White Balance

I used to hate the rain.

The rain signalled inconvenience. The normal activities I enjoyed would be cancelled, I had to carry an umbrella or risk catching a cold, everything would get wet, a thoughtless driver may hit a puddle too hard and saturate you as you walk down the sidewalk. Overall rain was simply a bother.

When Iwanako stopped visiting, the last of my old life did so too, I would lay alone in my hospital bed listening to the rain. It served as a cruel reminder of something I tried so hard to forget. The patter on the window would send a spiteful message. Over, and over it would continue its refrain. Life was moving on without me. I was helpless to leave this room. I was alone.

I ponder when that perspective might have changed as I stare out the window of the near empty Photography Club room. The comforting sound of water on the roof, the near empty courtyard presenting a lonely yet somewhat whimsical view of Yamaku, or the face of my companion as she stares out the window, clearly lost in thought.

I follow Kawana's gaze, trying to see what has captivated her attention. The lonely courtyard seems to emphasize the disconnect of the club room from the rest of the world during our lunch rendezvous. When this little ritual of ours began, occasionally club members would come in and quietly engage in their business. Over time, and through no intervention on our part those visitations ceased. It seemed to become an unwritten rule among the Photography Club that the room was effectively booked at lunch by Kawana and myself.

I can't seem to see anything in particular that Kawana is focusing on. Clearly her mind is distracted, fixating on something with that trademark intensity.

"Why is it that Shakespeare's tragedies are more well remembered than his comedies?"

Kawana's soft voice suddenly breaks the melody of raindrops. It's not unusual for her to break one of our silences with a question out of left field.

"I'm not too sure. I guess humour changes over time. Have you ever watched an old comedy on TV? Apparently those are supposed to be funny. Humour is pretty contextual. Like a shared jokes between friends."

"Yet tragedy is universal."

Kawana nods as she finishes my thought. I instinctively feels my fingers trace along my chest.

"Yes, It is."

My eyes glance out the window, to the lonely garden. My mind goes to my running partner. Lately I have begun to wonder about her. Why does she always seem like she is running from something? I think of my classmate Hanako, of her blighted face she frantically hides from the world.

"Everybody at this school likely has their own little tragedies. As much as we think our story is unique there is that shared feeling of being utterly helpless as the world inflicts its cruel wounds on us."

Misaki seems to pause as she takes in what I say.

"I don't think its that different outside these walls. Mr Mutou likes to say Yamaku is preparing us for the real world. Is it really that different out there?"

"I doubt the average convenience store has 24 hour medical staff."

Kawana seems unable to resist getting a joke in as she fires back.

"Have you seen how much the Aura Mart charges for a can of coffee? It's not like they can't afford it."

I desperately hold back a chuckle.

"With the amount of money you spend on their strawberry milk you could afford your own hospital ward."

Kawana huffs in mock indignation. She regally flicks her hair back.

"A true lady appreciates the complex flavour of strawberries and milk."

"You mean a true lady appreciates the complex flavour of sugar and cellulose gel."

Kawana looks me dead in the eyes.

"Don't ruin the moment Nakai..."

Her face quickly gives way to a small smile.

"As punishment for the insult of this fair lady, you shall treat her to one of Aura Mart's strawberry milks at the earliest convenience."

"I agree to the fair lady's demands. I shall be happy to indulge her need for cellulose gel."

Kawana takes the opportunity to change the subject.

"It seems Mr Nakai can add miracle worker to his resume. If Ms Mirua's outburst in class this morning is accurate."

I can't help but feel a little embarrassed. The results of the test for science class were handed back today. I performed up to expectation, that is, exceptionally well. While Kawana did not share her score with me, she told me rather confidently that she did decently. What really surprised me was the most unwilling of my tutoring charges.

"I can't say 65 is exactly a miracle score. It certainly isn't enough for a University."

Kawana shakes her head.

"Don't sell yourself short Nakai. Ms. Miura would cheer if she got a 30 in science. For her to have improved so much is a testament to your tutoring abilities. You deserve to be proud of not only her, but yourself too."

I can't help but flush at her praise. Even though Miki's improvement was the most shocking, all of my charges had noticed at least a decent improvement in their test scores this time around.

"I suppose you're right Kawana. At the very least Misha has promised to buy me lunch at the Shanghai. I suppose a free meal is a nice outcome at the very least."

Kawana chuckles and nods in agreement.

"The allure of free food is always like ambrosia for a man. In all seriousness though. Have you considered teaching might be something you could do in the future?"

The future. I turn my attention out the window. That's something I haven't really thought about. Not since that day in the snow that thew a monkey wrench into my life. I had resigned myself to the idea that I had no future. When I stepped into Yamaku I honestly wondered if the next time I would leave those imposing iron gates was in a body bag.

I have to admit though, that the idea of looking to the future has begun to seem more appealing. The idea of graduating, going to University to study. Maybe become a science teacher. Get married, have children. Are such things out of reach for me?

"Nakai..."

I turn my head away from the window to face Kawana. Her eyes aren't looking at me but staring down at the desk we're sitting at. Her gaze seeming to bore into the black lacquered chopsticks sitting atop her now empty lunchbox.

"I was wondering..."

She's hesitating. I quietly try to gain eye contact, albeit unsuccessfully but patiently allow her to gather her thoughts.

"If you called me Misaki. I would appreciate that very much."

Is that all? Why the hesitation? I have been referring to people by their given names since first meeting them. I sigh in resignation.

"That's fine, Misaki. But only on one condition. You call me Hisao. Deal?"

Misaki slowly smiles and nods.

"I agree to you terms... Hisao."

She seems to pause as if tasting the words on her tongue. Slowly though we return to silence, listening to the rain on gently play its serene song on the roof.