1Something by Which to Remember
September's Nobara
Began: June 9th, 2008. Completed: July 9th, 2009
Summary: Hinata discovers arts and crafts, and sends her creation to Asou-san. Contains crossover concept from Cardcaptor Sakura.
Timeline: This fanfiction takes place between the occurrences of Suki Dakara Suki, and Legal Drug.
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She stands before the fabric shop, indecision affecting her wish to enter. The way her friend had spoken, especially the last few words of the saying, makes her place a hand upon the doorway, fingertips anticipating the feel of cool plastic and metal.
"...Return your love," Touko murmured, eyes flicker away, to the side, and Hinata wondered, in her dreamy way, what-or who-was crossing her mind.
The door seems to open on its own. The girl notices the faint scent of perfume envelop her, a gentle, carefree smile on her face as she looks around the store. Leaves, real or fake, decorate the walls, mirroring the early autumn season outside. Wandering past the scrap booking and needlework aisles, she finds what it is she's looking for, and her grin becomes a bit larger. It's as if the pattern has jumped out at her, only for her to find. Heart beating, Hinata grips the design.
"Why bother making one, Hina," Emi had remarked, "when you already have so many?"
Her grip slackens, only a little. The pattern sags back on the hook.
"This one's gonna be special, Emi," Hinata insisted, eyes widening with sincerity. "I know it will!"
A frown tilts her expression, waxing melancholic.
"So, I can call you?" She's hopeful, anticipating.
"...Yeah." It wasn't a pure smile: tinged with regret, he had to leave her behind.
"It's now or never, y'know? 'Cause life keeps on going, and we can't ignore the flow..." Hinata's voice leaves her for a moment, catching on the last word. What was that? She shakes her head, removing the words, but retaining the message. Leaving the aisle, she clutches the pattern enough to wrinkle the outside plastic. She glances left, seeing the knitting supplies, then right, observing the paint necessities, and wonders where to go next.
It is only my first time being in here, Hinata muses. She remembers how she had heard about this craft store-not to mention the idea itself-from Toko, who herself recounted the incident of overhearing the whole thing from a group of teenagers.
Oh, maybe I can ask her! "Excuse me," Hinata says, well-natured smile on her face, "where can I find the fabric area?"
"Right over here," the store employee answers, taken aback at the girl's expression. As she leads the young woman to the rear of the establishment, the employee watches her momentary charge's facial features, a stray worry about if such a grin would result in permanent lines. "Here you are," the woman states, a practiced smile on her face.
Thank you very much, ma'am!" Hinata exclaims, unforced jubilance clear in her expressive eyes and slightly open mouth.
With a nod, the woman leaves, wry smile affixed to her lips.
Head tilted, faint happiness evident with every curve and indent of the aftershock of finding the next half of her project, Hinata is dazed for a moment. Joy collects in her heart, and her eyelids lower. Asou...
"That's right, this whole trip is for him," she says softly, remembering, and almost spins on her heel to turn to the fabric. "Which kind, though...?" Her eyes flicker through the different patterns, dismissing the stereotypical feminine colors. After all, she thinks, a humorous quirk to her lips, he probably wouldn't want something in pink! Hinata's laughter gets the better of her, just by imagining such a thing, and for a few moments, she is incapacitated by her own mirth. "But still," she murmurs as she collects herself, "I really don't know which color would be best." As if at her favorite bookstore, a single index finger is used to guide her attention from one section of cloth to another. Aisle after aisle, she ignores the shades she knows wouldn't fit, such as bright, shocking purple, or the depressing, dingy dyes.
She hovers momentarily over a certain type of green, but even though the moss-like color pulls her to it, nothing quite takes her breath away like the shade next door. A gentle, warm mix of yellow and orange, and near to it, a washed-out shade of red, as if the sun were shining through the material. The young woman hefts each fabric out of its large cardboard container, first the amber-like shade, then the almost maroon cloth following it. Hinata fumbles through finding a comfortable position for the selected items, the heavy cardboard around which each voluminous stretch of cloth is wrapped impedes her attempts. Finally, she settles on laying them in her arms as if holding a bouquet of flowers, just as she reaches the measurement counter.
