Timeline: takes place around the area of episodes 31 and 32, and contains
spoilers up until that point.
Commentary, as usual, is very welcome.
Ciao,
-Alan Harnum
* * *
Shoujo Kakumei Utena
FUGUE
by
Alan Harnum
Utena and its characters belongs to Be-PaPas, Chiho Saito,
Shogakukan, Shokaku Iinkai and TV Tokyo.
E-mail : harnums@thekeep.org
Homepage: http://www.thekeep.org/~mike/transp.html
* * *
ONE
* * *
He was in the bedroom studying when the doorbell rang. Probably
Kozue, getting home from her date, wanting him to come down to
the door so he'd be forced to watch the send-off; she'd done that
before.
Miki frowned sourly, and stuck his nose back into the math
textbook. No more, he'd decided, after his last duel--he was
through with letting her control him, letting how she chose to
live her life decide how he led his.
The doorbell rang again, insistently. He closed the book
with a slap and went to the window that overlooked the front
door. He pulled the curtains wide, opened it, and stuck his head
out into the night. He _knew_ it couldn't be anyone other than
Kozue, this late; past ten, on a school night.
It wasn't Kozue.
He was apologizing even before he finished opening the door.
"Sorry, Nanami-kun; I was occupied." He paused, looked her up
and down, and blinked. "Hey, what's wrong? You look..."
Nanami had her school satchel in one hand, what looked like
her gym bag in the other, and was wearing about the most hangdog,
miserable, defeated expression he'd ever seen on her. "Can I
come in?" she asked, in a tone of voice that made it clear she
was expecting him to say no, and possibly release dogs to chase
her away as well.
"Sure, sure." He moved away from the door. "You okay?"
She stepped inside, bent down and put her bags on the floor
of the hallway, near the closet. He closed the door behind her,
and stood over her as she took off her shoes, clasping and
unclasping his hands.
After perhaps half a minute, when she still hadn't said
anything, he coughed and repeated his question.
"No," Nanami replied. She straightened up.
Confused, but by nature inclined to be hospitable, Miki
opened the hall closet and indicated the shoe rack, with slippers
for guests placed atop it. Nanami put her shoes in one of the
pigeon-holes, and took a pair of slippers. Then she picked up
her bags again and just stood there in the hallway, looking small
and lost.
"Hey..." Hesitantly, he touched her shoulder, half-
expecting her to flinch away. She didn't. "Nanami-kun, what's
wrong? Did something happen?" He studied her slack face and
hollow eyes; a plethora of horrible thoughts about just what
could have traumatized Nanami, who had always seemed close to an
unstoppable force to him, began to swim through his head. "Do
you want me to call your brother--"
"No!" she snapped. Then, quieter, "No... no, I don't want
that." She looked from side to side; away from him, then back to
him, then away from him again. Finally, she settled for staring
at her feet, seemingly rooted to the hallway carpet. "Miki-kun,
can I stay with you tonight?"
Though phrased entirely innocently, in an almost childlike
tone of voice, it brought a faint blush to his face. "If you
need to. But... won't you tell me what's wrong?" He glanced
pointedly at the bags. "Have you run away from home?"
It took a moment for her to answer. "I guess so."
Miki touched a finger to his chin. The only thing that
could have made Nanami leave home, and part from Touga, was...
well, Touga. He knew--oh, he knew very well--that the President
had been up to strange things recently, working in close concert
with the Chairman; with the Ends of the World, the intriguing
Ohtori Akio. For the Revolution of the World.
"Why did you run away?"
She scowled at him. "I don't want to talk about it."
Miki shrugged, and took his hand off her shoulder. "Okay.
I'll be here to listen if you want to, though."
After a moment, the scowl faded; she looked sad and lost
again. "Thanks, Miki."
He put his hand lightly on her back, between her
shoulder-blades--her back muscles, he noted, were tight with
tension--and guided her down the hallway towards the kitchen.
"Come on. I'll make you some tea; you look like you could use
it."
He flicked the lightswitch on the wall as they entered;
Nanami sat at the small kitchen table, and put her bags down
on the blue-tiled floor beside her chair.
Miki got down the kettle from the cupboard and filled it at
the sink. "This is the first time you've been to my house, isn't
it, Nanami-kun?"
"I think so," she said uncertainly. "We don't really see
much of each other outside of school, except for parties."
"True, true." The kettle had filled a little too full, and
he poured the excess water from the spout; it swirled,
spiralled, vanished down the drain. "Are you looking forward to
the school festival? It's coming up soon."
"I haven't really thought about it," she answered. "You're
going to play piano at the concert, right?"
"Uh-huh. I've been practicing." He placed the kettle on
the stove, and turned the burner on high. "It's hard,
though," he murmured. "So hard to find the right tone. I'm
either too weak, or too strong."
"Looking for a mean, huh?" Nanami asked quietly. Then,
before he could answer. "And I guess you're still playing with
_her_ in mind, aren't you?"
"Yes," he answered coolly. "I'll play with whomever in mind
I like." He opened the cupboard and looked over the boxed teas.
"What do you feel like? I've got all kinds. Earl Grey, quite a
few herbals--"
"Green."
He nodded, took down the box to extract the bags, replaced
it. From another cupboard, he removed the blue-and-white china
teapot, and set it down on the counter beside the stove with the
tea bags in it. Then he took a seat at the table, across from
Nanami.
"So," he said.
"So?" she echoed.
"Does Touga-sempai know you're gone?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I don't care." Each sentence
dropped heavy and individuated from her lips, like separate
falls.
Miki almost sighed; he couldn't imagine what had her so
upset, what Touga could have done or said that could possibly
make Nanami flee home. "If your big brother knows you're gone,
he's probably worried."
"I said, I don't care!" she snapped. Then, softer, "I don't
want to talk about this, Miki."
"So, you just expect me to let you stay here, without
giving me any explanation?"
She looked away from him, appearing very much as though she
were about to burst into tears. The mild annoyance he'd begun to
feel at her recalcitrance melted away in the face of concern;
Nanami was his friend, he supposed, even though she could often
be aloof and condescending, and sometimes even cruel.
"I just need someplace to go," she said in a small voice.
"I won't be any trouble. Please."
Miki felt a dull, tight pain begin in his chest. He hated
to see anyone, anyone at all, in such a state of sadness.
"Nanami..."
She crossed her arms over her chest and bowed her head; a
visible tremble ran through her body. Briefly, the thought
crossed his mind to leave his chair, walk around the table, and
embrace her--he didn't think he'd ever seen someone quite so in
need of the comfort of human contact. But he wasn't a physically
demonstrative person, never had been; even in childhood, he
hadn't been eager to hug or kiss his parents, or to receive the
same from them. That had been more Kozue's style. Nanami
probably wouldn't even find it a comfort, from him.
Steam was rising in slow, lazy, fat curls from the mouth of
the kettle. He glanced at Nanami, then pushed back and walked
over to transfer the boiling water from kettle to teapot. Some
of it splashed on the counter as he poured it; he tsked with
annoyance, and grabbed a dishtowel from near the sink to wipe
the steaming patch of water up with. The thin towel turned
painfully hot beneath his hands almost instantly, leaving him
with a slightly reddened palm.
"Miki?"
He looked back as he hung the dishtowel back on the rack
beneath the sink counter. "Yes?"
"Did you hurt yourself? You cried out."
"Did I?" He chuckled softly. "I didn't even realize that
I did. No, I just scalded my hand a little; it's nothing." He
walked behind her and put his hands on her shoulders, smiling
down at her; she tilted her head back and twisted her neck a
little to look him in the eye. "Listen, I won't press you any
more. You can sleep in my bed tonight, in the room I share with
Kozue; I'll take the couch in the sitting room."
After a moment, to his surprise, she put her head down on
her shoulder, laying her cool, soft cheek against the back of his
hand.
"Miki-kun..."
He studied her hair; pale, fine. Almost, he took his free
hand, the one her cheek lay not upon, and touched that hair;
moved it away from her slim neck, away from her violet eyes.
