Day One: Blushing Moon
Summer break was consistently a joyous time to be a student, even for those presently crossing the threshold between the farewell whisperings of adolescence and adulthood waiting ahead. Some would use this period to take care of studies and duties at their own pace; others would seek out their friends to make a merry time out of those forty days, and others still would find ways to deftly juggle with both alternatives. Although Makoto Niijima was of an intensely practical, diligent tendency, she long waited for summer break to arrive, and not just to get a head-start on her materials for the next period.
To begin with, Makoto took a little time to unwind from the pressure built over the semester. She indulged in a few luxuries, and caught up with neglected hobbies. Above all, she devoted time to her friends, most of whom she saw occasionally during her first year as a law student at Tokyo University. None of them became strangers during the first stages to the pursuit of her dream to become Police Commissioner, and she was greatly thankful for it. But there was someone she did not get to see nearly as often as she would have liked.
Most of the girls in her classes teased her about her long distance relationship. Some, in fact, thought him a conversational invention to keep unwanted flirting at bay. Those beliefs were dispelled one rainy evening when a few of her classmates walked in on an impromptu video call with the famous Akira Kurusu. There was a bit of sweet, and a bit of sour in the fact that many of those girls fell besotted with her boyfriend, and even more in the fact that she badly missed him.
That video call was a soothing balm, but also a prologue to disappointment. He would only get to visit Tokyo for one day before summer break started, and that was on a hasty chance he managed to steal from his schedule – translated into little time with Makoto alone. The rest of those first weeks would be spent catching up on a delayed semester, caused by an incident taken place at Mikata High. There were no injuries on students or faculty, but the place was in need of repairs. At the end of summer break, Akira would only have the last five days before studies resumed.
Makoto was unable to hide the disillusionment from her face when he told her about it on his brief visit. She wished she had, since that put a damper on the conversation. That was only the start of that evening going south, as the topics changed – Makoto blamed herself for it, despite her boyfriend's reassurance, which she thought was more for her sake than actual sincerity. She wished to make what little time they had worth it, but in the end, she was left with a feeling of wastefulness.
A kiss goodbye, and then back to Kawasaki with him. The anticipation for their next time together was a hopeful shine of the horizon, but the feeling never did go away. The thought of it kept her awake past her bedtime for several nights. Eventually, she made peace by making a silent promise to herself. She would make up for it. And she let him know the following day. This time, she would visit him – and those five days would, she would make them worth it.
But the waiting game was the hardest, as she anticipated. Still, Makoto Niijima came up with ways to handle as the day drew near.
[ ]
The local sights were not very different from the previous few times. After parking Sae's car, which she promised she would take good care of, Makoto checked her mental list to make sure everything was accounted for. The essentials for herself, a change of clothes, toiletries; the essentials for her hosts, a modest number of gifts for Akira, for his parents, and for Morgana. Finally, a bottle of water half-full, and a pocket-friendly umbrella should the clouds above end up spelling rain.
For good measure, she revised her last few messages. One thread came from their friends, each sending wishes for safe travel and loving words for Akira; another came from Sae, which Makoto replied to by letting her know she arrived safely. The third one was from her boyfriend – five minutes ago.
"Makoto. I'm very sorry. The gig with the band started off late. My mum knows you're coming. She's very excited to see you again. I'll be heading there the moment they finish. I'll make up for it! Love."
The young woman sighed. It sometimes felt like inconveniences piled up to their detriment at the worst times. She herself had been in his position many times throughout the semester, so she knew she could not truly blame him. Rather, she blamed the band he helped for their disorganisation. Regardless, there was some comfort to be had in this circumstance. She really liked her boyfriend's mother, Masako Kurusu, and even his father took a shine to her. They could have a chat, and maybe they could recommend some places to see on her first visit by herself.
Minor inconveniences aside, this day looked promising. It would be worth it, Makoto thought.
[ ]
Akira's shirt clung to his back from hot sweat, and frustration clung to his mood from a day that tested his patience from the very moment he woke up. He planned ahead for this day from a week ago, and he made sure to let everybody know, including Ryosuke and his boys – especially indecisive Ryosuke and his even more indecisive boys. Alas, they dropped the notice on him through a text message that morning, baiting him with a favour they promised "for him and his girl."
