Tsukushi lay sprawled in a sunbeam. Her boyfriend slept on the futon next
to her, curled up in a tangle of blankets and pillows.
Her boyfriend. . . . Even now Tsukushi could hardly believe those words. She sneaked a peek at the man next to her. Yup, there could be no mistake about it, There he was. Once the most accomplished playboy in all Tokyo, Nishikado Soujiro. Her Boyfriend. It boggled the brain, it surely did.
Five months is a long time in the life of an average high school student. A lot could happen in five months.
A lot had happened.
It had taken Tsukushi almost four months to finally get over her insecurities and doubts, to push her regrets away. At first, she'd fairly wallowed in regret and remorse, remembering the last she'd seen of Doumyouji, the hurt look in his eyes. But, Soujiro had been there to pull her out of her misery. And not only him, but Akira and Rui too. Yes, it was true, things could have ended better, but the world doesn't always run the way one might wish, so why waste time crying over the past?
Then of course, she'd found herself facing a new question -- was she ready to love again? Her head told her 'No.' But, her Heart said 'Yes.' Bloody inconvenient it was, the way she was always torn in two directions. She hadn't known what to do, hadn't known which organ to trust in. And she'd been afraid. Afraid of more heartbreak, more pain and misunderstanding. Still, Soujiro already trusted her more than Tsukasa ever had, and she trusted him too. . . Her heart had found itself mounting an ever-stronger campaign against her brain.
Nevertheless, she worried about the wisdom of trusting her heart to a man who had always before shown such blithe disregard for the serious side of love, preferring instead to indulge in meaningless dalliances of the flesh. How could she hope to replace his endless stream of pretty girlfriends? Tsukushi, the virgin weed winning out over such eye-catching sexy beauties as populated Soujiro's circle of acquaintances? It was unthinkable. But true.
One night, in a fit of drunken exasperation, Soujiro had sworn an oath. "No more sex until it's with Tsukushi!" he'd proclaimed, to the great mortification of Tsukushi, and the amused delight of Akira and Yuki, who'd been out drinking with them. Akira hadn't believed Soujiro could do it. "A week, maybe two. That's as long as you'll last." He'd laughed, "I mean, when was the last time you went without sex that long? And what even makes you think Makino's going to give in now? It's been three months, already. You could be waiting a long, long time."
"We'll see." Had been Soujiro's enigmatic reply.
A month. An entire month without sex, and hardly even flirting with another girl. It had been hard. So fucking hard. He hadn't ever stopped to think before, just what a rampant libido he had, or how dependent he'd grown on his chosen form of release. By the third week, he'd started to think he understood what had driven Tsukasa to act as he had. Sexual frustration was a terrible thing for a teenaged guy to bear.
And then, Tsukushi kissed him.
It wasn't even that good a kiss. After all, she was relatively inexperienced, not to mention shy. She'd blushed terribly as she'd backed away, her gaze hesitantly flicking up to meet his; trying to read if she'd done the right thing. But still, that one kiss made everything worth it. Soujiro could have gotten laid any time, but he only had the one chance to win Tsukushi.
The satisfaction he felt, as he'd tightened his arms around her and bent down to return the kiss, was immense.
And no, they weren't a perfect couple, weren't perfectly happy. For who ever is, in this imperfect world? Tsukushi still had doubts and insecurities, still would wake late on some nights, a pain in her heart asking her, what was Tsukasa doing now? What was He thinking? She'd lie awake long after, wondering if she'd done the right thing, if somehow along the way she'd made some terrible mistake?
She got jealous when Soujiro flirted with other girls, wondered each time, if he would leave her for one of them. He fretted when he saw her laughing with Rui, in a close approximation of their old ease. And they both wondered how long it could last.
They had not yet had sex. Soujiro wanted to. Tsukushi was afraid. They were working up to it, slowly. As Soujiro confided to Akira one day, "Hell, I can afford to wait a few more months, if that's what it takes. So many years of playing the field, it's like I got a sex stockpile built up inside." Akira had merely laughed.
