First, an apology: I didn't mean for this episode to be a full week late.
However, last week was essay-writing week (three of my finals were
take-home) at the U of O. This week is final week (for my one final), and
my sister's graduation. Thus, not only is this episode late, but the next
one probably will be, too. Again, I apologize (to the hordes and hordes
of you who didn't ask... ^_^). Now, on with the show.
Feel free to go to http://gladstone.uoregon.edu/~matt2518/
There, you'll find episodes of this and my other fanfic series,
the well-received "Boku No Marie: Music-Box Angel".
"You need to get in touch with your muse. Do you know how
to do that?" Mr. Motojima cleaned his glasses.
"No sir."
"Here's what I do. Write something about your dream girl.
Your perfect companion. It doesn't have to be a good
paragraph, just something to get you started. Then, fold
the paper, put it under your pillow, and take a nap."
"A nap, sir?"
"Yes. A good hour or so. Really sleep it off." He smiled
kindly, the wrinkles around his eyes nearly pinching them
shut. "When you wake up, you'll be inspired again."
Kenji Terada had writer's block. When his teacher offered him a
solution, he tried it immediately. Only, his teacher never told
him what really happens when you wake up...
------------------------------------------------------------------
* * * *
I T ' S A R A I N Y D A Y
S U N S H I N E G I R L
Episode 04
"Something's Coming"
* *
"Sunshine Girl" (c) 1999 Matthew Johnston.
All Rights Reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters
to any persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
* * * *
------------------------------------------------------------------
One month ago.
"The Council will see you now." A disembodied voice rang
clearly, and an immense set of double doors opened.
Caravan stood and walked tentatively, treading deeper into
the dark corners of the Council Politic Chamber. To her left,
Renaissance marched with a fury only partially contained. The
hour was late, and the Council was tired. Caravan sighed. It was
going to be a tough battle.
The chamber was too dark to reveal any face save her angry
counterpart's. She assumed that she herself was as well lit to
the hidden judges. Her mouth suddenly dried, and her tongue felt
monstrous, scraping on the roof of her mouth, digging for
moisture, but finding none.
At the center of the circle, two rings descended, touching
the marble floor with a click.
"Step into the rings," commanded a familiar voice. It was
Sister Focus. Caravan felt at once relieved and doubly afraid.
'Will she let me get away with this, or will she be tougher on me
because I'm her student?' The thought ran without check as she
stepped into the ring.
Renaissance continued to march, though she seemed now as much
awed as incensed. She stomped her feet as she dramatically
stepped over the immeasurably flat ring.
"State your case." The light from Caravan's ring
intensified, signaling her opportunity to speak.
"Council members," she began in a memorized tone of
authority, "I come to you today to--"
"Get on with it." The unfamiliar voice jarred Caravan. She
tried to move ahead in her speech, but found it difficult.
"I, um... I mean, I would like to take the opportunity given
to--"
"We haven't got all day, y'know!" The same voice heckled.
"Oh. Well, I'll be brief then. I'd like to be Kenji
Terada's muse."
Murmurs of disapproval mingled with whispered comments of
praise. Renaissance crossed her arms and growled.
"Why do you wish to make such an unusual request?"
"Because I--"
"--I'll tell you why!" Renaissance interjected. "Because
she's got this little puppy-dog crush on him--"
"Quiet!"
"--and can't get past the fact that she's not good enough to
be a muse in the first place!"
"I said QUIET!" Sister Focus screamed over louder grumbling
from the Council and Renaissance's outburst. "You will have your
turn. But not now." She paused to allow everyone to regain their
composure.
"Now, Caravan. You were saying?"
"Th-thank you." Caravan cleared her desert-dry throat. "I
feel that, because I already have experience with Kenji, that I am
qualified to be his muse. My feelings for Kenji..." She took a
moment to glare at Renaissance, who stuck out her tongue in
retaliation. "...are known. However, I believe them not to be a
hindrance, but a help to my cause, for reasons I'm sure you
already know."
The whispers of approval grew to vague, wordless chatter.
Sister Focus cleared her throat, silencing the members.
"I see," she replied. "Renaissance, it is now your turn to
speak."