He would have simply said no, or pretended he misplaced his phone to untangle himself from the commitment. But one sour thought guided his decision through gritted teeth, something he realised too late: there was little to do in Kawasaki during the final days of the summer break – by then, only the stubborn dregs of the fish and produce markets by the harbour remained. There were no fireworks, no small but-charming-in-their-own-way festivals. Only the prospect of a romantic dinner with an amateur jazz band playing in the background.
Ever since his return to his homeland, Akira took on several activities to keep himself busy beyond his final year as a high school student. He took on a job at a small coffee shop to pile some more money into his savings. He joined a melding workshop to hone the skills he acquired in Juvie. And he responded to an ad pasted on Mikata's notice board requesting an assistant for a local jazz band just to fill his Sundays. The duties he performed for Moonlit Sparrows were fetching drinks and carrying equipment – in the process of which, he formed good acquaintance with trombone player Ryosuke Kanahara.
Knowing Ryosuke, he would do his best – and when he did, the rest of his boys were inevitably compelled to follow suit. After packing away the last of the instruments in the storehouse at the end of an impromptu rehearsal session, Akira went ahead to remind him of his promise. Akira was especially insistent on this day, and he had good reason to: not only was he meeting his girlfriend - whom he terribly longed to see - later than expected, he also felt he had a lot to make up for. They barely had any time to themselves the last he visited Tokyo.
She looked sad that day. Disappointed, Akira feared.
"Dude. Don't worry. You just send me a text. We'll be there. And look, we'll even get Sato-chan to do the lifting for once." Ryosuke turned to the band's plump and greatly talented drummer, whom looked as unamused as he did ninety-nine percent of the time. "Right, Sato-chan?" The drummer said nothing. "He blinked. That means yes."
"Right…" Akira was one of a mood with 'Sato-chan'.
"Why the long face, Akira-kun?" Ryosuke sounded genuinely oblivious.
"I was supposed to meet up with Makoto two hours ago."
"Oh." The prevailing oblivious tone irritated Akira, though he did not show it. "Well, we'll just make up for that. And well, you do know the thing with being fashionably late."
"Not really." Despite the somewhat unruly air about the young man, Akira Kurusu was never known to be either rude or unpunctual.
"First time for everything, Akira-kun." Those words bothered Akira more than Ryosuke could now. "Before you go…" Ryosuke searched in his jacket's pockets, finally pulling out a thin leather casing, which he handed to the young man. "Wear those. Your girl will like them." Akira pulled the circular red shades out of the casing. In terms of style, they looked older than him.
"Thanks." He did not bother to sound enthusiastic about the prospect of wearing them to impress Makoto.
The sky started turning grey as he rode his bike through the streets of Kawasaki. It took him a while to arrive to his parents' neighbourhood despite taking every shortcut he knew. And sooner than later, he felt one lonely raindrop on his arm. He cursed inward, fastidiously aware of the dampness on his back from carrying the band's equipment, and his mind travelled to the night before. He spent the better part of that evening cleaning his room and ironing his clothes.
As if to bite at his already weaning tranquillity, the moments of the previous evening unfolded in his mind once again.
"Why are you doing all this? It's not like there's bedbugs in the mattress." Morgana said the night before.
"It's… you wouldn't understand."
"So you say. But it's Queen! I don't see her getting on your case about a wrinkle on your shirt."
"Really, Mona?"
"It's not like you look like Ryuji most of the time. Plus, if she really minded it that much, don't you think she would have said something about your hair?"
The feline said nothing more, but he did barely manage to keep his laughter in at seeing Akira's face after that comment.
The sights became more and more familiar, until finally his parents' house could be seen ahead. He could barely contain the fluster of anticipation, but that feeling was tainted with a familiar dread. Was Makoto angry at him? Was she sad? Was she disappointed?
[ ]
Makoto covered the lower half of her face with her hand, and still Masako Kurusu could see her blushing bright. The young woman had grown slightly more confident about the details, both physical and emotional, to a relationship. But one thing was the intense attraction and fondness she felt for Akira – another entirely was to see his baby pictures. And on top of it all, Masako Kurusu insisted that the young woman address her by her first name, no honorifics.
"Masako. I feel so rude to ask, but… can I keep one of these?"
"Oh, you feel that strongly about my son, Mako-chan?" Akira's mother spoke with a cheeky warmth.