Oh, I can't forget that, Hinata thinks, reaching into the small bins she saw upon arriving once more at the front of the fabric section. The bins are built into the counter, and when she removes her hand, Hinata is pleased to find almost a full sewing kit sitting within her palm. Her heart beats a second quicker when she realizes that most of the thread even matches her cloth choices.
Explaining her needs for the material, Hinata watches with eager, open features, listening as the fabric is unrolled, producing a thump each time the roll hits the counter.
"So, this-" the young woman points at the fabric she is currently measuring, "-it's meant for your boyfriend, isn't it?"
"I-" Hinata is struck silent by herself. Boy... friend? Is it really okay to think of him like that?
Phone calls, humorous exchanges of stories of their respective days, faxes; quick little text messages, birthdays, holidays. The patience it takes to carry it all out, to shut yourself up to listen to the other. Memories rush through her mind, all finished within a few seconds.
"Yes, it is," Hinata confirms.
"I wish you the best of luck," the woman at the desk says, genuine in her words as she is tallying up the fabric, pattern, and the other accumulated necessities. She is different than the first employee; she smiles, her light eyes sparkling under a tight, short blonde haircut.
Hinata answers with a similar, engaging grin. "Thank you." With a wave, she bids good-bye to the extroverted young woman, walking toward the front of the store. A similar adieu is given to the first woman, who looks after Hinata's departure until the high school student is out of sight.
Hinata walks toward her house, a happier song running through her head. It's something foreign, and all she remembers is the sound of its music, not the lyrics. For a moment, she considers turning left, intending to find herself in Piffle Café. No, no, she shakes her head several times. Save that for if... when he comes back. Hinata faces the crosswalk, pressing the button, and waits for the light to change in her favor. When it does, she looks to each side of the road, making sure it's safe. Hinata crosses, eyes focusing on the other side of the street, but on occasion drift left to right, still assuring herself. As Hinata crosses, she remembers how her former teacher had pulled her to the inside of the street, rather than letting her walk closer to the cars speeding past them.
By the time the pocket of that fond memory is complete, Hinata has reached the other side, and heads home.
"Waka, Tono, I'm home!" Hinata calls, slipping off her shoes before smiling at the pair and taking each into the living room with her. "Model for me?" She asks, placing them in front of her.After a few moments, she giggles, taking out everything in the bag and looking at each accoutrement. "Now, what do I do first?"
"Hina?"
"Yes, Emi?" She turns to face her friend, letting the pair of chopsticks rest for a few moments.
"What's that thing you're dragging along?" She indicates the canvas bag leaning against Hinata's regular school case.
"Ahh..." Even through the low lighting of the restaurant, Emi recognizes Hinata's ambivalent expression.
"Oh, don't tell me," Emi leans her cheek on her hand, elbow resting on the table, a sly but long-suffering smile running up her face. "It's one of those, for him, isn't it?"
Hinata nods while a faint smile, and even more invisible blush rise across her face.
"How close are you to being done?" Toko inquires, from the other side of Hinata.
"I'm almost done," Hinata beams, facing her other friend. "I just need to stuff each piece, then sew it all together."
"I'm sure he'll love it, Hina." Toko gives both Hinata and Emi a light smile.
"Yeah, he'd love anything if it's from you!" Emi exclaims, giving a gentle pinch to her compatriot's still-blushing cheeks. Toko watches on between bites of soup as the one-sided play fighting continues.
She invites Toko and Emi to her house afterward. Without a pause, both agree, and set off.
"Waka, Tono, I'm home!" Hinata says, smiling at each bear. "And I brought friends! Oh, but you know them already, don't you?"
Both girls shrug at the other during this exchange, a "what can you do?" expression on their features.
"Please have a seat," Hinata says, gesturing to the living room, "I'll go get the tea."
"So," Emi begins, regarding Toko watch Hinata leave to take care of the tea, "did that girl talk to you yet?"
"What? No. Not... not yet," the fair-haired young woman replies, face darkening to pink.
"Well she should. Or you should. It's about time someone does something in that relationship, y'know?" Emi changes from her lying position, moving the pillow to sit on it.
"Yes, but Hina-"
"Is, as much as it surprises the both of us, able to function without our involvement." Yawning, Emi runs a hand through her bangs, scratching her head.