"Thank you, Sister Focus. As I was saying--"
"However, you spoke out of turn, which automatically forfeits
your opportunity."
"WHAT?!"
"Therefore, Caravan's request shall be brought to a vote."
The vote was placed silently. For a long moment, Caravan
didn't dare breathe. Renaissance, however, felt free to huff and
grumble to herself.
"The vote has been cast."
Caravan inhaled sharply.
"The motion is passed, and the request granted. Caravan, you
will report to the briefing room in two hours, and bring your
handbook."
"Yes ma'am."
"And Renaissance?"
"...Yes?" She sounded more timid than she had tried.
"You will report to the detention center immediately."
"Yes, ma'am." Dejection flooded her voice, though a spark of
resentment floated just behind the words.
"I'm sorry," Caravan attempted.
"Don't be," Renaissance replied bitterly. "You got what you
wanted." She stepped out of her ring and into the vicinity of a
gracefully robed, but rather burly detention officer. "But I
*always* get my way. You can't have him forever."
"C'mon, rookie," the detention guard grumbled as she reached
for her detainee's shoulder. "Let's go. You've got thirty
demerits to work off."
Wednesday, April 21st
Caravan woke in a bed, her back aching, and her head
throbbing. "Sorry, Kenji," she said to the snoring lump on the
floor, "but Renaissance is right."
Slowly, she dressed in her borrowed uniform, and climbed out
the window.
7:22 AM
"What you need is a plan." Caravan strode beside her
"cousin" as he walked to Yamada high school, making sure to see as
much of her first morning on Earth as possible. The birds in
particular seemed the most different, singing so differently from
the docile nightingales in Sister Focus's room.
"A plan for what?" The boy sniffed.
"Huh? Oh, a plan to get Tanako." She grinned. "I figure if
you're going to ever write a masterpiece, it'll be for her."
"How do you figure that?"
"Oh please, I'm not blind, Kenji." She whistled a quick tune
to a fat red-bellied bird on a fence next to her. "You've got it
bad for her. True love, live for her, can't imagine a world
without her bad." She turned and smiled at him. "I've seen it
before."
Kenji frowned. "Yeah, well, don't go spreading anything
around class, okay? I'll take care of it my way."
"'I'll take care of it', you say." She huffed at a falling
leaf removed too soon from its home. "You make it sound like a
math problem or something."
"That's not what I meant and you know it." They passed
Tanako's street without mention, but Kenji immediately improved
his posture, at least for a moment.
"I know, I know. I'm just giving you a little push."
"I don't need a push."
"You're right." At the first sight of the high school,
Caravan started running. "You need a shove!"
Kenji was not feeling overly karmic at the moment, but when
someone behind him gave him a deliberate, two-handed shove, he
began to wonder.
"Hey, buddy." Ichiro trotted beside Kenji, grinning from one
ear to the other. "Get much sleep?"
Kenji half-heartedly returned Ichiro's push. "Yes, thank you
very much. Plenty. Oodles, in fact."
"You mean you two didn't...?"
"NO! WE MOST CERTAINLY DID NOT!"
"Yeah, right. Whatever." He chuckled. "You don't know
where to put it, do you?"
Kenji stopped in mid-step. He said nothing, not even making
a sound. Ichiro halted a few steps ahead, immediately apologetic.
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it." He stepped toward Kenji, who
pointed his head, eyes clinched shut, at the ground. "Kenji?"
"It's... okay." Kenji finally exhaled, letting his fists
fall limp. "I forgive you."
"I didn't think you'd take it that--"
"--Ichiro?"
"Yeah?"
"Let's leave it, okay?"
"Gotcha."
Kenji walked the rest of the way silently. The moment of
anger before had blinded him. He had always thought of himself as
a moderate enough person, not prone to extremes, but not
completely foreign to them, either. But that exchange had
surprised him; he hadn't felt so strongly before. It was at on
exhilarating and frightening.
"I wanted to kill you," he finally admitted.
"I know." Ichiro smiled reassuringly. "I deserved it."
"No, I don't mean it figuratively." He looked at his friend.
"I mean I really wanted to--"
"--Kenji!" It was Masao. Kenji scowled.
