For years, Hiruma haunted Mamori.
At first, it hadn't been so bad. Sure, she would cry herself to sleep and so on. And she had theorized that crying so much the night before was what started it. On mornings, hovering between sleeping and waking, she could have sworn that his hand had been on her shoulder as she lay on her side, his breath tickling her nape. And she would turn, murmuring, "I missed you." But of course, she would get jolted awake, because there was no one there.
Without fail, it would happen everyday. And it should have made her mad or sadder, but her heart would lighten, feeling the warmth of a body that wasn't there. No doubt, her mother would have called her crazy, but if it took an illusion to make her feel better, then she wasn't going to question it. Perhaps, it was her mind's way of dealing with Hiruma's absence.
Then, it started to happen that she thought he was there during the day, too. Like whenever she washed the dishes, she would feel eyes on her back; and she would turn, expecting a tall figure leaning against the doorway of the kitchen, but of course, there would be no one. Or when she was hanging up laundry, the sheets billowing, and she saw black, pointed shoes beneath the sheets. She would hurry to the other side, but it was just her, the sun and, the wind.
But more incidents followed. Like the gum and gun smell. How had that happened again? It was half a year ago. She remembered she had been talking to Izuko-san, her classmate in one of her Education courses, on the couch in her small apartment. He had been saying something about seeing a movie together, when the smell had hit her.
"Do you smell that?" Mamori had said, unintentionally cutting off Izuko.
Izuko frowned, "what?"
"Like somebody discharged a gun."
Izuko laughed. "You think of the strangest things, Mamori-chan."
"No, it's really there," Mamori had insisted. She had gotten up and was walking into her bedroom, "and I can smell gum, too."
Izuko had stood up. "Mamori, what about seeing a movie…"
But Mamori had walked out of the bedroom, past him, without a glance. "Maybe, it's coming from the kitchen."
"I don't smell anything," Izuko said.
Mamori stood in the middle of the living room, puzzling. "Izuko-kun, I'm so sorry, but is it okay if we continue this another time?"
Izuko had started. "Uh, oh. Okay." He had sort of slumped. "Okay."
The smell had remained for days. It started to even permeate her clothes, so that she got used to it. She only remembered when Sena, Suzuna, and Monta had come over for dinner, and they had asked her if she had bought a gun. She had shaken her head, laughing. But she didn't say anything else, and they didn't ask, as well.
Then, something else happened, three months after the dinner.
It was during one of the moonless nights of the month. Mamori's room was been pitch-black, curtains drawn. She was on her bed; her legs squeezed together, her hand between her legs. Throughout the day, she had been thinking of Hiruma's long fingers. His palm. His lips and his tongue. It had left a coiled tension in her lower body that now coiled up tighter.
She thought of the length of his body, over her own. The feel of his wide shoulders. His skin was always so hot. The muscles underneath, the ridges and the valleys, hard and firm.
Fucking manager, whatever happened to that prim and proper disciplinary officer?
"Shut up, Hiruma." She said without thinking. And then she gasped as she felt a tongue lick the side of her face. She realized there was a weight pressing on her lower body, hands making indentations on either side of her. "You're not here. This is just my imagination."
Kekeke. Fantasy's closer to it.And there was lips covering her mouth. In spite of herself, Mamori's hands came up and touched the side of a solid face. His face. His ears, silver earrings in place. She wished there was a little bit of light, his earrings glinted beautifully when he was having sex with her, driving her, so that she could only hold on, moans rising uncontrollably, her eyes fixed on one of his ears.
Liquid spilled into her panties at the memory. And Mamori almost jumped out of her skin, feeling Hiruma's long finger slyly slipping underneath the cloth of her panties. She could not help make the small sound in her throat. "What are you doing, Hiruma?"
This is a fantasy, remember. No more questions, fucking manager.
He turned her. She was on her knees and her hands, and she felt Hiruma sliding down her panties. And Mamori heard distinctly, the sound of his zipper, and she felt, warm and firm against her butt cheek, his shaft. She trembled, her desire making her breathe faster, in shallow gulps. She moaned as he came inside her.
You're so hot, the inside of you.
Could a ghost's voice sound ragged? The thought flew out of her head when she felt Hiruma's hips move. Pummeling into her. It tore a long, moan from her throat. He went faster, and faster, the delicious coil in her crotch becoming unbearable. And there were no more words, no other noise, only the sound of their flesh, lightly slapping, and their uneven breathing. And even that fell away as the pleasure rose so intensely that Mamori felt tears filling her eyes.
Mamori exploded, a stream of liquid running down her thighs. She felt Hiruma's guttural growl, his thighs pressing against the back of her own, and his chest on her back.
