Windows of the Soul Part 7
As you may have noticed, I enjoy playing with flashbacks, dreams and whatnot at the start of chapters, without specifically indicating them. This is probably confusing, but it probably symbolises... something. Perhaps that Shizuru should quit whining and get on with her life? I'm afraid she'll be like this for a while longer, sadly.
This chapter runs on the principle that you never see characters go to the toilet. Well, a similar principle, anyway.
"Welcome home, ojou-sama."
"Thank you, Hideko," I said, smiling gracefully and handing her my coat. "I would like to take a bath before dinner. Could you arrange that?"
"Of course, ojou-sama." Hideko smiled at me. "Did you enjoy yourself with your friends?"
I frowned, considering. "For the most part, yes. I had an interesting time."
"I'm glad," Hideko said, sounding sincere. I suppose I've been worrying them, after all. For once, that didn't annoy me or upset me or otherwise make me feel guilty. In that respect, even if I'm tired to the bone, I suppose I am in a good mood.
It's an irrational thought. Being happy for Natsuki is tiring, in a way, but after a while it becomes intuitive. Objectively, I should be afraid to look her in the face, and I certainly know I don't deserve to be around her. My days begin and end with those thoughts. But when I'm around her, things become easier more often than they become harder. I'm not sure whether that's her kindness or faith or trust or naivety or the simple fact that when I'm around her, I'm too intent to notice my own thoughts, but it makes things a little easier for me. Perhaps more easily than I deserve, but I understand what she said earlier as well. Stuff like judgement or earning things are all irrelevant. I might as well just live, while bearing in mind what I've done. But wilful self-denial won't fix any problems. I think, anyway. It just gratifies my self-hate.
I walked to my room and shrugged out of my casual clothes, folding them neatly and putting them at the foot of the bed. After that, I donned one of my usual kimonos. I've never really thought about it before, but Natsuki does raise a good point. Why do I wear the damn things all the time? It's not like they're more comfortable. If I had to answer, I would say that I value the symbolism of continuity with the past and fit best with my surroundings. On top of that, they suit my image. None of those things are wrong but if I were to answer more honestly with myself it would probably be simply that my parents do the same thing, and expect that of me. We're subjects of our backgrounds, after all. But aren't teenagers supposed to rebel, after a while? I can't say I ever did that, even though I don't actually live with my parents… perhaps because I don't actually live with my parents… but I keep within boundaries they would probably accept, all the same. Well, apart from having a psychotic episode, killing several people consciously if indirectly, trying to kill another, and flying off to commit mass murder on what could be regarded, a little charitably, as a God's military and civil servants.
Mother would be phoning me later to check I was alright, as well. She's still worried that something terrible has happened to me.
I fell forwards onto my bed, burying my face in the clean sheets and closing my eyes. Yeah, I doubt they'd approve of that. And then there's the other problem, of course. I don't know what my mother would say, but my father would not be happy. Not at all. That would certainly be a circumstance where I wished, once again, for Kiyohime. Or heck, just my Element would be fine. Give me a little present, please, God. I chuckled to myself. Absolutely impossible, of course. Besides, it's not like that would solve anything.
Princess. It's a nickname Natsuki's found for me, somehow. It does describe my personality quite well, though I doubt she's unaware of the double entendre. I'm not sure whether it's a term of affection, or an insult, or just a reminder. What is true is the meaning behind it. For all I exude an aura of hyper-competence, the reality is that I'm no good at practical things. Well, that's normal for a girl my age, isn't it? Well, perhaps not normal, but not truly uncommon either. I can recover from that, and I don't need to feel useless just for that. I'm still a Fujino, though. I don't resent, even though I know everything that it means. Is that really okay? Can I really continue my life fulfilling the role expected of me, without any spontaneity? I'm not sure. I know what Natsuki would say to that, of course, so I've never asked her. But it's better if she concentrates on herself, and what she wants to do. For all her tough talk with me, she also has a long way to go, before she knows what she wants to do with herself.