"Maybe you can gather some of that old energy," Ichiro
suggested in a whisper.
"Maybe," Kenji muttered.
"Be gone, my lesser competition," Masao waved with disdain
towards Ichiro. "I have a matter of great importance to discuss
with the artist."
"As you wish." Ichiro exited with a flourish. Even as Kenji
shook his head, Masao began his speech.
"I need your help."
"Really. I'd think you'd need more than just my help."
"Yes, well, after some thought, I came to the conclusion that
your friend could not have possibly written a poem good enough to
affect Tanako the way it did, so I think only your help will be
required."
"That's not what I meant."
"You wrote the poem Tanako received yesterday, correct?"
"Yeah, so?"
"I want another."
"What?"
"Today, if possible." Masao looked hurriedly at the campus.
"In the same style, naturally."
"Oh, naturally," Kenji replied sardonically.
"I will reward you."
"Listen, before I do anything, I want to know one thing."
"Which is?"
"Why do you think I'd *ever* do something like that for you?"
"I've never gone without anything I want. Ever."
"Well, I guess there's a first time for everything."
Masao did not answer, choosing instead to storm away,
grumbling something unintelligible but obviously angry under his
breath.
Kenji exhaled heavily. The anger he had felt a moment before
was gone, replaced by a strange warmth. He let a smile creep into
his face. "I told Masao off," he murmured. "I can't wait to tell
Ichiro."
"Tell him what? Never mind. We're gonna be late!" Caravan
yanked his arm from behind and began dragging him to the school.
"Did you hear what just happened?" Kenji asked as he
regained control over his own pace.
"No, but it doesn't matter. What matters is that we'll be
late for class if we don't hurry." She smiled. "Besides, I've
never been in a school before. At least, not one with so many
students." With that, she turned and sprinted toward the
entrance. Kenji shook his head and jogged to catch up with his
enthusiastic companion.
* * * *
When Kenji peered into the classroom, he had directed Caravan
to stay a few steps back, and wait until he saw that everything
seemed "okay." It was really a futile command, as he didn't
really know what "okay" entailed. But, stubborn leader that he
imagined he was, he kept with his plan. Looking at the self-
segregated groups huddled around various desks, he nodded; the
coast would get no clearer than right now.
"Now, don't say anything--"
"--weird or stupid. Got it." Caravan mumbled at Kenji's
ear. "I've done well so far, haven't I?"
"Yeah, well, I'm still skeptical about all this. It might
still be a dream..." The answer raised more questions in her
mind, but she didn't let them reach her voice.
"Would you quit with the skeptical bit," she cooed, running
an index finger up the lobe of his left ear. "It's not you."
"Stop it." He could feel the blood rush to where she had
touched him. "Somebody'll see."
"Are you looking for something?" The voice came from behind,
shocking the pair into obedience.
As Kenji regained composure, he saw Yumiko standing politely,
pencil in one hand, and a pocketbook in the other, waiting like a
cub reporter for their response.
"N-nothing," he finally said, as plainly as possible.
"Oh, darn." She closed the book. "I was hoping..." She
turned her gaze momentarily to Caravan, who had shrunk behind
Kenji. Both girls blushed, and Yumiko moved her eyes away.
"Hi," Caravan attempted, but Yumiko was already walking into
the classroom.
"I guess she's shy," she remarked.
"Not usually..." Kenji shook his head and followed Yumiko's
path.
Mr. Motojima mentioned the words "group" and "project" in the
same sentence approximately five seconds before the class burst
into chatter about who would be in which group. Speculation moved
from one student to the next; prediction and prognostication flew
like aircraft across the thick atmosphere of excited voices and
confident boasts of how easy this would be and how class projects
were for grade-schoolers.
When he yelled the words "already" and "chosen", the class
quieted with a wash of disappointed murmurs.
"That's better," he commented with a tone only teachers are
allowed to take. "Now, I'll list off the groups and give your
project synopses" He proceeded to do so with a familiar air of
disinterest, giving one of the three in a particular group a half-
sheet of paper. That person, be it a boy or girl, popular or not,
was to gather the other two members and brief them on the subject
written on that neatly printed slip. Kenji groaned when his name
was called. He returned to his desk, not bothering to check the
names on the paper.
