Mamori checked the time displayed on her cellphone. 8:45. She had been waiting for a little over two hours now, not counting the time she'd spent in the line to file her missing baggage claim. Taking a cab would have been faster, she realized. But it would also have been rude. And her friend was letting her stay for free. Some ruthless part of her calculated that at least the time she lost standing around without being productive could be counted against the money she would have spent putting herself up at a hotel. What an awful way to think, she reprimanded herself. And yet, that was how you had to think, when you were in management for a living.

She'd played with the idea of opening up her laptop in this place but there weren't any wireless network signs around and an old lady like her could be seen as easy pickings in a dingy place like this. Better to keep her briefcase shut if she knew what was good for her--and she did.

She'd been listening to her mp3s for some time--or mp7s, or whatever they were these days. Mamori really couldn't remember what number the files were up to, now. In her mind, they were still mp3s. In all honesty, she plugged the thing into her computer, it downloaded songs, and then she promptly forgot about it. (Maybe it was mp6 right now. That sounded right. Familiar.) Her eardrums were starting to complain, however, so Mamori pulled the ear-buds loose and wrapped the cord around the device with stiff arm motions. She reached around to knead her shoulder again, pinching the sore muscles with as much pressure as her fingers could afford. Her back really was killing her.

Suddenly, she became aware of raised voices issuing from across the room. She jerked her head up to observe the source of the noise. Some kind of commotion was breaking out between the unfortunate pimply cashier and a customer. Mamori raised a hand to her mouth and yawned. Maybe once upon a time she would have marched up there, demanded to know what was wrong, and helped that kid out. But these days she was just tired. Let people fight their own battles, get their aggression of their systems. They would just fight again later if she interfered anyway. Better to just let people take care of themselves--or not, as the case might be.

She winced a little when the screechy customer took out a gun. Okay. Now people were hitting the floor. It was getting personal. Mamori rose mechanically from her seat and started to crouch. So this is how I'm going to die, she thought irrationally. I'd always thought it would be something like this. Her heart was beating fast. She was witnessing a crime. She had to call the police, or get out of there, no, stay still on the floor--

"YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!" An elderly woman on roller blades crashed into the plexiglass entrance to American Burger, and promptly fell backwards and landed on her butt. It was enough to startle and distract the would-be robber. Another customer rose from the ground, broke into a run and tackled the guy head-first. The gun went off. The good Samaritan held the guy down and smashed his head into the robber's gut. The weapon skidded across the floor and some bystanders came to help. The cashier rose, babbling about calling the police.

Suzuna skated in casually, oblivious to the entire thing. Her brother followed, stopped, snapped his leg up into the air with an arthritic wince, and pirouetted with considerably less speed than he'd had in his younger years, but no less grace. Granted, to have that much flexibility at his age was still fairly impressive. And he'd aged terribly well, Mamori had to admit. The germ of temptation seeded her imagination, but she shrugged it off. Divorce or no divorce, she could never live an affair like that down. And just think of what Suzuna would say! Still. She was married, not dead.

"Ah-HAH-hah! Anezaki-san, where are you?!"

Mamori came forward, clutching her briefcase, and began to speak--but Taki's attention had already wandered, and suddenly he was speaking to the man who was still straddling the would -be robber. "KURITA-SAN, is that you? Ah-HAH-hah, cheating on your diet, I see! What would Buddha say?"

Mamori did a double-take. That man couldn't in any possible reality be the Kurita-san she'd known. The only possible explanation was that there were only so many last names in Japan, and that this just happened to be another Kurita that her friends knew. And yet...

"Hoee, Taki-kun, Suzuna-chan! I only followed this man in here because I uhm... knew he was up to no good! So d-don't jump to conclusions, please!"

Mamori gaped. That voice was the same, but this person was... was... so very... well, not exactly thin by any standards, perhaps, but... incredibly human-shaped, not resembling an over-inflated beach ball in the least. She approached with an almost morbid curiousity. "Kurita-san?"

The man turned his head, and blinked. "Mamori-san! It's been so long!" He spread his arms as if to hug her, and started to rise--but then remembered what he was doing, and resumed his seat on the would-be robber's stomach. The man grunted. Kurita turned to the cashier. "Uhm, I hate to ask, but could you please call the police? With all respect, I need to return home at a reasonable hour."

"Y-you're the f-famous ex-sumo wrestler, Kurita Ryokan!" The cashier stammered. "The one who sells all the w-weight loss products on television!"

Kurita glanced at Mamori, and turned away from her, as if embarrassed. She could see his face was starting to turn red. "Y-yes, that's me."

Due to the lateness of the hour, the four of them ended up going out for sushi once the authorities had taken their statements. Kurita was invited by default, and Mamori didn't object. They had a great time in general, talking and laughing and remembering all of the crazy things they'd done back at Deimon... gossiping about who'd married whom, and who worked and who didn't, and what people did with their lives... all of the things Mamori had wanted to ask, but had never had the courage to, before. But it had been long enough ago, now, and Kurita's presence had such a cheering and calming effect, that it seemed impossible that she should be embarrassed to ask about anything.

