Chapter 20

I didn’t want to start believing those lies. “I don’t want to crush on her…” I wasn’t just saying it—I honestly loathed the possibility, knowing full well that falling in love with that woman couldn’t end well. Not to mention she was Mizuike’s girlfriend…in name, at least. It was Mizuike I was attracted to anyway, so why was I getting my panties in a twist over this woman? Had I lost my mind? I really was so stupid! I cradled my head in my hands, overwhelmed with despair. A show of pretend kindness had turned out to be deadly poison to me. “I don’t want this…” The woman was changing me, and it was scary. I was getting fearful, my back slick with sweat. I was metamorphosing into someone else, and my current self was dying. I looked at my left hand—it was shaking slightly, fingers curving as if they wanted to clutch something. I slammed it against the floor with a silent scream. I howled like that until I wore myself out. “What’s wrong with me…?” I felt like crying again, this time from helplessness. I decided not to fight the tears back. I was in the shower anyway. They might as well flow. As I cried, my head and my heart began to empty. I was calming down. Maybe I’d been feeling like shit every day because I’d been holding all that in. “…” I mentally took a step back from my unruly heart and examined it objectively. Most of the emotions contained there could be named and explained, but there was one area that remained unknown to me—the part where emotions implanted by Chitaira had lodged themselves. I couldn’t figure them out. They felt familiar, as if they’d always been there, as if I should’ve known about them—but I had only met Chitaira recently. She was a mystery I couldn’t solve. I’d never met anyone as evil as her. In any case, I had to face the facts and admit to myself that I was a simpleton. A pretty face and some attention was all it took to make me dance like a puppet. I had to return to reality and finish the shower, or I’d get in trouble later for using up too much water. I sniffed my hair to make sure that there was nothing of her left on it—besides the lingering feel of her fingers. I toweled myself off vigorously as that unbearable humid heat came back in force. It was worse than standing in full sunlight. Who knows how that works, I thought, putting a fresh change of clothes on. I wrapped the towel around my hair and went to the living room. Every day, after everyone had showered, I cleaned the bathroom. I was so used to that routine, I did it without thinking, but now that an unusual factor had entered my life, it made me pause and reconsider what I’d been taking for granted. “You have so much on your shoulders.” Selective memory—only the parts I wanted to hear were highlighted in my mind. I slapped myself on the cheek. It was probably the first time I’d met someone who inspired so much hatred that I wanted to hurt myself. Through the open door to my room, I could see that Mizuike was there, so I turned on my heel and sat down in front of the living room fan. I had the artificial breeze all to myself. Mizuike’s mom was sitting with her legs folded under her, back straight as a pole, watching TV. I pretended she wasn’t there. Come to think of it, I’d never seen her using the fan. Was she worried we’d complain about her touching our stuff? I couldn’t spot a single bead of sweat or dilated vein showing on her pale face, though. I let my hair down in front of the fan to dry it. I’d gone from hiding among rain sounds to concealing myself in ceaselessly blowing wind. Wind may be invisible, but we have many other ways of sensing it through its interactions with other objects. Maybe the heart is the same—we only begin to understand our feelings once we start bouncing emotions off other people. Suddenly, someone poked my back. “Hey, what’s up?” “Whoa!” I turned abruptly, the towel sliding off my shoulders and nearly knocking over the fan. Mizuike bent down to look into my eyes. She was holding her phone in one hand and a manga volume in the other. “Hey, what’s going on?” “You looked at me earlier and walked away? What was that about?” “Ah… Nothing. I just felt like sitting here.” I overcame the nagging urge to look at my left hand, but it left my neck uncomfortably tense. I was waiting for Mizuike to leave me alone, but she sat down next to me and opened the manga. “Um…” “Huh? Don’t want me here?” “No, I don’t mind…” It wasn’t that I wanted her to go away, but I was puzzled as to why she chose to keep me company. She was like a cat, coming and going whenever she pleased with no consideration for others. Where she was sitting, she wasn’t getting much of the wind from the fan, but I didn’t move, and neither did she. Mizuike’s mom turned to us with a smile, as if she’d only just noticed us. “Nice to see you getting along!” What sort of warped understanding of the world did she have? As a side note, she was watching a rerun of some show with a masked hero, who appeared on-screen beating a drum. Memories from the afternoon fresh in my mind, I turned timidly to look at Mizuike. To my secret relief, her graceful profile made my heart beat faster. I loved her still. She had sent me to the hell of unrequited love, but even so, it was preferable to the other hell in which I already had one foot. I wished Mizuike would pull me out of it, toward her. Except it was as if the devil had overheard my thoughts. I heard buzzing from my room, but I continued to sit in front of the fan with its whirring caressing my neck. “Wasn’t that your phone?” “Yeah…” I couldn’t pretend I hadn’t heard it if she already had. I knew exactly who was messaging me. I looked at Mizuike, as if asking her permission to leave. I was leaving her side for…for… “Be right back.” I left Mizuike in the living room, affecting nonchalance as I walked to my room to get my