( It took me waaaaay too long to get to this next update. =_= I have no legitimate excuse other than this is the end of the year slump, AP exams are finally done, and life has finally caught up with me [though if anyone in real life asks, I will deny that fact]. I definitely won't wait this long next time! :D Anyway, this story had a stellar first response! Keep those comments, compliments, and critiques coming, ladies and gents! )
"Kaede-chaaaan! Kaede Kusaki!" Sure enough, that was her green head (not to be mistaken with any other green heads there may be at the university), for it perked up in response to his cries and whipped his way. Momiji jogged to meet her, smiling broadly, delighted. However, his hopes and prayers that they'd forged some super-strong bond in that single night they'd slept together was poorly founded, for she didn't smile in response, or acknowledge him in any other way than to watch him approach. Really, she looked irritated at best.
When he drew near, he slowed down, closing the distance between them. She placed a hand on her hip, looking up at the beaming male expectantly. "Why did you leave so early in the morning, Kaede-chan? I had plans to make breakfast and everything!" Now that he knew where he stood with her (mostly), the Momiji Sohma we all know and love showed his true colors, bouncing energetically from foot to foot. Really, he'd barely matured since high school—at least he rarely wore girlish clothing anymore. Shigeru and Jinka had beaten that out of him, to the Sohma family's delight.
Her expression was completely deadpan when she replied. "I'd already made a hindrance of myself. I had to go and get clothes from my room, and anyway, I'm lactose intolerant—you'd've probably made the wrong thing entirely," Kaede explained dismissively, waving a hand in front of her nose as if she'd inhaled a bad smell.
Momiji wilted slightly. He'd forgotten why he'd been so wary of this girl initially—she was cruel. Before he could attempt to defend himself, a heavy hand snapped on his shoulder like a vise, reeling him in until he bumped into its owner—none other than Jinka himself! The strawberry leered at Kaede, making no effort to mask the fact he was staring at her chest. "Looking cute today, Kusaki!" Momiji blinked, before smiling at Kaede, who was, in fact, looking "cute". With a long blue-grey trench coat, a pink blouse, black pencil skirt, and knee-high vibrant red rain boots, she looked almost like a child, having shed her more alternative clothing from the day before. Her green hair wasn't styled in any way, just continued to flop lifelessly on her head, barely reaching past her ears, unruly and voluptuous as ever. Lip gloss had been dabbed on her mouth, and she wore dark eyeliner and green eyeshadow. Indeed, she did look "cute".
"I'm always looking cute, Jinx," she muttered in response, arranging her books in her arms and balancing her latte precariously as she did so. However, nothing spilled, so it was a job well done. Then she sighed, reaching up with her free hand to run it agitatedly through her tresses before looking away from them pointedly. "Was there more?"
Jinka watched her, his eyebrows climbing up onto his face. Momiji had always been envious of Jinka for that ability—to perfectly depict every expression on his face flawlessly, like his face had been exactly sculpted just for that. He was staring at Kaede, since she had suddenly developed bipolar disorder since they'd last seen her. "You," he told her flatly, "are a bitch."
"J-Jinka!" Momiji gasped, horrified. But Kaede was smiling now.
"I get that a lot."
"I'm sure you do," Jinka responded with a nod to her, eyes gleaming. Then, hooking his arm around Momiji's, he pinwheeled them around, and marched them off toward campus. Resisting, Momiji mumbled some incoherent things about Jinka going to far, and Kaede not being a bitch, and how he couldn't speak that way to a lady, and how it was only her second day, but Jinka wouldn't hear of it. Instead, he spoke softly, so softly that Momiji had to strain to hear him. "Look, Momiji. You have a bad habit of letting women walk all over you. Especially since Tohru." Jinka and Shigeru were the only two outside the Sohma family who knew about anything—they knew about how tightly knit they all were (though not why—no way would Momiji tell them about the Zodiac issue), about how Kyo had swooped in and swept Tohru off her feet, and about all of Momiji's failed relationships since then. "Even if Kaede is going to become a friend of ours, no way am I going to let her mess you up even more, 'k?"
