HOW THEY WISH IT WAS RAINING
-TheSilentReader-
CHAPTER 9:
After the Tenth Count
Premierière
Ogasawara Sachiko sat rigidly on a sofa at the living room of the Ogasawara mansion, inspecting dispassionately at a pleated part of her Lillian uniform, having confused thoughts of getting rid of them (with successive brushes of her palms) or just leave it there. The uniform was to be rid for the laundry anyway, so why bother? Before the sixteen-year-old girl was a tall boy smiling so warmly, rolling the contents of his teacup with ease as he laughed heartily because of a small, mundane comment made by Sachiko's mother. The seventeen year-old boy, who was finally becoming a man his upbringing expected of him, Kashiwagi Suguru taught himself that indulging to small efforts of Sayako Obaa-sama would be enough for the poor woman to rid more pressing personal matters. It was the least he could do.
If there were nervousness in Sachiko's features, she would not show it; if there were exhaustion overwhelming Suguru's lithe, muscular body, he dismissed it by instinct.
However, their minds were thinking of the same intention: it was to rid Ogasawara Sayako from the living room—a proof that neither of them would ever reveal their hidden skin, with the skirmish hanging between them. This was a battle of wits, and no one likes to be a sore loser.
Finally, Sayako left them to their own devices—Sachiko talked quite eagerly about the weather and Kashiwagi joined in to discuss the inventive science behind the improvement of biotechnology against declining agriculture of rice in the uplands—it was all humdrum that Sayako chose to leave them at peace. Besides, maybe Sachiko was finally giving the boy a chance; she was rather too disagreeable and impulsive whenever Suguru-kun was in the same room as hers lately.
When Sayako closed the doors, the princess finally chose to remove of those little white lint upon her skirt—a deed she hastily accomplished in front of an observing Suguru—in a pace that was very unbecoming for a purebred lady like herself. Suguru, however, slouched on his seat and further opened his legs and propped his head to his elbow-supported palms, his shoty, black hair swaying as if it had life.
"So, you have moved on." He started.
Sachiko swished her final effort for the lint with a faint snort, "Of course I have. It was not as if you're the only man who could hold my interest so effectively, Guru-kun. I was a bit overwhelmed with my fits of tears in our last encounter alone."
"True, Sa-chan. But, I shall correct you. I am the only man who can understand you." He crowed, his voice titillating, like symphonies of angels. "Perhaps the only man you wanted."
It was a stab upon her chest, but she neither ignored it nor rejected it. It was a fact.
"That is also correct." She agreed softly, but challenged. "But it's also the same for you, Guru-kun."
The boy smiled as his form of reply. It was enough for Sachiko to feel liquid upon her knees, air in her lungs and stirring in her belly. He stood up from his seat, walked past the table separating them and knelt before her, like a knight for his lady. The whole room seemed to dim as she watched his form before her, relishing the moment . . . that somehow, she was momentarily above him in station. She smirked at her thoughts of raking her hands on his soft, ebony hair.
While her right leg was crossed over her left one, she watched his hand cupped the sock-covered sole of her right foot, then slid his nimble fingers along the skin covering her Achilles' tendon, then her calf. By that time, her smirk had stretched wider when he said, "Would you like me to grant you a favor?"
Then, he kissed her pleated skirt-covered knee.
Sachiko rejected the offer by swinging her left leg to cross above the right. "That would make the efforts too fruitless, would it not?"
"Of course."
He returned to his seat once more, reveling now he found Sachiko finally wearing her own skin before him, in exchange of the prim, straight-laced girl she pretended to be.
Deuxième
Fukuzawa-san returned his smile with a brighter grin of her own. He intended not pamper the innocent girl with his own sickening dose of cheerfulness—that would appear to everyone to be banal and conceited. He found her pigtails very amusing to watch—just the sway of the manes left and right as she walked slowly upon the cobbled pathway—and it made him wonder of the reason this girl was sent for him.
Of course, she belonged to the student council; who would bother to collect him from the Lillian gates except the high school division's Yamayurikai? Yumi (very interesting name) reviewed his accomplishments like engraved encryption in an ancient rock tablet; he doesn't mind the celebratory welcome this time, unlike back then, when all he heard about from everyone was songs of praise from betraying Judases. This time, the complements felt more . . . genuine and pleasant.
Unlike with others, when he always braced for his back for backstabbing.
Steps ahead after the statue of Maria-sama he found Sachiko lurking behind a ginkgo tree—a very unlikely sight for a woman who hated them during spring. She found him unguarded (damn it) before a first year who had been pacing unhurriedly. He prepared a glare so deadly for that prude (retaliation for his forgetfulness that he was in Sachiko's territory) but he found her glaring too.
(What is this?)
He expected her to be smirking, like back when he first made his move on her (oh, that failed seduction at the living room). This is not what he thought of her.
Yumi-san, however, proceeded on talking to him about Lillian's Maria-sama and Hanadera's Shakyamuni, and her indoor shoes, without realizing that Sachiko was watching them attentively. Suguru took his time replying to Yumi but simultaneously monitoring Sachiko's movements.
He was violating something of Sachiko's possession. Something that she doesn't want him to know. When he searched for Sachiko's face, she disappeared.