Almost.
"It'll be okay, Nanami-kun," he murmured. "Really, it
will."
"It amazes how me how you can say things like that," she
said, almost affectionately, and raised her head; part of him was
sorry to lose the feel of her cheek upon his hand. "You really
are the type who thinks things will work out for the best, aren't
you?"
"Most days, I am," he said distantly, taking his hands off
her shoulders. "The tea's just about ready, I think."
"Really? Has it steeped long enough?"
"I don't like it very strong. Do you?"
"No."
He removed the tea bags, got down cups, moved them and the
teapot to the middle of the table. Nanami poured. They sipped
in silence for a little while, and then heard the hallway door
opening.
"Kozue's home," Miki said, rising.
"Oh? I was wondering where she was."
"A date," he replied shortly, heading out into the hallway.
Nanami didn't follow.
"Welcome back," he greeted.
Kozue, who had just finished putting on her indoor slippers,
favoured him with a brief glance. She wore a short black skirt
and a tight, dark blue, long-sleeved sweater.
"Did you have a good time?"
She smirked at him, raised her eyebrows slightly. "He was
boring conversation and a bad kisser. Draw your own
conclusions." She breezed by him, heading for the kitchen; his
nose wrinkled at the too-heavy scent of her perfume.
He followed. "Kozue, we have--"
She was already in the doorway of the kitchen, staring at
Nanami with a vague frown. "What's she doing here?" she asked,
glancing back at him.
"Hi, Kozue," Nanami said quietly.
"Nanami-kun's going to stay the night," he said firmly,
daring her to take some issue with it.
Kozue's frown quirked into a kind of twisted smile; she
looked from him, to Nanami, and back again. Then she laughed,
softly, unkindly. "You two? I had no idea. Want me to sleep on
the couch so you can have some privacy?"
"Don't be disgusting!" he said sharply, and saw Nanami
wince--he wondered what he'd said wrong.
Kozue rolled her eyes. "Sorry. I forgot. Company." She
turned to Nanami, and said in a too-sweet, sarcastic voice, "It's
so lovely to have you here, Nanami-chan. Does your big brother
know you're sleeping over?"
"Kozue!" he snapped. With some effort, he forced himself to
lower his voice. "Enough."
"Fine, fine," she said. "You've got to learn to loosen up,
and relax, Miki. I'm only teasing." She brushed by him, arm
and hip briefly touching his as she passed, and headed for the
stairs. "I'll be upstairs if you need me."
After a glance to the silent, unresponsive Nanami, Miki
followed after her, catching up halfway up the stairs and
stopping her with a hand on her elbow.
She turned, eyes and expression conveying only disinterest.
"What?"
"Listen, he hissed, barely above a whisper. "Nanami is
having some trouble right now, and needs to stay here, at least
for tonight. She'll be staying in our room, in my bed; I don't
want you to treat her badly, okay?"
"My," Kozue said languidly, "and here I thought the only
girl you cared about was Himemiya-sempai."
He flushed; damn her for being able to do this to him, for
always knowing exactly what buttons to press. "Nanami's my
friend and I'm worried about her. That's all."
She resumed walking up the stairs, and he followed.
"Really? That's all. I don't know, she's very pretty. Looking
to gather a harem, are you? Who'll it be tomorrow, Himemiya and
her roommate?" She smiled and looked back at him, hand on the
knob of their shared room's door.
"Don't make me ill," he said, flushing even hotter at the
images her words made rise, against his will, inside his head.
She shrugged. "I'm honest," she replied, opening the door
with a creak. "And you hate that, because you've built your life
upon all these lies, which you can see tumbling down around you
even as you try and build them up again."
"I thought I saw some birds circling the house today," he
said after a moment. "I think they might be the chicks' parents.
They may come back for them soon."
She snorted. "You're still feeding them?"
"What, do you think we should just let them starve?" he
said, scowling.
"The parents aren't coming back. Deal with it." She
stepped inside, and closed the door behind her. Miki stood
looking at the blank wood for a moment, then sighed heavily and
headed back down to the kitchen.
Nanami was still at the table. It didn't look as though
she'd drunk any more of her tea since he'd left. She sat
slumped forward a little, elbows resting on the wood, teacup
cradled between her hands.
"Sorry you had to see that," he said after a moment, hoping
no visible trace of his embarrassment remained on his face.
"You and Kozue live here all by yourselves, don't you?" she
asked, as though she hadn't heard him at all.
"Yeah."
"You're the older one, right?"
Despite himself, he smiled slightly. "Yeah; by about five
minutes."
She raised her head and looked at him intently. "What's it
like, having a little sister?"
His smile vanished; he sighed again. "Sometimes, you know,
it feels like it's the hardest thing in the entire world."
* * *
She'd changed into her nightdress in the bathroom, the prude. As
if what she had under that uniform was any kind of secret; the
thing was practically painted on.
Lying beneath the covers, facing the window, Kozue smiled.
It was priceless, in her opinion; precious little Nanami,
running away from home in some fit of pique--probably thinking
her brother had put a contract on her head again. God, how she'd
laughed when she'd heard about that.
Nearly as priceless was the fact that Miki didn't see any
significance in the fact that he'd been the first one Nanami came
to for sanctuary. Naive as all hell, both of them; unable to see
the motives behind their own actions. Then again, most people
were like that, torn in so many directions by impulses they often
tried to pretend didn't exist.
The door creaked; light from the hallway filtered into the
room, shoving the darkness into the corners. She didn't move at
all as Nanami entered and closed the door behind her, so that the
gloom come down again in full; let her think she was asleep.
Feet moved lightly across the floor--tip-toe, maybe? That
was courteous; Nanami was trying not to disturb her. Bedsheets
rustled as they were pulled back; bedsprings creaked at the
weight of a body.
When all was silent and dark again, Kozue spoke.
"So, why'd you come here first?"
"What?"
"There's got to be some reason."
Nanami sounded a little guarded; in the darkness, Kozue
smiled again. "It was just the first place that came to mind."
"But why did it come to mind first?"
"I don't know."
"Thinking about the reasons you do things you don't seem to
have a reason for is the best way to get to know yourself."
"So do _you_ know why you do everything you do?" Nanami
sounded dubious.
"Of course," Kozue replied smoothly.
"So, why'd you crawl out on that ledge to get those chicks?"
After a moment's silence, Kozue said, "Do you like my
brother?"
"What? Of course. I can't think of anyone who doesn't."
"I mean, as more than a friend."
"Why are you asking me a thing like that?"
"I could help you, you know. If you do like him. You'd be
better for him than that Himemiya Anthy girl."
"That's right," Nanami said. Then, she added, "Not that I
do like him as more than a friend. I just think he needs to stop
fixating on that girl; she's so weird." She giggled, a bit
nervously. "But her older brother is cool."
"He's a remarkable man," Kozue agreed.
"Oh? You know him."
"I know him quite well."
"I just met him today." There was a dreamy quality in
Nanami's voice; Kozue smirked. She didn't have any idea of what
was coming for her, but coming it was, all the way from the Ends
of the World, unstoppable...
"So, how do you really feel about my brother?"
"I told you, he's my friend." Now Nanami was annoyed,
defensive. "Are you hard of hearing?"
"Come on, be honest with me," Kozue said unctuously. "Cute
little sisters like us ought to stick together."
Show me your heart, pretty Nanami, and if I don't like the
colour of it, perhaps I'll rip it out of your breast, red and
bloody, and parade it around for the amusement of others.
"Goodnight, Kozue," Nanami said firmly; conversation was
over. There was pause, then a sigh; hesitant, as though she
were unused to it, and to what came next. "I'm sorry to impose
on you and Miki like this. What's it like, sharing a bedroom
with your older brother? Do you two talk every night, before
you go to bed? That must be nice."
"No," Kozue said after a moment. "No, we hardly ever talk
at all. Usually, we just go to sleep. Straight to sleep. No
talking at all."