Yuki encouraged Tsukushi to experiment with Soujiro. "You don't know what you like until you try." After all, Akira had taught her many things. . .
Soujiro enjoyed teaching Tsukushi many similar things. He knew a wide variety of activities he and Tsukushi could enjoy in bed, without her quite having to face the one act she dreaded with such pathological fear.
Tsukushi would have been terribly embarrassed to admit it to anyone, even Yuki, but she wanted more. It was a mark of just how much she'd begun to grow up in recent months, that she could now contemplate moving to the next stage of their relationship with only moderate trepidation.
But all this; all the slow public courtship and deepening physical intimacy, was only part of the story, only the shell of a relationship that their friends were witness to. The truth behind their friendship, and the way it had grown, was a story they kept to themselves. No one else knew of Soujiro's dark depressions, or the self-loathing that swept over him from time to time. No one else, but Tsukushi. And, often it hadn't even been within her power to draw him out, and make him tell her what was wrong. No, all she could do was trust in a newly discovered 6th sense of his moods to help her track him down, in whatever bar or exclusive club he'd taken himself to, and drag him home, before he drowned himself in alcohol and exhausted his misery in the company of beautiful strangers. These times, she would sit by him, let him hold her tightly. She was his anchor, reminding him that he was not alone, that here there was someone who knew him as more than just a fickle seducer.
Other times, It was Tsukushi who needed saving from herself. Early in the winter, she'd stressed out over her poverty, her classes, her continued lack of close friendships outside the F3, and of course, over the pain of finally rejecting Doumyouji. Then, she had worked herself to the point of exhaustion; dashing from class to job to job, coming home only to sleep -- she had been a candle burning at both ends. She lost even more weight, and burnt off the last of her baby fat. For a while, after Doumyouji left, she was a complete wreck. When anyone tried to confront her about her feelings or what she was doing to herself, she would shut them out with a bright smile, and an, "I'm fine, really!" Her refuge was work, but it was killing her. It had been Soujiro who had finally taken matters into his own hands, confronting her one day after work. He'd held up a picture of her, from back when she'd been with Tsukasa and glowing with happiness, and then he'd held up a mirror to show her the haggard shadow she had now become. "What are we going to do about this?" he'd demanded. Eventually, Tsukushi had broken down in tears. Wrapped in shadows, she'd clung to him for hours, until all her tears were gone. It was only then, that she truly began to heal.
Still, they remained 'just friends' for a long time, held back by Tsukushi's fears. Then came the day that had changed everything.
It was a sunny, blustery day in March. Soujiro sat in the tea-room trying to calm himself. But, his hands were shaking, and the tea felt like etching acid in his twisted stomach. Peace would not come, no matter how he tried. Earlier, in a fit of misplaced spring optimism, he had tried calling his elder brother. After all, it was his brother's birthday. Who wouldn't want to hear birthday greetings from one's own younger sibling? But the man had been too long estranged. Soujiro had called him at his office, posing as a patient until he'd heard his brother's voice. But then, as Soujiro began to speak, revealing himself, his brother had grown angry, "What are you doing calling here? Stay out of my life!" were his exact words, as he'd slammed down the receiver. Soujiro had sat listening to the dial tone for almost an hour, before attempting to calm himself through the tea ceremony. When that failed, he restlessly threw on a coat and headed out to pace the streets. He felt utterly rejected and unloved, for there are few worse things in life than the callous rejection from a well-beloved sibling.
Hours later, Tsukushi found him. She'd been going to his house to study that day, but he'd been long gone by then, and he wasn't answering his cell. But she found him nonetheless, by some combination of luck and instinct, in a dark bar in one of the seedier parts of town; not one of his usual haunts at all. She'd marched boldly in, ignoring the stares that followed her -- (what was such a little slip of a girl doing in a place like this?), and unerringly made her way to where Soujiro had ensconced himself at the bar. He'd already had time to drown quite a number of drinks, and was busy flirting with a moderately pretty brunette, when he saw Tsukushi approaching. "So you've come to drag me home again, have you?" he'd drawled sarcastically, letting his frustration and self-disgust color his words. He hated it when Tsukushi saw him like this, but there were times when he couldn't help himself, when old patterns took control, and left his better judgement helpless to act.
