TWELVE
She wakes up one morning with her nose pressed into the back of Tsubasa's neck. One arm has gone numb, but the other curls around Tsubasa's waist with her fingertips just brushing skin. Best of all, both her feet are still warm and free of Tsubasa's own perpetually-cold feet.
It looks like today will be a very good day.
And she really needs it to be, because today she wants to have that conversation with Elfnein which has so much potential to become a disaster… on second thought, maybe she should put it off for later, or…
"M'ria?"
She can't help squishing Tsubasa more tightly against her, though Tsubasa still manages to intertwine their hands. "Do you think we should have that conversation with Elfnein today?" She presses her face into Tsubasa's sweet hair.
Tsubasa, unfortunately, pulls away enough to roll over and sort of squint at her, but it takes her a long minute to come into full awareness. Someone had clearly been up late wandering around the estate again, and that's probably why Tsubasa has slept in.
"We will, if we can," Tsubasa says once her eyes stay firmly open and focused.
"Mm." It's a simple, subtle, and appreciated reminder. She appreciates even more that Tsubasa snuggles up to her again instead of exercising her iron will to get out of bed. Tsubasa's warm presence, however, and slow, deep breathing almost lull her back to sleep until her weekend alarm inevitably blares their little cocoon apart. That and concern for Elfnein pull her out of bed on the heels of Tsubasa, who really only stayed so long for her.
Keeping an eye on Tsubasa's progress across the room, Maria hastily redoes her braid, yanks on a t-shirt and pants, and forgoes putting on socks in favor of filching the sweater Tsubasa wore yesterday (taking, of course, a deep breath of lavender), darting back to the bed while Tsubasa's attention is on buttoning her shirt.
This game they play always brings a twinkle to Tsubasa's eyes when she turns to see Maria wearing her cable knit instead of one of her own fashion pieces; that twinkle, in turn, makes a blush run rampant across Maria's face.
She makes a show of adjusting the sleeves of the sweater to fit comfortably on her.
"I'm lucky my sweaters are oversized," Tsubasa drawls.
"Are you calling me fat?" she pouts in return.
Tsubasa rolls her eyes as she slowly approaches with a smooth stride. "You are unto the goddess Aphrodite," is what Tsubasa says this time, and she says it with such, such charm that Maria blushes silly all over again even though the pretentious compliment is a standard part of their game. Then, abruptly, Tsubasa's presence looms close and somehow Maria has fallen back onto their bed, legs crossing at the ankle, her left hand in Tsubasa's strong grip.
"Tsubasa?"
"Unto Aphrodite," Tsubasa repeats, "and as vexing, indeed." She kneels, smoothly going from mostly upright to just under Maria's line of sight.
Her heart thunders in her ears. She will never tire of the blue of Tsubasa's eyes.
Exquisitely gallant, Tsubasa kisses her knuckles and darts away from Maria's grasping hands with a smug smirk that looks too well on Tsubasa.
"Mou, Tsubasa!" She launches herself upward to give chase, but her wife's already escaping from the room and Maria needs a moment (or more) to catch her breath, anyway.
Besides, she needs to put on socks and double down on her pleased smile at Tsubasa's sly gift.
[***]
"Here," she says, plopping a navy-blue sweater vest onto Tsubasa's lap. Tsubasa takes it, looking bemused. "We can't have you losing your nerd credibility, darling."
Tsubasa rolls her eyes, "Resorting to name-calling, light of my life?"
"Just looking out for my white knight," she simpers. She waggles the fingers of her left hand.
Elfnein, all bright eyes and innocent smiles, tells Tsubasa, "We're matching!" tugging at the hem of her own sweater vest, and that adorable earnestness cuts their little play-fight short (for now).
[***]
After a nice, quiet breakfast in which her two nerds discuss which fish are in season and a few different ways of preparing them, she asks, "What should we do today?"