* * *
Kozue woke her the next morning, padding back into the bedroom
after her shower, wrapped in nothing but a towel. Nanami raised
her sleepy-eyed head from the pillow, saw blue towel falling
away from pale curves, and simply closed her eyes again and lay
back down, to wait until Kozue finished dressing.
She was so weird, that girl; not like her brother at all.
What had she been thinking, asking those kinds of questions? It
wasn't any of her business. Sure, Miki was nice--sweet, even--
but he wasn't cool like the Chairman. Such a mysterious man, and
so kind to his sister... Touga never would have sat around and
let her feed him shaved ice these days... he'd have something
better to do, or...
Well, he wasn't her brother anyway, so she didn't care.
Kozue was humming something, very softly; a pretty tune.
Nanami heard her footsteps move across the floor, then pause.
She was right beside the bed.
Nanami waited, scrunching her eyes closed and not moving.
Perhaps half a minute passed, and Kozue still hadn't moved away.
Unable to stand it any longer, she opened her eyes. "What?"
For a moment, Kozue wore the same expression she must have
been wearing ever since she'd come to stand beside the bed--
perhaps even before--and Nanami understood, with a kind of
creeping terror, the real reasons behind Kozue's questioning the
night before. And why she'd called herself a wild animal; as far
as Nanami was concerned, in that moment, Kozue looked like she
was about to bend down and sink small white teeth into her
throat.
Then it was gone, and Kozue was looking, as usual, slightly
disinterested in everything. "Oh. So you weren't actually
asleep."
"No," Nanami murmured, resisting the urge to leap from the
bed and run downstairs, screaming for help. "Why were you
standing like that?"
"You're lucky, getting to sleep in my brother's bed like
that." Kozue smirked; it was a very old expression for her young
face. "Too bad he wasn't in it with you, hmm?"
Nanami just stared at her for a moment, then said,
incredulously, "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Oh, nothing. See you." With that, Kozue left the room.
Nanami sat upright in the small bed, pulled up her legs,
rested her arms on her knees and her chin on her arms. She
realized she was blushing faintly; had Kozue seen that? Well,
what did she expect, saying something like that? When people
said dirty things like that, it brought pictures to mind just by
power of suggestion, even if they were things you didn't ever
think of by yourself.
She got out of bed, took up the bag she'd packed her
clothing in, and headed out into the hallway to take a shower in
the small, blue-walled bathroom of the house. As she passed the
stairs, she heard voices rising from the front hallway, and
paused to listen.
"Did you and Nanami-kun get along all right?"
"Just fine. Did you like sleeping on the couch? It'll be
good practice for when you're a married man."
"Why are you acting so weird?"
Kozue's laughter drifted up the stairs like ugly black
smoke, cruel like it had been the night before. "You and Nanami
are a good pair. Neither of you can see what's right before your
eyes, you're both so fixated on things you can't ever have."
"Kozue, what's _wrong_ with you? Hey--"
There was the sound of the front door opening, then closing,
not quite hard enough to be counted a slam. Very softly, the
sound of Miki sighing reached Nanami's ears. Footsteps; it
sounded as though he could be heading towards the stairs. She
hurriedly made her way towards the bathroom.
There was no way she could spend another night here. If it
were just Miki, it would be fine; nice, even. They could drink
tea together, and talk, get to know each other better. But Kozue
was too weird, and too scary.
She showered quickly, then changed into her spare Council
uniform. It was a little wrinkled from inhabiting the cramped
space of her gym bag, and she smoothed it out as well as she
could before the fogged glass of the mirror on the shower doors.
If this went on much longer, she was going to have to find a coin
laundry or something.
How much longer could this go on? She definitely wasn't
spending another night here, but where was she to go? There was
no way she was going to let a common bunch of girls like Keiko,
Eiko and Yuuko see what she'd been brought to, running away from
home. Maybe Juri's place... but she didn't know Juri in the way
she knew Miki, and, to tell the truth, she was kind of scared of
her... then again, at least Juri was a girl; she'd probably
understand. And she didn't have a sister; that would be a plus.
Downstairs, she found Miki in the kitchen, buttering toast.
There were eggs on a blue plate, a sliced apple and mixed
berries in a bowl; a glass of orange juice, a glass of milk. A
place set for one at the little kitchen table.
"Good morning, Nanami-kun," Miki said brightly, smiling at
her as he set the toast down, and a pot of jam beside it. "Did
you sleep well? I made breakfast for you."
She sat down, a little stunned. "Thanks. Aren't you going
to have anything?"
"I ate when I got up."
"When was that?"
He checked his watch. "About two hours ago; I have to get
up early, you see, to feed the chicks."
"Hasn't it been almost two weeks now since you got them?"
"Yeah, about that."
"And the parents still haven't come back."
He was standing at the sink counter, washing his hands, and
she saw him flinch. "No. I'm hoping they will soon; I'm not
sure how long I can keep on feeding the chicks like I have been."
"Maybe you should just call an animal shelter." She began
to eat; the eggs had spices in them, and cheese. Miki was a good
cook.
After a moment, he nodded. "Yeah. I'll probably do that
soon." There was a defeated tone in his voice that she didn't
like to hear. She would have said something, but her mouth was
full of toast, and before she could finish chewing, the phone on
the wall near the fridge rang. Miki quickly picked it up.
"Hello? Oh..." He glanced to her; she felt a sliver of ice
trace her spine. "Yes. She's here; she spent the night here.
She's fine. What? Hello? Hello?"
She was already standing as he hung up the phone, shoving
back her chair so hard the legs scraped angrily on the tiles.
"How could you?" she whispered; she felt as though she'd been
punched in the gut. Betrayed.
He looked away from her. "I said you could stay here,
Nanami-kun. I didn't say I was going to hide you from Touga-
sempai. Whatever problems you're having with him, he's your
brother, and you should try and work them out, not run away from
them."
She almost slapped him, but held herself back; at her side,
her hands trembled, balled into fists. "You... you..." she
snarled, "you don't understand anything!"
"Of course I don't," he said quietly, sadly. "How could I,
when you wouldn't tell me anything?"
She snatched her bags from the floor, spun on her heel, and
headed towards the front door. Miki hurried after her and
touched her shoulder as she reached for the handle; she pulled
away from him, vision blurring. How could he do that? She'd
thought he was a friend, a good friend...
"Nanami-kun!" he said. She yanked the door open; he
grabbed her arm, tightly. "You can't just--"
"Let me go!" she snapped, painfully yanking free of his
grip. She hurried out into the front yard; Miki didn't follow,
but stood in the door, watching her as she left and chewing
on his lower lip.
"Nanami, please," he pleaded, "what's wrong? Why did you
run away from home? What happened?"
She didn't look back, wouldn't have had anything to say even
if she did.
* * *
TWO
* * *
It rained that night, just a little, misting the window-panes,
but the rain made her think of him; she expected that rain
always would. Beneath the window sat a little table, and upon
the table was a phone that almost never rang, and right now, she
was standing before that table, looking out the window on the
light rain falling on the city, the school, the world.
Juri touched her fingers to the cool glass, and drew a
meaningless pattern in the condensation. Bach was on the stereo;
the Cello Suites. An old LP on an old player, both brought from
home. Rain on the window, and the deep-voiced cello. Music to
relax to; to let down her hair to, before taking a long, hot
shower, and putting on her nightdress. Old routines.
When the doorbell rang, she frowned sourly, even though
she'd been expecting it. Miki had caught her at lunchtime and
told her. She had her speech all prepared. Not my business; I
don't want to get involved; you should face your problems, not
run away from them, whatever they may be.
Nanami, standing in the doorway, with rain on her hair and
face and uniform, looked small and bedraggled. The sad, hopeful
expression didn't help either.
She steeled herself, even as "Hi, Juri-sempai..." was
leaving Nanami's lips. "I know why you're here."
Nanami paused, blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment, then
lost the hopeful part of her expression. "Did Miki tell you?"
"Yes."
Nanami stood there expectantly.
After a moment, Juri said, "Come in until the rain stops."
As Nanami entered, Juri was once again struck strongly by
the wish that she could actually be as hard-hearted as people
thought she was. Life would be far easier if she actually could
not care about these kind of things.
