Misaki Kawana - Project Remnants [Album of Loss]
Posted: Thu Jul 31, 2014 11:14 pm
Hello, it's been a while since I last had access to a computer so I've been away. In my absence I had completely forgotten about the project that I had started, a 3 part fanfiction that was a pairing between Hisao & Misaki. I have come to the conclusion that I have no intention whatsoever of continuing the project after thinking about it for a shockingly brief amount of time. As it stands:
Wordcount: 4,200+
Start Date: Jan 7, 2014
Halt Date: Jul 31, 2014
Google Drive: Link
[Note: Drive link includes what is written, the characters, the storyboard, and deleted writing. No promises on quality.]
Permissions: Just ask and the story is up for grabs to anyone who is interested.
I believe that my extended absence from this forum caused me to lose interest, not to mention my already waning desire to write. I really would have liked to, if not finish, then wrap up the story in an interesting way but the fact is that I had to real purpose or plot from the beginning which made me realize that it was totally uninspired and boring. If you're in the mood for something a little different, but not particularly enthralling, then I invite you to read my past works. If you read it on Google Drive, then you will be able to see the dates that I edited and added onto it and the decline of progress in the comments sidebar. Without further ado, here is the incomplete tale of Hisao's cliche trip to the park.
shell.run(Album_of_Loss.txt)
Breaking a habit is easier than it looks, when you have the right motivation. My motivation being a move hundreds of kilometers away from my home and into a school for disabled students with constant supervision and a dedicated around the clock rescue squad. Here, the repetitive skipping of class just because I can’t sleep the night of the festival would be frowned upon, seeing as whoever is in charge of attendance would likely read my profile and send in a platoon of nurses to kick my door in, ready to call my time of death. My other, more private pastimes are hampered by the thin walls and the understanding that this room is on loan until I graduate and I own nothing about it. That alone keeps me in check, the whole ‘crazy neighbor who can enter my room at any given moment without my permission’ thing aside.
I roll out of bed and, rather painfully, onto my desk chair’s legs. From there, I drag myself up to the furnishing proper and stiffly maneuver my way to the closet to gather some fresh clothing for my morning bathing routing, as well as grab the hanging bag of various toiletries before setting a lethargic pace for my shamble down the hall to the bathroom.
I shower, brush my teeth, dry, dress and depart without incident. I guide the belt through the loops and slip back through my doorway to grab my tie and bookbag in preparation for class. Satisfied that I have everything I need for the day, I make my way to the staircase, slipping into another quiet bout of introspection.
Even on the stairwell, the fact that this school is anything but ordinary can’t escape me. People with damaged, malformed, or missing appendages going about their day like nothing ever happened. Like they have lived like that for as long as they can recall. It makes a guy think: How do they do it? A hidden motivator, or is it just time?
Averting my eyes as they catch those of a silver haired girl, I put less focus into my gaze and just try taking in the campus around me. My hard work pitched in the week beforehand has been disassembled and stowed out of sight, waiting for their next summoning. Were it not for the rather noticeable flattening of the grass in odd rectangular shapes, you might have never known that they were ever there. Tomorrow, every trace of that night of joy and celebration will have been wiped from public viewership and will only linger in the minds of the attendees and their companions.
What about me? I’ve had a little bit of time myself to come to grips with my own, likely premature, mortality. I might, in fact I know I am overthinking this. But is it so bad to want to be remembered? Live my life the way I would have otherwise, or live it better? Rhetorical questions that need no immediate answer, but yearn for it. Maybe I can begin answering one.
I stop by the Head Nurse’s office, in time to see Emi get back from her morning run. Trying hard to be nonchalant, I stifle my unease and manage to speak, starting what I hope is to be a fruitful conversation.
“Um, Ibarazaki-san?” I say just loud enough to get her attention. She turns around with a puzzled look on her face, though it quickly devolves into a hearty laugh.
“Hisao! You dolt, just call me Emi!” She shouts cheerfully. I’m a little taken aback, as I had expected her greeting to be a bit on the cool side after I had ditched her at the track on my second day. Not to mention subsequently blowing her lunch invitation off. I recompose myself and soldier on.
“Well, I wanted to know, er,” I fumble a bit, “Can I try running again? With you?” She looks at me with a bit of what almost looks like awe, but is probably just surprised. I’ll bet she never thought she’d hear those words from me.
“Of course!” she beams at me with a bright and sincere smile. Unexpected.
“Great! Can we start Wed--”
“Tomorrow! You’re not getting a break from me this time,” she quickly scolds.
“But I came to you! Why are you setting my terms and conditions?”
“Exactly, you came to me. So meet me at the track Tuesday at 6:15 sharp. That is, if you know what’s good for you.” Giggle aside, her grin can be described as wolflike. “Anyway Hisao, I still have to change and get to class. You better not be late either!”
“Alright. See you tomorrow?” She nods bouncily and scampers back down the hallway towards the girl’s dorms. Heading that way myself, I start moving before she turns around and asks me one last question.