"I see there's a new member of our class," Mr. Motojima
announced. Caravan slumped in her seat behind Kenji. "You seem
to be occupying Miss Kawamura's spot today. Why don't you replace
her?"
Caravan stammered something unintelligible, and finally
nodded.
"What's your name?" He didn't smile, but his eyes glinted
jovially.
"Caravan."
"An inspired name. Caravan, you're with..." He consulted a
piece of paper. "Masao and Ichiro. Boys, will you raise your
hands?" The two boys, located some desks apart, raised their
hands. The one with glasses winked, while the other grinned
dramatically. "Be sure to take good care of our guest. I suspect
she'll be rather helpful."
"Thank you, sir," she replied cordially.
Tanako turned in her seat and smiled at the girl. She smiled
back as Mr. Motojima continued:
"Now, gather your groups, and discuss the assignments for a
few minutes. After that, we'll work on history until lunch."
"Looks like I got the luck of the draw," Ichiro chuckled.
"Who did you get?"
Kenji looked at the piece of paper, and let his eyes focus
slowly. He wasn't really paying much attention; the static of
conversation and the comment Ichiro had just made milled about in
his brain, making him wonder if Caravan would be at all safe with
Ichiro, let alone Masao.
When his eyes finally found the names, he gasped. He wanted
to do more, but something prevented him.
"Ta... Ta..."
Ichiro let out a small, lecherous laugh. "You lucky dog."
"Tana--"
"Looks like I'm in your group," Tanako murmured. "Everybody
else has formed up."
Kenji nodded dumbly.
"Me too," Katsu muttered. "Could be worse. I guess."
"It'll be fun," Tanako reassured Katsu.
"Oh yeah," Katsu scoffed. "Loads of fun."
Caravan slumped in her seat across the room from Kenji. He
may as well have been a hundred miles away, for as close as she
felt. As a muse, she knew she needed to be as close to her artist
as possible. It was the first lesson, to always be paying
attention to your artist whenever they engaged in their art. For
some, it was whenever their partner painted. For others, it was
when they sang. For her, it was when Kenji wrote.
"You're not paying attention."
The voice forced Caravan from her introspective funk. She
looked at the two boys, but neither seemed to be the source of the
voice.
"Did you say something to me?"
Ichiro nodded. "No." Masao looked at him funny, and
attempted a lengthy insult. Caravan let them fade into a
background of similar noise, and tried to listen to Kenji's
pencil.
"You're such a rookie." This time, the voice sounded
familiar. It took on gender, and tone. It also took on a
malicious streak.
"Renaissance."
"You were expecting maybe dear Sister Focus?" Renaissance
began to ripple slowly into Caravan's view; the world, in
reaction, rippled out, losing first contrast and sharpness, then
finally cohesion. As the last atoms of the classroom dissolved
into the blackness, Renaissance's form cleared and coalesced.
She stood on a white square a few meters from her fellow
sister, flickering, but somehow still corporeal.
"Why are you here?"
"Such stilted dialogue," Renaissance chided.
"I asked you a question."
"Yes you did." The muse crossed her arms. "But I don't have
to answer to a rookie."
"Give it a rest," Caravan retorted. "You're no more
experienced than I am."
"That's a lie!" The square supporting Renaissance flared.
"I've always been a muse. I've always known I'd be a muse, from
the day I was born. You're just a pretender."
"There's no law saying that I couldn't--"
"There should have been!" Again the square burned around the
angry girl. "My kind is cultured, educated, and ultimately
superior to your kind. All you know how to do is pretend."
"If you're so superior, why did the council choose me over
you?" Caravan enjoyed that more than she probably should have,
but she couldn't help it.
"You simply got a sympathy vote. I guess they don't care
what happens to him after all."
Caravan chuckled with as much confidence as she could muster.
"Get over it. I'm inspiring a Priority One, and you're still
working off demerits."
"You'd be surprised how fast things change." Renaissance
blinked out, then back into view. "I'm still in control here."
White noise mingled with her form as she disappeared into the re-
gathering classroom.