"This place is a lot nicer than a regular dorm room," Nanami
said, looking around.
"The school provides it," Juri said shortly. "Part of the
privilege of being on the Council. I believe Saionji has
something similar, although I've certainly never been there."
"Oh." Nanami unlaced her shoes and looked around for a
moment, apparently for guest slippers. Since Juri didn't have
any, it was a futile search.
The clock on the wall chimed seven. Nanami put her bags
down by the table with the phone that seldom rang. The First
Cello Suite ended, the Second began. It was three hours before
Juri normally went to bed.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.
"Tea would be nice," Nanami said. She paused. "Miki made
me tea."
"Why didn't you stay with him again?"
"He didn't tell you?"
Juri began to walk towards the kitchenette. "No. He only
said that you'd run away from home, and might come and ask to
stay with me."
"Was that all?"
She stopped, looked back. "No. He said I should call your
brother if you did show up."
Nanami visibly tensed. "Are you going to?"
"I keep my own counsel," Juri said coolly. "Whatever
situation you're having with your brother isn't my affair."
"A while ago, you said you were worried about what my
brother's up to. What did you mean by that?"
Almost, she answered. She knew the truth now. But would it
do any good? As before, there would undoubtedly be an order to
these things. Saionji, Miki, herself; now Nanami's turn had
come--she realized, with a sudden flash of insight, that it was
imminent. And Touga must know it, and whatever he'd done to
drive Nanami from him--because it had to be him, it had to be--
would have been done with the intent of making her duel again.
"Just that he's back at school, but isn't coming to Council
meetings. Knowing your brother, it's because he's found
something better to do with his time." Yes; let Nanami take from
that what she would, for the truth was in it, if she sought for
it. But she would not, could not say more than that--some sense
of honour, duty, dedication, prevented her, even though she'd
realized some time ago that her part in these things was over,
had ended with a breaking locket whose shattering set the heavens
weeping. Or perhaps later, in the hospital corridor; or outside,
looking back at the setting sun, remembering watching the sun set
from their place, beside him--feeling, for a brief moment, all
the long and treasured bitterness lift from her heart, as though
hurled into and consumed by the sun, so that all that was left
was a radiant glow, a hope and conviction that things were going
to get better.
Then, so it seemed, her miracle happened. She heard
footsteps; someone was pacing her, a few steps behind. And she
paused, looked back. Shiori's words were, she suspected,
indelible, even though she couldn't for the life of her remember
her own responses. Hi, Juri-san. I looked for you at the
fencing club, and they said you'd come here because a girl had
been hurt. I wanted to tell you something. I wanted to say I
was sorry. I acted like a real bitch, and all you were trying to
do was help me. You know you were the only person who even came
to see me? No one else even called. I thought I'd made all
these new friends since I came back. But I guess I hadn't. Not
the kind of friends like we used to be. Am I babbling? I'm
sorry. I wish sometimes that it hadn't happened; it was all my
fault. But I guess you can't go back, right? You've got to move
on. You've got to let the old things go. And I've tried. But
I'm sorry I split us apart. Anyway, that's all I really had to
say. Goodbye, Juri-san.
She wished very much she could remember what she'd said in
reply; she could remember only the generalities. It's okay; I
understand. You were very upset at the time. That was a long
time ago. I've moved on.
"Juri-sempai? Hello? Are you even listening to me? Hey!"
Juri coughed. "Sorry." She headed into the kitchenette,
shaking her head. It didn't do to sink into reverie like that,
around someone else; raised too many questions.
Nanami followed her in. "Hey, what were you thinking about?
You looked really distant."
"My thoughts are my business," she half-snapped, putting
water into the electric kettle and plugging it in. The ON light
lit up as the coils began to heat.
"Hmph. Fine." Nanami sniffed and leaned back against the
doorframe. "This really is a nice place..."
Inwardly, Juri let out a long sigh. "You can stay one
night. But you sleep on the couch. That's all I'll give you. I
don't know what's going on..." But wasn't that a lie? She did
know, or at least could guess. "...but I'm not just going to let
you hide out here indefinitely. You need to face your problems
instead of running away from them." Feeling especially
hypocritical today, aren't you, Juri?
If there was any hint of internal conflict in her voice,
Nanami either didn't pick it up or didn't acknowledge it. "All
right. I'll find somewhere else to stay tomorrow."
"Are you simply intending to stay away from home and your
brother indefinitely?"
"I'm not going home ever again." Juri half-expected Nanami
to stomp her foot on the floor as she said it. "Never, ever,"
she muttered, folding her arms.
Juri nearly rolled her eyes. "Of course."
"You don't think I'm serious?" Nanami said, sounding peeved.
"I am! I'm not going home." She began waving her arms for
emphasis and speaking so rapidly that Juri had trouble making out
individual words. "Listen, I'm telling the truth, even if my
brother showed up right now and--"
The doorbell rang.
Nanami froze, mouth open in mid-sentence, arms paused
mid-wave. Slowly, almost mechanically, her head turned to look
back towards the door.
"Stay in here," Juri said, moving by her to answer it. On
the way, she reached out with her foot and nudged Nanami's bags
beneath the table, out of casual sight for someone on the other
side of the door.
She opened the door, and two thoughts hit her
simultaneously:
One was, her hair looks lovely when its wet.
The other was, why this night, of all nights?
Close behind those two came: damn it, Nanami, couldn't you
have chosen another night, _any_ other night, to come beg
sanctuary from me?
"Juri-san," Shiori said (such a lovely smile she had), "I
was running errands, and it got late; then I realized that I was
in your area, and thought I'd drop by and say hello."
She was out of her school uniform, in a dark silk skirt and
a white blouse, both a little damp with rain, and she looked
absolutely gorgeous.
"Hello," Juri said slowly. "I didn't realize you knew where
I lived."
The smile somehow grew more appealing. "You're a legend.
Everyone in the building is scared of you."
She laughed. Even though she did find it funny, it came out
sounding forced. "They must think you're brave, to even come
onto the threshold of my lair."
Shiori shrugged. There was a folded umbrella in one hand,
dripping water on the hallway carpet. "I couldn't ever be scared
of you, Juri-san. We were friends for too long." She paused.
"Hey, have you had dinner yet?"
"No. I eat late." It would have been take-out tonight; she
hadn't felt like cooking. "Why?"
"Want to go out? I haven't eaten either."
Yes, Shiori, I'd like to go out for dinner with you more
than almost anything else in the entire world. "Sure. Just let
me--"
Shiori's glance moved over Juri's shoulder; her smile faded
a bit. "Oh. I didn't realize you had somebody over."
Almost, almost she turned around, and said, "I told you to
stay in the kitchen!"; the words were on her lips, even, but then
she realized the impression they would probably give Shiori, and
swallowed them.
"Shiori, this is Kiryuu Nanami, the Proxy Student Council
President. Nanami, this is Takatsuki Shiori."
Nanami, standing in the doorway of the kitchenette, smiled
and bobbed a slight but perfectly polite bow. "Hi. Nice to meet
you."
"Nice to meet you," Shiori echoed back.
"Nanami and I were just finishing off some paperwork for the
Council. Right, Nanami?"
Nanami nodded immediately. "Yes; paperwork. For the school
festival."
"I'm sorry to intrude on--" Shiori began.
"You're not intruding," Juri said, hoping it didn't come out
too quickly. "Really, all that I had to do was give Nanami some
files on the budget. They're in my bedroom. If you'd like to
come in for a moment, Shiori..."
Shiori nodded, and stepped inside. Juri closed the door
behind her, then headed for her bedroom, Nanami at her heels. As
soon as they were inside, she closed the door behind her.
"Hey, isn't that the girl who went out with Tsuchiya-
sempai?"
"Yes," Juri said shortly, and started lying. "Now,
listen. She's an old friend of mine who I'm trying to reconcile
with. It's inconvenient that you showed up tonight. The way
we're going to work it is like this..."
* * *
"She's Kiryuu Touga's little sister?"
