I Pierced the Heavens and It Rained Miracles

Tokimeki Memorial Girl's Side First Love

Himuro Reiichi x Heroine

By Gabihime at gmail dot com

It was the other side of midnight, and well past the time when all good little girls ought to have been in bed, but Yumeno Midori was still perversely awake. Sometimes a strange restlessness got into her spine and bones and kept her from being able to sleep - and not for any good reason, either. She often stayed up past her bedtime watching her favorite gangster dramas or reading volumes and volumes of the high school hijinks manga she so dearly loved, but when she felt like this she could do neither. At times like this she could not sleep, and she could not successfully occupy herself with much of anything. She was just aimlessly restless, faintly dejected, and a little morose, although nothing at all had caused her to be so. She was often the peppiest of persons, and not one likely to be labeled as 'moody,' but at times she was just that. It was not something she showed to other people: this moodiness, this meandering dissatisfaction. It was not a part of the buoyant, playful character that everyone knew, and while it was a part of her true self, it was a part she was reluctant to show, since it contradicted her outward persona.

Often playing a little music - some Gershwin, perhaps - would give a small bit of comfort to her troubled heart, but at the moment, that was not an option. This was because Midori was not safely in her own room, in her own home, on her own block, in her own city. She was instead out of doors on the covered balcony of a Kyoto inn, and she was most decidedly breaking the school trip's iron-clad curfew. She was doing this because she was in a mood. Normally Midori was a well-behaved student who did not break rules unless 'they were silly' or 'it was absolutely necessary.' She had an incurable fear of and attraction to authority that kept her more or less in line. Breaking curfew was a serious offense, and she was breaking it for no other reason than she felt like doing it: she had no secret plans or hidden agendas. This was a thing the regular good girl student Yumeno Midori would never think of doing, but she was doing it because she was in a mood, and did not want the company of her friends and classmates, even if they were sleeping. Partly it was because she did not want to give herself away, but it was also partly because when she was in a mood she did not have much use for them.

"They're all so difficult," she brooded to herself. "Everything is so difficult."

So she had told Natsumi that she was going for a drink of water and then left the other girls still whispering and giggling in the dark. Thus, by circumstance, she did not have an instrument with her, not even the beautiful new pear wood recorder Himuro Reiichi had given to her on the first day of their trip as an unexpected birthday wish. Her palms itched a little, because she would have liked to hold it even if she was not willing to play it, but there was a damp in the air that was dangerous to instruments made of wood. Besides, she could not have taken the recorder with her if she wished the other girls to realistically believe she was simply going to the bathroom, or to get a drink of water.

Her sister Satomi would have known her mind, of course. Satomi also had moods like this, and often her sister's company was the only that Midori felt she could bear when she felt this way. But Satomi had not been among the drowsy, gossiping girls in their common bedroom. She had disappeared at some earlier point, taken captive by Sudou Mizuki, to investigate some real or imagined disturbance down the hall.

"The boys are making a ruckus," Satomi had explained, her eyes serious and owlish. "Mizuki-chama and I are going inform of them of the rules of this establishment. Do you want to come with us?"

"No," Midori had answered her sister with no further explanation.

Her mood had already been threatening, and she wanted no part of the noisy, rowdy boys down the hall, although the chance to have a good time with her school friends and build another of her 'precious memories' was not one Midori would have normally passed on. Satomi had paused for a moment at her sister's uncharacteristic response, but then seeing Midori was unwilling to offer any details, she had let it go, and only calmly wished her sister a good evening. Midori's intolerance of the remaining pleasant company mounted slowly, but at last she could stand the other girls no longer, and so excused herself. It was difficult for her to rationalize her dissatisfaction to herself, since she had been happy among the gossiping girls the night before, and the night before that. She loved Natsumi and they were commonly as thick as thieves, and she had no qualms at all about joining the cheerful, whispering conspiracy of women, confessing her favorite movie and music stars, her wishes for the future, her first love (it had been the long dead composer Sergei Rachmaninoff), and other sundry secrets. She was always careful not to reveal too much to the parliament of school girls about the man who permanently possessed her heart, because although she was friendly and trusting, she was not a fool, and was well aware that not all who listened were friendly and wished her well.

The last thing I want is to make trouble for sensei at school, she reflected morosely.

She had meant it when she said it: "Why should I tell anyone? It only has to do with the two of us." But sometimes it was very hard not to share her happiness and her joy with others, especially when they were so forthcoming about the boys they planned to confess to. She had never really planned on making any sort of formal confession, because she was confessing her feelings all the time, at every moment, with everything she did. It was the best she could do, and the only thing she could think to do, given the circumstances. In any case, it kept him from brushing her off, the way he did with so many other hopeful school girls.