I concentrated on that, stilling my own thoughts about myself. As ever, present or absent, she is the eye in the heart of my storm. A single point of calm, when everything else is just an uninhibited destructive force. Of course, so present or absent, so past or future. Even if you are safe in a place like that, you may not like what you see, looking outwards. The tempest still rages and so much is annihilated by its passage, so can you really be happy simply by surviving? The problem is… the problem is that I'm a destructive force like that. I can't really make friends, but I can use a lot of people. I can't love men as decent girls should, but I know how to play off their love for me. I can use my intelligence and my money, but I mostly do it to please myself, and I didn't earn those things in the first place. And I just take for granted everyone around me, even when they care about me so much. In that picture, what is Natsuki? Probably only the exception that proves the rule. Then there's the Carnival, of course. That proved that even when I have power, I can't protect anyone with it. I just smash things.
These are all things I can perceive and remember, when I stop and think about myself. Objectively, I'm a monstrous person. Surely Natsuki has seen that? So why does she smile so much when we're together? Perhaps she's just become more optimistic now her past is a settled account. But still I dare hope that I have a chance of keeping that vow I made a long time ago.
Those were pointless thoughts, though. Glorifying my flaws is as arrogant as dwelling on whatever qualities I may ascribe myself, simple presumption. It's a temptation I must avoid now, just as I was young and superior before. I'm hopeful for Natsuki, though. If she can do this, and I will make her do it, insofar as I am able, she will probably lead a happy life. Losing not just one but two school years to her past would be too damning, I think, so I won't let it come to that. From then on, she's smart, beautiful and self-sufficient. Even if she can be lazy from time to time, she has Mai-chan to look after her now. And she's slowly becoming more sociable as well, even in her manner to me. We're more like equals now. No, more than equals now, considering she's willing to talk to someone like me. She's strong and kind, and her future should be wonderful. I can't imagine what she will become. Hopefully, nothing dangerous, though that streak is still alive in her. Perhaps a lawyer? Or a high up in the police? Or a doctor? I'm indulging my fantasies, now, but it's a cute game to play. I've always had everything on my side, so even if I succeed that's meaningless. Natsuki's had everything against her, but I'm sure she has the capability to excel in life.
I wouldn't tell her that, though. She's proud enough as it is.
A knock on my door. "Ojou-sama? Your bath has been prepared."
I pushed myself up, touching my face to make sure I hadn't compromised myself somehow. "Understood. Thank you, I will come presently."
I got up and left my room, following the original and not the informed meaning of the word. I nodded to the maid as I passed and walked through my domain, which is too fine for one girl and attended by too many people that my presence can justify. I'm not even a particularly messy person, though I could afford to be like this, but I've never said anything about it. It's expected of me, my father has the money to burn, and it keeps them in employment. Perhaps I should send one to look after Natsuki? I giggled to myself. Somehow, I doubted that she would be able to withstand the intrusion.
That's the thing about having servants, of course. I opened the door to the bathroom, stepped through, and slipped out of my clothes. You can't really have much in the way of secrets. I doubt Natsuki has anything really compromising, though the image is amusing, but it takes some getting used to. Of course, I've gathered the regal arrogance required, but I try to be conscientious, all the same. And it's for my own defence, as well. Now more than ever before, I must keep some things from them, and by extension, my mother. They know too much already, certainly enough to know that something is wrong.
I slid into the water, sighing as the warmth of it rushed through my body. It may not have cleansing properties and perhaps a trained psychologist would be more helpful- not that I could explain my sins to one- but there's a lot to be said for a good, warm bath at the end of a long day. It's an indulgence I allow myself, as I must allow myself something. And the water really is very warm, close to stifling, something I've insisted on since a long time ago. That doesn't always help, though. I closed my eyes and lapsed into my thoughts, without the constraint of my mental barriers. Here and now, I can feel what I like.
