>Insist
“Saki, how do you know Mutou’s brother!?”
A brief flash of annoyance rolls over her face. Then her voice, as sweet and saccharine as ever, rolls out.
“Darling, it’s nothing worth worrying about.”
Then she pulls me sweetly in for a kiss, with lips so soft they could be pillows in Zeus’s bed. I close my eyes and enjoy the warm sensation of her body pressing against mine.
I don’t care about Mutou’s brother anymore. I don’t care about anyone except for the warm figure pressing herself against me.
So this…. this is what it means to be in love.
Numb
It’s raining. The rain at Yamaku is thick rain. In the city, it’s al
ways thin and grey, more of a foggy nuisance than physical droplets. At Yamaku, the raindrops are large, forceful and assertive. They let you know they’re here in force--storm force. I’m glad I brought my umbrella.
Off in the distance, I can see a tiny figure doing laps around the track. Emi. I grin. It’s reassuring to know that someone knows what they have to do, rain or shine.
As for me, I’m currently walking in ankle-deep puddles. I don’t know how Saki convinced me to join the Fashion club considering all I wear is the school uniform: green khakis (correction by Saki: Chinos), a white shirt, and a heavy black tie. I doubt it’ll ever change, they give girls far more leeway in the dress code at Yamaku as opposed to the guys.
But yes, back to the matter. I am late to fashion club, and Saki will own my soul for this. At least I think so.
I open the door to the main hallway, sprint past a tragically overloaded Yuuko, up the stairs, and and stop in front of a door.
I feel bad for not helping Yuuko. But if I’m any later for this meeting, I might end up with a can of instant coffee stuck up my ass.
I open the door. Inside sits a reasonably irritated Saki, Kurosawa, and a dark haired girl waving a stump around in the air. Miki?
All heads turn as I enter. There is a flash of irritation in Saki’s eyes. Those are becoming more common.
I slump on a desk in exhaustion. That walk took more out of me than I thought.
“Darling, you’re late.” It’s a statement, not a question.
“Sorry, I had to go help Yuuko.” A tiny white lie might save me.
“And what was Yuuko doing that was more important than my club?” She’s a little more than irritated now. Guess that lie was useless.
I can see why Saki is angry. She’s been working so hard to get Fashion Club up and running again, and here I am, her boyfriend, late and soaking wet because he had to help someone else out. The one person she thought she could count on, late.
But I’m angry too. What right does she have to own me like this? I’m her boyfriend, not her goddamn toy. I’m a human being and I have rights too.
Saki’s giving me a flat, irritated, look, and it takes all my willpower to not roll my eyes at her. I didn’t ask for this.
As things are about to come to an absolute cold-war standoff, the door barges open.
“~WAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA!”
Having been properly announced, a pair of pink drinks bounces through the door, followed by its owner.
“Sacchan, this isn’t a sanctioned meeting! You kn-ow that we can’t let you meet” singsongs Misha.
And as always, a dark clump of hair pops out from behind Misha’s drills. Shizune. If looks could kill…
Well, shit. I didn’t expect this at all. Well, it’s not like the student council has any authority anyway. I wonder how Saki’s going to handle this.
I look to the girls. Kurosawa looks confused. Saki looks furious.
Thankfully, Miki steps in.
“Hey guys… it’s cool. Just a meeting of a few girls and one lovely Nakai to discuss the latest fashions. You know. Skirts. The kind of stuff Hisao loves.”
Thanks, Miki.
Shizune signs furiously. Misha looks at her, then to Miki, then back at Shizune. She is clearly uneasy with assaulting the easygoing Miki. Shizune amplifies this with a pointed gesture at the end. I guess it’s not always being the messenger.
“But Mi-chaan… this meeting isn’t sanctioned by the Student Council!” Misha ends on a point, gaining momentum like a snowball rolling down a hill. Shizune rolls her eyes. She probably knew Misha just massacred her point to shreds.
Saki opens her mouth. Uh oh. I see a predatory glint in her eyes. The kind of glint that makes a peregrine falcon dive at 200 miles per hour to catch an unaware, pink-drilled rabbit.
“Yes, Misha, this is a meeting of Fashion Club. Would you like to join?”
Misha is looks confused. Uh oh. Confused prey is easy prey.
“But Eno-chaan… this meeting is unsanctioned by the student council…”
“That’s okay, we’ll make an exception for you,” says Saki sweetly. Sweetly like the Oompa Loompas when they drowned Augustus Gloop.
“But… but… you can’t meet….”
Saki, like the expert predator she is, goads her into the killbox.
“It’s okay Misha, we’ll be really quick. I promise. One topic on the agenda today, that’s it. And we’d be honored if you’d come and sit with us. I’ll be sure to stop by the Student Council tomorrow to get approval and forms in triplicate.”
Misha looks surprised. Shizune raises her eyebrows. They convene for the briefest of seconds, and then sit down.
“Okay Sacchan, just this once! But make sure to get forms next time!.” Misha smiles at Saki to let her know that it’s Shizune, not her, talking. She seems pleased to be included.
To be honest, I’m kind of worried. I wonder what Saki has in mind. This can’t be good. My heart jumps a little, and it’s not because I’m still wet from the rain.
Saki smiles sweetly at all of us, lingering on Misha. Misha squirms a little. This isn’t Saki trying to make her nervous. This is a bear toying with its food.
“So today’s agenda… is pink hair.”
“Lately, both Vogue and People magazine have been trashing the use of non-natural hair dyes, calling them both unnatural and uncouth. It’s one thing to be a fake strawberry blonde, but how about a fake pink starburst?”