“Why, though?” It takes me a moment to make my thoughts coherent.
“Because getting in better shape is important to me. Giving up so soon feels like I’m shooting myself in the foot, honestly.” Another thought occurs to me, “And I’m sure the people important to me will be just as pleased as I am.” A joyful smile and she is on her way once again, seemingly accepting my more honest reasoning.
Breaking away from that particular topic proves difficult as Mutou divides and distributes tests on Hooke’s Law of spring energy, something that I covered about a month and a half ago. Even my self-esteem boosting train of thought is eventually derailed, not by Mutou-sensei, but by our very own student council president with an immaculately folded note to the temple after the time limit is called.
Hello. Are you busy after school today?
I am a bit confused by the suddenness of such a direct request of my free time, but it takes little effort for me to decipher her implication.
I am not joining the student council.
The look on her face after registering my retort was just shy of being crestfallen, verifying my presumption. However, she recovers immediately and writes once again.
I didn’t ask if you wanted to join. It is not a request, it is a demand!
I smile at her foolhardiness, looking over to discover that competitive grin and spark in her navy eyes that is quickly becoming a harbinger of danger. She tosses another folded up scrap, though this message is not made of notebook paper. Unfolding the white sheet, I find a printed club application form filled out in it’s entirety with blue ink. Including my name.
You’re missing one very important part of this.
And what would that be?
My signature.
Am I? Who is going to verify it? The… Student council president?
Well, shit.
Hold on, she can forge an official application, but can never make me attend meetings or do work I don’t volunteer for anyway. What can she do, terminate my membership if I refuse?
I’m afraid that your document is useless without my will to participate.
Not if I have anything to say about it!
Completely ignoring the literary faux pas she just made of her own disability, her whole frame tenses as if to grab me the second the bell rings. It would be funny if she weren’t entirely serious. She scares me more than I am comfortable admitting, as she looks between me and the clock waiting for her opportunity. The only way out is a diversion. Think! Quickly! I hastily scribble down a response in the last bit of space on the now thrashed piece of paper.
No promises, but I’ll consider it so long as you stop bothering me about it.
She nods and relaxes slightly. Crisis averted, and just in time too. The bell rings, signaling our lunch period. I stand from my seat and escort Shizune and Misha to the cafeteria where I further deflect more good natured attempts on my resolve. As much as I resist, these two do seem like kind people. It’s nice to have friends.
Paying attention to my tests for the rest of the day seems like an exercise in futility, as I have to make a supreme effort to focus on anything academic. Misha, who has similarly finished in the last few minutes of class, sees my mirror of her own boredom and starts up a conversation after standing to hand in her answer sheet, her head lolling to the side to face me.
“Hey, Hicchan, what’re you thinking about?” she says with a bit of subdued cheer. I suppose the dullness of exams can take the edge off of even the most excitable people.
“Nothing in particular, certainly not any more English.”
“Wahaha~! I thought Hicchan would at least be paying more attention to class than I am. I’m soooo~ bored!” She lilts, causing a small smile to grow on my face.
“Me too. I don’t know what I’m going to do after school, either. I am in no mood for homework and I don’t think I have the attention span to read for that matter.”
“Hmmm~,” she leans on her hand in a pondering gesture, “Have you been to the park yet, Hicchan? It’s so pretty and quiet, it even has drink machines!” The mention of the place does make me a bit excited, though I don’t recall seeing it the other day. The longer I think on it, the better it seems.
“No, not yet, though it does sound like it would do me some good. Are you going after school? I have no idea how to get there.”
“No, I can’t. The Student Council still has stuff to do~! Just because the fun is over doesn’t mean that the work is too…” She trails off, her expression becoming sad. I feel a little guilty leaving them with work to do, but I don’t think I’d be of any use to anyone in the state of mind I’m currently in, anyway. I hope that they can handle it without me, though they’ve been doing it for years before I arrived. I shouldn’t worry about them too much.
Before long the bell rings, marking the end of today’s drudgery. Feeling around for the note in my pocket on which Misha scrawled directions to the town’s park, I locate it and give it another once over before entering my dorm. I remove the uniform tie and don my favorite argyle sweatervest, opting for a more casual attire while on my trip. I’ve been to the town before to visit the Shanghai with Shizune and Misha for a light lunch, but I have never been to the little village by myself before. But, there is a first time for everything I suppose, and now is as good a time as any. Hey, they might even have a small clothing shop where I could get a few more relaxed shirts for my time away from school, so long as my wallet can take it.
Now that I can afford the time on the walk through the school gates, I direct my train of thought back to the next matter at hand, my social relationships. I really do have some nice friends here already, but I can’t help feeling like they were just pitying me. I know I walked into that classroom with a detached and sorrowful expression on my face, looking lost and alone. People seemed to surround me with comfort in any way they could offer. Lilly, with her invitation to tea, the student council duo with a barrage of requests and demands for club membership, and even Emi’s outreach and assistance with my training, though she has no idea as to why I need it. I know why they tried and help me at least, but I have no idea why they keep on doing it when I just deny them at every turn. Some friend I have been. That reminds me, I need to apologize to Lilly after the incident with Shizune. She didn’t deserve for me to dump all of my blame onto her.
