Private and public C&C is welcomed with open arms, and is kindly
requested. I'd really love to know what you think of this.
* * * *
"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 after 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 03
"The Sleep Of No Dreaming"
"It's A Rainy Day Sunshine Girl" (c) 1999-2000 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.
------------------------------------------------------------------
Kenji's parents never attempted to follow the American hippie
culture when they were his age. At the time, even a few Japanese
college students were becoming politically active, staging minor
protests on the war in Vietnam, and generally, as Mr. Motojima put
it, making the world socially aware.
It seemed odd to Kenji that relics of that culture, so far
removed from commercialism, would find their way to be sold as
trendy goods. He mentioned as much to Caravan, who nodded
approvingly.
"Irony," she announced firmly. Kenji frowned; he knew irony
when he saw it, and didn't need to have it identified for him.
"It's a good thing to be able to see if you're gonna be a writer."
She went back to her rack, picking out a pair of stretch-pants
barely larger than Kenji's arms. She grabbed an equally
undersized shirt and headed for the changing booth, grinning
maliciously.
"Go get her, kiddo," she whispered as she passed her new
cousin. Kenji made a point of frowning in disapproval, but
Caravan was already half-way to the booths. He tried not to
linger on her; the more he looked, the less he felt in control.
Just a little. And the image from the afternoon remained, almost
palpable, on his brain; even the slightest glance at her made his
pulse quicken. Just a little.
Kenji shook his head. She wasn't there for him. Not like
that. He *was* a one-woman man, even if that woman didn't know it
yet. "Caravan's right," he muttered.
"About what?" Tanako's sudden reply from just over his
shoulder stiffened every hair on his neck. As they reluctantly
fell back to their normal state, Kenji turned to see Tanako
holding a skirt and blouse in one arm, and a pair of white knee-
high boots in the other. She smiled, her head moving away coyly.
"Irony," Kenji muttered. "It's a good..." Kenji looked at
the skirt. "...thing to..." He realized she where she was
heading. "...booth. I mean use." He instinctively rubbed the
back of his neck. "Is it hot in here?"
Tanako laughed as she took light steps past him. "It's
April," she commented, and left it at that.
Kenji wanted to weep. As he watched the girl of his dreams
saunter to the booth next to Caravan's, he felt his ears burning,
both with the lilt of her words, and the embarrassed flush of his
own. He discreetly checked his pulse. It was much too fast to be
just standing there; rather, it seemed as if his heart thought he
was sprinting around a baseball diamond.
"If only," Kenji murmured.
"Tah dah!" Caravan exited first, announcing her presence to
the store with her arms wide and stance masculine. For an
instant, she looked very much like a boy Kenji once played with.
Once Kenji's eyes adjusted to the image, it became apparent that
she was no more a boy than Tanako.
Kenji turned on his heels and crossed his arms. "How much is
it gonna cost me?"
"You didn't even take a good look." Caravan sounded more
disappointed than she probably intended. Steps from wooden
platform soles signaled her approach. "Turn around."
"I'm not here for a fashion show."
"Oh, come on, Ken... wow."
Kenji turned around; he knew what Caravan had just seen.
For a second, he didn't recognize Tanako. She had pulled her
hair back in a ponytail, and the style changed her entire look.
Not that the clothes didn't make her look any different. As the
initial surprise faded, enchantment set in.
"It's a little shorter than I thought it would be," Tanako
murmured genuinely, tugging at the bottom of her skirt.
She stood at least eight centimeters taller than before,
making up twice over the difference in height between them. Her
legs seemed all the smaller in the massive boots, barely filling
them. As his gaze moved slowly upwards, he finally noticed the
skirt. It clung scandalously close to her thighs, and, as she
turned around, barely covered her.
"Oh my goodness." Kenji hadn't intended the words as a
response to Tanako's comment, but, given the circumstances, he
supposed that, if they were coherent, they were the best he could
hope for.
His half-closed eyes never made it past Tanako's micro-mini.
The thumping in his chest intensified, drowning out Caravan's
praises and Tanako's humble thank-you's. His heartbeat jumped
again in tempo, almost doubling, and he could feel the thin
membranes in his sinuses start to give way. Instinctively, he
grabbed for his nose and bolted from the store.
"Are you okay?" Tanako asked after him, but Kenji couldn't
respond.
It took the boy a few seconds outside in the retreating spring
warmth to get his cardiac system back to a manageable level. Once
outside, however, he found re-entering the store a challenge of
will. He didn't dare even peek in, for fear of catching a
fragment of Tanako's image. He knew it would only exacerbate his
problem.