"Yes."
"Seems nice enough. Although, a bit odd, heading home
without an umbrella, in this rain."
"I expect she caught a cab."
"Oh. Yes, they're a very wealthy family, aren't they?"
"Yes."
The light rain fell softly upon the canvas of their
umbrellas, two droll rhythms, one for each. Shiori turned her
head to study Juri in profile for a moment; still in her Student
Council uniform, even though it was hours after school had
finished. It wasn't that it didn't look good on her; Shiori
merely wondered if she ever wore anything else, even outside
school hours.
"I can't think of the last time we did something together
like this," she said, moving her gaze ahead again. There weren't
many other people on the streets; rainy evenings like this were
times to be inside, with friends or family.
"It would have been before you left the school," Juri
replied. "We certainly haven't done anything like this since you
returned."
"It would have been all three of us together, then."
"Yes," Juri said softly, after a moment. "How is he doing
these days? Do you keep in touch?"
"I got a letter from him a few weeks ago. He seems well."
After a moment, she said, "But, then again, people don't always
say what they feel in letters. It's easier to hide the truth in
those than it is face-to-face."
"That's true"
"I have his address, if you'd like to write to him..."
"No; I don't think that would be a good idea."
"It's up to you. But I think he'd like to hear from you."
"Perhaps. Where should we go for dinner?"
"I was thinking that beefbowl place we used to go. Cheap
and good."
Juri smiled, a smile that Shiori remembered from when they'd
been younger; it had been a real shock, to come back, and
discover that Juri had changed from the most popular and admired
girl in her grade to a cold, distant person whom people were
afraid to be around. "I haven't been there in years." That
smile, a recollection from more carefree days, was almost
entirely the old Juri, and felt good to see.
"I went there with Tsuchiya-sempai once," she said, and
watched the smile, as she'd expected, vanish. "I told him that
it used to be your favourite place to go."
"Oh."
"He was in love with you, wasn't he?"
Juri stepped over a puddle that had formed in a depression
on the sidewalk, then nodded. "Yes. I suppose he was."
"Then, he was just using me to get at you? As part of this
Duelling Game?"
"I don't know. Maybe. Yes."
She pressed on, past the lump threatening to form in her
throat. "Why? What did he want the power of miracles for?"
"I suppose he must have had his reasons," Juri said
guardedly. "But, I never heard from him what they really were
before he left."
Shiori could tell that Juri wasn't saying everything, even
if she wasn't exactly lying. But it wasn't as though she had any
right to expect total honesty from Juri, after all she'd done.
"He was someone important to you, wasn't he? There was something
in the past between you; that was why you warned me, that he
couldn't be trusted."
After a moment, Juri nodded. "That's right." She peered
ahead into the misty rain, through which the dim shapes of the
few other walkers on the streets moved like phantoms from another
world. "I think we're almost there."
"Just about." Shiori closed her mouth and looked down at
her feet briefly. Rain, glistening like jewels on the black
gloss of her pumps. "How long did you go out with him?"
Juri stiffened a little; she was obviously growing less and
less relaxed as the conversation went on. "It was never like
that between us," she said eventually. "After you left the
school, I threw myself into fencing like I never had before. He
took me on as his protege; as his personal project, I suppose."
"But," Shiori persisted, "the two of you were never..."
"No."
They reached the restaurant, an old-fashioned little place
with a big blue-curtained front window, half-opaque from
condensation. They furled their umbrellas beneath the blue
awning over the door, and left them hanging on the coat rack near
the front. The place was barely half-full, with most of the
customers seated at the counter; one couple, a boy and a girl
whom Shiori faintly recognized from seeing them around the high
school building, sat at a booth. She led the way to another
booth, as far from the occupied one as could be. A waitress
appeared with menus; they ordered green tea and sodas, and
studied the menus as the waitress left to get the drinks.
"I don't even remember what I used to have here," Juri said.
"The teriyaki beef bowl," Shiori answered automatically.
Then, a bit embarrassed, she explained, "It's just one of those
things that sticks out in my memory. You always ordered the
teriyaki bowl."
"I don't remember which one you liked," Juri said, sounding
a bit disappointed in herself.
"I never settled on one like you did. I think I'll have the
Szechuan today; that was always good." They put down their
menus; the waitress returned, deposited the drinks, took their
orders, collected the menus, left.
"It was very much like before, you know," Shiori said, once
the waitress was out of earshot.
Juri looked up from pouring tea for both of them from the
little pot. "What was?"
"Tsuchiya-sempai. Just watching you watch him at the
fencing club, I could tell he was someone important to you. I
didn't really start to want him--more than all the girls did, I
mean, he had even more admirers than Kiryuu Touga for a while--
until I realized that he meant something to you." She raised the
straw to her mouth and sucked up a little of the too-sweet lemon-
lime soda. "Wasn't that horrible of me?"
For a little while, Juri didn't say anything at all. Then,
a kind of comprehension seemed to dawn on her, and she said, "So,
when I told you that you should stop going out with him..."
"I thought you were just jealous. Trying to break us up,"
Shiori finished.
"First Ichiro, then Ruka," Juri said quietly. For a moment,
she looked and sounded angry, and it was a beautiful sort of
thing to see, like the wrath of an angel. "Why do you feel this
need to compete with me, Shiori?"
"I don't even really know myself," Shiori admitted.
"Perhaps I'm just a terrible person." She looked at her nails
for a moment: short, neatly trimmed. "But, when we were kids, I
always felt like I was in your shadow. And even today, when I
think about how I am, and how you are... I feel like I hate you,
sometimes, for being so good so easily."
The brief anger was gone, but Juri was frowning now. "I
don't understand what you mean."
"Of course you don't," Shiori said quietly, unable to meet
Juri's eyes. Saying the things she'd always felt out loud, to
Juri's face, made her realize that they sounded small and petty
and selfish. "Never mind. It's my fault, not yours."
Their food arrived, and they ate in silence for a few
minutes. The atmosphere had become uncomfortable, defensive.
Too many things had been said, after too long a time of living in
two different worlds.
Eventually, unable to stand the only sound being the chewing
of food punctuated by sips of tea or slurps of soda, Shiori
asked, "Is fencing hard to get good at, Juri?"
Juri looked surprised at the question, then shrugged. "Like
any sport--this is my opinion, mind you, and others may tell you
different--it's not hard to pick up the basics. But it's hard to
get good. It takes time, and a skilled teacher. Why do you
ask?"
"I've been thinking of joining the team. Something to
improve myself. Whenever I watched you and Ichiro fencing, I
always wished I could do it too--it looked so cool--but I always
thought, 'No, I wouldn't be any good at that.'"
Juri's face quirked slightly; a strange expression, eyebrows
lifted slightly, mouth twisted somewhere between a frown and a
smile. "Why would you think that unless you tried it?"
Shiori laughed, softly, a little bitterly. "That's what
makes you different from me. You're not scared to try things,
because you're confident enough that they'll turn out well. I'm
not like that."
Juri flinched slightly. "You don't really know me well
enough to say that about me," she said. "I wish I were as strong
as you seem to think I am, but I'm not."
For a time, there was silence again. Shiori pushed bits of
rice around the bottom of her bowl. Juri finished off the last
of the tea.
"If you're interested in joining the team, Miki and I hold
an orientation meeting every month. You'll get a chance to
handle a foil, learn some of the basics. See if it suits you."
"I think I'd like that."
"You'd probably be good at it." Juri paused for a moment,
then looked faintly perturbed. "There's no obligation to join
after the orientation meeting. But if you find you like it..."
"I think I will. As long as I'm not absolutely horrible at
it."
"You won't be."
They finished up what remained of dinner, called for the
bill. When it came, Juri reached for it; Shiori quickly covered
it with her hand.
"I'll take it. I was the one who invited you."
"Let's split it."
"No; I insist."
"All right."
