A Girl from Someplace Sweeter
12 – An Exceptional Date
Tsukushi was standing idly in the front hallway and twiddling the strap of her purse in her fingers when she heard a door slam. She hummed. Apparently Tsukasa was home, she thought, looking down with a wary eye at her slim, knee-length dress and curled hair. Not quite in the mood for an interrogation, she went to go out the front door and wait on the porch instead. Her hand was on the knob when he spoke; she hadn't made it.
"Where are you going dressed like that?" Tsukushi heard her brother growl. She didn't turn, and opened the door more. "Hey! I'm talking to you!"
She spun and saw Tsukasa exactly where she expected him: standing a few steps behind her, his hands on his hips. Tsukushi thrust a finger at his face and her voice had little room for escalation—she started high on the volume meter.
"I'm going out tonight to have a good time! What do you mean, 'dressed like that'? You have no right to say that to me." She saw Tsukasa flex his fists and his tongue looked tied in his mouth. He was never fabulous in forming coherent responses to her direct intolerance of him. Tsukushi pointed to the door. "Get out."
He stared at her. "But—" She scowled. But what, she wondered, this is his house? A flame billowed up from her feet to her ears. The temper she never knew she had flared out like a timed eruption and she wasn't going to stand for it any longer. Tsukushi dropped her hands to her sides and clenched her fists together in a considerate amount of restraint; it wouldn't do to ruin her good hair by getting into a fistfight with her obnoxious housemate. That's all he was to her at this point, any relation between them she mentally squished under the heel of her boot.
"Get out!" Tsukasa knew he'd done it. Her cheeks were red and she looked like someone stomped on too many times. He knew her anger was never merely anger—if he didn't escape soon, she would burst into tears and then he would have to tell her everything—that, he couldn't do, not yet; maybe not ever. With uncharacteristic sensibility, he glared at her, turned, and walked out of the room.
The same moment Tsukushi felt tears pooling in her eyes, the doorbell rang. She thanked whatever power resided above and quickly opened the door, using all her reserves of self-control to stop herself from giving the hapless man at her door a big, wet hug. She could really have used one, right then. However, she smiled at Akira and said, "Good evening."
Akira blinked. He had stood on the porch for a mere thirty seconds, but he could hear the siblings shouting—more like just Tsukushi, her voice had been sonic—at one another just inside and felt no desire to interrupt. As soon as he heard a door slam he thought it was safe to announce his arrival and with an unexpected nervous twitch he reached to press the doorbell. When it flew open, he nearly jumped.
"Ah, good evening to you too," he replied, and inwardly groaned when his voice slipped a little. Tsukushi smiled at him, even if it did appear forced, and he couldn't help admiring the conservative—yet rather complimentary—dress she sported. He himself had struggled on a pair of nice slacks and a collared shirt, even if only to appear a little less available than usual. Glancing at the pair of them in a reflection in the car window, he thought they matched rather well.
"You drive?" she asked as he held the passenger door open for her and she slid inside.
"I'm the only one of us who does," he replied dryly, and Tsukushi laughed.
"I think you're the only one I would ever trust to sit in the front areas of a car at all," she scoffed. They both laughed and Akira pealed out with a roar of the engine. He opted not to ask regarding the incident he heard—he figured if she felt like talking about it, she would.
Tsukasa sat at the window, his elbows on the sill with his hands on his cheeks. He watched Akira's car zoom straight from the curb, leaving tire treads and smoke. His friend was going to perish deliciously if anything happened to his sister—no, he amended, he was going to die any way for even chasing her, not to mention without telling anyone else about it. He figured he would wait, though, for the most opportune moment; it would do little good to infuriate her further. Tsukasa sighed and ran his fingers through his curled hair. It wasn't doing, not at all. He could rein in his temper for only so long, and then, everything would blow, and he could only growl and pull away from looking out the window.
Tsukushi held tightly onto the arm of her door as Akira whipped the car around a sharp curve going far faster than he should. Her knuckles were white. "Ah, can we... slow down a little?" she managed out through the screech of the tires. He looked over at her and she felt her pulse double the moment he took his eyes off the road. "Mimasaka-san...!"
Akira decided to take pity on the girl and applied a little less gas and a little more brake. She relaxed visibly and he laughed outright.
The club was quiet that night—Akira had chosen the place purely because Tuesday nights were written off as 'dining night': mild music, a calmer environment and food of a quality not better than most, but original. Glancing at Tsukushi, who had her eyes focused on the road, he thought she might appreciate it the way he did. He could hope, anyway, he mused, as he parked rather haphazardly and the two left the car using the better part of two different spaces.
Tsukushi knew she was tipsy—but she liked it. She noticed no difference in herself besides being able to see her handsome date just as he was. She giggled again at another one of his stories.
"That's appalling," she told him, sipping another spoonful of soup. She tasted it and closed her eyes. "This is really amazing," Tsukushi added.
He grinned. "I thought you might appreciate it."
"Mm," was all she could say to describe it. The foods contained such a strange combination of flavors, from orange-fried vegetables to fish purees with cream.
Upon finishing dinner, Akira perked up at a song belted out over the club's usually much louder speakers. It was a fun tune and he immediately got to his feet. Tsukushi watched curiously as he offered a hand to her with a sideways smile. "May I have this dance?"
When she nodded, he pulled her to the dance floor. "I'm not very good at dancing," she admitted, staring at her feet as she tripped lightly over herself.