"Eh?" Yumi-san whispered, her voice trailing along with the inquiry she was about to share with Suguru. She must have noticed her.
Because when Suguru found himself alone with Sachiko, his assumptions flashed true before his eyes. This girl—Yumi—was not like the girls Sachiko chose to ignore before. She was like the lint in her skirt: irritating and omnipresent. No, nothing like that—like an interesting pet?
Naturally growing on you as time flies?
Oh, it was so exciting. Sachiko's slap and his less acrobatic, graceless fall upon ginkgo seeds were not enough to quell his admiration to Sachiko's fascination for that little girl. That little girl who paled at the sight of him stealing a kiss from Cinderella, and who rushed to follow a storming Sachiko toward the auditorium.
"I'm sorry, but Kashiwagi-san won't cut it!" He heard Yumi as she sprang for her teary senior.
(Oh, so now, Sachiko was really crying, isn't she.)
Troisième
"And so, you took her as your little sister." He paused for a confirmation.
"Yes, I did." Sachiko said. She was on her bed; a thick blanket covering until her waist. She did not put down the hardbound novel she was holding, even when the bedsprings faintly creaked as Suguru sat on the side, looking intently at her. She found no sense in stopping her reading; the boy did not block the lamp's light from the side-drawers—the only source in the large, luxurious bedroom.
Suguru smiled gently as he crooned his complements for the lovely girl in sleeveless sleeping gown. "There is nothing wrong in admitting it, Sachiko. For once, I found a gentle, compassionate heart behind those wonderful tits of yours."
She smiled at the vulgar mention of her breasts. He found Suguru's hand trailing from the side of her waist going to the swell at the side of her chest.
It made the prude drop her book. "Why, thank you. But it's not hard to believe that you acquired those smooth, glib words from the Ogasawara side." She looked at him to the eyes and braved an arrogant scowl. "I've stomped your foot many times in the dance scene but still, you're chanting overly-used pleasantries at a constant rate."
"Am I like your father, whose prick is like a broken compass, pointing obstinately on all directions? I object. I discriminate, Sa-chan. And you belonged to that short list of people I want to see their clothes torn," He hovered his face dangerously near to Sachiko's neck; the latter moved her book for the light and pretended to be so ignorant of his attack. She concentrated her eyes on the illuminated page of the book. "Say, Cinderella, when midnight strikes? No pun intended."
She was a fast reader. But the page had not been turned ever since he came to her bedroom.
His hands were on her sides, gently caressing up and down her body. She shifted to let him have his way on her; besides, these meetings with him came close to a booty call. Only that she always stopped him from going too far, or he always backed away when he was to close to threshold.
They see at each other's body like fresh meat, always mindful of every taut muscle or soft fat, and satisfied themselves with little nips and bites. There was always something—a memory, the mood, an interruption—that made their supposedly booty calls be aborted.
Looking at each other's faces, was the hardest thing to do.
That's why he would settle on touching her everywhere else, eliciting little moans in the process. He would settle on stroking her long, long legs, kissing the back of her knees up to the her thighs, kneading gently the swell of her breasts—pinching her nipples in the process, feeling her buttocks upon his covered groin, or touching secrets beyond her inner thighs.
In turn, she would latch herself to him, her covered thighs circling his waist, her teeth biting his shoulders, her long thin fingers stretching as their nails bit down from his broad back to his unsuspecting buttocks. Or stroke him through his boxers sometimes.
They would have done those—only those—this time, but she felt that the subject of their discussion was pouring them cold water.
Yet the warmth between them was enough to allow little touches such as this.
She feigned nonchalance. "And you rejected my offer, before. What a shame. Flattery from my father and grandfather would get them nowhere, but yours strike right through me, Guru-kun."
Suguru dropped his amused façade and enforced a concerned air. "What have they done?" He held her shoulder, as if to take any bad thoughts out her, like a big brother would have done. Sachiko was surprised at the abruptness of his hands, but not his intention.
She huffed, as she put away Suguru's hand. "Calm down. It's not like that."
"I thought they would go that far."
"They are not Ogasawara's if they would stoop that low." She joked.
"This is not a joke." He growled.
"Oh, please." She whined, but it a different matter. His father's philandering habits still tore her insides. He understood. "We may—I may hate my parents, but what you were thinking is not on my list."
He briefly kissed her on the forehead and stood. "I must go and leave you for now. You should sleep early and find time to read in the morningafter. Your anemia sprouts from fatigue for staying up late, Sa-chan, not from you waking up early."
Sachiko pouted at the audacity of Suguru striking her flaw upon her impeccable image. "I will. I'll take care of my body just for you, Guru-kun." She said rather sensually, dropping her voice low—a voice Suguru had trouble recovering.
But he had other ideas in her mind. Sachiko had brought him something else interesting. "By the way, I like her, your petite soeur. Would you mind sharing her to me?"
He heard a muffled "You bastard." through the door he had shut.
Quatrième
It was in a rainy, springtime afternoon when she shared her first kiss with someone, let alone with a girl. Although she had touched Suguru's lips lightly in one of their private talks, she had hovered her mouth upon Suguru's, but it was never this full. She had forgotten how tired she was when Yumi collected her in her arms and confessed.
Sachiko's grandmother had died; the only adult in the family that she really cared about.