Rain was still falling as they left the restaurant, and they
opened their umbrellas to shield themselves. All the walking in
the misty rain had begun to uncurl Juri's hair from its usual
tight coils, making her look fetchingly dishevelled. They had a
short distance to go together before they parted ways at an
intersection of streets. They stood in a streetlamp's cast pool
of light; that light, caught and refracted by the drizzling rain,
seemed to surround them briefly in shifting curtains of fire.
"This was really nice," Shiori said. "I feel... better than
I have in a long time."
"About what?"
"I don't know. Maybe everything." She tilted her head
back a little, staring around the edge of her umbrella at the
grey clouds overlaid across the star-filled night sky. "Where
did Tsuchiya-sempai go after he left the school, Juri?"
For a moment, Juri looked so sad that she wished she hadn't
asked the question, even though she wanted terribly to know the
answer.
Then, Juri's expression softened to mere melancholy, and she
said, "How much did he tell you about why he was away from
school for so long?"
"Not much. Just that he'd been on sick leave, but was
better now."
"From what I understand, he was still sick all that time.
He left the hospital, even though he wasn't supposed to, and came
back to school." Juri closed her eyes, sighed deeply. "I wish I
didn't have to tell you this."
Shiori began, softly, "You don't have--"
"No. You should know. The exertions were too much for him,
I think. He died shortly after he returned to the hospital."
Shiori found her mouth opening, but no words were coming
out; they seemed to have spiralled down into some dark place
within her. She raised her hand and covered her gaping mouth
with it. There were tears in her eyes, suddenly; had Juri been
anyone else, she thought that they would probably been in hers as
well, but she just stood there, wearing a stoic mask that almost
managed to cover deep grief. There were no other people in
sight, and the misty light seemed to be everywhere. They seemed
to stand in their own tiny worlds, bordering, but divided by
boundaries defined by the edges of umbrellas.
"If he was so sick, why did he come back?"
"Because of me," Juri murmured, looking sick. "All because
of me."
Awkwardly, impulsively, trying not to enmesh their umbrellas
too badly, Shiori gave Juri a one-armed hug, head on her
shoulder, arm around her back and reaching beneath the upraised
arm holding the umbrella. Juri clearly wasn't expecting it at
all, and for a moment seemed to have been turned to stone; she'd
changed so much. Shiori remembered how warmly Juri had always
used to respond to these kinds of physical affections, gestures
of friendship, when they were very young.
Then, slowly, hesitantly, Juri's free arm crept around her
shoulders and tightened, and she found herself crying against the
cool, stiff white collar and soft, padded epaulettes of Juri's
Council jacket. Crying, and desperately wanting not to cry,
because hadn't he used her, and hurt her so much? Why should
she cry for him? But the tears came on all the same, despite the
rationalizations.
Juri didn't cry. Shiori wondered if she remembered how.
And they stood there in the rain together for a long time, Juri
holding her gently, she clinging to Juri and sobbing like a baby,
wanting to stop, unable to. Was it always to be this way, with
Juri being so strong, and she being so weak? She didn't think
she could stand that; couldn't bear a rekindled friendship, if it
meant having to be a guttering candle beside Juri's bonfire of
strength and beauty.
"Don't cry, Shiori. Shiori, don't cry. Please." Barely a
whisper, almost inaudible over even the faint sound of the rain
breaking upon the canvas shields of their umbrellas; which,
Shiori noted now, were canted a little too unevenly by their
awkward embrace to provide full protection from the rain.
With both regret and relief--strange, how those two things,
in seeming opposition, could possess her in equal measure--Shiori
broke from the embrace, slowly: move her arm; wait for Juri to
move hers; one step back.
"I'm sorry," she said, still standing close to Juri,
umbrella still held off-kilter so that the rain continued to soak
through her skirt and blouse, making them cling to her skin; the
sensation was not entirely unpleasant. "What you must think of
me..."
The words fell away at the look on Juri's face. Haunted,
sad, pained, and her eyes, green like the sea was sometimes
green, were so wounded, vulnerable. There were raindrops all
over her hair, which hardly curled at all any more. Shiori found
herself lifting her free hand again; this time, perhaps, with the
intent of touching that pale, perfect cheek, to feel tension and
grief and unshed tears running below the surface like rivers
underground. She couldn't say for certain with what intention,
because she didn't really know herself, and the motion was
arrested when Juri spoke.
"I wish I could be strong enough to show my feelings like
that," she said, more quiet than the quiet rain. "You know how
often I've thought, 'I should cry for him', and I haven't been
able to? Even when I'm all alone..."
Shiori put her hand back at her side. "I don't think of it
as being strong," she said after a moment. She finally adjusted
her umbrella so that it covered her against the rain again; Juri
had already done the same.
"I should get home," Juri said, quickly, and turned away, so
fast her damp hair swung about and spattered loose raindrops
against Shiori's face. "Thank you for dinner."
"Juri!" Shiori called, halting her before she could move
too far away. After a moment, she looked back. "We should do
this again." She managed to make herself smile. "Maybe without
so much crying on my part the next time; old friends like us
should get together."
"I'd like that," Juri said after a moment. She couldn't
seem to look into Shiori's eyes. "Are you going to come to the
orientation meeting? It's next week. Tuesday."
"Yeah. I'll be there. Goodnight, Juri."
"Goodnight, Shiori."
She watched Juri walk away for a moment, through the
falling rain. Her stride was sure, her shoulders were set; from
behind, she looked strong, unstoppable.
"You wish you were as strong as I think you are, huh?"
Shiori murmured softly, still smiling. Then she turned away and
went in the opposite direction. By the time she got back to her
dorm, the rain had stopped falling.
* * *
No umbrella, not even a raincoat, and even though it was a short
walk back to Juri's building from where they'd parted ways,
Nanami felt soaked to the skin by the time she got back, with her
hair plastered against her neck, shoulders and back like a dead
animal's pelt. She let herself back into the apartment with the
key Juri had given her, and stood for a moment in the front
hallway, shivering and dripping water onto the floor,
wishing faintly that she could retreat back into ignorance,
pretend that everything was as it always had been, go back home
and apologize to her brother, and he'd smile, and call her a
silly girl for running way, but say that she was forgiven, and
then he'd hold her, strong arms, but so gentle--
Scowling fiercely, she knelt down, causing her damp uniform
to squelch unpleasantly, and violently removed her shoes--as
violently, admittedly, as one could remove shoes. A rapidly-
spreading pool of water was gathering at her feet. After
glancing around instinctively--ridiculous, she knew she was the
only one here, but the unfamiliar surroundings strengthened her
natural fear of voyeurs--she stripped out of her clinging uniform
and down to her undergarments. They weren't especially dry
either, but she kept them on, bundled her uniform under her arm,
and headed for the bathroom.
The bathroom had a white-tiled floor, and a big shower, and
a sink whose counter looked as though it might be real marble.
She hung her uniform to dry over the top of the shower doors,
then grabbed a big, soft, fluffy white towel from off the rack to
wrap herself in. It felt so good and warm that she was almost
able to forget all the unpleasantness of what had brought her
here. She took her hair out of its usual coiffure so that it
hung loose, towelled it dry as well she could, then headed back
out and changed into her nightdress. She also retrieved a
hairbrush from the little toiletry bag she'd packed.
As she zipped the bag back up again, her eyes fell upon her
brother's cell phone. On perverse impulse, she took it out,
turned it on, and waited, crouched down by the table beneath
which Juri had shoved her gym bag.
Five minutes was all it took, at the very most.
//"Touga? Touga? Where are you? Didn't you get my note?
You said you'd come to me, whenever I needed you... Touga..."//
She hung up, closed the phone, turned it off again. She
had been able to think of nothing cruel to say in reply, found
perhaps that she had no real desire to say any such thing. Then
she put the dress on, found a comfortable seat on the couch (her
bed tonight, apparently) and began brushing her hair. After no
more than five strokes, she decided it was too quiet, and went up
to the stereo. Juri, like Touga, seemed to prefer LPs, outdated
though they were; her brother always claimed the sound was better
than compact discs. The rich cello music that had been playing
when she'd arrived--Bach, the label on the LP said--soon filled
the apartment again. She took her seat, resumed brushing her
hair. Eventually, she stopped feeling bedraggled as a dead rat,
if not exactly presentable for a social function. Not that she'd
be going to many of those in the future, having resolved never to
return home again, which was where most of the social functions
she'd ever attended had taken place.