And what about my friends in the city, at my old school? How must they view me after I didn’t even return to get my things and say goodbye? They must think I am a real jerk, Iwanako especially. She left of what she thought was her own accord, but I had been deliberately shutting her out for weeks prior. She might have been the only one there that actually gave a damn about where I went after I left the hospital for a while, the rest probably just showed up because it was the ‘right thing to do’ as if I broke my arm playing football. They delivered cards and flowers, but never anything meaningful or sincere. Most didn’t return after the first day, though that should never have surprised me. I didn’t ask for phone numbers and they never asked for an email, it couldn’t have been a more obvious formality.
I was mad for a time. Trying to convince myself that I am entirely accepting of my loss of acquaintances and prior life would be a sham that I would see right through and would get me nowhere fast. What I needed was what I got here, in a way. That thing was people I could feel comfortable around, joke with, and generally have fun together with. Real friends to help me take my mind off of stressful thoughts and situations. That was what I missed the most in the hospital.
Passing by the Aura Mart, I resurface from my reverie so I can consult my map to the nearest park entrance, which happens to be on the other side of town by the art supply store. Sadly, there is no clothing shop in sight, though I don’t know why I thought a small town economy would be able to support one anyway.
As it turns out, the distinctive black wrought iron arch is of a similar style as the school’s, though it’s probably just a coincidence as most of this town seems to have been built long before the brick building at the top of the hill. I pass through the open gate and find myself on a gently meandering asphalt pathway through a vast grassy field dotted with large, mature trees. The sight itself is marvelous, but I quickly succomb to the need for rest after such a prolonged stroll down the hill. I feel a little feeble, but that is the reason I asked Emi to help me again anyway. It feels good to take action and get a handle on that.
Entering the park proper, I have to stop myself from just settling down on the grass near the gate so I don’t soil my nice slacks. Realizing that my need for a seat really can’t be put off, I set out down the path on the right in search of a bench. I locate one quickly with light stained cherry slats supported by cast iron legs and braces that curve into loose spirals at the ends. More shockingly, however, is a vaguely familiar visage.
She has her long ultramarine hair is pushed back over her shoulders with only slightly obtrusive bangs partially shielding her striking amethyst eyes from my view. Her posture is relaxed, leaning on the back and arm of the bench at an angle with her legs pulled up on top of the seat in a resting position, her arms neatly folded in over her stomach. I don’t think we’ve met, but I’m now certain that she is a classmate of mine. Acting upon my desire to sit, I wander nearer to the bench as she turns her head up at the sound of my footsteps and graces me with a small wave, that same expression on her face as the day I came in. A smile in her eyes, but her mouth carefully neutral.
“Hello, Nakai-san,” she speaks before I do, “What brings you here?”
“Oh. I was out for a walk and heard the park here was very nice. May I ask the same of you, Ms..?” I abruptly end my sentence when I realize that I have no idea what her name is. She giggles shortly, covering her mouth and closing her eyes as she does so.
“Kawana Misaki, pleased to speak to you finally. This is my favorite spot to come and relax after school, as the campus grounds are often too busy at this time of day. Care to join me?” Relaxing a bit at her proposition, I settle myself into the space left near her feet and enjoy the support of the seat.
“My pleasure. Say, what are you doing sitting here?” I inquire. She sighs.
“Just thinking. I tend to come here just so I can get lost in thought, now that I’m aware of it. It’s really quite nice. Would you like to try?” My immediate reaction is that she was formally telling me to stop talking, but the kindness of her demeanor and general attitude tells me that she just wants me to enjoy the atmosphere. I turn my gaze to the park, but find it hard to regather my thoughts with her sitting so close by. After a few minutes, I rotate again to face her, and she is smiling this time and meeting my eyes with her own.
“Something wrong, Nakai-san?” She asks, having a hard time suppressing a giggle of embarrassment as her cheeks color slightly and she looks downwards and away. I hasten to allay her concern.
“No, not at all,” I shift back to looking straight ahead, “I just needed a rest after the walk into town, but you’re right. This place is great for just thinking without worry.” It’s a small lie, but I can’t very well tell her why I am having a hard time focusing. Judging by her reaction she is pleased that I agree.
Enjoying the silence, I refrain from looking back over at her for some time, though the silence doesn’t last as we attempt to make small talk about class. I don’t know just how many minutes have passed, but I hear a gentle yawn from the other end of the bench accompanied by a shuffling effort to get more comfortable. Triggering a chain reaction, I can hardly stifle a yawn myself. As I stand to go get a drink from the nearby vending machine, she speaks.
“Leaving already, Nakai-san?” She asks it with genuine curiosity.