Tsukushi had just watched him, peering deeply into his eyes, as if she could read the explanation written there; why he'd gone off this time, what hurts he was hiding from her behind that sneering mask?
The brunette had sneered too, seeing in Tsukushi only a drab wannabe. But she had quite a shock, when Soujiro turned his back on her, sighed, and took Tsukushi's hand. "You're right." He'd spoken almost rhetorically, answering words she hadn't even said aloud. "I don't feel like going home tonight. Let's go someplace else." He'd meant to go to another club, but Tsukushi had taken control; had dragged him to her tiny apartment; full of warmth and remembrances of her loving family. There, seated at her rickety table, a cup of steaming team in his hands, he'd finally broken down and told her about his brother's unfeeling rejection, how much it had hurt; how much he feared never being felt loved again. He always felt ashamed to admit such weakness, but Tsukushi had understood, and, seeing the imploring look in his soulful eyes weakened the last of her defenses. He needed to be loved, and she could no longer deny that love is what she felt for him.
Why else would she hunt him down, time and again, as he suffered from his own self-loathing? Why else would she sit by him and try to absorb his pain, as if by making it her own, she could wash it all away? Why else did she find herself craving the feeling of his arms around her, his heart beating against her cheek? Despite his flaws, despite her own fears, it had to be love.
And that was why she had kissed him, at last. Not only to drive away his misery, his self-loathing, but to tell him that she would give him the understanding he longed for; that she would fill that emptiness he felt; that she would try to give him the love he needed.
All else had followed from that.
In public, they were a more demonstrative couple than Tsukushi would have liked, but not as much as Soujiro wanted. But, they still acted much like they always had -- Soujiro a clever flirt, teasing everyone shamelessly, while Tsukushi took a more serious view, always practical and fussily industrious. In private, they would have surprised almost everyone they knew. Soujiro was serious and introspective, while Tsukushi dreamed faraway dreams, pondering all the mysteries that life had yet to reveal to her.
----
With a long sigh, Tsukushi pulled herself from her daydreaming, as a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the warmth of her sunbeam, and waking her from her reflections.
They'd had a late night last night. Sakurako had called to invite them to her engagement ceremony. She hadn't been happy about it. And rightly so; her fiancé was a dreadfully insipid man, attractive in a forgettable sort of way, passable well mannered, and as artificially bland as Wonderbread. Tsukushi found now, that she couldn't even remember the man's name exactly; she knew it was something dreadfully common . . . Sato Takashi? Something like that. It wasn't important. Sakurako had been icily formal to the man throughout the event; and afterwards, it had been worse. Then, Sakurako had started in on the poor man, subtly making cracks at his expense, casually saying the most cutting remarks, in such a sweet voice, that he hadn't even realized how cruel she was being until it was too late. Tsukushi and Shigeru had tried to restrain Sakurako, shushing her repeatedly, while Akira and Soujiro had distracted Sato. Takashi had looked lost and bewildered, finding himself suddenly thrust among such a group of famously rich, not to mention strong willed, friends, and sought to escape back to his equally bland and quiet cronies. The F3 had only been too glad to let him go.
After that debacle, they'd retreated to Sakurako's house, to console the flaming-haired beauty by getting her stinking drunk. When she'd started hitting on Rui, sometime around four AM., everyone suddenly started looking at their watches, and packing up to leave. Akira and Yuki had escaped first, followed soon after by Rui, who kept having to pull Sakurako off of himself. He mostly looked amused as he did so, though-- after all, she was drunk, and wasn't responsible for her actions. Nevertheless, as he repeatedly told the clingy girl, she had a fiancé now, she wasn't his type, and he needed his sleep now, anyway, thank you very much. Sakurako had pouted as he fled; the last single attractive man in their clique, and then had flung herself at Kazuya.