No one had seen Sachiko they way her grandmother would have. She had known Sachiko's dubious façade at first sight; she had seen Sachiko tending her anger towards her parents and grandfather from a little bud into a groping, rummaging vine, seeping through creases and cracks of Sachiko's perverted mind. It was heartbreaking—the first and probably the last person that truly knew her had been gone to the heavens. God must have such a good companion up there now.
When Yumi kissed her relentlessly, Sachiko did not stop her petite soeur to probe her tongue and touch Sachiko's. Yumi must have sensed that this intimacy was wrong—Sachiko was in the middle of her grieving—and attempted to pull away from Sachiko's arms, but she was stopped. The raven-haired Rosa Chinensis had an iron grip of Yumi's head. Sachiko needed nothing right now except Yumi's attention. Her alone.
And her tongue.
Yumi was swift enough to pool the length the skirt of Sachiko's uniform upon her waist after pinning her down to the four-poster bed. Sachiko looked everywhere, unable to protest because she knew what Yumi was going to do. She halfway noticed that the curtains safely tucked at the posts must cover them, before anything could happen, but she gave up. She was immediately hooked to her desire for Yumi's face between her legs. And kiss her and bite her and run her tongue on her like a rabied dog—eyes red, mouth hanging, and tongue glazed with saliva for her cunt.
Why was she not hesitant? She overtly was with Suguru . . . they were in the brink that he was about to tore her skirt and panties and to go down on her like this, yet why was she so trusting with it for Yumi alone?
She felt her awareness towards her petite soeur as addictive as her aborted spoils with Suguru. She could have found someone better, a man of greater character than him, but all she had found was Yumi, who had spared her comfort she could not find in anyone. Not even Suguru. Not even his taunting words, or his challenging dares. She was willing to put them away, to leave her past behind, just as long as Sachiko could have Yumi.
In those months ever since she met Yumi, she never thought of love as assuring and fearless as before.
Yumi was never as brave as she was, not even in her fantasies. She could not point her finger in this moment when she was finally able to see Sachiko. Must it be the perverseness that she would gladly tear Sachiko's sadness away by just pleasuring her? It was the first thing that came into her mind. Sachiko felt that everyone left her when her grandmother died; now, Yumi must fill that void and instill to Sachiko that she's here, I exist, I love you, and I will make love to you so that you will never feel that you are alone.
And taking her cunt will make a fierce impression that she meant what she meant.
When Yumi looked at Sachiko, she was still lost in the sea of bliss. Yumi thought to herself, I made her happy. I did. I did make her happy. She was desperate to see Sachiko's satisfied face, which Yumi had not seen for a long time. It was always what Yumi wanted, to make her happy. She was so selfish; she had not thought of Sachiko's distress and had become jealous of Touko-chan.
She had doubts before, but seeing Sachiko's grin as she rode the wave of orgasm was enough for her to realize that Sachiko is hers.
She put her arms to her sides to support her weight above Sachiko as she planted herself between her and kissed Sachiko on the lips.
Sachiko could taste the tang of herself saturated on Yumi's tongue. She thought that there's nothing wrong with Yumi doing her task so eagerly all the time.
When Yumi broke the kiss, Sachiko could not help but whimper in protest. Seeing Sachiko distressed and unsatisfied, Yumi reached for the ribbons securing her pigtails and pulled them. It was enough. Sachiko kissed her more ferociously, more bravely, from the mouth leading down to the neck and collarbone. Yumi even allowed her to reach her left breast and latched to it, in which Yumi returned with a long breathless sigh.
But Yumi pushed her suddenly—too suddenly. Her face, colored showed desire and wanting, was replaced with embarrassment. The movements of her eyes were fast enough for Sachiko to suspect trouble lurking beside they fateful reconciliation. She turned around, and probed to the direction where Yumi's eyes guiltily wandered.
She found Suguru looking at them. But Sachiko found no disgust nor ostracism. She found his eyes hooded, as if savoring the sight before him.
It was true then, what Suguru had told her—he has a deep lust for Fukuzawa Yumi. She belonged to his shortlist.
Cinquième
Yumi would have forgotten her embarrassment of her self-consciousness for Sachiko's cousin, if Yuuki had not brought Kashiwagi-san and Kobayashi-san to the house often these past few weeks. She forced herself not to weaken at the sight of him with Yuuki, too afraid of her brother discovering that his sempai had known more than he'd appeared to be.
How could she forget that her first time with Sachiko, or with anyone else for God's sake, was reduced as a peep show for Suguru?! It left a dent in her that she was afraid of the second time—if ever it will be possible, for every time she would lay her hands on Sachiko's body, she will remember that Kashiwagi had found them at their barest of desires. She could not even fathom the idea of how long he had been seeing them had sex—she felt go good in pleasing Sachiko that time stretched too long for her. She felt so tired and rejuvenated at that time that she could do it for hours.
Yet Kashiwagi made all attempts for having that second time with Sachiko an unfulfilled dream.
Kashiwagi was as nonchalant as ever, as if the moment that transpired at the funeral had never happened. But when Yuuki was not looking, Suguru would narrow his eyes and focus on hers—adamant to violate her reticence.