"Don't worry about it," Akira told her and made a disapproving noise at her nervous look. "Don't doubt, just do." Tsukushi supposed her mixed drink was taking over as the pace of the song picked up and she found herself moving rather wildly to the music. Akira was laughing at her energy, but she didn't mind.
It wasn't long, however, before the music switched over to something slower. The lights dropped out noticeably and suddenly, her hands were caught up. Akira looked rather intent as he dropped his arm to her hip and quietly said, "Can I have this one, too?"
Tsukushi was different to Akira, and she took him by surprise. She had all the character that most girls her age lacked and many older women had—the same traits which he admired in his married affairs. She had a sort of confidence about her; she didn't pretend to know things, because all she really needed to know was her own self. He could tell just from spending dinner with her she had no reservations or insecurities of her body: she ate what she pleased, and didn't fear how she might look eating, dancing—she was the person she was. Akira found it charming when he pretentiously brought her in for a slow dance, and she blushed.
Akira had difficulty holding in his laughter when Tsukushi tripped on the toe of his shoe and he had to tighten his grasp to keep her from falling right over. She quickly raised her eyes, stammering, "I'm sorry," but Akira had no response; his gaze was focused intently on her. Tsukushi cleared her throat and attempted to pull away from him, but he held her hand more tightly.
He leaned down. "It's all right," he murmured in her ear. She shivered from his close proximity to her, and swallowed. He drew back and they continued to dance like nothing had happened, but Akira's eyes never left hers.
The clock read nearly eleven that night when the pair left the club, with Akira holding Tsukushi's arm in his because her second drink had made her stumble a little more than she was used to. She had no real outward reactions, he noticed—no excessive laughter or depression, besides seeming a little more outgoing than she had appeared at first and a lurch here and there. Easily he led her to the car and, having had no drinks himself, got in on the driver's side. Tsukushi was quiet and looked lost in thought as he backed out of the space and raked out with a squealing of his tires.
"Isn't it strange," Tsukushi said suddenly, "how everything is so... manufactured?" Akira raised one eyebrow.
"What do you mean by that?"
She brushed back some of her rather silky-looking hair. "It's so different, some times. Kazuya lived outside of the big city, and many lights were supermarkets, houses and streetlamps. But here," she made a wide, undefined gesture, "it's everywhere. The artificiality permeates everything."
Akira had never thought of it that way and raised his eyebrows, not quite sure how to respond. "Welcome to Tokyo," was all he managed. She turned and smiled.
"Thank you for taking me out tonight," Tsukushi told him. "You really didn't have to, but it was kind. I think I'll be all right now."
At this, he looked more surprised and brought the car to a swift stop at a red light. "Pardon me?" he asked, narrowing his eyes.
She waved one hand and sighed, saying, "I know you heard Tsukasa and I fighting, and I know you're just being a nice guy to take out a girl like me." Tsukushi shrugged her shoulders and, holding one hand to her mouth, yawned a wide yawn. "I feel better now."
When the light turned green, Akira looked in his mirrors and saw no one. He quickly put his car into park and turned to face the confused girl sitting in the passenger seat.
"You think I took you out just because I'm a 'nice guy'?" he asked, his voice rather low. She blinked in confusion.
"Well..."
Akira cut her off. "I'm not a nice guy, Tsukushi," he told her seriously. He put some hair behind his ears to keep it out of his eyes. "I didn't take you out because of... anything! I took you out because, well," Akira paused here, fumbling for the right words, "because I honestly like you." Before Tsukushi could utter any response he leaned forward and ever so slightly kissed her.
It was brief but sweet, his practiced lips on hers. Tsukushi only realized after a horn honked behind them and Akira jumped that she had had her eyes open, watching his fair brow and long lashes while he kissed her. He quickly returned to sitting properly and shifted the car into gear to proceed through the green light. Both of them blushed; Akira wondered what had come over him, while Tsukushi merely pondered what exactly had just transpired.
They spent the rest of the drive in silence. Akira issued the beginning of a mental beating, reprimanding himself for even considering making a move on his best friend's little sister. Not only was Tsukasa vengeful, protective, and irrational, but Akira knew he himself was a bad person and had no desire to inflict his damages upon the innocent girl. The consequences were extraordinary and far too great for him to even try imagining them. In every sense of the words it was a losing situation: either he messed everything up and suffered at Tsukasa's talented killer's hands, or destroyed himself for even attempting a relationship with someone of such a strange, extreme caliber as Tsukushi. Either way he saw it, deviating from his normal routine to even try to win the girl was imminent ruin—even if he did like her that way. He found that the real kicker, the one condition was despite it all, did he like the girl that strongly to begin with?
As he pulled the car to stop in front of the mansion, he glanced over to where Tsukushi sat with her eyes ahead, her expression dazed—and he balked. She had two fingers to her lower lip and her eyebrows were drawn in puzzlement, and she held one hand on the dashboard like she had all her concentration focused there. "Tsukushi?" That sealed the deal: she glanced up, matched his eyes with hers, and he felt everything stop for a moment. "We're here."
Akira moved to leave the car when she held up a hand to him, smiling, and said, "That's all right, I'll walk myself." Tsukushi dropped her eyes, thinking for a moment. "I like you," she told him at last, and smiled. With that she opened the door, purse in hand, and stepped out onto the sidewalk. She closed the door lightly behind her and with a quick wave left at a short jog into the open gate.
Akira had been too frozen to react, or even to say good-bye, and he instead took some moments to shift into drive and pull off the curb. He knew, at that moment, that his life was no longer as simple as it had once been. A great, black void of uncertainty awaited him, but it looked promising.