The tiny bell tied to the door jingled pleasantly, heralding
Caravan's approach.
"She's changing back to her old outfit," the girl mentioned
without an iota of interest. "You'd better come back, before she
realizes you're a pervert."
Kenji frowned, but nodded. "I'm not usually..." He stopped
his explanation, noticing Caravan smiling and shaking her head.
"Say no more," she smirked. "I can't say I really blame you.
Not much, anyway."
Kenji paused at the statement, but tried hard not to think
too hard about it.
"I'll take it!" Caravan said of her new outfit. She turned to
Kenji. "Now all I need is a uniform and I'm set."
Kenji huffed and handed over another wad of cash. The clerk
handed back half a handful of coins and told them to please come
again.
"A uniform?" Tanako inquired. "Are you going to stay with
Kenji for a little while?"
Caravan nodded vigorously.
"Well," she began, looking Caravan over momentarily. "I
think I have an extra one you could borrow for a while." She
turned to Kenji. "My house isn't far from yours, so you could
pick it up on your way back."
The boy managed a nod. He hoped it looked cool.
"It's settled then." Tanako turned her sunset gaze back to
Caravan. Kenji blinked, hoping to have it back for just a moment.
"Thanks for showing me the store, Caravan. It was very nice
meeting you." She bowed, forcing Kenji to lift his gaze to the
skyline.
"You're welcome. It was great meeting you." Caravan
probably returned the bow, but Kenji couldn't be sure. She was
still wearing his old shirt, and, knowing her, she was bowing deep
enough to...
Feeling his pulse quicken again, he shook the thoughts from
his mind. "You've gotta go?" He asked more indignantly than he
had intended.
"Yeah. I have to fix dinner tonight, and my dad gets off
work in an hour. I still have to get a few things from the store,
so..."
Caravan smiled. "Well, we'll see you in a little while then!
Thanks fer the uniform and stuff!"
"You're welcome." She turned once more to Kenji "I'll call
you tonight about the poem, okay?"
The boy nodded.
Caravan waved as Tanako disappeared into the crowd, leaning
on Kenji like a genuine cousin.
"You're overacting again," Kenji commented.
"Oh, give me a break. I'm not an actor, y'know." She
punched him on the shoulder, harder than Ichiro usually did. "And
what about the poem, eh? She knows, doesn't she?"
"No, actually--"
"--Don't lie to me. I can tell."
"It's not like that." Kenji's eyes fell to the sight of feet
criss-crossing the sole-smoothed concrete. "She said that she
didn't..." He looked up, hoping to see his companion's
sympathetic gaze. Instead, he saw her leaving.
"C'mon. Let's go get some dinner. I'm starved."
"Hey!"
"You can be introspective later. Our train's here."
Kenji shrugged defeatedly, and followed Caravan to the
impatiently waiting train.
* * * *
Dinner went unusually well, considering the presence of Kenji's
mother and the absence of his money. They ate at home, and
Caravan implored that his mother tell another story. She complied
sheepishly, and told a story Kenji had heard before, about a
vacation she took to Hawaii in the early 70's. There were details
in the story, however, that had either escaped Kenji's attention
the other times he had heard the story, or had been added since
the last telling. Kenji couldn't be sure.
After dinner, Kenji and Caravan left the house under the
pretense of "walking Caravan home." After they were well out of
sight of the house, Kenji stopped.
"What's wrong?" Caravan had a vague idea of what Kenji was
worrying about.
"How are we gonna get you back in the house?"
Caravan shrugged. "I guess I could stay in a motel
tonight..."
The boy shook his head definitely. "Never."
"We'll figure it out on the way."
Kenji almost asked, "On the way to where?" before his memory
once again took hold.
"Tanako's," he murmured. He nodded and began walking. His
companion kept pace right next to him, arms folded behind her,
giving her the look of an inquisitive underclassman. Her voice,
however, was hardly as innocent as her stance.
"Don't go cardiac on me this time," she warned. "It'll only
embarrass us." Before Kenji could retort, she added, "and by us I
mean me and Tanako."
"I got it, I got it," Kenji huffed. "I'm not usually like
that, y'know."
"I know. You can't help it, being surrounded by such beauty
all the time." Kenji thought for a moment she was talking about
Tanako, but, after seeing the smirk on her face, that moment
passed.