What she dreaded were the times that Kashiwagi, Yuuki and Kobayashi will be using their house as their meeting place, even though their parents were not present. Yuuki asked their permission without even informing her. She would be alarmed of the moment of being alone together . . . what will she say to him? What will he . . . do?
She had seen the look on his face when he watched them. She did not know who he was watching—her or Sachiko. But, maybe it was Sachiko. But she knew that Kashiwagi rejected her two years ago, and he was not interested in women, yet why was he so transparent in showing his lust?
Thus, such dreaded possibility came true. Yuuki and Kobayashi had gone away because they left needed documents in Hanadera that needed advice from Kashiwagi. In haste and shame for having their sempai wait to long, they left him to Yumi, who would cook for Yuuki and his companions at that time, as substitute for her absent mother.
She was sure she would turn into salt if she took just a mere glance at Kashiwagi's direction.
She was in the kitchen when she heard him say, "How are you and Sa-chan?" How she hated it when he called her that. She looked at him unconsciously and there, the tension made the air seemed too humid.
He walked near her and started looking at the ingredients. She was holding a knife, intended to protect herself for whatever that would happen. She replied, "I appreciate it if we won't talk about this."
She was now mincing garlic when he said, "You are with my closest cousin. I'll be concern of her business. Even with the people she's fucking with."
He was preparing to boil water and she was now moving for the onions when she tried to put threat in her voice, "This is not your concern, Kashiwagi-san."
He placed the pot of water to the stove, and turned the burner on. Then he walked to her direction; his eyes angry as he spat, "What do you think I'll feel when I see you going down on my fiance? You are the nuisance—"
"SHUT UP!"
He was never afraid of his life than ever before as he felt her fingernails slitting the side of his cheek. Yumi just scratched him. He looked at the direction of her chopping board, thanking that the knife she was holding a while ago was there. And if he haven't grabbed her arms, she would have tore something else other than the skin of his cheek. He pulled her arm and forced her to look at him.
She was trying hard not to cry. "Do . . . do you think I didn't know that she could leave me later on?"
He was astonished of how aware she was with the future. "I'm sorry."
Then she noticed that lines of blood were trailing downwards. Her failed thrust had cut a little deep upon his cheek. She immediately realized that she had done too much, that she had lost her self. Tears fell from her eyes. Kashiwagi held her still.
"You—you're bl-bleeding!" she hoarsely said, horrified at what she had done.
She could not place what happened to her when she took her hands on the sides of her head and licked his bloodied skin. She stayed like that for what she perceived was a long time, her eyes very closed, wishing gravely for blood to please please please please do not flow, please stop this bleeding, I don't want to see blood, I hate the sight of it, please heal . . .
Until she felt herself lying on the couch.
The smell of spaghetti sauce in the air was relaxing, and then, she felt hungry. She could not remember cooking the sauce. She opened her eyes and found Suguru looking at her. When he saw her woke up, he put her hand to her forehead and gave her a glass of water. She took and drank from it.
"You look pale."
The scratch on his cheek was still bare, but it was void of blood. A thin line would not leave a mark.
Several minutes later, Kobayashi and Yuuki were at the door. They never said anything about the different cooking (Yumi's sauce was not like this), and the gash on Kashiwagi's cheek. When Yuuki asked about it, he said that he had an accident with the knife he was holding while he was slicing onions. Yuuki offered bandages for it.
In the rest of their visits, Kashiwagi did not even give Yumi a chance to explain or even to apologize. He just stared at her to keep her mouth shut, as if he would reveal to Yuuki that she was the cause of Kashiwagi's wound. Many things will be revealed if that happened.
He just stared. Which she found not so intimidating.
She felt sullied not because of this, but her unwanted, yet undeniable lure for Kashiwagi Suguru. She was indirectly cheating against Sachiko.
Somehow, she kind of liked it. His attentions.
Very much like Sachiko, but with a gruff, unexplored, masculine feel. It was Yumi's first opinion as a woman who never been with a boy who irked ever since she was able to think consciously.
Something in the summer must have boiled her brains into thinking of Sachiko's cousin even after a week of being alone with Sachiko in her summer house. Sachiko and Yumi might have hurdled through a silly lot called society, but Yumi did not bother to ask herself questions that would dig more for her building interest about Sachiko's life. She may be honest with Yumi, she may welcome the possibility of answering Yumi's questions, but she may not tell them all. The truth.
She was insecure of how far she could manage to snake out every nook and cranny of how Ogasawara Sachiko lived her life apart from her society and upbringing. Of how far Yumi was prepared to forage Sachiko's psyche, further than the skin that demonstrates The Ice Princess.
Kashiwagi Suguru was one of her shovel.
Sixième
"Tell me. Is it after she became your petite soeur or after your little moment in Oba-sama's funeral?"
"Again, she is not my plaything." Sachiko hissed.
Suguru was reading a book that Sachiko had finished—a genre that Sachiko had tried after she buried her nose to Japanese literary classics, a contemporary romance novel. Whoever has convinced her to read andfinish the book was worthy of cookies from Suguru. It was not an everyday experience that a person could easily pursuade Sachiko to accomplish such an inane change. She must have been sick of her catalogue of boring books that even their grandparents would be caught sick reading.
It must be Yumi and her friends in the student council.