Within her kitchen, Hinata smiles as she hears her friends' murmurs, but nothing clear gets through. First a sigh, then a grin passes through her lips. Almost like when he would visit last year. The smile fades along with any other traces of its existence on her face. No, no, no, she thinks, shaking her head, I have Emi and Toko here. It's not fair to do this to them. It's not their fault he isn't here, after all. "I'm really alright now," Hinata murmurs to herself, grasping the tea tray. It isn't that she refuses to let sadness shake her or her hands; her friends are here, and she is happy.
"D' you say something?" Hina asks on her return trip from the kitchen, tea tray in hand.
"No, nothing, Hina." Emi takes the warm beverage from her friend. "Thanks."
"Thank you," Toko murmurs, accepting a glass. Waiting for a second, she lets the others situate themselves before taking a light sip.
"Toko?" At her name, the young woman looks up-
"Hina!"
-into the face of said friend, bright brown eyes gleaming over ashy black hair, inches from Toko's face. Hinata's features twist into something more contemplative, while her head tilts off-center.
"Emi, Toko," Hina begins, "are you sure nothing's wrong?"
"Toko'll tell you later," Emi supplies, elbowing the taller woman in the arm not holding tea. "Right?"
"Right," agrees Toko.
"So, get this," Emi leans in closer, to better divulge the latest gossip. For a time, Hinata's mind is swept up from wondering about Asou.
"There!" Hinata's look of total concentration shifts with ease into its natural exuberance. "Nyanko, what do you think?"
The cat, previously involving itself with a nap on the living room boards, looks up from between Waka and Tono. Without a sound, Nyanko pads over to the creation, meeting it nose to threaded nose. It seems to give a feline-style dressing down to the non-living thing, huffing at the head and shoulders' juncture, before returning its large eyes' gaze to the primary (and, oftentimes, only) food provider in the house.
"Meao." Indifference was indeed an art, perfected through years of practice by each cat on Earth.
"Well, I think it's wonderful," Hinata replies, mock indignance pouting her lips and turning her head away from the real animal. "I just hope he thinks it is, too," she whispers, taking her creation and holding it to her heart. "Well," she addresses the article in her arms, "I guess it's time to wrap you up, then, huh?" Hinata looks into the soft brown button eyes of her temporary charge, not really expecting a reply. Letting the cat out through the back door of the kitchen, she makes sure all other doors are locked before gathering the gift into her arms. "Let's go," she whispers into one amber ear. "Waka, Tono, we're leaving, now!"
The post office is open, Hinata is, as usual, thrilled to discover. She soon learns that it will take a week to get Asou's gift to him, but if she overnights it...
He is at a desk when a series of quick, sharp knocks distract him from processing a new job request. Looking up, Asou readjusts his glasses before granting permission to the guest to enter. The secretary announces he has a package, made obvious by its existence in his arms. His raised eyebrow produces a shrug from the secretary, who leaves the box at his employer's desk with a bow. Not sure what to expect, Asou observes the object for a moment before leaving his chair to scrutinize the package. Aha. He finds both his address and the return with ease. Soon, Asou is rolling his eyes and sighing. Pinching the bridge of his nose above his glasses, a muttered "Hina," escapes his mouth, directed at the floor. He is sloppy at this moment, getting a letter opener rather than a proper box cutter, never mind waiting until he is home.
Packing peanuts meet him, and his hands pick through each layer, paranoia winning out over eagerness, but only by a fraction. Bubble wrap, too? The other eyebrow is raising as the tape is removed from around the object he now knows to be somewhat humanoid in shape, despite the second protective layer. This is Hina, after all, he remembers, shaking his head. His secretary wouldn't even have brought it in if the address wasn't secure. Asou opens the gift with neither fanfare nor lack of anticipation.
It is almost over thirty centimeters in height (1). The body is a deep red, close to maroon, with the interior of all four paws and each ear a complimentary rich shade of poppy. Round, black-brown eyes regard him with a level of intelligence just hinging on the Uncanny Valley, while the thread-based nose gleams in the light. Four-holed buttons hold each limb to the torso, though the use of clear ones makes them nigh invisible. Floppy comes to mind, and while it is "floppy", the bear is capable of sitting on its own. A myriad of other "cute" adjectives move through his mind, letting Asou process his gift. However, there is a certain dignity to the item's posture, ready to be displayed upon a mantle, or embraced in a moment of subconscious sadness. The edges are softer than the bears he is used to, considering Hinata's taste in stuffed companions. Asou holds the stuffed animal like one would hold a kitten: supporting, but fearful of dropping.