The day and its moments flowed through me, from the first exchanges to our farewells. I'd been arrogant, again, but it was always my way and I still want to see a Natsuki who looks only at me. Even if I say, "I want to guard your smile", isn't it truer to say that I want to steal her eyes away? My possessive streak is no weaker than before. But sometimes I think that's fine. I can ride out her reproaches, if only I can see her face, and for once I can take satisfaction in what I'm doing. This isn't just for my benefit, even though that's one of my major reasons for doing it. It's also to help her, and I am good at helping her, I know that. I am a good teacher, and she is a good learner. And if it's me, who enjoys her company more than anything I could do at home, I don't even need to force myself to force her. It's natural for me to monopolise her time, and if it's on studying, it's all to the good. Whatever else I may think, that's fine. I don't need any special righteousness to do that. Well, perhaps the restaurant was a little overboard, but she seemed to enjoy it.
Things weren't quite so formal, before, but the outcome was the same. Even if I could only snatch a few moments, watching her face was enough. Her eating, something she can relish in some way that I cannot, at least when I'm around her. Her working, with an irritated, determined expression, a balance of frustration and bloody-mindedness… and that wonderful earnestness with which she approaches everything, from my more fanciful word-games to her to her work to those things she really cares about. My safety, with those serious eyes. And so rarely before, a little more now, though smiles. Natsuki rarely fakes smiles, and now only to protect me, because she doesn't mind being austere, so when she does smile, I can feel her happiness. It's an achingly beautiful expression. It's not quite simple and certainly not foolish, but it is a straight-forwards kind of happiness, when she finds a joke or enjoys a moment. The sight takes my breath and haunts me, as it as always done. Those expressive lips, those gentle sapphire eyes, they both speak of something approaching tenderness when she's like that. It's an exquisite sight, one I drink in. Before, it was simply a pleasure to me, but now it's even more fierce and animal. Her smiles and their warmth allow me to stay with her, even if it's only for a little while.
And more than her smiles, her whole face, her whole body, are so animated and expressive. She pouts, stamps, snorts, rolls her eyes, grimaces, frowns, scowls, sighs, rubs her forehead, rests her cheek on her hand and looks away, hiding nothing and letting all her emotions pour outwards. To me, trained and doll-like, genteel and controlled, that overflowing honesty is so mesmerising. Her posture trembles with her feelings, in a way that makes her 'ice princess' reputation a mystery to me. When she is bored or impatient, you will know. But when her emotions are stirred, that ripples through her. Like a harp string, taunt and ready to be plucked, when I talk to her she can become a trembling song, one emotion following the other as she reacts to a moment and forgets it the next. She forgives as easily as she angers, smiles and frowns, and blushes with such a cute, honest heat. Or like a bowstring, she has that deadly intensity. Even if I try to remain in control, her gaze can pierce me through, if I'm not roused and guarded myself. She's uninhibited by her emotions, but she still moves with a pained dignity, holding herself a little in check and safeguarding her pride even as she follows my words avidly and reacts so intently to them. And when she speaks, she penetrates me and fascinates me with her lively unfolding and her guarded hardness both. It's a glittering, icy quality, a complex play. Her intensity leads her on and her pride pulls her back. That interplay, something unique to her, traps my eyes and my mind. I could dwell endlessly on every part of her, every of her words. Even in recollection, her eyes, cheeks, nose, lips, they all project a kind of raw power. At her most dignified, she's as cold as snowmelt. At her most animated, it's an animal intensity. I endlessly watch the pendulum.
It's a shadow, a heat, a quickening, a something that I can neither pin down nor escape. It runs through me, a kind of wilful, toxic intoxication, a haziness that abstracts me from reality because I'm lost in my thoughts of her. Her eyes alone, I could fall for ten thousand times. She haunts me now, in full, as I lay back with the water around me and titillate myself with the danger of these thoughts. It's a heat and a fog, a rising steam that runs through me, passing through my armour and all my Fujino pride and wrapping me in a sickly compulsion, an ephemeral dream. It can't ever to be but I wish it to be, recalling her flushed cheeks and her eyes and her smile, her breath and her sweat and her every unsightly quality. This a compulsion, an addiction, a dragon I can't tame and a dream I can't break. Even after that time, I still recall that time, everything, the sickness of it, her everything, her soft lips against mine, the heat of it. Like the hair she touches so much, so silken and smooth, she is before me, all around me, within reach in my dreams. This is a sin, but I fall into it so softly, the sickness rising in me like gas from a bog. This makes me weak and strong, hot and cold, awake and asleep, all through me. I toy with defiance in my mind but in truth it is already my world, an imperative I am lost in.
