Since a number of readers have been confused by my bad writing in chapter 12, here's a clarification: Hisa dislikes Katashi. A lot. – I'll be rewriting that bit later.
Anon: You raise a good point about chapter 13, but I think that referring to it explicitly would have deterred from the story. If I was forced to allude to it more, it'd probably be from Mihoko's side, and even then only briefly. I'll think about it, but I do appreciate your input, so don't hold back.
And the sudden comparison to Girl Friends made me worry for a moment that people might view me as a Hisa x Mihoko troll… then I reeled in my ego and realized that wasn't possible.
Glad you're all still here. Your reviews have been especially kind and helpful, and I am extremely grateful for them.
Oh, and happy holidays, to those who celebrate them at this time of year. Aesyl recommends that you deep fry your turkey and watch your cholesterol levels shoot through the roof. It's quite tasty.
Hisa pressed against the space between her eyes, closing them in frustration. She had been trying to keep her mind off of recent events by studying, but it wasn't working very well. Memories of all the suffering she had to put up with ever since that day kept creeping back into her mind. She couldn't help but feel extremely bitter about it once she had found a face to put all of the blame on.
So this was how the world worked, huh?
The redhead scoffed, gripping the black mechanical pencil in her hand so tightly it started to shake.
She didn't want to hate the blonde. The girl was fun to be around, and she was heartbreakingly earnest. The feeling in her chest whenever they were together hadn't faded; that irrational urge to protect the crying girl of that day in her room. That was exactly the problem. It was hard for her to reconcile that image of Mihoko with the one she had built up of the person who had capitalized on her uncle's fondness for honesty and completely destroyed the future of the Uenos. And that wasn't even counting the arranged marriage with Hitoshi.
Hisa let out a growl of annoyance and began to take it out on the table by tapping her pencil against it. The steady rhythm of the plastic smacking against the wood helped her focus her thoughts a little more, and she used that extra concentration to delve back into the dark recesses of her memories, of a time where she learned all too well the cruelties of schoolchildren. It wasn't healthy for her, she knew, and it did nothing to help the situation, but she just didn't care. She wanted to feed the growing monster inside of her, the one that was fighting against her logic and reason for control of her emotions. She wanted a scapegoat, and a scapegoat she will have. It was petty, but since when had that ever stopped her from getting what she wanted?
She remembered the day the rumors started. When her friends stopped looking her in the eye. When all talk would cease the moment she slid the door open and entered the classroom. The offensive graffiti and trash that was left on her desk. The sly looks between her classmates and the hasty excuses they made to avoid spending break time with her. She hadn't realized then just how important money was. It wasn't just a status symbol. Oh, no. Apparently, just how much of it your family had was also indicative of your own value to society. Those at the bottom were to be stepped on unmercifully and with undisguised glee.
The best part of it all was how her friends barely reacted and merely followed the crowd. She had already accepted the fact that they didn't have much in common, and they certainly didn't understand her love of mahjong, but that really took the cake. Not a single one of them had spared her a look of sympathy. No, they barely looked at her at all. It must have been nice for them to disown a friend so easily, since they had others waiting for them.
Middle school had felt like it would never end. Every day was filled with jeering insults and a complete disregard for her status as a human being with rights just like the rest of her class. Her schoolbag was used as the class trash bin, with the justification that the contents that slowly filled it up was sure to be more valuable than what was already in it. The ringleaders of the class bullying smirked at her, telling her they were doing her a favor by giving her such "valuable" things that she could resell. The human propensity to lie and exaggerate had never failed to amaze her, and she had slapped one of them the day they said it. Of course, that only caused the bullying to escalate.
Her desk was covered in graffiti every day, and the ones in charge of cleaning the classroom (the students took turns) always made sure to add more once she had finished cleaning her desk after school. Naturally, the other students claimed ignorance when the teacher asked about it. She was lucky enough that the teacher took pity on her and never punished her for it, but it was a small blessing hidden underneath a pile of abuse.
The girls were worse, of course. Horrible rumors were spread by them, almost all of which involved her selling herself in some way, whether it was compensated dating or otherwise. It was almost as if they were waiting to unleash hell upon her, so calculated were their actions. She was aware that she had been moderately popular amongst the boys in her school, but she had never paid much attention to it. Crowd mentality did strange things to people. The boys started to make lewd comments and gestures toward her, saying that they had money if she was willing to put out. She wanted to give back just as much as she was getting, but the thought of causing her parents shame on top of their financial troubles always held her back.
Home wasn't much better, either. They had been forced to sell their home and moved into an apartment.