What an absurd, childish idea. Comical, even. The bear gives a bit under Asou's arms, maintaining basic shape while molding to its inherent purpose to comfort. Making a toy bear to give to the one you love. There are better ways to express yourself besides... putting together... a... toy.
He looks down at the gift from Hinata. The bear seems to observe him in return, its arms splayed out around him in a miniature hug. Well? It appears to ask, what are you going to do?
"Let's get the mail, Nyanko," Hinata says, the permanent fixture on her face that was a smile widening. Scooping up the small black cat, she makes it to the front door from the kitchen in a few moments. "D'you think he sent us a letter?" She asks the animal in her arms, who just makes a vain bid for freedom when its captor throws open the door. "Grab the mail, before it gets stale. How does mail get so stale? Staying in the box, under key and lock, so grab the mail!" Hinata murmurs under her breath, a smile on her face as she steps out of her house. The regular bills, offers, and other miscellaneous posts were sorted through on the spot, while Nyanko, having been placed on the ground as Hinata glanced through the mail, sniffs and butts its face against a small package resting under the mailbox attached to Hinata's house. "What'd you find, huh, Nyanko?"
She inspects the package, which comes up to just under her knees. "Asou...-san?" Hinata's voice is just above a whisper, disbelieving. She blinks as she looks at the return address once more. Placing the already-checked mail on top of the box, Hinata lifts the extra article of post, not even sure she felt the corrugated cardboard in her arms. "Come... come on, Nyanko. Let's go inside." She waits a moment as the cat deliberates between the things outside and the things inside. Making a decision, Nyanko darts in the house before Hinata, and the selfsame young woman walks inside with a daze. Once inside, she wanders into the living room, clearing off the paper mail and begins pulling at the tape sealing the box. Soon, she finds herself heading into the kitchen for a paring knife. Pushing her inquisitive feline friend away with her free hand, Hinata opens the box soon enough. The cat sniffs at this pile of discarded articles, then jumps up to the couch to sleep.
Oh? What's this? She fishes a piece of lined paper from the top of the sea of packing peanuts it floats upon. She grins, laughs a little, as she recognizes Asou's neat, clipped handwriting.
Hina,
Thank you for the gift. Here is her companion to keep you company.
-Shiro.
"Her... companion?" Hinata muses, poking fingers through the safety precaution. It wouldn't be fair to hope, would it? Even after she'd called him a few days after her package had shipped, and she didn't say anything, wondering if he would.
When she reaches a curve of the texture of thread, she gasps, a smile claiming her face. Careful, careful...Aha!
Deep blueberry-colored cloth, the pattern dyed to look static in one square, then plaid in the other. The animal is maybe a few inches taller than the one she sent Asou. Hinata laughs and smiles as she sees the interior of the ears and paws have light brown corduroy fabric, contrasting with the main body of the bear. Button eyes, similar to the set she used for Asou's bear, rest behind a set of spectacles, and the young woman smiles more to imagine how the man's face had twisted as much as he permitted it to, his eyes belying ambivalence. If she looks at the bear a certain way, she almost sees Asou's usual not-quite scowling facial expression on the analogue. There are black buttons sewn to each limb, complimented with similar thread, a thread that is also used for the nose.
"Y'know, I think this is better than any letter," she says, cuddling the teddy bear. "No," she says after a moment, "I know it is." Standing, she keeps a gentle grip on the gift as she heads to the phone to call Shiro.
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A/Ns: I honestly want to make Shiro- and Hinata-style teddy bears, now (if only I could find a proper pattern!). The arts and crafts store is based off of one in my town, where I found almost everything mentioned. I keep hearing Emi's voice as a slightly younger version of Susan Egan; is it just me? Also, the girl Emi talks about to Toko is-at least in my mind-an older Tomoyo of Cardcaptor Sakura ('cause I like the idea of Tomoyo having a requited relationship; pardon my "Pair the Spares" mindset. Yes, I am fond of TV Tropes).
(1) For those who don't use the metric system, this is the equivalent to a foot/12 inches.