I sink into myself, slowly, shamefully, eyes closed and stomach roiling. A thought, a touch, slowly and sensually, I deepen myself, trying to control myself. There's as much sickness in it as there is pleasure, and far more guilt that satisfaction. This is catharsis, a purge, a release, another kind of purification through agony. My hands dare, I breathe, seek, dream, stumbling in the fog without redemption. I am only myself, and my awareness of myself is absolute, that feeling runs through me. I fall through it, to the very end, until the very edifice of feeling collapses and there is nothing but incomprehension and guilt. The urgent compulsion is gone; there is only myself and despair. It always ends like this, but my control always fails me, all the same. I am weak. My body is weak, it always betrays me, but that is no excuse, I am weaker. This reminds me of that, every time. My weakness takes my breath, strangles me, and I am silent.
I lay back, trying to purge myself of everything. Of self. I was lost in such thoughts of not thinking when there was a knock at the door.
"Ojou-sama. Dinner is ready whenever you are finished in there."
I flushed, reflecting on how close things were, and collected myself. "Understood. Give me a few minutes."
No matter the consequences, I cannot escape those thoughts of her, her absolute presence in my life. I don't know whether that is nature's folly for making her too fascinating a presence to resist, or mine for falling, over and over again, like an angel with no wings and no will to fly. But my suspicion is that I can't change my feelings, or at least not with any immediacy. They've stayed with me for years, in various forms, and it isn't easy to let go. In any case, they're the only slender, miserable reason I have. Recovering too quickly from that dream would make me feel like my actions were utterly futile and banal, even if that would be better for both of us. I am trapped in that kind of dilemma. So I've decided to run away from it. Sometimes, that's the sensible thing to do, because some stories are written in such away that there can be no happy ending.
I unlocked the door to my apartment and shoved it open, staggering through. I just about remembered to close the door behind me, kicked off my shoes, and headed for my bedroom. It felt a little too far away, so I gave up, dumping my bag unceremoniously on the floor and peeling my jacket off me and sticking it over a chair. After that, I fell onto the sofa and closed my eyes. It had certainly been too hot, but I can bear with that. For the most part, I was mentally exhausted, and I wanted to rest my head a little. Talking with Shizuru is tiring at the best of times, and not because she's a bad conversationalist. But you always have to watch her words, she can make a joke out of anything and the unwary will be mutilated by her capricious humour. I've learned how to hold her off, but it certainly requires attention. And that's not talking about the times when she becomes lyrical, metaphorical and indirect, alluding subtly to anything and everything that's on her mind and expecting you to follow the reference or wordplay. She has the voice of a poet, which can be nice but is mostly just obfuscating. It doesn't help that I have the ears of a soldier, who says and hears what is necessary, no more and no less.
And on top of that, things are now even harder. Those trailing sentences and brooding words, the tension and sensitivity, they all mean I need to focus and consider her feelings. Before, I let her do all the consideration, and just said whatever. I can understand why I did, as being conscientious is a pain in the ass. So much thinking. And that was the breaks! My head rang with words in different languages and altogether too much academic learning from someone who happens to be a very precise and exacting tutor. On top of that, she'd dragged me from bed that early in the morning. It wasn't exactly surprising that I felt a little worn out.
I also have a soldier's constitution, though, so it wasn't like I wasn't used to this kind of tiredness. It was pretty soft, compared to some times. Especially the orphan days. A day of school followed by a night of combat is very bad for you. It's no wonder I took the healthy option, skipped, and ended up in this position. A little lie down, though, and I would feel fine. It was good to relax after this kind of work, I think she told me once, it means your recall would be better. Or something. Even if she didn't say that, I'm going to take that advice.