But still, she enjoyed talking with the other girls, and sharing what she felt was prudent. She did not need to share the secrets of her heart to the other girls because to those who knew her best: her grandfather, her sister, her brother, her mother and father, such secrets were so plain she had no ability to conceal them. Although she had never told them, they all knew to varying degrees that she was hopelessly in love with Himuro Reiichi, and they all had their own private opinions on the matter. She even thought the cat suspected. This sort of familial conspiracy was infinitely more comforting to her than one she might have shared with her flighty, inconstant peers.

Still, I probably ought to tell Nacchin, she thought guiltily. That she kept such a thing from her closest friend, whom she knew, with great sentimentality, would have pushed her out of the way of a bullet or a speeding car, was a difficult thing for her to rationalize, even taking into account her promise to Himuro. Maybe all of these difficulties were compounding with one another to make her feel this way. She wasn't really sure. She just felt terrible: rebellious, militant, and terrible.

It was cool on the balcony, despite the fact that the summertime was still a near memory. The smell of the air threatened rain, and soon it had started to fall, heavy drops, slow, steady, but constant, as if the clouds were riddled with holes like a sieve. The weight of the rain coming down confused the air currents on the balcony and made her hair move around her face. She was standing at the edge of the balcony, just under the lip of the roof, hands idle on the wooden rail. The rain was coming straight down so she remained dry, although the feeling of the wet was very close. The sound of the early autumn storm covered his presence until he spoke, nearly at her back.

"This is where you were," Himuro Reiichi said, and he sounded taxed, although she could not help but recognize the faint note of relief in his voice. She didn't turn to look at him when he spoke, and from his weighty pause she imagined he had taken this moment to cross his arms over his chest in consternation. "Yumeno, I'm sure you know what time it is. I am equally sure you know that you should be asleep. I am not in the mood for any excuses. Come along and I will take you back to your room. We will discuss your punishment tomorrow."

Midori showed no signs of compliance with this order, and instead leaned forward on the railing, pillowing her cheek against her palm.

"You're just going to make me add another page to my travel essays," she predicted absently.

"If you don't go to bed this instant I'm afraid that you're going to have to account for more than one additional page," he threatened darkly.

At this Midori slowly turned her head to look over her shoulder at him and found he was standing exactly as she had predicted, with his arms crossed. He looked as much as he ever did, the same here in Kyoto as he was at home: sharply creased grey suit and a dark tie that he hadn't loosened, although it was after midnight. His hair looked mildly disheveled, which was a little uncommon, as if he had been recently busy stringently enforcing school rules - perhaps the curfew. He was frowning at her in a most terrible manner. While this was mildly thrilling, she was in a mood, so she was not provoked. Facing his provocation, she was provocative in return.

"I'm not going to bed right now because I don't feel like it," she said plainly, and then to make it utterly clear she was well aware of exactly who she was talking to, she finished with, "Reiichi."

"Reiichi-san," he corrected instinctively, his annoyance clear in his voice as he continued, "I am not making a request, Yumeno-san," he was trying to be all business, but the fact that he had appelled a -san after her name indicated he was cross. He was clearly not in the mood to be defied, even teasingly, and certainly not mutinously. "You are going to bed," he said, "Now."

"I'm not," she denied flatly, and then as if she had tired of the conversation she turned her attention from her harried teacher to the rain. "Unless you feel like carrying me there and then tying me down." Of course it wasn't as if she really cared to look at the rain more than Himuro's face, especially when he was making such a dangerous expression, but she was feeling very contrary.

This reaction was clearly something he had not expected, because as a rule, she was usually paying such close attention to him that it was distressing, and she paid him this attention even when he explicitly directed her not to. To be ignored by Yumeno Midori was something Himuro was not accustomed to, and it broke his rising anger because he could make no sense of it. She teased him constantly, and often tried to get her way on things, but she always submitted at the end, and usually with only token resistance. She apparently liked being ruled, which was in his opinion sensible, as she clearly required ruling. But she wasn't teasing now, nor did she give any indication that she would meekly follow his orders. At this realization, it was as if the tension had broken, and his anger and frustration had turned instead to worry.

"Yumeno," Himuro asked, his voice very quiet and serious, "Why are you acting this way?"

"I can't sleep," Midori answered honestly, without looking at him. "I'm tired and I'm cross and I don't feel like doing anything. I don't like anybody right now. I'm sorry you have to see me this way," she said, but she really wasn't, not in any way that was meaningful. She was feeling very contrary, and a little sorry for herself. Right now she wanted to be childish and petulant, and she didn't care if he saw it or not.