It was rather fun. Suguru had been lying on the couch in Sachiko's bedroom, flicking through the pages of this divisive book that reduced Sachiko into a fit of brooding at the corner of her four-poster bed. She stopped fighting to grab the book away from him at the first sight of his hands picking up the book on the top of the bed's side drawer. It was enough to induce a speechless taunting.
"By the way, did you know that Yumi-chan has a persistent stalker at Lillian?"
After a length of silence, she spoke, "I had an idea. How did you know about this?"
"Oh, just one of my kohai reached out to me to be Yumi's boyfriend for an afternoon." He gloated. "Actually, I volunteered. I was lucky enough to overhear the council's chitchat that when they mentioned her name, I abandoned all restraints and beg them to join the discussion."
"And you are, in effect, jovial just with your small encounters with my petite soeur?" She dared.
"Small? I never consider them small encounters, Sa-chan."
"Why don't you stick to your own kohai, Suguru?" Her tone was clipped when she mentioned his name. Was she regretting her words? The boy frowned—Sachiko was not as blunt as she used to be.
"You mean Yuuki-san? I never thought you'd even suggest that. All the more a reason that I believe Yumi-chan is more your plaything, than a serious lover." He prodded.
"I never said names. Shall I suggest Alice-san's or Masamune-san's instead to negate your beliefs?" She warned.
Both Suguru and Sachiko regretted that the kohai was included in the conversation. No . . . everything seemed idle apart from her. Yet, even deconstructing Yumi was enough to open old wounds and tearing down newly-built fortresses around them.
"I am surprised, too. I expected you to give your best shot. But all you've done was just . . . this." She complained. "I expected you to take her away from me the moment you noticed her. I was agitated ever since." Sachiko let gravity draw her body into the soft mattress of her bed. She was prepared to sleep her worries and let Suguru leave without her permission, because she was barely keeping her temper in check at the sight of the boy. It was too long ever since she felt revolted—it was two years ago, when he rejected her advances.
When he remembered the time Yumi kissed his wound, he felt that he was betraying Sachiko. He felt Yumi's pain of knowing the certainty that their relationship would meet a dead end soon, and even though he tried to neglect it, he tried by doing things the way he initially does—which was to get ahead of Sachiko—these were beginning to take a hold of the scruples that he used to lack before.
He tried to seduce Yumi, literally, once.
"I tried."
Sachiko, who was already lying down (her back at Suguru), tried not to jerk. He murmured, "I tried to kiss her. A stupid suggestion to make the act more realistic. But she threw that option to the wind. She said that it was not a good idea, particularly when there was someone watching us."
"Then, if the girl—whoever that sow is—were not keeping her eyes on you, Yumi might have accepted?" The question was as painful as pealing off the whole layer of skin.
He lied down next to Sachiko, and embraced her from behind. Even though both of them were fully clothed—he was in his long-sleeved, collared shirt and black slacks, while she was in her ankle-length nightgown—they were naked to each other as their fully reciprocated, unadulterated honesty.
His breath warmed the hood of her ear when he said, "Who knows. Why don't you ask her?"
There was no seduction in his words, only uncertainty.
Septième
"Now, explain to me why he hasn't done anything." She stonily insisted. They were alone in the greenhouse.
Her question was more of a conundrum.
Too much time had passed before Sachiko had the courage to ask her about Suguru. She knew that her cousin did attempt to chase her petite soeur since Kanako's overzealous obsession over Yumi. Even after the Yamayurikai play and the school festival had passed, Sachiko had too much on her mind that striking a supercilious dominance over her lover was too tiresome and straining, just imagining it.
Their meetings in the greenhouse were never calculated, as well as Sachiko's question after their heady make-out session. Bringing up Suguru was always the deal-breaker. It ruined perfect conversations and the mood for heavy petting.
"Onee-sama, I don't think I would allow him to kiss me, even though we were just pretending." Yumi meekly retorted, as she pulled herself away from Sachiko's embrace.
It was true, then. Suguru proved himself to be fully honest with Sachiko. Yumi chose not to run away from Sachiko's concern; uncharacteristic of her to do. It became a nagging thought that Yumi was having a confused impression of Suguru, besides her early assumption that her petite soeur hated Suguru because he rejected her two years ago.
"I told him not to." Yumi repeated, force overtaking her timid voice.
"Be honest with me." Sachiko frowned at her audacity to demand answers as if it was Yumi's fault.
"I . . . I ask you the same thing." Yumi clenched her hands into fists. She was trying her hardest to look straight to Sachiko's eyes. It was her turn to raise her voice. "I can feel that there is more of you and Kashiwagi-san than most people know. More than anyone knows. More than I know."
Sachiko deferred from winning. She knew that both she and Suguru made this happen. "I won't deny that he has the worst of faults, that he has what I hate the most in men. Yes, he is manipulative, he is almost cruel, but at the same time, he is sympathetic. He doesn't lie to me. I trust him."
The contrasts were appalling. The girl in pigtails declared in struggling menace. "You still love him."
Sachiko shuddered. She whispered, almost disoriented to breathe properly, "Do I appear as the worst woman you've ever met? Because I don't blame you at all. Not a bit." Then, she straightened her posture, ready to face all consequences. "As a matter of fact, I drove you into this. I've let you seen too much. Suguru and I have become disfigured before your eyes."
