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Keitaro Urashima glanced at his watch: his appointment was late. He leaned back in the iron-frame chair, tapping his foot to the sound of Beethoven's Number Thirteen. The chair opposite him scraped as it was pulled backwards, and a young woman sat down before him.
"Sorry I'm late, Keitaro." Motoko smiled gently and laid her left hand over his. He began playing with the little ring on her finger, knocking it against his own in silence. After a few moments of this, he looked directly at her and smiled back,
"We still have a few hours before it starts. Is there anything you want to do?"
She thought for a moment. "Well…"
The whole city seemed to glow. Seeing it even now, Motoko could only be impressed by the sheer amount of twinkling lights. For every light, there were perhaps one hundred, maybe even one thousand people. It was a scale so unimaginable, that she felt very tiny. In such a vast world, she and Keitaro were still connected.
When the cable car came to a complete stop, he opened the door and politely motioned for her to step out first. They began to walk down the mountain, arriving at a shrine to the gods not too far off. They bowed respectfully, each one making their own silent prayer.
Would they always have serene moments like this? She asked Keitaro aloud. He made no answer, and she realized that as long as she stood next to him and prayed, the moment would last. She felt the urge to embrace him, but it wouldn't be appropriate on holy ground. They finished paying their respects, and close to the station she gave him a passionate kiss.
"Did you talk to your sister yet?" Keitaro asked, halfway down the mountain. She shook her head.
"Only that you and I were involved. She was a little disappointed."
"That we jumped into it?"
She searched his face for the slightest sign of doubt. Seeing only concerned curiosity, she nodded and said, "Yes. She had hoped we would wait for the betrothal rites." Then, seeing the guilt wash over him she quickly added, "But that doesn't mean we aren't allowed to marry. The old ways and customs died out a long time ago."
"That's not it…"
"Then what…?"
He mumbled something like, "No, it's nothing," but was so indistinct that one could not be entirely sure. They left the cable car in silence.
"Twenty-five… twenty-six… There's one missing."
Naru looked up from the roster and quickly recounted. The seat in the rear left corner, nearest to the door, was empty. She frowned, "Yoshino's late again…"
"Well," she cleared her throat and began to write on the chalkboard, "If you'll turn page eighty-three where we left off the previous day, we'll begin our lesson: who would like to solve problems five, nine, ten, twenty-four, and thirty-three?"
A few hands went up. Naru began picking at random. "Gota, Nagahara, Hasegawa, Takamichi," she noticed a young boy scrambling for the door just outside the hall. "And Yoshino," she said loudly, just in time for him to stumble in, apology already half-spoken.
"—rry! Huh?" The classroom began to snicker. With a sympathetic countenance, Naru quieted her other student and pointed to the board.
"Problem number thirty-three," she indicated, "You were just about to solve it."
"O-oh—uh! Hang on!" he began rummaging through his duffel bag, fishing out various objects such as a wooden knife, a shin guard, and a notebook. His eyes fell with embarrassment. "I'm sorry, Ms. Narusegawa. I seem to have—urm—left it behind."
She shook her head and groaned. "Just take your seat, Ito-kun." Laughter erupted from the general populace. The four students already standing began to write, while Naru noted the events of the session in her notebook.
When she stepped out about an hour later, rubbing her temples as she urged Ito Yoshino to hurry home, she felt exhausted and hungry. Normally she would wait until she returned home to eat dinner with her mother and sister. But the adamancy with which her stomach growled only reminded her that she hadn't had anything to eat for lunch, having had to stay behind after her classes had ended to speak with her professor.
Rather than make a beeline for the Shinkansen, Naru began to wander through the streets. There were many cheap, though low-quality chains all around, and between them the occasional four-star money hole. Seldom did she ever find anything in-between. She settled for a corner stand at the park, across from a large beef-bowl restaurant. The colorful sign read: No. 5.
As she ate, she began thinking about her career goals. Teaching was fun, but she couldn't handle the ups and downs. It was hard enough managing nightly review classes a few nights a week, and even without her other classes she would still have a hard time doing it full time in the day.
Originally, her reasons for applying to Tokyo University stemmed from the urging of her parents. It just seemed like the right thing to say when success was expected of you. Now that she was there, she didn't even know what to do. What would she major in? How would she start her career? Teaching certainly wasn't one of her options. It was too stressful.
She had once considered business, but that was only because she wanted free food from the American fast-food chains. Paper-pushing was often too tedious, and she had experience with it, even as a teacher.
The relentless self-dialogue seemed to go nowhere. She quickly finished her meal and paid her bill. The manager stared at her for a moment, before going to the register for change. She brushed the hair away and looked around. The cold breeze made her shiver.
There was a couple not too far away, necking in the privacy of an isolated garden, mostly shielded by the large bushes. Naru blushed, looking away suddenly. It wasn't polite to stare, and she didn't want to be caught peeping on them. But something made her look back.
At times, they would host fireworks from the lake. On boats, large stocks of the burning rockets would fire in formation, giving off a nice reflection from the water's edge, and making for the perfect end to any romantic date. They often held such events unannounced. Tonight was one such night.
When she gazed up at the sky at the first loud crack, she saw something that surprised her. The man, with his back to her, was unrecognizable. But his partner's face was clear. "Motoko?"
"Ah…!"
She both jumped up in surprise and yelped in fear. Keitaro laughed and tickled her nose. "It's just the fireworks," he explained, turning his head skyward. "Look."
She looked. A large, neon pink heart glowed in the sky, expanding ever more against its red counterpart. Like a little girl when she is presented with her first dress, Motoko grinned and tugged against Keitaro's arm. "Let's go home," she said, giggling invitingly. He swiveled his head and laughed amid the cracking of his bones. They began to walk towards the Hinata House.
Shinobu Maehara looked up from her homework. Two thin silhouettes made their way up the steps, arm in arm. Her heart began to pound. She stood up and dimmed the lights in her room, waiting intently for the sound of the front door opening. The clock in her room let out a single "ding". She glanced at her watch.
She peered out into the hallway and followed the soft footsteps with her eyes. Where they stopped she knew was Keitaro's room. They did not move again. Placing a hand over her heart, she inhaled deeply, shuddered, and stole away quietly.