“Not quite yet. The walk here made me quite thirsty, I wanted a drink,” I gesture to the contraption, “would you like one as well, Kawana-san?” And I should really put an end to this family name business. I move to speak.
“Please, call me His--”
“Just Misaki is--” It seems we have cut each other off in an attempt to promote conversation. After an awkward chuckle on her part and a thorough rubbing of the back of my neck, she clears her throat and continues, “No, thank you. However, there is a small café nearby. Would you like to come as well? It’s quite good.” Her offer is too tempting to refuse.
I offer her my hand, as any true gentleman would, and help her to her feet. As she stands near me, I notice that she isn’t very tall at all. Probably not much more than a meter and a half at her full height. Not noticing my absentminded stare, she turns away, letting go of my hand and taking the lead.
“Have you been around town much before, Hisao?” She inquires.
“Not as much as you have. I’ve only been here with the Student Council for tea at the Shanghai.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she retorts quickly. Ahhh, she’s a witty one, I think as I step up beside her and look down to her playfully serious expression. She wants to keep her air of sophistication, but can’t help herself to a joke, it seems.
“Hey, those two are alright in my book. What’s the deal with everyone and their hostility towards them anyway?” I say quite flatly. She looks a little puzzled for a moment, before her humorous mood is wiped from her face and replaced with apology.
“Ahh, no~! That’s not what I meant at all!” Her face is burning up at this point, “I meant the Shanghai! There is a much better teahouse in the town square…” I can’t contain a hearty laugh at the sincerity of her statement. Her face remains a solid crimson until I manage to contain myself. “That’s not funny at all!” She states in a pleading tone, forcing my guilt to overcome the urge to resume laughing. I settle for a painfully broad grin at her expense.
“I’m,” I take a breath to steady myself, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She turns away from me and an uncomfortable silence tightens it’s grip on our conversation, or lack thereof. Smooth, Nakai. Your social ineptitude knows no bounds! I sigh audibly and she again faces me, but with a smile.
“It’s just up here on the right. I promise, I was telling the truth when I mentioned the superiority of the fare here. And, as a bonus, they actually have menus!” She says cheerily, her sudden change in demeanor taking me off guard.
“What’s the name of this place?” I ask, stepping up onto the patio. The styling of the building is not uniquely Japanese, but isn’t entirely western either. I’d say there is some French or Italian in there, but I’m just making an educated guess. The tables are matte black expanded steel on circular frames with four similarly styled chairs to each, aside from the smaller square ones butted against the railing with two. The whole hardwood deck is protected from weather by a large red and white striped awning, giving it a strangely comfortable character. The lack of bustle in the patrons’ demeanor likely helps.
“I didn’t think reading was outside of your capability, Hisao,” she says quietly and casually, with only the barest hint of a smile. Though that was rather rude, I realize that I could simply read the text on the banner above the doorway. Tinderbox Café it is, then.
We find a seat in the corner that is a little bit more secluded from the older customers. This puts us right near the window as well, allowing us a peek inside of the kitchen which is impressively clean and efficient. A waitress comes over and takes our orders down, iced coffee for me and tangerine white tea for her. As we wait for our drinks, we get lost in conversation again. This time, the subject is various clubs around the school.
“So, are you in any clubs?” I inquire.
“Yes, actually. I am the vice-president of the photography club along with Hatsue Hiraki.”
“Is there a president?”
She giggles at this, “No, just two binary vice-presidents. We’re both members who joined the club our first year here. It has been around for decades, but interest has been waning recently,” she mentions with a sad smile.
“Waning? Any particular reason?”
“Well, it’s one thing to have club members leave because of the added workload of our third year and college preparation, but it's entirely another to have membership so low that the club is in danger of failing to meet the member requirement at Yamaku for funding. Without the school supplying film, development, and a classroom for meetings, I don’t think the club would survive.” She is staring at the salt shaker in between us now, her hands folding over one another repeatedly. It’s cute, but seeing her like this is painful. Hopefully I can take her mind off of it.
“You know, the student council has been on my case my entire time here about clubs. They want me to join some sort of organization, though I’m pretty sure they’re just wanting more student council members.” She nods in understanding. “Say, have they ever tried enlisting you before?”
“Yes, but Hakamichi’s last attempt was in our first year.” This is a puzzler.
“Wait, she quit chasing you? What could you possibly have done to make her stop?” I am getting a bit loud, and people are starting to stare. I don’t mind too much as this is could be an important revelation, but Misaki seems to shrink into her seat a few inches.
“I joined the Photography Club, remember? She can’t ask for time that is already occupied,” she says rather quietly. Oh, right. I once again make myself out to be a spectacular jackass, so I’ll just keep quiet for now.
The drinks arrive shortly, before the lull in our conversation becomes stifling. Having the interruption to anchor my thoughts on, the storm of indecision slows in my head as I drink. Savoring the unexpectedly strong flavor, I just let my thoughts flow rather than trying to organize them precariously.
“This coffee is great. How is your drink?” I inquire somewhat automatically.
“Fine,” she states, her face an obfuscated mask, making her expression hard to read.