I grabbed the magazine Shizuru had been reading earlier and flicking through it idly, looking for an article I hadn't read yet. Her words crept back to me, across space or time, and made me flush at the memory. Shizuru… has to make something out of anything. It's so embarrassing. But I guess I can understand, if I think about it. I mean, I can see why men would find it appealing. It's well done, at least. And I just need to look with those eyes, see it as Shizuru does, and then it makes sense. It's just a- weird- thought. On the other hand, it's a stereotype, isn't it? Dykes on bikes, or something. I've been called that, before. That's just bullshit that pisses me off as a woman. Yes, we can ride a bike. Get with the program. I imagine it's worse for actual lesbians. But don't they make something of it as well? I don't know, I'm not an expert. I wonder whether Shizuru's ever been called that kind of thing, though. If someone did that, I'd kick their ass. It has nothing to do with what she's done to me, or what I feel for her. Bullshit is bullshit. I doubt it's ever happened, though. She makes such a secret of it, and I guess I can understand why. I mean, heck, even I didn't know before the Carnival, and I was the one who knew her most. That kinda tells me what kind of friend I was, I suppose, but I've always been slow. Now I could revisit every moment and question it… but I won't. I'm going to let my memories be.
And my bike is my baby. I haven't taken her out as much I should, not now that I've been domesticated by Mai and Shizuru and don't need to meet with shady types in the darker part of town. I turned a page, frowning. Perhaps I should take her out tonight. Some fresh air and wind in my face could do me some good. Whenever life becomes too complicated- whenever Shizuru is around for more than a few minutes, in short- there's no way to throw unneeded thoughts out of my head like a good ride. I chuckled. Hopefully all those words and numbers wouldn't fall out with them. Wouldn't that be telling?
But there was also a nagging feeling that I was forgetting something, and sadly I was in my riding trousers and shrugging on my jacket when I remembered. Takeda's letter. I hadn't actually had a chance to deliver it, not after Shizuru kidnapped me at an early moment of the morning, and then I forgot all about it. That gave me the time to have some doubts about bothering at all. Wasn't it embarrassing? But I threw that out. Three more days, damnit. No time at all. That's why that declaration out of nowhere was so annoying in the first place. She could have given me fair warning! Though to be fair, I would just treat it as I do homework, and only get serious when there was hardly any time left. That wasn't the point. I was serious now, I'd have to be. So I'd go and deliver the damn letter. Considering he's also in the dorms, it'd take all of two minutes, then I could go for a ride.
I got out my boots, pulled them on, and left. It was a quick walk downstairs, past the doors… and then I hit on a problem, I couldn't remember which door he was offhand… but I remembered before I had to do anything so embarrassing as call Mai and ask. I fixed my eyes on the goal and strode purposefully towards it, sliding the letter out of my pocket. All good.
With retrospect, I was suffering from classic target fixation. Consequently, I jumped about two feet in the air when someone behind me said "Kuga!" Because I am myself, I also turned abruptly, lowered my centre of gravity and stuck my hand inside my jacket, fingers touching on where I'd taped my knife.
Takeda looked down at me in surprise. God looked down on me, cracked up, and ate popcorn happily. Would an angel please tell me exactly what I did or failed to do to deserve this? I'll go and talk to Nao the Nun, already, so stop being so godamn awkward to me!
I coughed, straightening slightly. "Yo, Takeda," I said nonchalantly. "This is a coincidence."
Okay, that didn't come across as very convincing.
"What are you doing down there?" he asked, initially too puzzled to blush. That comes after. Then he caught sight of what I was holding. "Is that-"
The letter. Which I'd crumpled badly when my fists balled. I stuck it awkwardly behind my back, standing abruptly and staring him down. "Nothing. You want to go in, right? I'll get out of your way."
"No, no, not at all." Takeda rubbed the back of his head, smiling uneasily. "H-how are you?"
Perhaps stabbing him wasn't such a bad idea after all. It would be quicker and kinder. "I'm fine," I said absently, mind racing. I could let him go in, then post it, but that would certainly make me look weak. And wouldn't it be cruel, considering? I'm pretty sure rejecting someone by letter is bad form as it is, but that would be worse. On the other hand, I can't just hand it to him…
"Oh. Good." He frowned, flushing slightly. "W-what's that letter?"