My mouth hangs open. She continues.
“Of course, I’m not of that opinion. But I did read somewhere that the perfectly beautiful Brittney Spears almost dyed her hair once… and was subsequently described as a “3/10,” with Rosie O’Donnell coming in at a 2/10. If you’re as beautiful as Britney, and you drop that far down for simply having pink hair, one can only imagine what people think of normal looking people with pink hair.”
By this point, Misha has stopped signing to Shizune. But Shizune is sharp enough to get what’s happening. She starts to rise, but Saki motions her down gently.
“After all, who would even think of dying their hair any color but their natural one? The next step would be to get fat and stamp papers all day.”
This isn’t mean anymore. This is cruel. I have half a mind to get up and stop it. Misha looks like she’s on the point of tears. Her brown eyes well up. I don’t think anyone’s been this mean to her before. With her cheerful demeanor, I doubt anyone’s ever even considered it.
I am shocked. Miki looks pretty peeved. Kurosawa looks like she wants to curl into a ball and roll away into a corner. Saki has the look of a sunning lioness--confident and feral.
I’ve never seen Saki alive like this. Her brown eyes are glittering and her hair seems to have a golden light of it’s own. It’s scary to see her so alive in such a terrible moment.
Look, I’m no big fan of the student council. Shizune takes her job way too seriously, and Misha needs a volume knob installed. But this isn’t criticism. This is cruelty. This has to stop, girlfriend or no. I start to rise. But it’s too late. The damage has been done.
“~WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH”
Misha bolts crying from the room, fleeing into the hallway from the Saki-Falcon.
Shizune rises angrily. She looks like she’s about to punch Saki’s lights out, but she seems to think better of it. Angrily raising a finger at Saki, the unspoken threat can be heard in the room. She’ll get her for this.
Shizune storms angrily out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
A silence hangs in the room. Everyone’s in shell-shock, while Saki herself seems to be preening in what can only be the look of a well-fed, fresh-off-the-hunt falcon.
A few minutes pass. Everyone’s focused on not making eye contact with each other, sneaking furtive glances at the Saki-falcon. Even I’m afraid to make eye contact with her.
Kurosawa breaks the silence.
“Saki… why’d you do that?”
“Why not? They were bothering the club we worked really try to set up so they can satisfy their stupid self-need for a government. As if ruining other people’s work justified their existence,” states Saki curtly. Matter closed. End of conversation. Kurosawa retreats and it looks like she’s trying to pretend the conversation never happened.
However, another challenger appears on the scene. Miki.
Miki gives Saki a half smile/wince before leaning against a desk. Saki looks completely unapologetic.
“Saki… whatever they wanted, I don’t think you should have gone that far, y’know?” She says it in a gentle tone, but there’s steel wire under the suggestion. Hopefully Saki will pick up on what Miki’s saying and drop the matter.
The club president shoots her a flat glare.
“Why? It’s my club. I do what I want. Student government is a club, not actually a government, no matter what they say.”
So much for apologetics.
“Sak-ster, you made Misha cry. She’s about as harmless as a blind baby bat. She’s basically just a translator for Shizune, and even if she meant what she said, you had no right to make that assumption.”
Miki’s voice has lost its California surfer drawl. Her voice is sharp, crisp, with no detectable accent. She’s so easygoing that seeing her like this is frightening. She gets up off the desk and stands up straight, looking Saki straight in the eye.
“Listen, Saki. I came to your stupid club because I thought you were a nice person and you lend me clothes sometimes. I’ve seen you lash out at most people on campus, including your boyfriend over there, but I brushed it off because I thought you were a good person inside. Because I thought you were a nice person with just a chip on your shoulder. Not someone who would make Misha cry because she asked for a set of stupid papers. Not cool. Not at all.”
Miki looks down at her stump. She smiles bitterly, but then her mouth forms a hard line. She stares Saki full-on in the eyes, the deep purple clashing with Saki’s steel-brown eyes. A gaze that pierces right through Saki’s heart—sees through her and back.
Miki gets up to leave. She punches her stump into her palm, perhaps in frustration.
“Later, Kurosawa, Nakai, Enomoto.”
She opens the door and walks out.
I don’t get back to the dorms until late that night. Saki draws out the meeting, talking about skirts and ties and dresses, with Gucci’s new butterfly collection being a point of major interest. I pretend to nod and listen. She pretends that everything’s ok.
As I walk Saki to her dorms that night, listening to her chatter idly away about the latest fashions, I feel an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. Relationships aren’t supposed to be like this. I have half a mind to stop Saki and ask her what the hell she was thinking.
We come to a stop in front of the girl’s dorms, and Saki turns to face me.
“Hey, Hisao?”
“What is it, Saki?” It’s hard to keep the tension out of my voice.
She recognizes it and looks down for a second. When she looks up, all the pretensions are gone.
“Thanks for supporting me back there. I’m not sure what got into me.”
She sighs.
“I guess I was just stressed about the entire thing of fashion club and I lashed out... I’m sorry Hisao. I’ll make it right.”
With that she puts her arms around me and pulls me into a long, lingering, kiss, and my exhaustion is replaced by sudden excitement. Down, Hisao. Her lips exert soft, steady, pressure on mine.
She gives me a wink and skips off towards the girl’s dorms, her skirt flouncing along the way. I try to suppress a grin and fail miserably. My heart feels like it’s soaring towards the moon.
Well, I guess I can make an exception this time. Isn't that the definition of love?
========
"Id vs Numb (GlowintheDark Remix) is a song by Hardwell