All in all, if it weren't for the undertone of unhappiness running though the event, it would have been a great party. If only the circumstances hadn't been that of Sakurako's unwilling engagement.
Soujiro and Tsukushi had been the last to leave, after making sure Sakurako got to bed, and helping Kazuya escape with his innocence intact. At last, they'd made it back to Tsukushi's place (her brother was sleeping over at a friend's house this night), and collapsed together onto the inviting futon. Soujiro was too tired to bother trying to make it home, and he preferred sleeping with Tsukushi in this lumpy futon, than in his own empty bed, anyway.
Now, it was mid-afternoon, Soujiro still wasn't awake yet, and Tsukushi felt no need to wake him, or move from her own comfortable position in the sunbeam. Were it not for the startling ring of her phone, she probably would have continued to drowse the afternoon away.
"Don't answer it." Soujiro murmured sleepily, as Tsukushi made to get up.
"It might be important!" Tsukushi protested, "what if Susumu needs me? Or my parents?"
"It's probably just Kazuya." Soujiro grumbled, attempting to snag her wrist and pull Tsukushi back under the blankets, but it was too late; she was already on her feet and reaching for the phone.
"Hello?" Tsukushi queried, picking up the receiver. "Oh! Hi Shigeru! What's up?" her voice dropped in concern as she spoke, " . . . You don't sound so good. . . ?"
A long silence ensued, followed by Tsukushi's gasp and the sound of the phone hitting the floor, as it slipped through her suddenly nerveless fingers.
Soujiro made a lunge, and grabbed the phone from where it lay at Tsukushi's feet, "Yo hey, Shigeru? Whatever it is, we'll be right there. Where are you? . . .Right. . .20 minutes. Bye." All traces of sleep had fled from his voice now, as he stood up to grab Tsukushi's unresponsive shoulders. "What happened? Tsukushi? Is everything OK?"
But all she could bring herself to say was, "I should have listened to you. I never should have picked up that phone."
And that was how Soujiro and Tsukushi learned of Tsukasa's impending return to Japan.
To be continued. . .
whew. finally, 3 chapters later, the intro is truly done. on with the plot!
Her boyfriend. . . . Even now Tsukushi could hardly believe those words. She sneaked a peek at the man next to her. Yup, there could be no mistake about it, There he was. Once the most accomplished playboy in all Tokyo, Nishikado Soujiro. Her Boyfriend. It boggled the brain, it surely did.
Five months is a long time in the life of an average high school student. A lot could happen in five months.
A lot had happened.
It had taken Tsukushi almost four months to finally get over her insecurities and doubts, to push her regrets away. At first, she'd fairly wallowed in regret and remorse, remembering the last she'd seen of Doumyouji, the hurt look in his eyes. But, Soujiro had been there to pull her out of her misery. And not only him, but Akira and Rui too. Yes, it was true, things could have ended better, but the world doesn't always run the way one might wish, so why waste time crying over the past?
Then of course, she'd found herself facing a new question -- was she ready to love again? Her head told her 'No.' But, her Heart said 'Yes.' Bloody inconvenient it was, the way she was always torn in two directions. She hadn't known what to do, hadn't known which organ to trust in. And she'd been afraid. Afraid of more heartbreak, more pain and misunderstanding. Still, Soujiro already trusted her more than Tsukasa ever had, and she trusted him too. . . Her heart had found itself mounting an ever-stronger campaign against her brain.
Nevertheless, she worried about the wisdom of trusting her heart to a man who had always before shown such blithe disregard for the serious side of love, preferring instead to indulge in meaningless dalliances of the flesh. How could she hope to replace his endless stream of pretty girlfriends? Tsukushi, the virgin weed winning out over such eye-catching sexy beauties as populated Soujiro's circle of acquaintances? It was unthinkable. But true.
One night, in a fit of drunken exasperation, Soujiro had sworn an oath. "No more sex until it's with Tsukushi!" he'd proclaimed, to the great mortification of Tsukushi, and the amused delight of Akira and Yuki, who'd been out drinking with them. Akira hadn't believed Soujiro could do it. "A week, maybe two. That's as long as you'll last." He'd laughed, "I mean, when was the last time you went without sex that long? And what even makes you think Makino's going to give in now? It's been three months, already. You could be waiting a long, long time."