Tsubasa hums, serving herself and Maria another cup of tea. They have a few suggestions prepared, of course, if Elfnein doesn't think of anything in particular.
Elfnein perks up—a small shift of her chin, eyes darting between Tsubasa and Maria—so Maria refocuses on her. "Can I… I mean, I…." Elfnein ducks her head, hands clutching the tablecloth. Her next words, quiet but determined, make Maria go still: "I want to learn how to play the piano. Like… like you."
[***]
She hadn't meant to intrude, but—her hands could not keep still, her eyes burned from remaining awake for nearly… thirty… thirty… thirty-something hours, the grey haze of her thoughts had almost reached tangibility, her family was out of reach—Mom's ▯▯▯▯—she hadn't wanted to be alone, and Tsubasa's hotel room had been only a few doors away from her own.
Tsubasa had been 'Kazanari,' then; a handful of successful (uninterrupted, terrorism-free) concerts together had not been enough to completely thaw the ice between them.
No, not ice… Tsubasa had been wary, but not immoveable and certainly not impolite. And, well, their electrifying chemistry on-stage would not have been possible without some sort of give on Tsubasa's part. But those were the thoughts of rational minds; frankly, Maria had only barely managed enough coherency at the time to deem Tsubasa non-hostile and nearby.
When she could think again, indefinable hours had passed.
Her mouth felt uncomfortably dry but not disgusting like when she would pass out in the middle of drinking. Her eyes were gritty but no longer itchy or flinching away from light. Her shoulders had lost some tension. Her stomach was not threatening to gnaw a hole in her middle. Each breath came steady, and she could smell something… sweet, something Tsubasa.
She was in Tsubasa's quarters.
In Tsubasa's bed, in fact; her back did not complain extensively like it would have had she slept on a couch or floor. She noticed a glass of water on the otherwise bare bedside table. That was probably meant for her. Tsubasa was the thoughtful sort, wasn't she? Distant, obviously, but willing to be kind even to someone like Maria.
She set the glass down. Her hands wanted to fidget. Well, Mom wasn't here—wasn't, wasn't, wasn't anymore—so she let her hands take fistfuls of the white bedspread. Almost defiantly, but nowhere near angry enough to reach anything other than a pathetic hope. She held her breath and stayed still for a few seconds. She waited, but Mom didn't scold her.
Eventually, her lungs forced her to exhale and inhale and breathe. Or, maybe it was the lump of hurt in her throat that forced her to exhale and inhale and sob. She twisted the fabric into tight spirals that strained her hands. She held her breath again. She didn't want to cry. She wasn't that girl anymore—wasn't, wasn't, wasn't, not anymore! Serena died and Mom was—Mom told her not to cry.
Crying is important.
She squinted through her tears, breaths shaky but at least continuous. Tsubasa had said that, yesterday, right?
Yesterday… it was a grey blur. Yesterday, today, tomorrow. What did it matter? Mom was still—
—Tsubasa had said… Kanade liked to call me a crybaby, sometimes. I… miss her. A guitar, dark and heavy, old, acoustic. This is hers. Well, one of hers. Mom had played on a similar guitar. I donated the rest. Kanade had been self-taught and had dared Tsubasa to venture beyond classical piano. Mom taught us, a little. There'd been words somewhere between chords and sobs. The orphanage made us focus on singing. What's piano playing like? Not all those tears had been Maria's. I, I don't remember. If… if you want, Hibiki and Miku can teach you. To play the piano, I mean.
They don't… hate me?
No, Maria.
She tried to smooth out the wrinkles, but they were deep and she wanted to see Tsubasa.
Chcem mamu.
I want Mom.
That was impossible, because Mom was gone.
She left the bedroom to escape that thought.
[***]
It's not that she feels like the piano room is her space, or domain, or whatever. Rather, in all these years since Kanade's death, Tsubasa has only been in this room a handful of times, if that, and who knows when Tsubasa last played. Tsubasa marks the tangled, overlapping eras of her life by things that are sometimes counter-intuitive.