Mother had been even more impossible to find than usual, and that put everyone in the house on edge. She would come home without warning, placing varying amounts of money on the table, and then disappear again for a time, the cycle repeating itself. No one knew where she went or what she did, and even now it had remained a secret known only to her. More than anything, it just added to everyone's worries. What if she was doing something dangerous? What if one day she wouldn't come home, and the only way they'd even realize she was gone was from a news report that detailed the end result of a gruesome crime?
Her uncle had his share of problems back then, as well. His wife had died years ago, back when Hisa couldn't even speak yet, and her family had taken him in rather than see him succumb to depression and alcohol. He had helped to raise Hisa, who helped him recover without even knowing it. When they sunk into poverty, her uncle sunk into alcohol. Part of the money that her mother brought home was used to fuel his growing addiction, and he often argued with her father over funds and just about anything that came up.
Of course, her father was probably the one who suffered the most. He had used all of the family's savings to help his brother avoid a fate worse than death by the hands of the yakuza gang he belonged to at the time. That money happened to include Hisa's future Kazekoshi tuition, not that she blamed him. She would have done the same in his position. He was the one who tried to keep the household together when everyone started to drift away, with varying degrees of success.
And then there was Fujita, who had been taken in by her family when they found her on the streets in tears. It had been raining hard that day, but there was no mistaking the miserable face of a young crying teenager. Her grandfather had died that morning, and there was nowhere else for her to go to, as she had no other relatives, and no way to pay for her own rent, being too young to work. When the Uenos went broke, she did as many part time jobs as she could, occasionally skipping classes to put in more hours, since by that point, she had grown enough to pass for an adult. Hisa could easily say that she had been her only source of support at that time.
Needless to say, those were not happy times, and things straightened out considerably once she moved up into high school and Hitoshi proposed to her.
Hisa took a deep breath and exhaled it slowly. Her head felt a little clearer, although a faint sense of unresolved anger still ate at the back of her mind. Was it betrayal? It wasn't as if the girl even realized what she had done, which made the situation even more laughably absurd. A yakuza rep player was tricked into gambling more than he was instructed to by his superiors and it was all because of a teenage girl. Why did she do it?
Why?
Her anger quickly disappeared in light of this newly discovered plot hole.
What was worth so much to that girl that she was willing to go into the underworld and risk everything in a game of mahjong? It wasn't the thrill of possibly losing a high stakes game. No, that definitely wasn't it. If that were true, she would have continued gambling, but no one had seen the girl since she won that fateful night.
She looked to have come from a wealthy family, if not an aristocratic one like the Ryumonbuchis, so what could she have possibly needed the money for? It was hard to imagine that girl and her mother as poor people. The lady of the house had too much pride and dignity in her stance for that, and Mihoko herself looked as spoiled as a newborn kitten. Something involving her father, then? But the girl had always spoken of him fondly, and the wife did not look like she would put up with much nonsense.
Hisa leaned back in her chair and looked up at the ceiling, tapping the eraser end of her pencil on her chin. She needed more information. There had to be more to the story than this. That girl wouldn't do anything of that scale just on a whim. This was planned. Perhaps this was a direct attack on the Uenos? But what had they ever done to others? Then again, that theory wouldn't make sense at all, considering how the girl acted around her, as if she had never had a friend before. Hisa wouldn't call herself an expert at reading people, but her gut said that Mihoko wasn't the type of girl who would act out a personality just to take advantage of other people.
Her concentration broke as everything came rushing back to her and the chair landed back on all four feet with a thud.
This was so frustrating! Just what the hell did that girl want, anyway? Did she think this was all just a game? Because of her, Hisa had to deal with bleeding bodies almost on a daily basis! This was ridiculous.
It was a little cooler that afternoon, and Hisa and her uncle were outside on the wooden walkway, enjoying the back gardens together.
"Hisa-chan, how are you feeling?" Her uncle asked kindly, placing a big palm on top of her head and messing up her hair fondly.
Hisa squirmed under the hand, feeling a smile creep onto her face at the familiar gesture. She had been lost in thought again, still puzzling over the mystery of Mihoko Fukuji. Her face must have showed it, as it was usually grinning with a cheeky comment well on its way.
"I'm fine, uncle. Just a little tired," she explained reluctantly.
His expressive face morphed into one of concern and regret. "I'm sorry for what happened yesterday. I let my emotions get the better of me and said too much."
She shook her head and smiled up at him, feeling like a small child once again in his presence. "No, I prefer it this way. It would have been worse if I hadn't known."
Kenta furrowed his bushy eyebrows in uncertainty. "You ran up to your room immediately after she left and shut yourself up in there for hours. You didn't even come down for dinner. Any reaction worse than that would have to be rather extreme."
She shrugged noncommittally and turned to face the pond, watching the fish frolic with each other in the water, almost as if they were dancing. It wasn't as if this was the first time she felt betrayed, so she couldn't really explain her actions. To be honest, she had a hard time remembering much of yesterday beyond the jumbled emotions caused by the crushing truth that her uncle revealed, and the blonde's crying face. Why had she cried? It bothered Hisa that she couldn't find a reason for the girl's tears.