"We'll see." Had been Soujiro's enigmatic reply.
A month. An entire month without sex, and hardly even flirting with another girl. It had been hard. So fucking hard. He hadn't ever stopped to think before, just what a rampant libido he had, or how dependent he'd grown on his chosen form of release. By the third week, he'd started to think he understood what had driven Tsukasa to act as he had. Sexual frustration was a terrible thing for a teenaged guy to bear.
And then, Tsukushi kissed him.
It wasn't even that good a kiss. After all, she was relatively inexperienced, not to mention shy. She'd blushed terribly as she'd backed away, her gaze hesitantly flicking up to meet his; trying to read if she'd done the right thing. But still, that one kiss made everything worth it. Soujiro could have gotten laid any time, but he only had the one chance to win Tsukushi.
The satisfaction he felt, as he'd tightened his arms around her and bent down to return the kiss, was immense.
And no, they weren't a perfect couple, weren't perfectly happy. For who ever is, in this imperfect world? Tsukushi still had doubts and insecurities, still would wake late on some nights, a pain in her heart asking her, what was Tsukasa doing now? What was He thinking? She'd lie awake long after, wondering if she'd done the right thing, if somehow along the way she'd made some terrible mistake?
She got jealous when Soujiro flirted with other girls, wondered each time, if he would leave her for one of them. He fretted when he saw her laughing with Rui, in a close approximation of their old ease. And they both wondered how long it could last.
They had not yet had sex. Soujiro wanted to. Tsukushi was afraid. They were working up to it, slowly. As Soujiro confided to Akira one day, "Hell, I can afford to wait a few more months, if that's what it takes. So many years of playing the field, it's like I got a sex stockpile built up inside." Akira had merely laughed.
Yuki encouraged Tsukushi to experiment with Soujiro. "You don't know what you like until you try." After all, Akira had taught her many things. . .
Soujiro enjoyed teaching Tsukushi many similar things. He knew a wide variety of activities he and Tsukushi could enjoy in bed, without her quite having to face the one act she dreaded with such pathological fear.
Tsukushi would have been terribly embarrassed to admit it to anyone, even Yuki, but she wanted more. It was a mark of just how much she'd begun to grow up in recent months, that she could now contemplate moving to the next stage of their relationship with only moderate trepidation.
But all this; all the slow public courtship and deepening physical intimacy, was only part of the story, only the shell of a relationship that their friends were witness to. The truth behind their friendship, and the way it had grown, was a story they kept to themselves. No one else knew of Soujiro's dark depressions, or the self-loathing that swept over him from time to time. No one else, but Tsukushi. And, often it hadn't even been within her power to draw him out, and make him tell her what was wrong. No, all she could do was trust in a newly discovered 6th sense of his moods to help her track him down, in whatever bar or exclusive club he'd taken himself to, and drag him home, before he drowned himself in alcohol and exhausted his misery in the company of beautiful strangers. These times, she would sit by him, let him hold her tightly. She was his anchor, reminding him that he was not alone, that here there was someone who knew him as more than just a fickle seducer.
Other times, It was Tsukushi who needed saving from herself. Early in the winter, she'd stressed out over her poverty, her classes, her continued lack of close friendships outside the F3, and of course, over the pain of finally rejecting Doumyouji. Then, she had worked herself to the point of exhaustion; dashing from class to job to job, coming home only to sleep -- she had been a candle burning at both ends. She lost even more weight, and burnt off the last of her baby fat. For a while, after Doumyouji left, she was a complete wreck. When anyone tried to confront her about her feelings or what she was doing to herself, she would shut them out with a bright smile, and an, "I'm fine, really!" Her refuge was work, but it was killing her. It had been Soujiro who had finally taken matters into his own hands, confronting her one day after work. He'd held up a picture of her, from back when she'd been with Tsukasa and glowing with happiness, and then he'd held up a mirror to show her the haggard shadow she had now become. "What are we going to do about this?" he'd demanded. Eventually, Tsukushi had broken down in tears. Wrapped in shadows, she'd clung to him for hours, until all her tears were gone. It was only then, that she truly began to heal.