"I won't be surprised if you don't want me anymore."
Yumi never felt guilty in her entire life. She was confused about Suguru, and if they had the same conversation, it could turn out like this. It was her wishful thinking, that his grace of being honest to his friends would be extended to her. But Sachiko could read her, like a lover and sister should. And Sachiko understood. Because they were similar.
In silent tears, Yumi shouted before Sachiko caught her by her back to embrace and kiss her again. "I don't understand why I couldn't even become upset. Why couldn't I?!"
Huitième
She was inside Sachiko's bedroom, right after the doctor was dismissed after the general check-up on the Ogasawara heiress' health. The moment the door was closed and locked, Yumi ran to Sachiko's bed and took her lips in a languid kiss.
All was said and done. Sachiko wanted Yumi to hold her hand. Kashiwagi might have known her all her life, but it was Yumi who she wanted to be with when she was weak like this. Sachiko gave her assurance but it did not erase the fact that when Suguru came into Sachiko's rescue, his face soften and his arms sturdied—his strength was more than enough to carry Sachiko. His face showed more than concern that a brother would show. When he noticed Yumi watching him, he entrusted Sachiko to the younger girl, without hesitation, without jealousy. He just demonstrated how to be selfless.
Weren't they competing for Sachiko's love?
Were they really?
Because after Kashiwagi drove Yuuki and Yumi back home after a long day in the amusement park, after Yuuki gave him a glare as he strode into the doors when Yumi wanted to talk to Kashiwagi alone, and after their heated discussion about jealousy, types of love and insurance, Yumi found Kashiwagi's teasing about not minding to be Yumi's fiancé not a fucking joke. He intended to get into Yumi's pants. Just as she thought that she could imagine him going down on her, eating her, like Sachiko have done gladly.
Neuvième*
"Are you prepared to accept her?"
Yumi was astonished at the question. It was a question related to Touko, but the spotlight was immediately shared with Sachiko. Everything was clouded to hide secrets, to keep them at bay from prying, questioning eyes. Even Yumi, who had nothing to conceal before, had troubles keeping the act that nothing about Suguru would rattle her.
Suguru tore off his sunglasses. Then he turned off the engine of his sports car and slumped his shoulders to his cushioned seat. Whatever he knew, his sadness emanated in his tired features. Before Yumi could stop herself, she reached out beyond the window of the car. The urge to comfort him got the best of her. Alarmed, she retreived it and settled her hand at the frame instead.
"I . . ."
There was too much to consider—accepting herself, Touko, Sachiko, and even Suguru. If it were just a small matter, Suguru would not be as greatly affected, as he would show. If Suguru prefered to keep his feelings for himself, then the exposure of his distress was just a fraction of his emotions inside. He must have been restraining himself.
"For your sake, and for Touko's sake, think about it once more before asking me." He said as he looked at "If I'm asked again, I'll answer you."
She watched his car sped away. But she felt his concern for Touko still saturated from where he left. His concern for his cousin had blown her tremendously she felt so little compared to him. Even though they were just cousins, he understood Touko as any loving brother would.
Sachiko had been right. He was very perceptive.
Dixième*
"You love Yumi, don't you?"
Kashiwagi made a comical face as he objected and shook his head. "What are you saying? I . . ." Suguru stiffed mid-sentence.
"I see. I'm sorry." Sachiko looked away from him as she muttered her apology.
It had been all too peculiar to see Suguru denied his feelings for Yumi in front of her. She could never remember the boy reluctant to tell her the truth, no matter how hurting, how small or great it was. He had nothing to hide from her, as well as she from him. There was no point in lying. Many a reason was possible for his unwillingness to deny his feelings, but somehow, he became much simpler to understand. Looking at his point of view, she knew.
He stopped playing the game. Their game. She had stopped long ago, when Yumi and she became lovers. He stopped playing when he realized he became attached to Sachiko's lover more than he wanted. He frowned. "I know. I should have laughed and said, 'Yumi-chan's a good child, so I love her.'"
Yumi was not a plaything, a bet. Yumi loved Touko and accepted her regardless of Touko's past and insecurities. Just this effort for Touko was enough for Suguru to surrender.
Sachiko could not laugh at him. "Something like that. I may have not understood you in the past, but recently, I began to understand things."
It was a momentous revelation in a very inappropriate location such as a washroom in the Ogasawara mansion.
Neither of them could taunt the other. This was supposedly Sachiko's triumph over their little teasing about that peculiar pigtailed girl named Fukuzawa Yumi, but she felt she did not deserve even an ounce of Yumi's affections.
Yumi understood Sachiko and Suguru's closeness . . . far more than Sachiko ever expected of her.
He broke the silence with a half-baked joke. "If you have to put my love on a balance, I love you far more than Yumi-chan." His face showed he did not even like what he was saying.
"It's a different type of love, right?"
"Yes, you sure are smart, Sa-chan."
The conversation sounded so foul he gritted his teeth. "I should be going. If we stay in the restroom for too long, even Oba-sama will have strange thoughts."
Sachiko took his hand, just to make sure if everything that happened here—his distaste of their conversation tonight (he enjoyed them before), his failed confidence (he executed it perfectly before)—were all truths. When she felt his hand cold and shaking lightly, she knew he was afraid of his change.