Music served as one such marker for quite a bit of Tsubasa's life, up until their artistic careers wound down to retirement. Maria had thought it would be flowers now, given Tsubasa's choice of venture into small business, but watching Tsubasa pick up Elfnein to peer into the inside of the Kazanari family's ridiculous grand piano while spouting off history factoids and instrument mechanics as if it hasn't been almost two decades since Tsubasa so much as touched a piano and almost a year of not playing the guitar—well, maybe Tsubasa will take up music again, even if Elfnein's interest wanes.
After all, when was the last time she saw Tsubasa so talkative, so effusive, so enthusiastic?
[***]
Elfnein's wide eyes dart from piano to piano, head craning and toes on tips to absorb every detail she possibly can of the Kazanari piano collection.
Once Tsubasa finally comes to a stop next to an antique (well, they're all antique to some degree or other) spinet, Maria pipes up. "Pretty much all of these pianos are too big for you right now, Elfnein, but this spinet will work for now even if its sound is a bit lacking. It definitely won't strain your hands, at least."
"Later," Tsubasa says, nudging Elfnein to take a seat, "we'll see about a piano or keyboard that will suit you much better, if you would like to continue."
That's caution in her voice. Tsubasa's earlier burst of energy has cooled and her anxieties have clearly begun to intrude on her thoughts again.
Elfnein only nods, fingers lightly running over keys. Tsubasa kneels.
Maria has oodles of lesson plans for music theory and piano playing, of course, ranging from beginner to advanced, but…. She twists her new ring along her left index; backhanded slaps used to leave marks on her face as punishment for her daring to want more than she and Serena had.
But.
She knows how Hibiki plays, how Miku plays, and how they sound when they play together seriously and when they fool around on a single instrument. They're the ones who taught her how to play and how to love to play, on Tsubasa's suggestion. She's never heard a piano played by Tsubasa. They connected through a love for the guitar and for singing.
When Elfnein, vaguely impatient with the wobbly quality of her scales and nursery rhymes (but thankfully nowhere near as surly as some of Maria's teenaged students get), asks Tsubasa to play something on the grand piano, well, Maria does not resist the urge to pout and cajole. Under their combined pressure, Tsubasa acquiesces and they quickly return to the centerpiece of the piano room.
Tsubasa hovers next to the seat, shoulders hunched and neck tense, but sits before Elfnein notices the hesitation. The rest of Tsubasa's hesitation bleeds away as she moves through the same scales Elfnein had been trying to play earlier, then a rendition of Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star, and then—Tsubasa takes a deep breath.
Beethoven's Moonlight Sonata, piano sonata No. 14, third movement—Tsubasa's hands move fluently, her posture and form undiminished by time. Maybe it's muscle memory from an entire childhood's worth of tutelage. The faint smile, however, draws Maria's attention.
Resignation has come to Tsubasa with time, but peace has eluded her. Actually, as Finé's arrival has shown, peace remains beyond the grasp of everyone in their little family. Here, right now, Tsubasa weightlessly plays the piano and Elfnein watches with innocent awe.
Let this, at least, remain untainted.
a/n:
-toasts- to the new year!
If you've watched the She-Ra reboot on Netflix, perhaps my series "Eternia Rebuilt, Reclaimed" will interest you. I've written three short character exploration fics in second person POV and I would very much appreciate any thoughts or feedback on them; the series is only on AO3 though, under the penname Vertumn (I'm still Dessert Maniac here, but that might change). Also, friendly reminder that I do sometimes take suggestions and/or prompts for any of the fandoms in which I have written fics.
Maria speaks Slovak in this chapter, though she and Serena lived in Warsaw when Nastassja picked them up; unfortunately, it's been like two and a half years since I started writing this so I don't remember my reasoning for that decision and we just have to live with it now.