“... Something wrong?” Her expression suddenly goes wan. Turning her eyes to face me, she sets her cup down somewhat hastily producing a chattering scrape of ceramic on ceramic. ~
Wordcount: 4,200+
Start Date: Jan 7, 2014
Halt Date: Jul 31, 2014
Google Drive: Link
[Note: Drive link includes what is written, the characters, the storyboard, and deleted writing. No promises on quality.]
Permissions: Just ask and the story is up for grabs to anyone who is interested.
I believe that my extended absence from this forum caused me to lose interest, not to mention my already waning desire to write. I really would have liked to, if not finish, then wrap up the story in an interesting way but the fact is that I had to real purpose or plot from the beginning which made me realize that it was totally uninspired and boring. If you're in the mood for something a little different, but not particularly enthralling, then I invite you to read my past works. If you read it on Google Drive, then you will be able to see the dates that I edited and added onto it and the decline of progress in the comments sidebar. Without further ado, here is the incomplete tale of Hisao's cliche trip to the park.
shell.run(Album_of_Loss.txt)
Breaking a habit is easier than it looks, when you have the right motivation. My motivation being a move hundreds of kilometers away from my home and into a school for disabled students with constant supervision and a dedicated around the clock rescue squad. Here, the repetitive skipping of class just because I can’t sleep the night of the festival would be frowned upon, seeing as whoever is in charge of attendance would likely read my profile and send in a platoon of nurses to kick my door in, ready to call my time of death. My other, more private pastimes are hampered by the thin walls and the understanding that this room is on loan until I graduate and I own nothing about it. That alone keeps me in check, the whole ‘crazy neighbor who can enter my room at any given moment without my permission’ thing aside.
I roll out of bed and, rather painfully, onto my desk chair’s legs. From there, I drag myself up to the furnishing proper and stiffly maneuver my way to the closet to gather some fresh clothing for my morning bathing routing, as well as grab the hanging bag of various toiletries before setting a lethargic pace for my shamble down the hall to the bathroom.
I shower, brush my teeth, dry, dress and depart without incident. I guide the belt through the loops and slip back through my doorway to grab my tie and bookbag in preparation for class. Satisfied that I have everything I need for the day, I make my way to the staircase, slipping into another quiet bout of introspection.
Even on the stairwell, the fact that this school is anything but ordinary can’t escape me. People with damaged, malformed, or missing appendages going about their day like nothing ever happened. Like they have lived like that for as long as they can recall. It makes a guy think: How do they do it? A hidden motivator, or is it just time?
Averting my eyes as they catch those of a silver haired girl, I put less focus into my gaze and just try taking in the campus around me. My hard work pitched in the week beforehand has been disassembled and stowed out of sight, waiting for their next summoning. Were it not for the rather noticeable flattening of the grass in odd rectangular shapes, you might have never known that they were ever there. Tomorrow, every trace of that night of joy and celebration will have been wiped from public viewership and will only linger in the minds of the attendees and their companions.
What about me? I’ve had a little bit of time myself to come to grips with my own, likely premature, mortality. I might, in fact I know I am overthinking this. But is it so bad to want to be remembered? Live my life the way I would have otherwise, or live it better? Rhetorical questions that need no immediate answer, but yearn for it. Maybe I can begin answering one.
I stop by the Head Nurse’s office, in time to see Emi get back from her morning run. Trying hard to be nonchalant, I stifle my unease and manage to speak, starting what I hope is to be a fruitful conversation.
“Um, Ibarazaki-san?” I say just loud enough to get her attention. She turns around with a puzzled look on her face, though it quickly devolves into a hearty laugh.
“Hisao! You dolt, just call me Emi!” She shouts cheerfully. I’m a little taken aback, as I had expected her greeting to be a bit on the cool side after I had ditched her at the track on my second day. Not to mention subsequently blowing her lunch invitation off. I recompose myself and soldier on.
“Well, I wanted to know, er,” I fumble a bit, “Can I try running again? With you?” She looks at me with a bit of what almost looks like awe, but is probably just surprised. I’ll bet she never thought she’d hear those words from me.
“Of course!” she beams at me with a bright and sincere smile. Unexpected.
“Great! Can we start Wed--”
“Tomorrow! You’re not getting a break from me this time,” she quickly scolds.
“But I came to you! Why are you setting my terms and conditions?”
“Exactly, you came to me. So meet me at the track Tuesday at 6:15 sharp. That is, if you know what’s good for you.” Giggle aside, her grin can be described as wolflike. “Anyway Hisao, I still have to change and get to class. You better not be late either!”
“Alright. See you tomorrow?” She nods bouncily and scampers back down the hallway towards the girl’s dorms. Heading that way myself, I start moving before she turns around and asks me one last question.
“Why, though?” It takes me a moment to make my thoughts coherent.