Himuro said nothing for some moments, then at last said, "If something is troubling you, you can talk to me about it." He had meant it to be kind, and despite her mood she turned to offer him a slight smile, a sign that she appreciated his gesture. She found that he looked more troubled than she actually felt. She could not help but be a little surprised that Himuro, the great disciplinarian, was quite honestly more worried about her state of mind than he was angry about her breaking a cardinal school rule. Her heart warmed a little at this, and she experienced a pleasing, satisfied flutter.

Still, she turned her attention back to the rain. "Nothing is troubling me, really," she said, because it was all too difficult to put into words. "I would tell you if something was, honestly."

Himuro was very quiet as he asked the next question. "Have I done something to make you uncomfortable?" It was of course, his greatest fear, greater than the sometimes irrational fear that continuing to be around her would destroy his entire life: that he had done or would do something to make her upset, ashamed, or fearful of him.

She smiled again despite herself, "Of course not, Himurochi. I have really been enjoying myself these past few days. You should know that. I know this trip will become another one of my precious memories, just like getting the recorder for my birthday. I really do love it. I hope you know that. You always know what's best. I'm going to treasure it always. The truth is nothing has happened to make me upset. Plenty of things are happening to make me very happy, even right now, at this exact moment. It's hard to explain how I feel. I guess everything just seems intolerable right now. Not for any reason, but just because it does. When I feel like this, all I want to do is hide away."

He said nothing at first, and she thought that he wasn't going to respond at all, that he couldn't understand what she meant in all her mixed-up, contradictory ramblings, but then he moved closer to her without warning and put his palms on the railing on either side of her, so that he was standing silently behind her, acting as a windbreak.

"All right, then," Himuro said seriously, "You can hide for a little while."

Midori looked up, startled, and found that he was looking out into the rain, his face unreadable. She looked down at his hands, placed calmly, steadfastly on the railing, like marks of absolute value, framing her narrow, meager self, and she sighed.

"I'm sorry I'm awfully difficult," she said, and this time she was, sincerely. She leaned back against him and found that his body was steady, that he did not move when she relaxed her weight into his care. It was a little like leaning against a wall.

"I'm beginning to get accustomed to it," was what he said in response.

Midori closed her eyes as she let her body relax, trusting that he would keep her upright. He was not exactly holding her in his arms, but this point was largely technical, and the differece might have been difficult to prove in a court of law. "I think I might even be able to go to sleep like this," she admitted honestly, with no hint of her usual playful coyness.

"I don't want to imagine trying to explain that," Himuro answered, a clear and firm veto to whatever situations she might be entertaining inside that mysterious little head of hers. "Either to the other students or to my colleagues."

"I'll just tell them that you're looking out for the welfare of your favorite student," she advised tiredly, her eyes still closed. "After all, I'm your responsibility, aren't I?"

"You are," he agreed simply.

"I need a lot of taking care of," Midori warned, and was going to go on for a bit about how she was often bad-tempered, disobedient, and petulant, but Himuro interrupted her before she could even begin.

"I am well aware of it," he answered, still looking out into the rain.

Midori was still not convinced. "It's a lot of trouble. When you realize how much trouble it is you may not want to bother with it. It's not always nice."

"No," he disagreed, and Midori was unsure what to make of this comment until he continued slowly. "It's always nice, even when it is not nice."

At this she opened her eyes again and looked up at him, "Himurochi, that doesn't make any sense."

He looked down at her briefly, and he corner of his mouth turned up once briefly as he did so. "You're right, it doesn't. I wonder why that is." He looked back into the rain.

They were both silent for a moment as Midori reflected. At last, she asked, "You're going to give me a lot of punishments for this, aren't you?"

"I am going to give you a lot of punishments for this," Himuro agreed contentedly, "So prepare yourself."

He could only be so placid about such a terrible threat because he wasn't the one who was going to have to do the reams of extra work she knew he was imagining for her. Although she realized as she reflected that he would carefully plan each horrible punishment out and then thoroughly and conscientiously check it over once she turned it in, so honestly, they would both be sharing in the punishment. Only it was different for Himuro because he really enjoyed it, and she only enjoyed in so much as it was something she did for him, even if it was a punishment.

"Well," she said philosophically, resigning herself to her fate, "I'm not going to regret it because I have discovered a powerful magical spell. Whenever I'm feeling like this in the future, when I'm tired and cross and can't sleep, I'm just going to imagine this moment, right now. Then I think I'll be able to sleep."

"Are you willing to go to bed now?" Himuro asked, after a moment of silent contemplation.

She let herself fall fluidly into the strange, impossible circumstance of their closeness, as if she were really, carefully considering his question, although she already knew the answer in her heart.

"Yes, sensei," was what she said obediently, and feeling him move his hands to her shoulders to gently set her back on her feet, she meekly turned and let herself be led back to the company of others.