He was afraid because he was not in control anymore.
Sachiko looked for an excuse just so not to embarrass Suguru. Even though they were all alone. "Wait. You forgot to wash your hands."
Èpilogue
Sachiko's room has large windows, but seldom had its curtains been opened completely. On Sachiko's bed, Yumi was lying on her stomach, her lithe back exposed up to the cleavage of her buttocks. The sheen of sweat present hours ago had evaporated, minuscule hairs gently rising. The owner of the bed was standing before the tall windows, gazing at the cloudless, star-studded sky, wearing nothing but her skin. She did not bother covering.
She had received her diploma, and that weekend, she wanted nothing but to be with Yumi. In this very place she considered her home. The size of the summerhouse did not match the Ogasawara estate, but she can breathe easier here. Hallways and staircases may be smaller and narrower, but she was not suffocated. They had the house by themselves. Not even the housekeeper took her time to leave them at peace.
It was too silent that even the smooth revving of a car could be very loud, that Yumi shifted in her sleep when Suguru's red sports car parked beside Sachiko's black sedan. When Suguru got out, he immediately looked up to the lightless window and smiled warmly at the sight of a nude Sachiko bathing in the blue moonlight.
He knew the way: the spare key (beneath a pot of cactus before the porch), Sachiko's room, closet, bed. He deposited his suitcase beside it, and grazed his eyes at Yumi's naked backside. Sachiko remained by the window, watching Suguru sat beside Yumi, as he smoothed her nape and kissed it gently. Yumi stirred and turned her back to the bed, just so she could look up to the man, who combed her bangs away from her forehead and leaned down again to kiss her there. It trailed downwards—to her cheek, then on her opened mouth.
Sachiko drew to the bed, and burried herself beneath the thick covers. Tonight would be Yumi's first time with a man, as well as Sachiko's. Yet, she contented herself to watch for now, to look at Suguru from a different angle . . . with her woman. Perhaps he could never bestow such unique, longing scrutiny to Sachiko as he would for Yumi, but at least Sachiko had witnessed it . . . as well as Yumi's wonderment when she reached with her hand and carressed Suguru's cheek.
It was the same as Sachiko's severe honesty to Suguru, or Suguru's complete understanding of Sachiko, or Yumi's exalted worship and adoration for Sachiko.
Or Suguru and Sachiko's warped, incomparable, ceaseless desire for Yumi.
And the other way around.
Yumi broke the kiss and look away to search for Sachiko's eyes, but the latter just closed their lids to settle the girl's doubts. Then, Yumi gave in to her instinct, and unfastened the buttons of Suguru's crisp shirt.
As Sachiko watched Yumi and Suguru opened their mouths to lap each other, she thought of the things that made her agree with this arrangement. Was she exploiting Yumi? She felt that's she was as her fluids trickled between her legs. Sachiko ran one hand from her breasts towards her sex. When Kashiwagi was taking a nipple between his lips, he held onto Sachiko's waist and pulled her to them, and Yumi kissed Sachiko as she kneed her breasts with her other hand, as Suguru had been doing with his mouth. When Sachiko found that Suguru was still clothed, "Yumi, let's take his clothes off."
They both pulled him up from the bed. While Sachiko was at Suguru's back, unfastening the cuffs and pulling the shirt away from his arms in gentle sweeps, Yumi was pulling down his pants to his feet. He disregarded it away. When he looked down at Yumi, he did not like the idea of her kneeling. Sachiko, on the other hand, had put her arms around him from the back—her large breasts warming him—as they both looked down on Yumi, who was now stroking Suguru's sex, preparing to take him to her mouth—
He doesn't like it. Yumi upon her knees as she stroke him . . . no. Instead, he reached his arms to her and placed his hand on her chin, signaling her to stand up. Yumi's eyes showed confusion, but then he said, "On the bed, Yumi, not here."
Yumi knew what he was trying to say, yet she did not mind. Sachiko was confused too; there was nothing wrong with a woman on her knees to pleasure a man. Both women had done this to each other—they had no qualms to please this way—yet, Suguru was different. In understanding, Yumi grinned at Sachiko and the latter unlatched her hold of Suguru. Yumi walked near him and pushed him to the bed. She whispered, "Your efforts are very chivalrous, Suguru, but you've seen us before, haven't you? There's nothing awkward among us anymore."
He could not even discern why he felt so shy. What was he thinking that even though he knew everything that could happen in this bed, he seemed so hesitant to act it out? Why was it that he was so concerned about a deed that could account to a corresponding meaning? Like Yumi getting on her knees. Isn't that a bit . . . domineering in his part? And submissive in hers?
He was on his back as he found Yumi and Sachiko looking at him. Sachiko jested, "What's wrong, Sugu-chan? Why do you act like a virgin now?" He frowned, and he took the challenge, grabbing Sachiko's head and looked at her face. Sachiko was surprised at the gesture, yet she produced a faint smile, telling him that she understood. "You never looked at my face this close before," she whispered, no jesting in her voice.
Then, he kissed her hungrily in the mouth. He never did that before—kissing her fully.
Yumi was baffled of the words Sachiko had said. When Suguru's lips were lowering from her mouth to her bobbing breasts, Sachiko asked to Yumi in a whimper, "Did he ever looked to your face that close?"