She wondered if her parents were worried about her. Father
probably didn't even know, he was almost impossible to reach when
he was away on his business trips; Mother was probably just
letting Touga handle everything, going out to luncheons and teas
with her friends as usual. It wasn't as though either of them
was used to seeing her every day anyway.
She put her hairbrush away, retrieved a magazine from her
school bag, and curled up on the couch with her feet tucked in
beneath her. It was a big couch, soft, comfortable. She'd never
had to sleep on a couch before, but expected it wouldn't be all
that unpleasant.
Moments after opening the magazine, she realized that she
would probably never, ever have an opportunity to look around
Juri's apartment without Juri being there ever again. She
calmly closed the magazine and set it down beside her on the
couch, then began after taking the LP off the turntable.
Nothing especially interesting in the front room, but that
wasn't surprising. She pulled back the white curtains over the
glass-fronted sliding doors to look out onto the small balcony,
with filigreed iron railings. The rain seemed to be slackening
a little. She pulled them closed again, and wandered into the
kitchen.
Other than having a surprising amount of junk food in her
cupboards for someone with such a good figure, Juri had an
unremarkable kitchen. There was a tomato in the fridge's
vegetable drawer that had definitely seen better days; she
wrinkled her nose at it, closed the fridge, and headed for the
bathroom.
The cupboard behind the sink mirror held the usual feminine
assortment; no interesting prescription medicines or anything of
the like. The cupboard under the sink had extra bottles of
shampoo and other toiletries, spare towels, and an impressively
expensive cordless hairdryer with a matched and equally expensive
curling iron.
She hadn't really been expecting anything good until the
bedroom, though, which was why she saved it for last. Everyone
kept their secrets in their bedroom. She'd had a brief glimpse
of it when Juri had pulled her in there after the friend had
shown up. There was a dresser, a desk, a large bed, a free-
standing lamp, a closet door.
She checked the dresser first, but Juri kept nothing
scandalous or interesting beneath her underwear. A lot of it was
awfully frilly, though; she had expected Juri would go for more
utilitarian styles. The closet was similar, with a good number
of tasteful, fashionable, very feminine dresses--then again,
she'd always respected Juri's sense of fashion. It was nearly as
good as hers.
The bed was neatly-made, and the tops of dresser and desk
were clean and orderly. On the dresser was a framed photograph;
four people, seated on the couch in a very nice living room. She
recognized Juri easily; the photo looked to have been taken
within the last year or so. There was a tall, good-looking man
to whom Juri bore a strong resemblance, and a petite woman to
whom she didn't bear much of one. Her mother and father,
presumably. Finally, there was someone she guessed was Juri's
sister; a few years older, pretty but delicate, not looking
anything like Juri. She hadn't known Juri had an older sister.
There was a little bookshelf mounted on the wall above the
desk, holding textbooks and a few novels. The novels all looked
very literary and very boring, without a single mystery or
thriller among them. She moved down to the desktop: the centre
of it was taken up by a compact computer system, with notebooks
for classes to one side, and a tray holding writing utensils and
supplies to the other. Nothing interesting there, either.
Checking the desk drawers revealed nothing. They held extra
notebooks, loose paper, scissors, a stapler, a hole punch. All
the supplies a dedicated student and Student Council Member would
need. Didn't Juri have anything _interesting_?
The thought occurred to Nanami that if Juri did have anything
interesting that was easy to find, she wouldn't have let her
go back to the apartment by herself. With a sigh, Nanami slid
the final drawer of the desk closed. Then, on impulse, she
pulled it open again and took out the stacked pile of lined
paper.
"Jackpot." She grinned, and pulled forth the little velvet-
covered box that had been hidden in the corner. It was of the
kind used to store jewelry, but if it were secreted like this, it
had to mean there was something good in it...
She opened it, caught a momentary glimpse of shattered links
of chain and a flash of gold, and then heard the front door
opening. Oh no, she thought, Juri will probably take this in
entirely the wrong way. She'd thought she'd had the only key,
but Juri had obviously just given her a spare. Or kept the
spare. She couldn't say which, and it didn't matter. She had to
hurry. The box was snapped closed, shoved back into the corner;
the stacked paper followed. She hoped it looked even enough.
Juri called her name. Her footsteps crossed the floor of
the front room, heading for the bedroom. She closed the drawer,
stood up, and hurried to open the bedroom door. Juri was right
on the other side, hand extended towards the handle.
"What were you doing in here?" she asked, eyes narrowing.
The fact that she was dishevelled and a bit flushed in the face--
probably from hurrying back in the rain--didn't make her look any
less intimidating.
"I was looking for a pillow," Nanami squeaked. She
indicated her nightdress with a downward sweep of her hands.
"See? All ready for bed. That couch looks nice and comfy." She
smiled and giggled in a manner guaranteed to win Juri over.
Juri started forward. Nanami moved aside to avoid being run
down. Juri grabbed one of her bed's two large pillows and thrust
it at Nanami, disarraying the neatly-made sheets as she did.
"A pillow," she said, as though it were a threat.
Nanami took it. "Thanks," she said, a little numbly. "I've
never seen your hair like that. It looks nice. I didn't realize
it was so long."
Juri grimaced and ran her hands through the damp length of
it. "I feel like a drowned rat."
Nanami perked up. "Hey, I've got an idea--we could braid
each other's hair! I bet you'd look cool with--"
"Nanami!" Juri said sharply, cutting her off.
"What?" Nanami asked, blinking and hugging the pillow to her
chest.
"This isn't a sleepover, and I'm not one of the cronies you
sometimes call your friends. Don't treat me like I am. Now get
out of my bedroom. I need to change."
Wordless, wide-eyed, Nanami retreated back into the front
room, closing the door behind her. Juri was so scary sometimes.
She settled down on the couch and opened her magazine again.
The articles, the sentences, even the kanji, seemed entirely
without meaning. She wished she hadn't gone snooping through
Juri's bedroom. Juri knew, she knew that she knew, and she was
angry now.
The bedroom door opened, closed. Juri came up, a silver-
backed hairbrush in her hand. She'd changed into a pale blue,
ruffle-throated nightdress. Nanami moved her feet to the floor
to give Juri a seat on the couch.
"So," Juri began as she sat, turning her head to the side to
let her hair spill down over one shoulder for easy brushing,
"what do you really intend to do, Nanami? You can't keep running
forever."
"I can try," Nanami muttered. "I'm not going home, Juri."
Juri let out what might almost have been counted a sigh.
"Look, Nanami," she said, "whatever's going on, you should face
it." Her expression had softened considerably since the brief
confrontation in the bedroom, and was almost tender now--a look
Nanami had never seen on her. "Running from it will only make it
worse."
"You can't know that," Nanami said, scowling. At Miki, she
would have snapped the words, in an attempt to drive him into
docile silence; that wouldn't work on Juri, though. "Why does
everyone insist on trying to give me advice?"
"Because," Juri said, running the brush through her hair in
long, even strokes, "you're acting like a foolish little child."
"Well," Nanami muttered, "maybe you ought to just spank me
then, if you're so grown-up and mature, and I'm such a child."
Juri coughed lightly and turned her head a little so Nanami
couldn't see any of her face at all. The brush sliding through
her hair made a soft, pleasant, silky sound.
"You're right," she said after a moment. "It's not my
business. Do what you like. You've already heard my terms."
"One night, on the couch," Nanami said.
"That's right."
Nanami opened the magazine and tried to make herself be
interested in any of the articles. Fashion, television, quizzes,
movie stars, boys; it all seemed so suddenly meaningless. She
had run away from home, her brother wasn't her brother... the
immensity of her tragedy was so great. How was she supposed to
go on, when her brother, for whom her life was lived, wasn't
her brother? Life was all a lie, a terrible, rotten lie.