The blonde adult stared at Jinka, brown oculars stretching wide. Finally, after a beat of pure shock, he nodded. "Erm...uh...sure, um, yeah. Cool."
After all, what could one say to something like that?
Classes today had been rough. Unlike most of the Sohma family, Momiji had never quite gotten the hang of school, and never was at the top of his class. Somewhere in the middle was where he had made his domain. There was also the fact that Momiji was a bit hyperactive, completely being unable to stay still, causing a ruckus wherever he went, having spontaneous outbursts in class, saying everything that was on his mind when it was on his mind, and so forth. Now that he had just gotten done with break, and had made an acquaintance to somebody like Kaede Kusaki, he had far too much on his mind to stay silent. And so, the whole note-taking process, listening to the teacher dilemma, and paying attention idea were eliminated. There was no hope for him. So he arrived in his dorm, throwing open the door, shrugging out of his backpack, and proceeded to flop into his bed with a groan of pleasure.
He'd hardly been there a minute before he heard a knock on the door. Momiji sighed, blinked, and then rolled over onto his back. "What? Did you lose the key again, Viking?" grumbled the blonde, his mental exhaustion irritating him. He used to never get irritated. Things had changed. He'd lost T-
"Oi! Yellow Mellow! Lemme in!" Kaede's voice was unmistakeable, and the sheer volume of it made Momiji jump about a foot in the air. Apparently, the fact that he didn't instantly come to the door to let her in made her believe he was angry with her or something, because he heard a small thump as she smacking her head into the door. He imagined her forehead leaning there, too drained to move. "Look, I'm sorry, ok? There's a lotta shit going on in my life currently, and sometimes I'm short-tempered. You'll get used to it. S'not so bad after awhile, really!" Momiji was now sitting up, staring at the door disbelievingly. For some reason, he hadn't pegged Kaede as the type to apologize easily. "Please let me in?"
Sliding off the bed, he meandered his way over to open the door, looking down at her in surprise. He couldn't quite fathom why she'd shown up here at all. It seemed so out of character. With a jolt of interest, he noted that she'd changed clothes, now wearing small shorts and a large, oversized orange sweater, and flip-flops. She seemed to have been preparing to say more, because she was standing there, pink orbs wide and mouth slightly agape, just having begun to formulate another word. His gaze traced her plump lips, moving up to her babyish face, long nose, voluptuous eyelashes, and artfully made eyebrows, before resting on her odd-textured hair. Momiji reached out, placing a hand on her head and ruffling it curiously; it felt as strange as it looked. Layered and fluffy, soft as silk, in a rather boyish style. "What color was your hair originally, Kaede-chan? Or do you naturally have green hair?"
She still seemed stunned. But then she smiled. Momiji studied the action; he wished she would laugh. He'd never seen her laugh before. Would her eyes crinkle, or her face crease? Would he see all her teeth, or was she more of a quiet, subtle laugher? "It was white," Kaede admitted with a shrug.
Momiji nearly joked. "W-white?! That's not a normal color either!" He informed her blithely, as if he was uncertain that she was aware of this.
Her smile became more crooked, metamorphosing into a brusque grin. "It is if you were an albino, like me!" Momiji's eyes widened; that was it! The reason for the pale, nearly translucent skin, the reddish pinkish eyes, the dyed hair, the flamboyant make-up! She was an albino. "And green is a much better color than white, anyhow. White didn't suit me."
He beamed brilliantly at her. "I concur! Green in definitely more up your alley! It looks great on you!" One of her brows quirked up, an amiable expression on her face, an amalgam of emotions conflicting over her features. Apparently, his annexation of a compliment had amused her.
"Oh, really? I doubt it."
"You shouldn't doubt something as obvious as that!" Momiji insisted, relieved she wasn't freaked out by his earlier statement.