"I do." Makoto's fingers pulled at the edge of one photograph in particular. This one was taken by his father on one of the few times the ship was docked. Masako Kurusu could speak at length about each picture, but the one Makoto fell most enamoured with had a story that only Takahisa could fully tell – and he happened to be back at sea for the season. Nonetheless, Makoto felt a strong need to know the context to a three year old naked Akira trying to hide in a pot, little legs deep in the dark soil, and tiny, tiny hands attempting in vain to conceal his head from view. Even back then, his black hair was a rebellious, tangled mess.
"Of course you can have it, Mako-chan." She turned to Morgana, who pawed at another picture while uttering a long, loud meow. "Oh, what is it, Mona-kun? You like this one?"
"I demand to know what is this travesty!" Morgana protested in words only Makoto could hear at that moment. He referred to another picture showing little Akira cuddling in his sleep with a stuffed animal, which happened to be a black cat.
"He really likes this one, it seems!" Masako smiled.
"I think he's a bit jealous." She looked at Morgana straight in the eye. "Are you jealous, Mona?"
"Don't sass me, Beep boop." Morgana's reply left Makoto with her mouth agape. Despite the words brewing feverishly in Makoto's mind, the young woman contained herself for politeness's sake.
"That sounded like a very rude meow." Masako remarked. "I swear this cat somehow understands every word we say. My family has always owned cats, and none I've seen talks quite like Morgana."
"I can imagine. He IS a rather uncommon CAT." Makoto's inflexions were subtle, but she compounded them with the look in her eyes to deliver the blow to Morgana directly.
"Why, you…!" Morgana's eyes perked suddenly. "Someone's come in from the back."
"Huh?" Makoto could not suppress the reflex of caution and protection, which Akira's mother noticed.
"Is something wrong, Mako-chan?"
"Umm, excuse me, Masako." Makoto stood from her chair as calmly as she could while Morgana quietly slithered into the shadows of the living room in the direction of the back door. "I'm embarrassed to ask, but I need to use the restroom. Which way was it, again?"
Makoto did not truly need any directions, only a reason to excuse herself and intercept the intruder before they did any harm. Nevertheless, and against Makoto's wishes, Masako stood also, walking ahead of Makoto to show her the way.
"Oh! There's no need to-"
"Nonsense." Masako smiled. "It's this way."
Not a second later, a soaked silhouette glistened in the shadows. Makoto needed as short a period to register the image in the corner of her eye, before she went into fighting stance, ready and poised to defend Masako Kurusu.
A bolt of lightning flashing in from the window lit the scene enough to evidence Akira as the 'intruder', pale and slouching in stealthful manner. His girlfriend managed to stop herself before her fist came into contact with his face. Yet the same could not be said about his feline friend, as he ambushed him from above, falling on his head, claws out.
"Morgana!" Makoto and Akira both exclaimed in unison, the latter feeling the claws sink in his scalp.
"What's going on!? A-Akira?" Masako's eyes processed the scene.
"Huh!?" Morgana only started to comprehend. "W-what?"
"Hi, Makoto. Hi, mum. Hi… Morgana." Akira went from pale to red almost instantly.
Considering the awkwardness of the moment, Makoto was suitably quiet and perplexed. This was definitely not what she pictured as way to meet her boyfriend once again. But as their eyes met, the only thing keeping her from embracing and kissing Akira was a sense of modesty from being in the presence of his mother.
"Why were you coming in through the back door, Akira?" Masako asked.
"I… wanted to surprise you!" The young man spoke as nonchalantly as he managed. Neither his mother, nor his girl, or even the cat who still clung to his head believed it.
After continuing the chat, with Akira and coffee present, Masako excused herself to give them some privacy. Akira's hand sought Makoto's as soon as his mother was out of the living room. The young woman laced her fingers with his, but despite the physical connection, a wall of silence stood between them, peppered with the sounds of rain outside.
"You didn't really just mean to surprise us, did you?"
"Yes and no." He admitted. "I only wanted to surprise you. I pictured it going differently, though. The day hasn't exactly turned out how I hoped."
"A bad day?" Makoto brought his fingers closer with both hands, and started kissing each one.
"Yeah… until now." Akira smiled, looking a tad shier than he knew.