They walked silently and directly to Tanako's. Kenji felt a
pang of guilt in his stomach for knowing where she lived, but
couldn't help it; she was only a few blocks away. He felt
compelled to explain, even though Caravan never posed the
question.
"When we were in grade school, Tanako and I would walk home
together."
"Did you have a crush on her then?"
"No. Not until junior high."
"What happened?"
Kenji thought for a long minute as the approached Tanako's
gate. "I don't know. I guess I just saw her differently all of a
sudden."
Caravan rang the doorbell before Kenji could properly collect
himself. The thought was nagging at him, taunting him, as if the
reason should be obvious.
When Tanako answered the door, Caravan smiled genuinely, and
Kenji looked decidedly pensive.
"Hey, Tanako!"
"Hello, Caravan, Kenji." The first thing Kenji noticed was
Tanako's voice. She sounded flat, dischordant. He immediately
looked up, and saw her reaching next to her just inside the door
frame. She handed the uniform to Caravan and smiled blandly. "I
hope it fits."
"Thank you!"
"Tanako!" The voice from inside the house sounded male.
"Who's at the door?"
"Nobody," she shouted inside. She turned back to the pair.
"I have to go. We're still having dinner."
Kenji bowed instantly. "I'm very sorry."
Before he could stand straight again, Caravan slapped him on
the neck. "Get up, you." He looked up; Tanako had gone, and was
closing the door behind her.
"That was odd," Caravan commented after they were half-way home.
Kenji nodded in agreement, but remained silent. The night seemed
darker suddenly. It was already dark when they went to Tanako's,
but now it seemed even darker, more dense. The streetlights
pushed against the inky atmosphere, blurring the edges until the
light and darkness mixed into a dirty gray.
"I've got it!" Caravan's realization felt like a spark on
Kenji's ear.
"What?"
"I'll climb in through the window!"
Kenji stared for a moment, then realized she had silently
changed the subject.
"Okay," Kenji agreed. He wasn't in the mood to argue any
more tonight. At the end of Kenji's block, Caravan stopped.
"You go home, and tie some sheets together for me to climb
up. I'll come around the side and wait until you throw them down.
It's better if we go separately, okay?"
"Whatever." The air felt thick; each word required more
effort than the one before. He walked forward in a half-trance,
and eventually turned left, entering his yard listlessly.
"Man," he finally commented under his breath. He shook as
much dull confusion from his head as he could, and entered the
house with a weak smile.
"I'm home."
"Oh good. Ichiro just called. He said he'd stop by in a few
minutes to talk about the homework tonight."
"Thanks, Mom." Kenji was half-way up the stairs, and
answered without actually registering the words.
Once in his room, Kenji looked for sheets, blankets, anything
that would add up to the eight meters he needed to lower the
makeshift rope to the ground. Rummaging through his closet, he
found everything except sheets or blankets. He did find that
videotape he had borrowed from Ichiro last summer, and a set of
keys to something he'd forgotten had existed. When he unearthed
his baseball bat, Kenji paused.
With shaking hands, he picked up the relic from sixth grade.
It still felt warm at the worn, taped handle. He weighed it in
his grip, and rested it on his shoulder.
"That pitch was inside," he heard Miko murmur in protest.
"Way inside."
Kenji shook his head, but her voice continued, murmuring
wordlessly at the edge of his hearing. He set the bat back in its
corner, and looked for the box of old clothes his mother insisted
he keep, just in case.
Miko's whispers faded in and out as he tied ten pairs of old
slacks together at the legs. When he finished, he moved to the
window and threw one end out. It flopped to the ground plainly.
Satisfied with his work, he tied one pant leg to his arm and
waited in his office chair. He didn't have to wait long.
The tug alerted him; the sudden yank nearly tossed him out
the window.
"Hey! I've been waiting here forever!" The voice was
Caravan's.
"Sorry. I was tying them together."
"Hey, is this a party?"
"Huh?"
"Oh. Hi, Ichiro."
"What's with the Rapunzel act? Door jammed again?"
"It's a long story."
"I bet."
"Why don't you come in and wait in the living room. I'll be
with you in a second."
"Nah. I'd rather climb like Juliet here."
"The name's Caravan," the girl announced indignantly.
"Which junior high did you find this fireball at?"
"You sicko! I'll have you know I'm--"
"--It's a really long story. She's my cousin."
"Riiiight. Suuuure." Kenji could see the shadowy form of
Ichiro begin to retreat. "I'll see ya tomorrow."
"Wait. Didn't you want to talk about the homework?"