Kaede's eyes gleamed. "Have you the audacity to doubt my veracity, Momiji Sohma?" It took him a moment to decipher those words: have you the daring to disbelieve my truthfulness? Suddenly, he grinned. She really would make a good author, with a vocabulary as such. And he told her so! Surprisingly, she flushed at the compliment, her ivory complexion turning as red as Shigeru's hair. "What would you know? You've never read anything of mine," she muttered, closing off again.
His eyes appealed to her, unable to apprehend her reaction. And things had been going so well! What he he done? Now he needed to assuage her worries about his honesty. "How about you show me some, then? I bet I'll be very impressed!" the youth laughed, eyes arching in a pleasant manner, smiling. She was completely amoral, and he didn't understand what to do with her irrational, unpredictable behavior, but for some reason, he wanted to try.
Pink eyes appraised him. Then Kaede shook her head slowly at him, attempting to ascertain his ingenuity. Finding her answer somehow in his eyes, she shrugged again. Momiji came to the conclusion that her "shrugging" business was simply because of her lack of communication, or at least, her inability to do so. "Whatever. Come on, I guess," she mumbled, pushing past him. "You got a notebook? I'll write you something."
Not having anticipated that response, he exhaled swiftly, almost having expected her to agree. He looked on after her before grinning like and idiot, then he bobbed his head up and down. "Sure, just a second!" Spinning around on his heel, he sprinted into Shigeru's room. He did lots of freehand sketches of things, and therefore had a lot of notebooks, some used, some half-used, some forgotten, some damaged, some unused. Taking an unused one, he held it tightly to his chest and plucked up an ebony pencil (one of Shigeru's favorite means in which to draw). There were no regular pencils around, and if Shigeru found out and was angry about it, he'd just buy the ginger a new one. Why not? They couldn't be that expensive, right? At least, not for a Sohma.
When he returned with the supplies, he paused in the doorway, seeing that she'd made herself at home at their kitchen table that had four seats instead of three, as if the final had been waiting for her. They'd all wanted to only keep three, but Jinka was somewhat of a neat freak, and had required the Round Table (that's what they jokingly called it, seeing as it was round, and they were all fans of those stories of King Arthur, Merlin, and Camelot) to be symmetrical. The sun was setting, the skies a vibrant orange and red, the tree by the window filtering sunlight through it, dappling her in gold and tawny and shadows, her eyes were only half open, basking in the warmth, head on her hand and elbow on the table, tilting her face toward the light, her too-long sleeves covering dainty hands, and Momiji is filled with the sensation to walk over to her, take her face in his hands, and—
"Oh, hey, you're back. Or...maybe not. Actually, your face implies that your subconscious mind is far away. Back to earth, please!" the young lady intruded upon his thoughts, smiling over at him. Momiji started, and she snorted quietly. Almost a laugh. Almost. Suddenly, hearing her laugh was important to him, and he made a note to up his game so he could hear that laugh.
With a ditzy chuckle, he walked over and plopped the supplies down. Eagerly, Kaede snatched up the pencil, and opened the notebook to a random spot toward the back, maybe twenty or thirty pages from the end. "Sorry. I was daydreaming."
Kaede looked up at him, face shining. "I know." He was about to ask 'how', when she supplied the answer. "Your face...it was obvious." His mouth closed, and she grinned. Then the girl with the glowing features looked down at the blank pages before her, twisting the ebony pencil in her hand, seeming to relish in the smooth, hardly chipped texture of the wood.
"Ah," Momiji murmured, smiling still, gaze softening as he looked at her, "that makes sense."
She absentmindedly nodded, before jerking suddenly, head cocked to the side as something dawned upon her. Bemused, he waited for her to enlighten him. Which she did, promptly. "I usually listen to music when I work. Mozart, Beethoven, Bach; any sort of instrumental of any type of music. Preferably something slower, that I can relax to..." Kaede instructed, giving him a look as if she could see right through him.
