over the foaming spray, the sunlight glittering off the rolling ocean in the distance, why would anyone want to keep track of time out here? As the land fades into the distance until it’s just a thin black line on the horizon, I feel more and more isolated out here, more and more alone. It’s relaxing.
The ship is just a speck at first. Then a dot. Then a blur, then a shadow. It seems to rise up out of the waves as we approach, like a creature being born from the very depths of the ocean. By the time we come close, I can really appreciate how big it is. The main mast towers above the waves like an ancient tree of some colossal breed, thick cables trailing down towards the deck. The deck itself is well above our heads, the hull a gleaming white from bow to stern. It arcs elegantly up out of the water at the prow so that the end of the deck is suspended over the waves. At the back, there is a similar arrangement, though squared much like the rear of a cruise ship. A platform hangs from the stern just under the water’s surface, suspended by thick cables.
“What do you think, Hacchan?”
I turn to see Lily’s face gazing expectantly in my direction. Even under that wonderful smile, she can’t hide a hint of worry. Not from me.
“It’s beautiful!” That it is. I never imagined when she told me that she had a private yacht that it would be something so grand. I can see the cabin from here, the wide window at the front must be the bridge, and enough space for…
…well now, what does one put on a private yacht?
“Her name is Ocean Flower,” says the girl with the white-gold hair. English isn’t a strongpoint of mine. It takes me a moment to realise.
“L…Lily,” I stutter, and she just laughs again.
The little motorboat settles onto its cradle with a judder. The engine cuts out and the sound of a winch above us rises over the gently lapping waves as the platform begins to lift up towards the deck. Soon, I find my hand in the pilot’s grasp once again and stepping down onto the polished wood.
“This is incredible,” I tell myself as I look around. Lily already has one hand on the rail that runs right around the edge of the deck, watching me with an expression that sometimes makes me wonder if she can see me.
“I’m glad you like it.” The pilot finishes tying up the boat behind me and walks off along the deck, disappearing inside. “In fact, it would be fair to say I’m quite relieved.”
“Eh?”
“All in good time, Hacchan.” Now she turns and leads me inside. Through a narrow metal door, down narrow metal stairs, to a broad hallway with thick red carpeting and a varnished wooden ceiling, white painted walls, double doors on either side at regular intervals. There must be five or six rooms here, and this is just the first deck. This place really is bigger than I expected!
My angel in her faintly translucent opal dress, with her golden hair flowing behind her like a trail of light, leads me down the corridor right to the end. The doors take up the whole breadth of the passage, the same formless white as all the rest, with polished brass handles in the centre. She clutches both and throws them wide with a giggle that seems so unlike her that I have to blush, seeing her so carelessly happy.
Lily’s room is the largest of all of them, she tells me. It’s certainly bigger than both our dorm rooms put together. We must be right at the front of the ship, because I can see the curvature of the bow edging into the walls at the far end, narrowing the room slightly where Lily’s bed nestles in, swathed in pale green sheets and bordered by lilac drapes on a semicircular rail. To the left is a wardrobe, free-standing, it looks like a priceless antique carved from darkly stained wood, and it takes up a good portion of the wall. To my right, opposite, is a small circular hardwood table and three matching chairs. I can just imagine seeing Lily sitting here, eating breakfast, talking with her father about his business, or relaxing by herself with some tea.
“Well?”
Her voice breaks me from my reverie. I bring my gaze back to her now, and feel heat in my face.
“What do you think? Do you like your bedroom?”
She sits perched on the end of the bed, her hands resting in her lap, with her head tilted up at me elegantly as ever. Sunlight hair falls about her face in loose tresses, framing her soft cheeks and brushing her bared shoulders. Her blouse now unbuttoned, lying limp on the bed behind her, unnecessary now that we’re away from the chilling autumn winds of the coast. The delicate straps of her dress don’t hide the equally fine, slender curvature of her collarbone from view, the graceful arching of her throat and neck, nor does the straight hem do much to conceal the milky skin of her upper chest. A lock of hair falls across the left side of her face, half hiding her eye, almost a mirror of my own. She seems not to notice, keeping me locked in her gaze, staring into those misty cobalt eyes of hers.
“Hanako?”
Her expression, so serenely content, tightens into mild curiosity at my silence. I feel both pain to see the hint of worry in her eyes, and a selfish spark of joy knowing that that worry is for me. My face burns again. What would she think if she could see?
“Sorry,” I mutter weakly, unable to bring my gaze away from her sightless stare. “I just…a little overwhelming.” Not exactly a lie. She once again treats me to the sound of sweet, musical laughter.
“Well then, I suppose it wasn’t fair of me to spring such a thing on you.” I frown. What does she mean? Spring what? Did I just miss something important? “You don’t have to decide straight away.”
“De…cide?”
“There are many other rooms,” she continues, nodding slightly to my half-formed question. “You could pick any one of them. But I would prefer…” The ever so slight emphasis she puts on “I” as if that may change my mind. How well she knows me. “…if you would use this one. This was my room, after all. It would only do to have you use it from now on.”
Her room. The thought makes me feel suddenly light-headed. Lily’s private yacht. Lily’s bedroom. Lily’s bed. Wait…
Realisation creeps up on me like a runaway train.
“This…you…you mean you…” I can only gesture inarticulately to the ship all around us, stuttering past my utter surprise. “This whole ship!?”
“Indeed,” she replies with a firm nod that tells me she’s decided this already, whatever I may say. To decline her would be heartless of me now, not that I would anyway. “Consider it a gift.”
“But…” I can’t really think of anything to say right now. Part of me wants to faint. Another part wants to… I can feel myself slowly turning crimson. At least, an answer comes to mind. “O-of course! But…why?”
The smile she gives me now, I can’t help but think all the others were just for show, to appease anyone else who might be watching. This moment of tranquil beauty before me outshines them all. It is as if she can simply open her chest, and let her soul shine out at me in all its radiance.
“Because, my dear Hanako,” she explains, and I thrill to hear her tongue caressing my name however subtle it may be, “had I two such beautiful flowers in my life, one of which makes the other appear as plain as a blade of grass, I would fear that she would become awfully jealous of you.”
“Lily…” How can she make my knees tremble like this, my heart flutter in my chest, tears spring to my eyes?
“Happy birthday, my sweet little flower.”
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Yes I'm aware that Hanako's birthday is probably at some other time of year. Call it a very late present.
Also, apologies for the utterly sappy ending. Even I gagged at that last line.