Yumi said, remembering the day she bruised his cheek, "Yes, he did."
Sachiko smiled proudly at Yumi, which further baffled the girl until Sachiko commanded, "Take him, Yumi."
She did not said another word until she kneeled on the mattress and between Suguru's opened legs to grab-hold the base of his penis, and grazed her tongue from the underside to its crown. In a very deliberately slow manner. What she got was a cry from him. For Yumi, such reaction was already a leap of achievement, considering that this was her first time with handling one.
Sachiko chuckled at it. Her hands were holding the headrest of the bed as she hovered her face down to look at his reactions. He stopped attending on Sachiko's breasts the moment Yumi had been active down there. He looked up at Sachiko's face.
"I cannot have her just watching." Sachiko said.
He imagined that this was Sachiko alone—the mouth that had been eating him was Sachiko's core, but he couldn't. In his mind, he was still in the middle of doubting his feelings for his fiance's lover, and as he looked at Sachiko, who was watching his every reaction, he felt Sachiko's wet sex and the weight of her on his waist. Sachiko ground her soaking labia against his lower stomach, wetting him in the process. She emphasized, "I am here, Suguru," as she thrusted. "But it's she who worships you now."
He captured Sachiko's nipple, as his way of apologizing.
He wanted to give in. He felt Yumi's moist mouth from his shaft to the rest of his body. Yumi was there. She is there . . .
He cried as he closed his eyes. He was trying all his might just so he could not bust off. He remembered the first time he saw Yumi claimed Sachiko's cunt before him—the way Sachiko was sprawled onto the bed, her thighs wide open and enervated, as Yumi tongued her the way he never did. He was stunned at how Sachiko gave in so quickly to Yumi's maneuvers . . . this was the reason: her mouth.
Before he lost himself, he made Yumi stop and let Sachiko slouch on the pillow-covered headboard of the bed. He turned to Yumi, and let her lie on her back above Sachiko, easing herself just so her weight would not aggraviate her grande souer. He said, "Sachiko, hold her."
When she did, Suguru plunged his tongue to Yumi's labia.
Yumi hands were immediately on Suguru's hair. Sachiko was leaving wet trails on Yumi's nape and shoulders, as she was pinching Yumi's nipples. She gently moved his upper torso to the side to kiss Sachiko. The latter tasted not only Yumi, but Suguru too.
However, in his mind, was this vengeage, what he was feeling for Sachiko?
He wanted to have Yumi for the longest time. He had touched her nowhere until this night. Even though it was so wrong to intrude into their own world, Sachiko allowed him. Yumi allowed him. All of them knew that this moment came from their selfish desires, but it seemed fine for the three of them. They seemed to give their all, to be selfless, yet at the same time, they all felt that they were just doing this for their own satisfaction.
But when he moved his tongue away and replaced it with his sex, she looked at both women kissing each other. Sachiko was already sitting, her head in position so that she could kiss Yumi's face anywere she liked. Her hands were still on Yumi's breasts. Suddenly they stopped, as if there was something missing. When Yumi looked at Kashiwagi, she said, albeit in a shy voice, "Suguru, why did you stop?"
She reached her arms to Suguru, and in turn, he moved closer as she said, "C-come here."
He positioned his penis to Yumi's entrance, and there, slowly, he thrusted, trying not to hurt Yumi, she felt so warm. Yumi was biting his shoulder, as he looked up to control himself from moving. Sachiko's face was getting near, and the last thing he saw before he closed his eyes was Sachiko's swollen, red mouth.
When Sachiko pulled away, she said him, "Don't stop now, Suguru." Thus, he gently moved his hips away from Yumi's, and thrusted again. As they silently arranged the rhythm, Yumi was already loud with her whimpers and moans.
He could not even ask if he were hurting her. He continued his movements until he felt Yumi bucking uncontrolably, and he kept on with his pace until Sachiko smiled mischievously as she witnessed her own Yumi cried as her orgasm consumed her.
He was not done; he won't be done until all of them are satisfied. Sachiko was surprised when she felt Yumi's weight gone and hands on her waist were leading her sex to him. Like how he did it with Yumi, he would do the same for Sachiko. He thrusted into Sachiko as soon as Yumi found her ground. Yumi drifted her core to Sachiko's mouth, as she settled her knees on the sides of Sachiko's lying form and encircled Suguru's neck with her arms. She met his kiss, as she felt Sachiko's tongue circling her clitoris, as Suguru matched the thrust of his hips with the probing of his tongue to Yumi's sucking mouth.
It would go on and on and on. They might find new ways to explore; with three of them, it wouldn't be so hard to feed each other's selfishness.
Perhaps three is a crowd.
But, no matter. The bed was large enough.
END
* The conversations in Neuvièmeand Dixièmewere ripped off from (Maria-sama Ga Miteru, Fourth Season) episodes 6 and 10, respectively. I changed the way they acted during those two different scenes.
A/N: I would like to thank CelticX and Sim-Sim2 for being the betas for the unabridged version. This has been a good 8,500-word experience, and I could have not published this without your encouragement and interest. After long conversations, the product of our efforts is now here. For all misspelled words, incorrect grammar . . . they are all my fault.
Ah, readers, don't forget to review!