That look made him want to hug her. He'd never hugged anyone except Tohru and Momo. It hadn't always been that way. But, even since the Curse had been lifted, he still felt anxious, fearing he'd be rejected, unwilling to put himself out there and just be himself anymore. So why did he want to hug Kaede?
"I have a few CDs. Be right back!" Again, he turned to do as instructed of him, heading to his room. Most of his music taste were of famous violinists, people he looked up to, and was inspired by. As he scavenged through his case of musicians, he giggled when he heard Kaede sneeze from the kitchen, followed by a mumble of something incoherent. A few minutes passed as he became lost in thought, wondering which of the two artists he'd narrowed his search down to would she she better. Then there was a scooting of the chair, and a creak. Silence followed. She'd probably stood up and stretched, he reasoned, mind otherwise far away.
He had a feeling things weren't as perfect as they seemed, that something within the Sohma family would return. Already the post-Zodiac members were inexplicably tied together. Them being bonded was inevitable. There was no way to escape, even now that he'd finally gotten away, that he'd been freed. He could just tell there was something else, something missing. Something that hadn't been explained. Although the adults wouldn't talk about it, denying that they'd sensed anything amiss, the younger ones—Hatsuharu, Rin, Hiro, Kisa—they all had that feeling. There was definitely something they had overlooked. Rin, personally, thought it related to Ren in some way, though she'd found no way to prove that. It had been a hunch, that's all. But the five of them still had to admit...there was something wrong.
They just needed to find out what.
Mind on the Sohma Curse now, and no longer thinking about Kaede, whose fault it was that he was thinking about any of this at all, he did Eenie-Meanie-Minie-Moe and chose one, a more modern superstar named Chris Carmichael, Momiji nudged his bedroom door back open and headed toward the kitchen once more, eyes trained on the list of songs on the CD.
"So, this guy, Carmichael, he's-" Momiji broke off, brown eyes having just flickered up, seeing an empty Round Table. For a moment he looked at it, uncomprehendingly. Then Momiji gasped, nearly dropping the CD, looking around for Kaede, who had mysteriously disappeared from the room. He dashed toward the door, opening it, and glanced about the hallway. No Kaede. Then, closing the door, he heard a creak. That must have been the same one he'd heard earlier, he assumed glumly. It had been Kaede leaving. Maybe Jinka was right about her.
What was her hurry, anyway? Hadn't she planned to stay long? Feeling a little hurt, Momiji wilted like a dehydrated flower, turning toward the window, imagining her there with the notebook and pencil. Deciding to return them before Shigeru noticed, Momiji walked over to collect the two, sighing softly. Then he paused, staring down. A messy chicken-scrawl was on the notebook paper, a little crinkled and smeared, like a hand had been dragged across it, or an arm. But it was there, the strange curly, loopy calligraphy, which he assumed was Kaede's. He lit up, and sat down in her seat, which was still warm from her body heat. The air around still smelled a little like her. Getting himself situated, he got into a comfortable position and prepared to read, smiling delightedly to himself. Out loud, he began to read the simple paragraph she had written for him.
"I watched him frown as a sudden melancholy gripped his features. Watching him, I could almost see a little boy sitting in his bed swathed in blankets and dirty clothes and comic books. He peers out his window and down at the street, and he sees children playing and running and laughing. He sees them and hears them, but he's like a figurine caught within a snow-globe: so close to the world outside that it's almost as though he could reach out and touch it. But instead of the warm bodies of others and the thrumming of life and fresh air, his fingers are restrained by an invisible, insuperable barrier never meant to be crossed. And, as he gazes at the picture of me with my odd, ragtag, makeshift group of friends, I resist the urge to throw my arms around him and kiss him for all that I'm worth."
Although he couldn't even begin to understand why, he felt tears in his eyes; he sniffed loudly, and then teardrops stained the paper, and pretty soon he was sobbing, and he didn't know what had caused it, what exactly was in that simple paragraph with six sentences that struck a chord in him, that moved him, that touched the piece of his soul he'd locked up so very tightly for all these years.