Her legs and arms collapsed, weak from pleasure. She felt his solid weight settle on top of her, his lips still pressing on the skin of her shoulder when she fell asleep.
When Mamori woke the next day, she shot up to a sitting position and checked underneath her night gown. She was wearing her panties. She lay back on bed with a sigh. She thought to herself, that was a particularly fevered dream.
What are you doing, lying down, fucking manager? Don't you have class?
She went still. And tears began to course down her face, even as she shook her head.
Stop overthinking it; you're going to spoil your appetite for breakfast.A breeze stirred her curtain and lifted tendril's of Mamori's hair. And they felt like Hiruma's long fingers playing with her hair.
Mamori exhaled and decided to take Hiruma's advice. She stood up and went to the bathroom. As she picked up her toothbrush and squeezed some toothpaste onto it, she looked up, and her hand stopped, midway to her mouth.
In the mirror, Hiruma was standing behind her, leaning against the doorway jamb of the bathroom. He was leering at her. He was wearing a black shirt and black pants. He had his hands in his pocket.
Mamori started to turn to look, but she stopped herself. She faced the mirror again and started to brush her teeth carefully, still looking at Hiruma. He remained standing by the doorway. As she washed out her mouth, Hiruma took out a piece of gum from his pocket and he started to unwrap it. He popped it into his mouth as Mamori put back the toothbrush on the cup, her eyes on him. But because she wasn't looking at what she was doing, she knocked the cup to the floor with a thunk, startling her.
Mamori had flicked her eyes to the floor, and when she looked up again, Hiruma was gone from the mirror. Mamori whirled around, the cup rolling around her feet. But the room was empty.
It didn't feel empty. Anezaki Mamori smiled.
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There was one day that Mamori's mother had called her, scolding her.
"Why didn't you call me over to take care of you, Mamori?"
"Hello to you, too, Mom." She said, laughing, "Don't worry, I'm okay now."
"If Sena hadn't gone by yesterday, I wouldn't have even known about it."
"Yeah, he caught me on the last day of my flu."
Her mother started to say something, then she stopped.
"What is it?"
"Do you…have a boyfriend, Mamori?"
Mamori's brow wrinkled in confusion. "No. I'm too busy with my job and college, Mom. Being a teaching assistant for high school delinquents is no joke."
"Oh."
"What is it?"
"It's nothing, dear. Sena had just thought someone was taking care of you. There was soup, water, and medicine by your bed. And you had a cold compress on your forehead. He even thought there was somebody in the apartment when he came in. A classmate of yours or something."
Mamori smiled. "No, Mom, it was just…me."
"Ah. Well, aren't you going to start seeing some nice boys, Mamori?"
Mamori heard a gun click and a gum popping. She laughed.
"What?" her mother said, indignantly.
"It's okay. Don't worry about me."
Her mother sighed. "My dear, you should really move on. I mean, it's been two years already. We don't know where Hiruma-kun is. I liked him very much, but if I had known he was going to make you this sad—"
"Mom," Mamori gently interrupted. "I told you not to worry, right?"
There was silence on the other line.
This time, it was Mamori who sighed. "I have him in my heart; it seems he's going to be there for a good long while. And it's not a matter of holding on stubbornly. There were many nights I cried, not from missing him, but wishing I could stop thinking about him—"
Is that so, fucking manager?
Mamori ignored the voice. "And I think accepting that I still love him, will love him, is actually making me better, Mom. So while I appreciate what you're trying to do for me. I think I'm happy right now just the way it is. Maybe, someday, I'll be ready. But not now."
"All right. But dear, I'm just afraid that you'll keep waiting and waiting, and before you know it-"
Mamori laughed. "I don't think it'll be that dramatic. I promise you I won't be that 80-year old woman sitting by herself in the park, still waiting for her man to come."
After a moment, her mother laughed, as well. "Fine, fine. I suppose it does sound a little ridiculous. I'll see you next week, then."
"Okay."
And when she put down the phone, she saw on the floor, another shadow beside her shadow, a thin tendril of shadow smoke rising from it.
"You haven't given up smoking?" She asked of the empty room.
Have you given up cream puffs?
She stuck her tongue out, and immediately felt foolish. She shook her head, if her mother saw her like this, a phone call would definitely not be the end of it.
It could have probably gone on, for quite some time. It felt natural, even if it was anything but.
Mamori thought of it as dreaming awake. After all, nobody else could hear or feel him. Aside from that one incident with Sena, Suzuna, and Monta smelling the guns, it was only Mamori who could still see his shadow, or his reflection, or feel him solidly at night. It would have been fine and dandy, she could have still convinced herself that it was just her missing him so much, her mind's way of dealing with the situation.
Except she realized a few days after her mom's phone call that she hadn't had a period for two months.
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End of Chapter 1: Empty Rooms