“Because getting in better shape is important to me. Giving up so soon feels like I’m shooting myself in the foot, honestly.” Another thought occurs to me, “And I’m sure the people important to me will be just as pleased as I am.” A joyful smile and she is on her way once again, seemingly accepting my more honest reasoning.
Breaking away from that particular topic proves difficult as Mutou divides and distributes tests on Hooke’s Law of spring energy, something that I covered about a month and a half ago. Even my self-esteem boosting train of thought is eventually derailed, not by Mutou-sensei, but by our very own student council president with an immaculately folded note to the temple after the time limit is called.
Hello. Are you busy after school today?
I am a bit confused by the suddenness of such a direct request of my free time, but it takes little effort for me to decipher her implication.
I am not joining the student council.
The look on her face after registering my retort was just shy of being crestfallen, verifying my presumption. However, she recovers immediately and writes once again.
I didn’t ask if you wanted to join. It is not a request, it is a demand!
I smile at her foolhardiness, looking over to discover that competitive grin and spark in her navy eyes that is quickly becoming a harbinger of danger. She tosses another folded up scrap, though this message is not made of notebook paper. Unfolding the white sheet, I find a printed club application form filled out in it’s entirety with blue ink. Including my name.
You’re missing one very important part of this.
And what would that be?
My signature.
Am I? Who is going to verify it? The… Student council president?
Well, shit.
Hold on, she can forge an official application, but can never make me attend meetings or do work I don’t volunteer for anyway. What can she do, terminate my membership if I refuse?
I’m afraid that your document is useless without my will to participate.
Not if I have anything to say about it!
Completely ignoring the literary faux pas she just made of her own disability, her whole frame tenses as if to grab me the second the bell rings. It would be funny if she weren’t entirely serious. She scares me more than I am comfortable admitting, as she looks between me and the clock waiting for her opportunity. The only way out is a diversion. Think! Quickly! I hastily scribble down a response in the last bit of space on the now thrashed piece of paper.
No promises, but I’ll consider it so long as you stop bothering me about it.
She nods and relaxes slightly. Crisis averted, and just in time too. The bell rings, signaling our lunch period. I stand from my seat and escort Shizune and Misha to the cafeteria where I further deflect more good natured attempts on my resolve. As much as I resist, these two do seem like kind people. It’s nice to have friends.
Paying attention to my tests for the rest of the day seems like an exercise in futility, as I have to make a supreme effort to focus on anything academic. Misha, who has similarly finished in the last few minutes of class, sees my mirror of her own boredom and starts up a conversation after standing to hand in her answer sheet, her head lolling to the side to face me.
“Hey, Hicchan, what’re you thinking about?” she says with a bit of subdued cheer. I suppose the dullness of exams can take the edge off of even the most excitable people.
“Nothing in particular, certainly not any more English.”
“Wahaha~! I thought Hicchan would at least be paying more attention to class than I am. I’m soooo~ bored!” She lilts, causing a small smile to grow on my face.
“Me too. I don’t know what I’m going to do after school, either. I am in no mood for homework and I don’t think I have the attention span to read for that matter.”
“Hmmm~,” she leans on her hand in a pondering gesture, “Have you been to the park yet, Hicchan? It’s so pretty and quiet, it even has drink machines!” The mention of the place does make me a bit excited, though I don’t recall seeing it the other day. The longer I think on it, the better it seems.
“No, not yet, though it does sound like it would do me some good. Are you going after school? I have no idea how to get there.”
“No, I can’t. The Student Council still has stuff to do~! Just because the fun is over doesn’t mean that the work is too…” She trails off, her expression becoming sad. I feel a little guilty leaving them with work to do, but I don’t think I’d be of any use to anyone in the state of mind I’m currently in, anyway. I hope that they can handle it without me, though they’ve been doing it for years before I arrived. I shouldn’t worry about them too much.
Before long the bell rings, marking the end of today’s drudgery. Feeling around for the note in my pocket on which Misha scrawled directions to the town’s park, I locate it and give it another once over before entering my dorm. I remove the uniform tie and don my favorite argyle sweatervest, opting for a more casual attire while on my trip. I’ve been to the town before to visit the Shanghai with Shizune and Misha for a light lunch, but I have never been to the little village by myself before. But, there is a first time for everything I suppose, and now is as good a time as any. Hey, they might even have a small clothing shop where I could get a few more relaxed shirts for my time away from school, so long as my wallet can take it.
Now that I can afford the time on the walk through the school gates, I direct my train of thought back to the next matter at hand, my social relationships. I really do have some nice friends here already, but I can’t help feeling like they were just pitying me. I know I walked into that classroom with a detached and sorrowful expression on my face, looking lost and alone. People seemed to surround me with comfort in any way they could offer. Lilly, with her invitation to tea, the student council duo with a barrage of requests and demands for club membership, and even Emi’s outreach and assistance with my training, though she has no idea as to why I need it. I know why they tried and help me at least, but I have no idea why they keep on doing it when I just deny them at every turn. Some friend I have been. That reminds me, I need to apologize to Lilly after the incident with Shizune. She didn’t deserve for me to dump all of my blame onto her.