"Nanami?"
She glanced over. "What?"
Juri had put the hairbrush aside on the arm of the couch.
"How _do_ you think I'd look with my hair braided?"
Nanami raised her eyebrows and looked at Juri suspiciously.
"You're in a really weird mood tonight, sempai, aren't you?"
Juri smiled faintly. "Maybe I'm always like this at home,"
she said. She pulled her legs up onto the couch, crossed them,
and turned her back to Nanami. "Come on. Think you'll ever have
this opportunity again? You can tell all your friends about it.
Though they'll never believe you."
After a moment, Nanami tossed her magazine onto the floor,
swung her own legs up onto the couch, and almost hesitantly put
her hands on Juri's hair. Long, thick, slightly wavy hair. A
beautiful colour, too, burnished bronze to coppery fire depending
on how the light hit it. Gorgeous hair, nearly as nice as hers.
Her fingers worked quickly and dextrously. The didn't talk
much while she braided: the occasional soft request for a
differing tilt of neck from her to Juri was more or less the
entirety. It didn't take long, and soon Juri's hair hung in two
long, neat braids.
Finished, she clapped her hands and smiled. "I was right--
you do look cool."
"Hmph," Juri said. She swung her legs off the couch and
headed for the bathroom to see for herself, Nanami trailing her.
"I look like I'm about eleven," Juri said as she looked in
the mirror, with a stoniness Nanami couldn't say was genuine or
not. Juri reached back and moved the braids so they draped over
her shoulders. Then she smiled, and laughed softly. "I can't
believe I let you do this, Nanami. I look utterly ridiculous."
"No, you don't," Nanami said, pursing her lips. "You look
cool. Don't you trust my fashion sense?"
Juri just shook her head, smile fading a little, but not
entirely disappearing. "What a night," she murmured, so quietly
that Nanami was quite certain she was speaking only for
herself--that perhaps she wasn't even aware, in that moment, that
there was anyone else with her. "My, what a night..."
"It's been a funny time for both of us, hasn't it, Juri?"
she said quietly. "You, with Tsuchiya-sempai coming back, and me
with, well..." She blinked, a thought suddenly occurring. "Hey,
do you know why Tsuchiya-sempai stopped coming to school? Miki
and I were wondering, and..." She trailed away; there was
something funny in Juri's eyes, which she could only see
reflected in the mirror before them as she stood behind her.
"Actually, Nanami, I..."
"What?"
"Nothing. I'm not one to guess at Ruka's motives or
actions." Juri's voice made it clear that it was a closed topic.
"I wish I had a camera," Nanami said after a moment; the
silence was too uncomfortable. "I'd really like a picture of you
like this."
"I wouldn't let you take one," Juri replied. She turned
around. "Want me to do yours?" she offered.
Nanami nodded. "Sure."
They returned to the couch, sat down in almost a mirror
image of their earlier positions, Nanami with her back to Juri.
Juri's fingers, so agile on the hilt of a sword, struck Nanami as
uncommonly clumsy at braiding hair. She pulled too hard very
often, once so hard that Nanami yelped softly.
"Sorry," Juri said, taking her fingers away for a moment.
"I haven't braided hair, mine or anyone else's, for a long time."
When Juri finished, they returned to the bathroom to look at
the results. The single braid was rather clumsy compared to
Nanami's handiwork, but adequate enough. They stood side by
side before the full-length mirror on the shower doors to
compare.
"Braids are a little commonplace," Nanami said. "I'd never
wear one in public."
Juri tugged on one of hers and grimaced slightly. "Neither
would I, but, like I said, they make me look like I'm about
eleven. It suits you better."
Nanami glanced at her. "Maybe you'd look better with a
single braid..."
"I think one session of hair braiding is enough for me
tonight," Juri said. Nanami thought for a moment she was going
to turn away and leave, but she didn't; just stood there, beside
her, the two of them in their nightdresses, hair braided. She
wished again she had a camera.
"It's funny, you know," she said after a moment. "If
someone was looking at us, right now, they wouldn't think that
there was anything exceptional about us." She paused. "Beyond
our stunning beauty, of course. I just mean, they wouldn't
think, 'Those two girls have fought duels in the sky, those two
girls have fought for the Revolution'. They'd probably just
think we were two friends, having a sleepover." Again, she
paused. "Maybe even sisters, or something."
"What a weird thing to say."
Lightly, lingeringly, Juri's hand touched her back. They
stood before the mirror, silent for what felt like a very long
time, as though trapped by the eyes of their own reflections.
"Sisters, huh?" Juri said eventually, and chuckled. Her
hand left.
"Thanks for letting me stay here, Juri," Nanami said. "Even
if it's just for one night."
"Yes," Juri murmured. "One night. That's all." She left
the bathroom; Nanami followed.
"I've got some work to get finished for school tomorrow,"
Juri said, glancing at the wall clock: half past eight. "I'll be
in my room."
Nanami nodded. Juri headed into her room and closed the
door behind her. The click of the latch held a certain sense of
finality to it; the moment was clearly over, and probably would
never come again.
She sat down on the couch, picked up the magazine; then she
sniffed dismissively and threw it down on the floor again. She
leaned over, resting her forearm on the arm of the couch and
pillowing her chin on them. Sisters. It _had_ been a weird
thing to say. Embarrassing, too. She wished now that she hadn't
said it.
The notion was intriguing, though. It would probably be
neat, having an older sister instead of an older brother.
Especially someone like Juri, who was cool and tough and had
superb fashion sense and great hair.
It certainly couldn't be any worse than having the fake
sibling that she did. She sighed, and watched the swaying
pendulum of the wall clock. Back and forth, back and forth, from
one extreme to another, permanently unable to find a mid-point.
An uncomfortable existence, but it helped to keep the machinery
running.
She wanted to go home and throw herself into her brother's
arms and act as though she didn't know. She wanted to get on a
plane and go far, far away from here, and never come back. Why
bother doing homework and trying to pretend that everything was
normal when it _wasn't_ normal? When things could obviously
never be normal again?
Because you had to do something, she supposed. Otherwise,
you were just alone with your thoughts. She opened up her
satchel and did algebra worksheets with mechanical precision for
the better part of an hour. She had to work slowly, checking and
rechecking her answers, in order to get everything right. She
wondered why she even bothered; Tsuwabuki would have a crib sheet
ready for her next test. Tsuwabuki... maybe she could stay with
him next...
Gradually, she moved from sitting on the couch to work to
lying down on it to work. A little before half past nine, she
discovered her head was nodding, and that all the Xs and Ys and
numbers were making even less sense to her than they usually did.
She put her pencil and books down on the floor and rolled over
onto her back, staring up at the ceiling. The couch was big
enough that she didn't have to curl up to lie on it. She found
her eyes closing, seemingly of their own volition.
She dozed, caught somewhere between waking and sleeping.
She had a brief but frightening dream, in which her brother
seized her by the right arm and a shadowy figure seized her by
the left, and they pulled until it seemed they would split her in
half like a wishbone. At the last second, just before she was
awakened by the sound of Juri's bedroom door opening, she saw
that the shadowy figure had her brother's face.
With the dream still lucid and fearful in her mind, she
looked up at Juri. The wall clock was striking ten, slowly and
softly.
"I'm going to bed now," Juri said. Her hair was still in
the two loose braids, one draped over her shoulder, one hanging
down her back. "Do you want a blanket?"
"No. I'm fine. It's a warm night."
"All right, then. Good night. What time do you want me to
wake you tomorrow?"
"Whenever you get up is fine."
"I get up quite early."
"That's fine... how early?"
"Five. I jog every morning."
"You would," Nanami said, a little sourly. She rolled onto
her side, away from Juri. "Wake me up when you get back from
jogging."
"All right."
"Good night, Juri."
"Just don't go snooping around while I'm gone again. Good
night, Nanami."
Nanami rolled back over to face Juri, words of denial and
protest rising on her lips, but all she got was the sight of the
bedroom door closing, with fuller weight of finality than before.
[continued in next post]