"For what it's worth. You did surprise me, and not in a bad way." Some things she preferred keeping to herself, mostly out of discretion; but sometimes it was just to keep herself from being even more of a blushing mess, such as how quickly she noticed the way his shirt clung to his skin from the rain and the sweat. What she suspected in the shadow was clear under the small dining room's light: carrying all that musical equipment for months had a rather flattering effect on his frame.
"I'm glad to hear that. The plan was to sneak in, get dry, and change into something nicer. I guess I didn't think the ramifications through."
"It's a shame, really." Morgana said, having joined the conversation suddenly after his afternoon snack. "He spent all night preparing his clothes and all."
"MORGANA!" Akira and Makoto both exclaimed at the same time.
"Geez. It's not like you were stripping each other." He said as he took his leave. The echo of his words remained in the air after he left, and in their heads.
"Umm, the coffee is really good! What blend is it?" Makoto said quickly to draw Akira's attention away from the hue on her face that betrayed how vividly she imagined those words unfolding into action.
"I forget…" His thoughts followed a similar line, but a different destination. He quickly changed the subject. "Hey, are you hungry?"
Akira quickly prepared a late lunch for them both. As he chopped vegetables and poured the precise amount of spices, he silently cogitated on Ryosuke's favour, and how late it may be to cash it in today. He wondered if it had even been worth it. Every time he glanced back, he saw Makoto almost enthralled to see him executing his craft so deftly. Every moment of it was precious, but limited. The hours he spent helping the band equated to hours he spent away from Makoto, hours of which he endured uncountable many already.
But he could not bring himself to speak of that. It was not worth it, he thought, to dwell on unease – not anymore. Just one more glance before serving the fruit of his labour. He could not know if his earlier worries would prove unwarranted, but simply being in Makoto's company was all he needed to deliver himself fully to the now. They caught up over lunch. Regardless of the problems unsaid, it was a great joy for both to know they each carried on steadfast with their dreams. The possibility of Akira returning to Tokyo for the long term looked ever closer, which put a shine to Makoto's smile throughout the conversation.
Meanwhile, the rain kept falling outside. By the time it got dark, the frustrations and little misfortunes to their day weighed and mattered as little as a speck of dust, and the biggest concern was the most mundane matter of where Makoto would spend the night. Akira brooked no argument: Makoto would have his bed, something she suspected he would say and was quickly prepared to contest.
"Not happening, Makoto." Akira put his fingers in his ears as a cartoonish gesture. "It's basic etiquette. You know this."
"Don't give me that! You would still go for the couch if it was my place!"
"Well, yeah. But that's just because I'd rather stay on your sister's good side." He chuckled.
"You're full of it. You only want to make me feel flustered."
"Not at all. You really are pretty cute when you get that way, though."
"Don't do this to me, Akira…"
"Come now. It's just the right thing to do. You're my guest, and it's not like this couch is a bad place to crash." He placed his hands around her, pulling her closer. "And you even get to share the bed with Mona. What's not to like about that?"
"… I'd rather share it with you." She muttered without thinking, too late realising what she said, by which moment she pressed her hands tight against her face.
Her comment made Akira blush slightly, but his expression said it plainly: he greatly enjoyed having heard that.
"Good night!" Makoto made towards her boyfriend's room in a playful mockery of an outrage.
"Good night." Akira caught up to her, with hands over her shoulders, whispering in her ear. "I love you." Finally planting a tender kiss on the back of her neck.
"I love you too." She turned around, reciprocating on his lips.
And so, the first day came to an end, seemingly without a significant stumble. But in the black of night, it was Makoto's turn to dwell – not out of her fear of the dark, but out of a sensation that had been lingering within for a time. It made plain sense when she thought of it soberly. It was natural to experience something like this – it would probably, in fact, be cause of concern if she did not.
There was nothing wrong about feeling physical attraction for her significant other. Nothing wrong about wanting intimacy with him. Nothing wrong about holding to the image of the muscles beneath the rain-soaked shirt, the artful shape of his body as he poured himself into his trade, or the lingering sensation of his lips against her skin.
Nothing wrong about thinking more – wanting more.
She managed to distract herself from it since the last time they met - with relative success. Unsurprisingly, the amounts of studying and reviewing she heaped on herself were great help; exercise was even better. But the notion still caught her defenceless in idle moments, and it was never entirely unwanted, also never overbearing to the point of being a hounding distraction. It was something Makoto was at peace with. Akira's presence alone did not stir the urge. But the little graces, just like the little inconveniences, piled up at crucial moments.