phone. It was sticking out of my bag, which I had dropped on the floor before going to take a shower. I’d guessed right—the text was from Chitaira. When I looked down at the phone, the heat that had been sitting on my head began to slide down. Are you okay? Of course I was okay. Never mind that I’d been crying my eyes out in front of that woman. Why wouldn’t I be? You were crying earlier, so I just wanted to check in on you. I wasn’t crying, I replied lightning-fast, without taking the time to select the kanji characters so it all came out in hiragana. Ah, sorry. Of course you weren’t crying. I’m glad you’re okay. She couldn’t be serious, conveniently accepting my lie. But the way she wasn’t pressing the point made me even more anxious. This woman weaponized kindness. She was trying to manipulate me. Would you like to meet up tomorrow? She must have been the devil, reading my mind, sensing my vulnerability. Why? I’d forgotten what your smile looks like! You were so sad today. Hell no. I’m not meeting you. The day before, I’d also told her I wouldn’t meet her, but things had happened, and I’d been depressed over it all day. I wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. I turned away from the phone, but it turned out to be a useless act of resistance. I heard another message arrive. That emotion in your eyes at the end was a surprise. I was happy you let me see it. What emotion? Me dying inside?! Are you in a better mood now? Touching Umi always lifts my spirits. Why don’t you try it, too? “Oh, fuck off!” I hit my phone as if it was to blame. Sitting still became impossible, so I stood up, threw the phone on the floor, and paced around my room. After a while, I slumped back down on the floor, groaning incomprehensibly. My left hand was shaking as if I was suffering from withdrawal, craving something that, until that morning, I hadn’t known I wanted. That thing at the end—I kept thinking about it. The thing she had done to me just before leaving. She’d made me touch her breast. She’d suddenly taken my hand and placed it on her chest. I couldn’t recall that memory with much clarity; the chemicals in my brain must have corrupted it as a measure of self-protection. If I could remember every detail of that event, it’d probably kill me. Trying to forcefully unlock that memory made my ears burn painfully, as if they were being torn off my head. So I couldn’t remember how it felt. I couldn’t remember if it was a light touch, even, or if she’d pressed my hand until it sank into her soft breast. What I could remember was that I stopped breathing, and maybe even my heartbeat momentarily stopped. Before I could say anything in protest, Chitaira had walked away, unworried about the state she’d left me in. After that, I’d unfrozen and started breathing again, but my heart had ached all the way home, as if it had split in half. Chitaira was cheating on Mizuike with me. That had never been my intention. It was her, Chitaira, who’d made me touch her breast. That was sexual harassment! But who’d believe me, even if I shouted I was innocent at the top of my lungs? After all, I had agreed to meet Chitaira in secret. I covered my face with my hands. I wanted to cry, even though I’d brought all this on myself. Between my fingers, I could glimpse my deepest thoughts I’d tried to suppress. It was the first time I’d ever touched another girl’s chest. I had my own boobs I saw every day, so why did touching someone else’s send a shock through my nervous system? Why did my head feel like it was going to explode? Fuck off, fuck off, fuck off! I lay on the floor, twisting and turning, pressing my fingers into my eyes, crying at the excitement inside me. I wished I could stop thinking and follow my instincts without worrying about what was right and what was wrong. “You goin’ out again today?” “Yeah… Meeting another friend.” “Cool. I’m goin’ out, too.” “What?” I asked without thinking. She couldn’t be seeing Chitaira, I knew that for sure. “You seeing a friend, too?” It was only after I’d said it that it hit me how unnatural it sounded. I should’ve asked if she was seeing her girlfriend—that would’ve been the obvious assumption. She might question why I thought she was seeing a friend when I knew she didn’t have any—and especially when I knew she had a girlfriend. “Nah… Just…not sure what to call it…” Not only did Mizuike not notice anything fishy about my question, she gave me a vague reply, looking like she wasn’t really mentally present. I wondered if she was, in fact, planning to follow me in secret to my meetup. But why would she do that? She had no reason to suspect me. “Anyway, um… I’ll be back before dinner.” “Okay. Same here.” I had to make a conscious effort to act normal. It made me so stressed, breakfast seemed flavorless to me. After breakfast, I stood in front of the bathroom mirror inspecting my face like I did before going to school, but during summer vacation, I normally didn’t bother. The last two times I’d gone to meet Chitaira, I hadn’t put on makeup and had just left the house as I was, but somehow, I felt different. The person in the mirror wasn’t pouting angrily. She was calmly waiting to be beautified. Maybe I felt like doing makeup because I had some time to kill. Little changes like that attracted immediate attention, though. But why should I feel guilty if Mizuike noticed I’d dolled myself up for this “friend” I was going to see? I put the makeup on and took longer than usual choosing what to wear, but I still left the apartment in good time. To an outsider, it might’ve looked like I was going on a date. I’d never been on one, in fact. On the train, I chanted in my head get a grip, get a grip, searching my soul for an answer to the question of why I was on the way to see the woman I hated yet again. Since the day before, I could no