"Letter?" I asked, face twitching. "What letter?"
Well, my mind only works fast about gunshots and stabby things. You need Shizuru for this convincing lying business, and she was elsewhere. Even if she was here, she'd just laugh herself silly.
"The one behind your back," Takeda said, looking bemused.
I blushed, twitching again. This was bad. Handing it to him was no good, and if I spend that long finding the words on paper it would be completely hopeless trying to ad lib it. Am I allowed to read it out?
But his eyes fixed on my face. "Could it be-" he cut himself off abruptly, looking happier than I'd ever seen him before, and held out a hand. "Is that for me?"
Back to the wall. No escape. "Y-yes-" I admitted. Multiple past understandings played graphically through my mind. Oh, I'd been through worse. But if it's this clumsy guy-
"Then, can I have it?" Takeda pressed, looking like he'd seen the bright and hopeful light of an impending supernova heading straight for him.
"No!" I snapped automatically.
"No?" He blinked. "But-"
"Here," I stammered, taking it out from behind my back. "Look, I've crumpled it. I'll go and write a new one for you, so just forget it for now, okay?"
"No, this is fine," he said hastily, snatching it from me before I could say anything more. "You don't have to go to that kind of trouble…" He unfolded it and opened the envelope.
That moment definitely rated somewhere between "buggered" and "completely fucked" on the crisis scale. At that order of magnitude, retreat is the smart option. "Well, then, that was all," I said hastily, waving my hands. "I won't disturb you any more, so I'll get going-"
I tried to turn, but somewhere he found the courage to grab my hand by the wrist. "Please wait," he said earnestly, looking at me. I grimaced back, resigning myself to my dark fate.
As he unfolded the letter, I wished I'd made it longer. And more polite. And perhaps with a few preliminaries about his many wonderful qualities and about how it was me, not him, or something… there's probably a lesson in here somewhere.
His face abruptly fell, excitement collapsing as fast as it had come. "Kicking a puppy" is an adequate metaphor for most such cases, but it doesn't quite cover his face in that moment. "Shooting a puppy with a .44 magnum" would about cover his level of confused hurt and betrayal.
"I see…" he said at last, lowering the letter.
I fidgeted, trying to avoid eye contact. "Well, that's how it is… sorry…"
"You don't have to be sorry," Takeda said, waving hurriedly. "It's fine… I kinda saw this coming anyway…"
Why do I feel so guilty? He's right, of course, it can't be helped. It's natural. But I still feel in the wrong, somehow. It's something I have learned, though. Love is a serious business, as serious as life and death. "I'm sorry," I repeated, turning away. It's not like I can say 'let's just be friends', we were hardly even that.
"So, who's your most important person?" Takeda blurted, staring at me.
I stopped and blinked. "Huh?"
"Well, it says here… you don't have to reply, but…"
I tried to think of a good way to phrase the answer, and failed completely. I just shook my head.
"Could it be… Fujino-san?"
I stared at him with a mixture of shock and dismay. Where did thatcome from? "Why do you say that?"
Takeda flushed. "Well, you spend a lot of time with her… and I just wanted to say I'm totally cool with that… even though it's unusual… but I guess I'm wrong, sorry!"
I tried to work out a lot of things at once. Since when did he see so clearly? How could he say that so easily after I completely rejected him? And what the hell was I supposed to do? The situation's not simple…
But somewhere in the middle of his innocent face I found an idea, of a kind, a way of softening the blow. I smiled softly. "Yes. You're right, Takeda. So it really isn't your fault at all… it's me."
He blushed furiously. "Y-yes?"
I turned and waved over my shoulder. "See you later!" I said, running like hell. My cheeks burned. Why the hell did I say that for? Isn't that just going to cause misunderstandings? What if he spreads it around? Heck, what if Shizuru hears of it? I really need to start thinking before I speak…
But at least it was over. One problem transmuting into another aside, at least he understood the reason why I had to shoot him down. For the sake of my most important person.