"Are you okay?" Ichiro looked genuinely concerned.
"I'm fine," Caravan finally sighed. "Could you repeat the
assignment?"
"We're supposed to perform a scene from Cyrano De Bergerac,"
Kenji read aloud. "Act three, scene six." He shook his head,
puzzled. "Which one is that?"
"You didn't read the play," Katsu accused.
Kenji glanced at Tanako, and shook his head when he saw she
was looking for Masao.
"It's a good scene for you," he smirked. "You have plenty of
things to draw from."
"I see..." Kenji pulled to book from his bag and skimmed the
scene. "Oh, great."
Katsu smiled. "What did I tell you?" He motioned to Tanako.
"And Roxane here fits the bill quite nicely, don't you think?"
Kenji felt the room warming; he looked at Caravan, nodding
patiently and laughing politely; she was having a lot more fun
than he was. He wondered if she could feel him suffering under
Katsu's haughty scrutiny. It was oven-like, his gaze; it followed
his eyes skyward and deskward as he searched for an exit from what
he was sure would become the most embarrassing moment of his life.
"I'm asking for another scene," he finally announced
"The scenes are pre-chosen, Kenji. You cannot choose
another." Mr. Motojima placed a leathery hand on Kenji's
shoulder. Even though the grip was loose and the pressure light,
it felt to Kenji very much like a vise.
"Yes sir."
Katsu looked for Masao, eager to announce to his best friend
the plight of their enemy.
At that same moment, Tanako looked Kenji directly in the
eyes, and smiled.
It was already burning in the room; she felt like a breeze
moving across him. Her lips curved so naturally in that
direction, effortlessly radiating confidence, and a strength Kenji
could not find in himself. He wanted to hold the smile's energy
for a moment longer, to memorize again the features, as he had
done numerous times before in nervous glances across playgrounds
and classrooms. He felt guilty about the times he used to lay in
bed, pretending she and he were good friends again, dating, going
to college together, collaborating, anything. He felt suddenly
chilled, as if her breezy smile had moved across him at midnight
rather than noon.
"Don't worry about it," she said immediately. "I said it'd
be fun, and it will. I'm a horrible actress, remember? Sixth
grade, the class play?"
Kenji immediately brightened. "Oh yeah..." They both smiled
and began chuckling. "The Invincible Trees!" As the pair laughed
at the shared memory, Katsu frowned.
At length, Tanako turned her attention to Kenji's slip of
paper. "Now, are there any other requirements?"
Kenji read the rest of the text silently, then handed the
sheet to Tanako with a suddenly shaking hand. The remains of the
last moment's smile touched the edges of his face, but it only
thinly veiled a new bout of anxiety.
She read it, and nodded. "How about tonight, then?" She
passed the half-page to Katsu who read it with a dark grin playing
at the corners of his mouth.
Kenji blinked. "Sure. My place?"
"Okay. Is six okay?"
"Perfect."
Katsu smiled. "It's a date, then."
Kenji and Tanako shot him a withering look.
* * * *
3:42 PM
"Don't look at it like a curse," Ichiro attempted weakly.
Kenji walked beside him; they were halfway home but he still
couldn't get his friend to smile. "Look at it as an...
opportunity. To practice. That's it, a practice run." He
grinned nervously.
"Ichiro's right," Caravan chimed. "This is the perfect
opportunity for you to really shine. I mean, you could re-write
the scene, or change it up a bit. I bet the teacher would love
that."
"And, you could really score some impress-the-damsel points
with it."
"Would you two quit it?" Kenji half-yelled, half laughed.
"This is ridiculous."
"How so?" Caravan asked incredulously. Ichiro nodded in
agreement to the question.
"You two are so keen on me getting together with Tanako,
you've..."
"We've what?" Ichiro asked.
"Oh, forget it." Kenji smiled. "I don't think I could ever
out-write Rostand, let alone now." He glanced at Caravan. She
opened her mouth to speak, but he continued. "And if I wrote
anything at all, it'd be like that poem I wrote for her."
"So? I heard it was pretty good." The response was
Ichiro's.
"Apparently it wasn't. Tanako said she didn't like it much.