After biting her tongue for the better part of an hour, Mamori gave in and started asking about the Bats' college career. She'd seen the games over the internet, and she'd recorded them, of course. Even cut out the newspaper clippings for a time, although that had gotten old and after a while, she'd hidden the scrapbook in the attic of her old house--it was probably still up there, among the various other things she had yet the courage to visit her husband and demand for herself. It had always hurt her a little that the gang had managed for the most part to get into the same post-secondary institution and re-form the old team without her. Although she supposed she could have followed everyone... if they had seen fit to make certain she was included. But for some reason or another, it didn't happen. "I always thought I was a pretty good manager. Wasn't I? Did... anyone ever replace me?"

The table grew silent. Eventually, Kurita cleared his throat. "I think a few people tried... ahh... Hiruma-san didn't really get along with them. Those people kind of... went away."

"We all got letters, Mamori," Taki burst out loudly, much to Suzuna's obvious chagrin. He continued on despite her desperate hand motions. "We went to the World Cup in our final year. Surely you must have seen it!"

Mamori forced herself to smile. "Yes. I saw it." She wished she could sound happier, and cursed herself silently for hearing the tears building in the back of her throat. She impulsively bent her head over her meal and concentrated on stirring a chunk of wasabi into her soy sauce with choppy stirring motions. The green paste mixed into the thin brown liquid and became a lighter brown lumpy sort of slush. Of course, she didn't even particularly like spicy food. It was just something to do while she composed herself.

What a sentimental fool she was. She'd thought she was over having feelings like this. It happened so many years ago... It was stupid. These people were her friends, or at least had been, once upon a time. It was useless being upset over something that had happened so long ago. Even if after all this time she felt left out. Betrayed.

Taki talked on, but Mamori noticed that Suzuna and Kurita both were looking at her with a mixture of discomfort and concern. She smiled again.

"You got a scholarship to a good university, didn't you?" Suzuna interrupted finally, kicking her brother in the shins to make him quiet. "When I saw you five years ago, when I went to visit Sena and Shin in New York, you talked about it a bit. It sounded really nice."

"It was. Brown is a very respectable institution. It was the first stepping-stone in establishing my career." But I would have given it up, she thought bitterly, to be with my friends again, to be part of your lives. I would have made that choice, Hiruma-san, if you had given it to me.

The talk finally drifted in the inevitable direction of Sena and Shin and their lucrative career with the New York Giants, as well as the suprising revelation of their alternative lifestyle choices in later years. Apparently, "nobody" had seen it coming. Mamori had to cough into her napkin to keep from choking. It was wrong of her to laugh, but part of her suspected Suzuna still carried a torch for Mamori's "little brother," even after all these years. It was adorable, if not slightly demented. Even with his body honed to athletic perfection, Sena's effeminacy and the fact that he had never managed to just "meet" the enemy but always desired to make an intense emotional connection and understanding with every guy he came across... coupled with the way he became so involved with all of his opponents in football, to the point of an almost romantic obsession... it only managed to confirm the suspicions Mamori had nursed from the early days of their friendship, back when the other boys picked on Sena and beat up on him in elementary school. She was proud that her old friend was strong now and had made such a name for himself, that he supported his partner and could stand on his own... but that had never diminished her instinct that the other males in the year below her had turned on him not only because he was small, but also because they had sensed he was different. Children were cruel that way. "Shin and Sena send their regards," she spoke before she could think, almost absent-absentmindedly. "They didn't think they could make it. Conflicts of scheduling and all that."

Suzuna sniffed. "Making another film, is he? I swear, that whole 'Eyeshield' thing has gone on for far too long. He's old like us--what do people still see in him?"

Mamori shrugged. "Jackie Chan kept on making movies into his late fifties," she pointed out simply. "I guess Sena-kun has simply decided to do the same thing."

After some quibbling over the cheque, they rose and fiddled with their coats. Suzuna skated on ahead to retrieve her car--Mamori sincerely hoped that she was planning to remove her skates before attempting to drive it--and Taki had spun over to the bar to hit on the young lady dispensing the drinks. That guy just never knows his limits... if she were middle-aged at least, I could see him having a chance...

Speaking of chances, Mamori felt that this was the one she'd been waiting for... one that she hadn't even realized she might have. She grasped Kurita's arm just as he was bowing and wishing her a good night's sleep.

"Kurita-san."

The man froze. An aspect of shame appeared to settle over him. "Y-yes, Mamori-san?"

"Is... is he going to be there?"

Kurita took on an aspect of false innocence. "I don't think I understand."

Taki returned, looking somewhat put out, and Mamori let go of Kurita's sleeve, her courage subsiding; her chance lost. Even though she wasn't even sure what she was asking. Except... she hadn't, in all this time, communicated with that person. She wasn't sure she was even welcome. What would she do, or say? Part of her wanted to corner that guy and drag him into a corner, and just scream. This is what I turned into, because... because what?

She could have asked people where they were going, after Deimon. She hadn't.

She could have transferred after she'd seen that the Bats were re-formed. She didn't.

She had nothing to reproach Hiruma-san with.

And yet, and yet... even now, she felt betrayed. How dare he leave her out of his plans, and assume she would have a better life somewhere else? Or worse yet, deem her unecessary?

And how dare he prove that to be true?