And what about my friends in the city, at my old school? How must they view me after I didn’t even return to get my things and say goodbye? They must think I am a real jerk, Iwanako especially. She left of what she thought was her own accord, but I had been deliberately shutting her out for weeks prior. She might have been the only one there that actually gave a damn about where I went after I left the hospital for a while, the rest probably just showed up because it was the ‘right thing to do’ as if I broke my arm playing football. They delivered cards and flowers, but never anything meaningful or sincere. Most didn’t return after the first day, though that should never have surprised me. I didn’t ask for phone numbers and they never asked for an email, it couldn’t have been a more obvious formality.
I was mad for a time. Trying to convince myself that I am entirely accepting of my loss of acquaintances and prior life would be a sham that I would see right through and would get me nowhere fast. What I needed was what I got here, in a way. That thing was people I could feel comfortable around, joke with, and generally have fun together with. Real friends to help me take my mind off of stressful thoughts and situations. That was what I missed the most in the hospital.
Passing by the Aura Mart, I resurface from my reverie so I can consult my map to the nearest park entrance, which happens to be on the other side of town by the art supply store. Sadly, there is no clothing shop in sight, though I don’t know why I thought a small town economy would be able to support one anyway.
As it turns out, the distinctive black wrought iron arch is of a similar style as the school’s, though it’s probably just a coincidence as most of this town seems to have been built long before the brick building at the top of the hill. I pass through the open gate and find myself on a gently meandering asphalt pathway through a vast grassy field dotted with large, mature trees. The sight itself is marvelous, but I quickly succomb to the need for rest after such a prolonged stroll down the hill. I feel a little feeble, but that is the reason I asked Emi to help me again anyway. It feels good to take action and get a handle on that.
Entering the park proper, I have to stop myself from just settling down on the grass near the gate so I don’t soil my nice slacks. Realizing that my need for a seat really can’t be put off, I set out down the path on the right in search of a bench. I locate one quickly with light stained cherry slats supported by cast iron legs and braces that curve into loose spirals at the ends. More shockingly, however, is a vaguely familiar visage.
She has her long ultramarine hair is pushed back over her shoulders with only slightly obtrusive bangs partially shielding her striking amethyst eyes from my view. Her posture is relaxed, leaning on the back and arm of the bench at an angle with her legs pulled up on top of the seat in a resting position, her arms neatly folded in over her stomach. I don’t think we’ve met, but I’m now certain that she is a classmate of mine. Acting upon my desire to sit, I wander nearer to the bench as she turns her head up at the sound of my footsteps and graces me with a small wave, that same expression on her face as the day I came in. A smile in her eyes, but her mouth carefully neutral.
“Hello, Nakai-san,” she speaks before I do, “What brings you here?”
“Oh. I was out for a walk and heard the park here was very nice. May I ask the same of you, Ms..?” I abruptly end my sentence when I realize that I have no idea what her name is. She giggles shortly, covering her mouth and closing her eyes as she does so.
“Kawana Misaki, pleased to speak to you finally. This is my favorite spot to come and relax after school, as the campus grounds are often too busy at this time of day. Care to join me?” Relaxing a bit at her proposition, I settle myself into the space left near her feet and enjoy the support of the seat.
“My pleasure. Say, what are you doing sitting here?” I inquire. She sighs.
“Just thinking. I tend to come here just so I can get lost in thought, now that I’m aware of it. It’s really quite nice. Would you like to try?” My immediate reaction is that she was formally telling me to stop talking, but the kindness of her demeanor and general attitude tells me that she just wants me to enjoy the atmosphere. I turn my gaze to the park, but find it hard to regather my thoughts with her sitting so close by. After a few minutes, I rotate again to face her, and she is smiling this time and meeting my eyes with her own.
“Something wrong, Nakai-san?” She asks, having a hard time suppressing a giggle of embarrassment as her cheeks color slightly and she looks downwards and away. I hasten to allay her concern.
“No, not at all,” I shift back to looking straight ahead, “I just needed a rest after the walk into town, but you’re right. This place is great for just thinking without worry.” It’s a small lie, but I can’t very well tell her why I am having a hard time focusing. Judging by her reaction she is pleased that I agree.
Enjoying the silence, I refrain from looking back over at her for some time, though the silence doesn’t last as we attempt to make small talk about class. I don’t know just how many minutes have passed, but I hear a gentle yawn from the other end of the bench accompanied by a shuffling effort to get more comfortable. Triggering a chain reaction, I can hardly stifle a yawn myself. As I stand to go get a drink from the nearby vending machine, she speaks.
“Leaving already, Nakai-san?” She asks it with genuine curiosity.
“Not quite yet. The walk here made me quite thirsty, I wanted a drink,” I gesture to the contraption, “would you like one as well, Kawana-san?” And I should really put an end to this family name business. I move to speak.