Her uncle exhaled loudly and whipped out a pack of cigarettes, lighting one up and taking a drag. The two sat there in silence, minding themselves. The familiar smell of her uncle's preferred brand of tobacco brought her back to the days when she was still small enough to climb up on his back and demand piggyback rides while he huffed with a cigarette in between his lips. It was nostalgic and comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket on a crisp autumn morning. Hisa rested her head against her uncle's large frame, absently wondering why all the kind men in her life were all so big.
After a while, Kenta spoke again. "I don't know why that girl insisted on gambling with those stakes. Even I had balk at it, and I'd like to think I was used to dealing with big numbers under the Koga-gumi. But let me tell you something: that girl was there for a reason, and she wasn't going to leave until she finished what she came to do. She was a very strong girl; much like you," he added affectionately, roughing up her hair again. "It's hard to come across people like that these days, much less kids that intense."
Hisa frowned slightly as she tried to restore order to her hair. She had a good idea of what he was implying.
"Are you telling me to stay friends with her?" She asked incredulously.
He laughed loudly at that. "You're as sharp as always, Hisa-chan. I don't think you're really as surprised as you look. I bet you've been trying to figure out how to keep your friendship while staying loyal to your family ever since yesterday."
She turned to him, confusion clearly evident in her eyes. "But why would I want to do that? If it weren't for Hitoshi-kun, we'd probably be feeding off of the city's garbage by now because of her."
Kenta laughed again, clapping her soundly on the back, which made her stagger slightly. "You see? That is exactly what I mean! You automatically move to defend your family's honor. Well, let me tell you something," he leaned in conspiratorially. "Honor isn't worth shit if it makes you unhappy."
The door to the inside slid open behind them and they looked back to see the imposing thin figure of her father looking down on them. He crooked an eyebrow at his brother.
"Are you telling her unnecessary things again, little brother?"
He grinned at the accusation and spread his arms wide innocently. "Now why would I do that? Everything I tell her is perfectly necessary, Daichi-niichan."
Daiichi scoffed and said nothing more, but his eyes were tinkling in amusement. He turned to his daughter, who still looked a little stunned at her uncle's earlier remark. His eyes narrowed in concern.
"If he says anything untoward, I won't find it amiss if you decide to hit him. In fact, I encourage you to do so, if only for his own good."
"'-Niichan!" Kenta roared in exaggerated mock-anger. "You traitor!"
Hisa giggled at their antics, watching as her father baited her uncle with carefully placed words while the latter reacted every time. It cheered her up to see their family ties so close even after all that had happened to and between them. No matter how many serious fights they got into, there would always be ten more occasions of goofing off between the two. It almost made her wish she had siblings to share her happiness with, but then again, it was hard to imagine her being happier than she was now with her current family.
Things might be a little difficult for her right now, but she had a mahjong club to take care of. They were all the siblings she would ever need. Kyoutaro in particular made an excellent donkey. Ah. Brother. She meant that he would make an excellent little brother.
She grinned slightly at the thought and excused herself from the two. A quick check of her mobile showed that the hot springs resort had called earlier and she had missed it. The Kiyosumi captain redialed the number and reaffirmed her reservation for seven people next week. She nodded to herself as she closed her mobile. They should be ready for the nationals, even if it meant Fujita had to go a few nights without sleep just to train them. After all, why should she lose sleep when the older woman was a more effective teacher than her?
Oh, right. She still had to call her.
Hisa flipped her mobile open again and scrolled down to Fujita's name. She paused over it for a moment before a better idea popped in her head, and she snapped the mobile closed once more.
The redhead smiled brightly as the apartment door in front of her was opened slowly, revealing an extremely messy living space behind an equally messy hairdo on an equally messy person.
Fujita squinted at the girl before her with tired eyes before walking back inside, scratching her head absently. She had left the door open, which was a clear invitation for Hisa to enter and shut the door behind her. She did.
"Looks like you've cleaned up since I last visited," Hisa commented cheerfully.
She was answered with something that sounded like agreement, just not in any human language Hisa ever heard. The older woman had put a kettle on to boil and she shuffled back to the only table in the room, where the redhead was already sitting.
The apartment was a small one, consisting of a basic bathroom, a kitchen sink, a refrigerator, a counter, a table, a bed, and a television with a Playstation 2 sitting in front of it. The air had a faint smell of tobacco, and it was easy to guess the cause as Fujita lit one up just now. The floor was littered in clothes and the occasional plastic container that used to hold food from the nearby convenience store. Hisa was always surprised at the lack of instant ramen, but whenever she mentioned it the other woman would go off on a lecture about proper food. It wasn't like Hisa disagreed, but food from a convenience store was hardly what one would call 'proper'.