Still, they remained 'just friends' for a long time, held back by Tsukushi's fears. Then came the day that had changed everything.
It was a sunny, blustery day in March. Soujiro sat in the tea-room trying to calm himself. But, his hands were shaking, and the tea felt like etching acid in his twisted stomach. Peace would not come, no matter how he tried. Earlier, in a fit of misplaced spring optimism, he had tried calling his elder brother. After all, it was his brother's birthday. Who wouldn't want to hear birthday greetings from one's own younger sibling? But the man had been too long estranged. Soujiro had called him at his office, posing as a patient until he'd heard his brother's voice. But then, as Soujiro began to speak, revealing himself, his brother had grown angry, "What are you doing calling here? Stay out of my life!" were his exact words, as he'd slammed down the receiver. Soujiro had sat listening to the dial tone for almost an hour, before attempting to calm himself through the tea ceremony. When that failed, he restlessly threw on a coat and headed out to pace the streets. He felt utterly rejected and unloved, for there are few worse things in life than the callous rejection from a well-beloved sibling.
Hours later, Tsukushi found him. She'd been going to his house to study that day, but he'd been long gone by then, and he wasn't answering his cell. But she found him nonetheless, by some combination of luck and instinct, in a dark bar in one of the seedier parts of town; not one of his usual haunts at all. She'd marched boldly in, ignoring the stares that followed her -- (what was such a little slip of a girl doing in a place like this?), and unerringly made her way to where Soujiro had ensconced himself at the bar. He'd already had time to drown quite a number of drinks, and was busy flirting with a moderately pretty brunette, when he saw Tsukushi approaching. "So you've come to drag me home again, have you?" he'd drawled sarcastically, letting his frustration and self-disgust color his words. He hated it when Tsukushi saw him like this, but there were times when he couldn't help himself, when old patterns took control, and left his better judgement helpless to act.
Tsukushi had just watched him, peering deeply into his eyes, as if she could read the explanation written there; why he'd gone off this time, what hurts he was hiding from her behind that sneering mask?
The brunette had sneered too, seeing in Tsukushi only a drab wannabe. But she had quite a shock, when Soujiro turned his back on her, sighed, and took Tsukushi's hand. "You're right." He'd spoken almost rhetorically, answering words she hadn't even said aloud. "I don't feel like going home tonight. Let's go someplace else." He'd meant to go to another club, but Tsukushi had taken control; had dragged him to her tiny apartment; full of warmth and remembrances of her loving family. There, seated at her rickety table, a cup of steaming team in his hands, he'd finally broken down and told her about his brother's unfeeling rejection, how much it had hurt; how much he feared never being felt loved again. He always felt ashamed to admit such weakness, but Tsukushi had understood, and, seeing the imploring look in his soulful eyes weakened the last of her defenses. He needed to be loved, and she could no longer deny that love is what she felt for him.
Why else would she hunt him down, time and again, as he suffered from his own self-loathing? Why else would she sit by him and try to absorb his pain, as if by making it her own, she could wash it all away? Why else did she find herself craving the feeling of his arms around her, his heart beating against her cheek? Despite his flaws, despite her own fears, it had to be love.
And that was why she had kissed him, at last. Not only to drive away his misery, his self-loathing, but to tell him that she would give him the understanding he longed for; that she would fill that emptiness he felt; that she would try to give him the love he needed.
All else had followed from that.
In public, they were a more demonstrative couple than Tsukushi would have liked, but not as much as Soujiro wanted. But, they still acted much like they always had -- Soujiro a clever flirt, teasing everyone shamelessly, while Tsukushi took a more serious view, always practical and fussily industrious. In private, they would have surprised almost everyone they knew. Soujiro was serious and introspective, while Tsukushi dreamed faraway dreams, pondering all the mysteries that life had yet to reveal to her.