Sometimes, she gave in. Not tonight, not as a guest gracefully taken. Not alone, furtive, transgressive.
Restless, the final thought she struggled to quell was the awareness that he slept in this bed. His scent, if she inclined herself to test it, could still be perceived. A scent she wished close.
Makoto turned in Akira's bed, fighting to fall asleep for over an hour. The night was not getting any shorter. So she took a deep breath and admitted defeat.
She would not give in. Not here. Not like this. But the prospect of a peaceful night was not in her reach. As quietly as she could, she walked out into the kitchen, taking the liberty to fill herself a glass of water. On the way, however, she met with a sight both dear and bleak in the living room. Akira also seemed unable to sleep. Even before hearing his reasoning to it, Makoto felt guilt.
"Makoto. Is something wrong?" The young man stood up from his makeshift bed in the couch; silhouette lit softly by a small lamp next to the armrest. He had a book in his hand, but the look in his eyes was not of disposition for late night reading.
"Oh, not at all. I just… needed some water."
"Hot night, huh?"
"You could say that." Makoto showed him a half-smile.
"Let me get it for you." Akira fetched a glass for her, filling it generously with cold water. In the middle of it all, Makoto soundlessly followed him, staying in close distance as if savouring the very air around him. He looked surprised only for an instant when he turned around and saw his girlfriend close to him – intimately so. She did not say a thing, neither an apology nor an attempt to justify herself. Makoto simply could not pry her eyes off of his. Her plump lower lip quivered with craving.
She wanted him.
And he wanted her.
There was only but a pause – different from the awkward hesitation of a first kiss. As time went by and as they discovered more and more comfort in each other's physicality, the little moments of quiet before a kiss or a caress started to change their tone. From shy to mischievous, from innocence to candour. Now, from calm to storm. Upon their lips meeting, Makoto pressed herself towards Akira, guided by arousal breaking free. Her spine jolted in pleasure from the touch of his fingers, holding her tight and close, yoking them together into one shadow under the kitchen's light, one warmth enveloping them whole: one long, shared breath.
Daybreak would catch them in the kitchen once again, busy making breakfast together. But between then and their kiss were hours spent outside with the grass beneath their bare feet, and the wayward nocturne gusts keeping them close to each other. It was not the need for privacy or the stifling heat suddenly seeped into the room what led them to go on a nightly strolled as they claimed. There was something else to catch up on: a matter of anxiety and uncertainty, and intimacy.
Unburdened one word at a time, the couple felt more aware of their surroundings, and of the confident beauties of a summer night in the coast. Neither was much of a selenophile, but the full moon high in the middle of the night sky deserved a better, more tranquil look. They did not care that the grass was still wet from such a rainy day. Together, they lay next to each other under the moon.
"I did enjoy it, Akira." She said.
"Enjoyed what?"
"Your visit. I really did. I'm glad it happened." Her legs started to go numb in the tangle with his.
"I'll believe you, but it was, you know…"
"Awkward?"
"And sloppy."
"I don't think that's out of the ordinary. From… what I've, um, read."
"I suppose." Akira let out of a farewell of a sigh to the lingering anxious phantom. "Well, it seems we both feel better about that."
"Yeah. I'd like to try again, though."
"Me too."
Her body felt warm against his. If he synchronised touch and mind the right way, she almost felt like an extension of himself, every square millimetre of her was his, and vice versa. Yet there was something poking at his left leg that was not part of either. With his free hand, Akira searched through the pockets on his trousers, which he forgot to change out of, and found the red circular shades Ryosuke gave him to impress Makoto. An odd thing to have at this hour, in this position. He held them in front of him towards the sky, and saw how the moon glanced back red.
With a playful smile, she put the shades on his girlfriend's face. He had no time to look at himself in the mirror, but he knew they looked better on her than they did on him. She gorgeous, but then again – she forever did.
Makoto thought it was a romantic addition for the night, to see the moon blushing, besotted, a little lustful, and enamoured at the sight of them like this. She knew the best part was to come: taking them off and finding she needed no rose-tinted glasses to find her boyfriend so beautiful.
Four days to come. No use thinking, no use dreading them slipping by.