"Not really. I just came over to be entertained. I've run
out of Simpsons fansubs."
"I see..."
"Besides, I've been plenty entertained by this little...
project of yours."
"Hey!"
"Cool it, Caravan." Kenji tried to sound older. "I guess
I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Oh yes. Definitely. I wouldn't miss your explanation for
the world." He turned and bowed to Caravan like a Musketeer
would. "Madame. It was a pleasure."
Caravan growled and started climbing the pants.
* * * *
"I'm sorry about yelling at Ichiro," Caravan attempted, looking at
herself in Tanako's old uniform. "I see Tanako had a late growth
spurt. This skirt's a little short." Kenji dared himself not to
turn and look. For several moments of silence, he bit his upper
lip and occupied himself with paper clips.
"It's okay," Kenji finally responded. "He's a bit of a
smart-ass. He believes me, though."
"How long have you known him?"
He searched his memory. "Since sixth grade. He was watching
a baseball game I was in."
"You played baseball?" Caravan sounded rather surprised.
"A little. Anyway, he came up to me after the game and we
started talking. He was a transfer from Kobe, so I showed him
around the school. I guess we just hit it off."
"I see. And you stopped playing baseball?"
"Yeah." Kenji's smile hinted at a sepia-toned melancholy.
"It wasn't really all that much fun anyway. Ichiro and I started
working on his computer. He's a programmer."
"Uh huh."
"He's not really great with ideas, so he and I sorta made a
team together." He sighed. "We started a software company, but
it didn't get past the planning stages. Not much of what we did
ever got past just talking about it. But it was fun anyway."
"I'm sure."
A long moment stretched and yawned before Kenji spoke again.
"Caravan?"
"Yeah?"
"Did you have any friends when you were a kid?"
"I had a couple. Argent and Ange and I used to pretend we
were wish-givers. You know, where you pretend to appear magically
and grant some imaginary kid a wish? I remember we pretended
there was this boy who dialed a wrong number and Ange--"
"--Sounds like it was fun. For girls."
"Hey, I wasn't finished."
"Oh, c'mon. All those games end the same way. Eventually,
you marry the imaginary boy and live happily ever after."
"Well, actually, we never got to--"
"--I only wish real life were like that." Kenji paused.
"Tanako and I used to play house." He turned around. "When we
were really little."
"I see." Caravan let her uninterested tone act as her
revenge. "I get the bed tonight."
"No you don't. I've got a sleeping bag around here. You can
use that. You're the one who barged in on me in my house."
"If it wasn't for you, I wouldn't be here in the first
place!" Caravan flopped on the bed and pulled the covers over her
head. "Good night."
Kenji didn't dare protest, lest his mother hear him. So he
reluctantly unrolled his sleeping bag and fell into a dreamless
sleep.
* * * *
"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?" Ichiro rapped the heel of his palm
against Kenji's temple, a little too hard.
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 once
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," he
muttered.
"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 for now?"
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 Caravan. 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. "Everyone
else has formed up."
Kenji nodded dumbly.
"Me too," Katsu muttered. "Could be worse." He looked
around. "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." She lingered on the word, letting it drip
with contempt.
"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 what you can only pretend to be."
"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, sounding more
disappointed than anything.
Kenji glanced at Tanako, and shook his head when he saw she
was looking for Masao.
"It's a good scene for you," Katsu smirked as he continued.
"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 almost sympathetically. "What did I tell you?"
He motioned to Tanako, any sympathy once in his expression neatly
gone. "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 cousin the
plight of their mutual enemy.
At that same moment, Tanako looked Kenji directly in the
eyes, and smiled.
The room burned and stifiled him, but she felt like a breeze
moving across his body. No, across his soul. 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 that."
"Would you two quit it?" Kenji laughed despite his best
efforts. "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. "We'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. "No doubt some perverted, slimy,
scruffy-looking--"
"--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... 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, whistling a jaunty military tune.
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."
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AUTHOR'S NOTES:
I hope you enjoyed the episode -- if you did, please e-mail me!
Even if you didn't, e-mail me; I love the contact, and really I
live for the feedback. The first two episodes, "Carpet Of The
Sun" and "Dislocated Day" have been revised, and are available on
my web site:
http://www.cafe-pierrot.net/
Be sure to visit it for the most up-to-date versions of all my
fanfics, as well as extras like fan-art and music.
Hopefully, this episode was formatted okay. This is the first
one I've sent out through my new account (which isn't a telnet
account for once). Here's hoping.