“Please, call me His--”
“Just Misaki is--” It seems we have cut each other off in an attempt to promote conversation. After an awkward chuckle on her part and a thorough rubbing of the back of my neck, she clears her throat and continues, “No, thank you. However, there is a small café nearby. Would you like to come as well? It’s quite good.” Her offer is too tempting to refuse.
I offer her my hand, as any true gentleman would, and help her to her feet. As she stands near me, I notice that she isn’t very tall at all. Probably not much more than a meter and a half at her full height. Not noticing my absentminded stare, she turns away, letting go of my hand and taking the lead.
“Have you been around town much before, Hisao?” She inquires.
“Not as much as you have. I’ve only been here with the Student Council for tea at the Shanghai.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” she retorts quickly. Ahhh, she’s a witty one, I think as I step up beside her and look down to her playfully serious expression. She wants to keep her air of sophistication, but can’t help herself to a joke, it seems.
“Hey, those two are alright in my book. What’s the deal with everyone and their hostility towards them anyway?” I say quite flatly. She looks a little puzzled for a moment, before her humorous mood is wiped from her face and replaced with apology.
“Ahh, no~! That’s not what I meant at all!” Her face is burning up at this point, “I meant the Shanghai! There is a much better teahouse in the town square…” I can’t contain a hearty laugh at the sincerity of her statement. Her face remains a solid crimson until I manage to contain myself. “That’s not funny at all!” She states in a pleading tone, forcing my guilt to overcome the urge to resume laughing. I settle for a painfully broad grin at her expense.
“I’m,” I take a breath to steady myself, “Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She turns away from me and an uncomfortable silence tightens it’s grip on our conversation, or lack thereof. Smooth, Nakai. Your social ineptitude knows no bounds! I sigh audibly and she again faces me, but with a smile.
“It’s just up here on the right. I promise, I was telling the truth when I mentioned the superiority of the fare here. And, as a bonus, they actually have menus!” She says cheerily, her sudden change in demeanor taking me off guard.
“What’s the name of this place?” I ask, stepping up onto the patio. The styling of the building is not uniquely Japanese, but isn’t entirely western either. I’d say there is some French or Italian in there, but I’m just making an educated guess. The tables are matte black expanded steel on circular frames with four similarly styled chairs to each, aside from the smaller square ones butted against the railing with two. The whole hardwood deck is protected from weather by a large red and white striped awning, giving it a strangely comfortable character. The lack of bustle in the patrons’ demeanor likely helps.
“I didn’t think reading was outside of your capability, Hisao,” she says quietly and casually, with only the barest hint of a smile. Though that was rather rude, I realize that I could simply read the text on the banner above the doorway. Tinderbox Café it is, then.
We find a seat in the corner that is a little bit more secluded from the older customers. This puts us right near the window as well, allowing us a peek inside of the kitchen which is impressively clean and efficient. A waitress comes over and takes our orders down, iced coffee for me and tangerine white tea for her. As we wait for our drinks, we get lost in conversation again. This time, the subject is various clubs around the school.
“So, are you in any clubs?” I inquire.
“Yes, actually. I am the vice-president of the photography club along with Hatsue Hiraki.”
“Is there a president?”
She giggles at this, “No, just two binary vice-presidents. We’re both members who joined the club our first year here. It has been around for decades, but interest has been waning recently,” she mentions with a sad smile.
“Waning? Any particular reason?”
“Well, it’s one thing to have club members leave because of the added workload of our third year and college preparation, but it's entirely another to have membership so low that the club is in danger of failing to meet the member requirement at Yamaku for funding. Without the school supplying film, development, and a classroom for meetings, I don’t think the club would survive.” She is staring at the salt shaker in between us now, her hands folding over one another repeatedly. It’s cute, but seeing her like this is painful. Hopefully I can take her mind off of it.
“You know, the student council has been on my case my entire time here about clubs. They want me to join some sort of organization, though I’m pretty sure they’re just wanting more student council members.” She nods in understanding. “Say, have they ever tried enlisting you before?”
“Yes, but Hakamichi’s last attempt was in our first year.” This is a puzzler.
“Wait, she quit chasing you? What could you possibly have done to make her stop?” I am getting a bit loud, and people are starting to stare. I don’t mind too much as this is could be an important revelation, but Misaki seems to shrink into her seat a few inches.
“I joined the Photography Club, remember? She can’t ask for time that is already occupied,” she says rather quietly. Oh, right. I once again make myself out to be a spectacular jackass, so I’ll just keep quiet for now.
The drinks arrive shortly, before the lull in our conversation becomes stifling. Having the interruption to anchor my thoughts on, the storm of indecision slows in my head as I drink. Savoring the unexpectedly strong flavor, I just let my thoughts flow rather than trying to organize them precariously.
“This coffee is great. How is your drink?” I inquire somewhat automatically.
“Fine,” she states, her face an obfuscated mask, making her expression hard to read.
“... Something wrong?” Her expression suddenly goes wan. Turning her eyes to face me, she sets her cup down somewhat hastily producing a chattering scrape of ceramic on ceramic. ~