----
With a long sigh, Tsukushi pulled herself from her daydreaming, as a cloud passed over the sun, dimming the warmth of her sunbeam, and waking her from her reflections.
They'd had a late night last night. Sakurako had called to invite them to her engagement ceremony. She hadn't been happy about it. And rightly so; her fiancé was a dreadfully insipid man, attractive in a forgettable sort of way, passable well mannered, and as artificially bland as Wonderbread. Tsukushi found now, that she couldn't even remember the man's name exactly; she knew it was something dreadfully common . . . Sato Takashi? Something like that. It wasn't important. Sakurako had been icily formal to the man throughout the event; and afterwards, it had been worse. Then, Sakurako had started in on the poor man, subtly making cracks at his expense, casually saying the most cutting remarks, in such a sweet voice, that he hadn't even realized how cruel she was being until it was too late. Tsukushi and Shigeru had tried to restrain Sakurako, shushing her repeatedly, while Akira and Soujiro had distracted Sato. Takashi had looked lost and bewildered, finding himself suddenly thrust among such a group of famously rich, not to mention strong willed, friends, and sought to escape back to his equally bland and quiet cronies. The F3 had only been too glad to let him go.
After that debacle, they'd retreated to Sakurako's house, to console the flaming-haired beauty by getting her stinking drunk. When she'd started hitting on Rui, sometime around four AM., everyone suddenly started looking at their watches, and packing up to leave. Akira and Yuki had escaped first, followed soon after by Rui, who kept having to pull Sakurako off of himself. He mostly looked amused as he did so, though-- after all, she was drunk, and wasn't responsible for her actions. Nevertheless, as he repeatedly told the clingy girl, she had a fiancé now, she wasn't his type, and he needed his sleep now, anyway, thank you very much. Sakurako had pouted as he fled; the last single attractive man in their clique, and then had flung herself at Kazuya.
All in all, if it weren't for the undertone of unhappiness running though the event, it would have been a great party. If only the circumstances hadn't been that of Sakurako's unwilling engagement.
Soujiro and Tsukushi had been the last to leave, after making sure Sakurako got to bed, and helping Kazuya escape with his innocence intact. At last, they'd made it back to Tsukushi's place (her brother was sleeping over at a friend's house this night), and collapsed together onto the inviting futon. Soujiro was too tired to bother trying to make it home, and he preferred sleeping with Tsukushi in this lumpy futon, than in his own empty bed, anyway.
Now, it was mid-afternoon, Soujiro still wasn't awake yet, and Tsukushi felt no need to wake him, or move from her own comfortable position in the sunbeam. Were it not for the startling ring of her phone, she probably would have continued to drowse the afternoon away.
"Don't answer it." Soujiro murmured sleepily, as Tsukushi made to get up.
"It might be important!" Tsukushi protested, "what if Susumu needs me? Or my parents?"
"It's probably just Kazuya." Soujiro grumbled, attempting to snag her wrist and pull Tsukushi back under the blankets, but it was too late; she was already on her feet and reaching for the phone.
"Hello?" Tsukushi queried, picking up the receiver. "Oh! Hi Shigeru! What's up?" her voice dropped in concern as she spoke, " . . . You don't sound so good. . . ?"
A long silence ensued, followed by Tsukushi's gasp and the sound of the phone hitting the floor, as it slipped through her suddenly nerveless fingers.
Soujiro made a lunge, and grabbed the phone from where it lay at Tsukushi's feet, "Yo hey, Shigeru? Whatever it is, we'll be right there. Where are you? . . .Right. . .20 minutes. Bye." All traces of sleep had fled from his voice now, as he stood up to grab Tsukushi's unresponsive shoulders. "What happened? Tsukushi? Is everything OK?"
But all she could bring herself to say was, "I should have listened to you. I never should have picked up that phone."
And that was how Soujiro and Tsukushi learned of Tsukasa's impending return to Japan.
To be continued. . .
whew. finally, 3 chapters later, the intro is truly done. on with the plot!