longer understand my reasoning, and yet I had acted swiftly and decisively. I stared idly out the window at the changing landscape, while my blood churned and my thoughts whirled. There was one corner of my brain where I’d banished thoughts I didn’t want to acknowledge. I peered at them now. The woman was beautiful. Nice. Caring. She praised me. She was warm toward me. She smelled like flowers. She was nice. Nice to me. Nice to me! I knew her niceness was fake, but I liked it anyway. And she’d let me touch one of her boobs. Argh, that last thing can go to hell! So basically, I’d mentally become Mizuike. Should I cry, or laugh? For the time being, thinking about it still evoked a wry smile. I was on the way to a station I’d never heard of before, in a town I’d never set foot in, with no guarantee Chitaira wouldn’t stand me up. But when I got off the train, she was already waiting right outside ticket gates. There I was, on another tryst, just a day after the last. No, dammit, it wasn’t a tryst. “Am I late?” “No, no. You’re even a little early.” Chitaira, dazzling as always, blinked a few times and peered curiously at my face. “…Something wrong?” I asked her. There was that sweet smile. “Not at all. Good to see you!” “Um, hi…” I felt sweat forming on my back. It was my makeup that had surprised her; I knew it. She watched people closely, noticing every little change. That was probably one way she got insight into their thinking. Not wanting her to have an advantage over me, I decided to point out something that was different about her. I didn’t have to think hard. It was more obvious than the “spot the difference” pictures they sometimes had at family restaurants to keep the kids occupied. Chitaira’s pale-purple kimono stood out even in the shade. “A different kimono again…?” “You can never have enough for going out during the day!” She laughed, as if a little embarrassed by her kimono habit, pinching the ends of the sleeves and opening them like the wings of a pretty butterfly. Did she have some sort of job that required her to wear a kimono? Or was it a family custom? I knew she was rich, but I had no clue what her home environment might be like. I followed the wisteria flower pattern on her kimono with my eyes, up to her…no, I stopped myself from looking at her chest. So much for trying to forget about it. “…” Did I really touch her there? My elbow started shaking and, as if on cue, so did Chitaira’s bag. “Oh, someone’s calling me. Excuse me for a moment.” She walked a few steps away to take the call. Could it be…Mizuike? I literally shrank back, so much that I nearly fell over backward. Chitaira wasn’t showing any signs of nervousness, though. “Hello? Ah, I don’t think I gave you my number? Are you asking me out? No? Aw. Ha-ha-ha… What, really? My, my! Tee-hee… Ha-ha! Sorry, it’s just too funny… That’s fine, if it’s just the family name… Yes, eventually… Yes. Sure…. That will be terrific. Bye!” The call was quickly over, and Chitaira walked back to me, laughing in exhilaration. “Turns out Umi’s a pretty clever girl.” “Oh yeah…?” The mention of Mizuike gave me a twinge of guilt. I wasn’t doing anything I should be ashamed of, though… No, that was a lie. “I’m so happy! And proud of her!” Her happiness was apparent; the smile on her face was even wider than usual. If I wasn’t there, she’d probably have thrown her head back and chuckled to herself. “And what did she do?” “Ah, this and that. Never mind. Thank you for taking the trouble to come and meet me here today!” Her unrestrained grin faded back to her customary gentle smile. “It’s not a big deal… I had nothing else to do, that’s all.” “Next time, I’ll meet you in your town.” “Don’t assume…” I stopped myself before telling her not to assume there was going to be a next time, because that was what I had said the first time, and the second… It was getting embarrassing. “Let’s do something fun together!” She casually took my hand and gave it a squeeze. “Um…” My arm felt lighter, as if it had been lifted by a playful gust of wind. “Sorry! I’m just so used to doing this with Umi. I keep forgetting.” She let go of my hand as naturally as she had taken it. I looked down at my hand now that it was free again. It was normal for friends to keep a certain distance. It was normal for friends. All I had were “friends.” I couldn’t move past that stage. It was too convenient for everyone except me, over here at arm’s length. I realized where that persistent unease had come from. It had planted itself in my heart when Umi Mizuike had entered my life. The ocean and land were connected, but the sky was forever separated from them both. “Takasora?” I could keep seeing this woman and living with the girl, but all I’d be to them would be a nice friend to have around when they felt like it, and that would drive me insane. I had nothing to look forward to. I could get on the train, but every station it could take me to was still in the friend zone. I was just a friend. I didn’t want that. I didn’t want to end up as everybody’s friend and nothing more. The wholesome boundaries of friendship were a trap worse than hell. I had to break out. “Tell me, what’s that about becoming a baby?” I remembered that I’d never gotten to ask Chitaira a third question, so I chose to ask about that weird thing I’d heard from Mizuike. Why not. It had been stuck in my mind, not only because it was so bizarre, but also because Mizuike had looked so fulfilled when she’d said it. I’d never be able to figure this out on my own. It was so random, I wasn’t sure Chitaira would even know what I meant, but she smiled in recognition. “Would you like to try being a baby, too?” she asked in that softly sweet, devilish voice. She was offering to destroy me. Struggling to breathe like a drowning girl, I managed to get out an answer in the affirmative.