And if she figures out it was me..."
"...She'll be so underwhelmed she'll laugh uncontrollably all
the way into Masao's arms. Am I correct?" Caravan shook her
head.
"Something like that."
"Don't think like that. You'll never get in your muse's
favor that way."
Ichiro nodded. "Yeah. You know how fickle they can be. One
minute, they think you're the best thing since bread in general,
and the next, POW!" He punched his hand for emphasis. "She's
bored with you and getting a little frisky with the other muses."
"It's not like that," Caravan muttered. "I'd... They'd never
do something that perverted."
"Whatever. Look, I'm not going to listen to this gibberish
anymore." Kenji opened the gate to his house. "Now, I've got to
get the house decently clean for tonight's meeting, or it won't
matter *what* I write or say. If she sees my room, she'll freak."
Ichiro grinned. Caravan frowned.
"He's not kidding," she announced. "That boy's an absolute
slob." Her voice dripped with the moral superiority of one who
kept a tidy room.
"I know," he scoffed. "Who do you think taught him?"
Caravan feigned innocence. "A perverted, slimy, scruffy-
looking goat herder?"
"Who's scruffy looking?" Ichiro smiled at the familiarity of
his quip. "I think I'm getting to like you."
"Wonderful."
"You're my kind of scum."
"Why you..." Her voice dissipated into a growl of
frustration. As it faded, she attempted to keep her feelings
obvious by marching to the front door and yelling after Kenji to
"get over here".
"So our meeting's on for tonight?" Ichiro asked as Kenji
unlocked the door.
"Seven-thirty!" Caravan responded. "Be here on time, or I'm
locking the doors, understand?"
"Yessah!" Ichiro saluted, and marched stiffly down the
sidewalk out of view.
Kenji dropped his bookbag and removed his shoes. "Your group
is meeting here too?"
"Where else would they meet? Ichiro said his house was
unrecoverable, and Masao never offered. I pretty much had to let
them."
"I see." A telephone rang in another room.
"Do you want me to get it?"
"Nah, Ichiro isn't home yet. It's probably for my mom. I
let the machine get calls until she gets home."
"Oh." Caravan felt a tiny pang at Kenji's response; she
wondered why Ichiro seemed to be his only friend. A lengthy beep
announced the answering machine's readiness to record. The voice
of the caller echoed from the machine's location in the dining
room.
"Hey Caravan, it's Masao."
"Goodie," Kenji muttered. Caravan unsuccessfully hid a grin.
"I'm not going to make it to the meeting tonight. I have...
other plans. Tell me what you two come up with, okay?"
"That lazy... Come on, Kenji. We have cleaning to do."
"Aye aye, skipper."
"Enough with the military bit, okay?"
"Yessir. I mean ma'am."
"Stop it."
* * * *
"I really shouldn't miss this meeting," Masao murmured. "We
only have a week..."
"It'll be fine, my young actor." The woman speaking crawled
across the bed to sit behind the boy. She brushed her finger
along his neck. "Let's get to know each other better."
She kissed his neck gently. Masao's mind flared with a
hundred improvisations brimming to be explored. He wanted to try
all of them at the same time, but found that, as she lifted her
lips from his skin, none would emerge.
"Wow," he managed.
"That's just the tiniest of tastes."
"Renaissance?"
"Yes?"
"Are you... really my muse?"
"Of course I am."
"This is amazing."
"It certainly is. Now, come on," she cooed. "Let's play."
------------------------------------------------------------------
AUTHOR'S NOTES:
Well, it finally happened -- I ran out of episodes in my little
buffer. This installment is the result of four weeks of
procrastination and one more of on-and-off writing. Thankfully, I
don't think it shows. I have Bastion (Sebastion Fitsroy) to thank
for this -- he did a wonderful job of pre-reading it under
emergency circumstances. I owe you one.
Now, on to the references:
"Act three, scene six": This scene will become more apparent
later on. If you've ever seen Roxanne (a movie adaptation of
Cyrano by Steve Martin), think "Worms, Roxanne, worms!"
"Who's scruffy-looking?": Hopefully this one's obvious. A play
on the classic lines from The Empire Strikes Back.