As the older woman breathed in the smoke, her eyes seemed to wake up a little and recognize the girl in front of her. She blinked.
"What are you doing here so early? Don't you have school?"
Hisa giggled. "You're getting old, Yasuko. Did you already forget that we have one month off for summer?"
"Do you?" Fujita scratched her head again and yawned. "It's way too early for me to be up, much less sit and chat. What did you need?"
"This isn't early. It's almost noon. Anyway, are you free next week?" She asked bluntly.
"Yeah. There aren't any more tournaments in the area, and I'm unemployed again until I can find another job. I won't have anything to do except help out in the soup kitchens and job interviews. What did you have in mind?"
The kettle started to whistle and Fujita rose to prepare the tea before Hisa stopped her.
"I'll get it." She laughed. "You might hurt yourself."
As she prepared the tea, already familiar with where everything was, she explained what she had planned.
"Since the tournament's coming up again, I thought I'd hold another training camp. I want you to come and help with Mako – she plays like an old man and we need to break that and make her more flexible."
Hisa could hear the woman exhale before responding. "That's fine with me. It's always fun to see their faces when they get beaten over and over again."
She smirked at hearing that and brought the tea over in two mugs. "Try not to overdo it. She's not like the other two, you know, so she's pretty fragile."
"Hm? What's this?" Fujita grabbed her arm as she placed one mug in front of the older woman. "You're getting soft on another girl. I don't know if I like that." The cigarette was crushed unceremoniously on a nearby ashtray.
The redhead rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. We're not going out anymore. It shouldn't matter."
Hisa felt herself gently being pulled down into Fujita's lap and hugged firmly from behind. She felt the other woman's lips against her shoulder mumbling, "It matters to me…"
She could smell the mixed scent of tobacco and shampoo from the other woman. Hisa sighed. "You're still such a kid."
"And you've always been far too mature for your age," Fujita responded in kind. "You do so much for them, but what do they do for you? Nothing. You should enjoy yourself more."
Sensing the mood was getting a little heated, Hisa mentioned pointedly, "The tea's going to get cold."
"You're right." Fujita sighed from behind her and let her go, giving her one last squeeze before doing so. The redhead patted her comfortingly on the arm before taking a seat across the table from her.
"Anyway, do you want me to help you clean up while I'm here? It's the least I can do," she offered kindly.
The dark haired woman snorted, taking a sip of the tea. "Is that down payment for my services next week? Somehow, I feel cheap."
"Hey, don't be like that. You know I value our friendship greatly," Hisa chided gently.
"Yeah, yeah…" She changed topics. "So? Do you think you have a chance?"
"Of course!" The Kiyosumi leader nodded. "The prefecturals gave them the experience they need it, and the combined training camp polished them. Now we just need to work out the last few kinks that summer brought in. They've probably been lazing around ever since school ended."
"Like you're one to talk," Fujita commented.
Hisa shot back, "And you're not? Do you even know what day of the week it is?"
"Sure I do! It's… wait, hold on… Tuesday?" It came out more like a question than an answer and Hisa had to hold in a laugh.
"Thursday. It's Thursday," she supplied helpfully.
The older woman groaned. "I knew I shouldn't have drunk so much last night."
"Stop having late night parties by yourself!" Hisa chastised her lightly. "It's depressing. At least come over when you want to get drunk. Uncle's home, so you'd have a drinking buddy."
Fujita's eyes lit up at the news. "Is he? That's great! It'd be just like old times!"
Hisa frowned. "I don't recall you ever being drunk when you lived with us. Hiding something?"
The smoker laughed nervously. "No, of course not! We just used to argue about our sports teams and our favorite horses to bet on. There's nothing wrong with that, right?"
She wanted to rub her temples in exasperation. "Honestly, this is why you two are so much alike. You've definitely picked up his drinking and smoking habits, although you're the only person I know under fifty who uses a pipe."
Fujita smirked. "Don't say that so condescendingly. It's a charm point!"
"Aren't you too old to have charm points?" Hisa teased.
"You brat! We're only separated by three years. Three! That's barely anything," she defended firmly.
"If you say so, obaa-san," she sang out in response.
"You-!" Fujita launched herself at the redheaded girl, who giggled as she dodged deftly out of the way.
"Now, now, you shouldn't move like that," she advised seriously. "You might break your old bones."
The woman let out a groan of frustration as she tackled Hisa, sending both of them to the floor. A short struggle ensued, with Fujita eventually pinning Hisa underneath her with no way to escape. Their eyes locked heatedly; one victorious and one defiant.
The redhead was the first to say something to break the silence.
"I understand how you feel right now, but it's really hard to have sexy time when your used clothes and dishware are all around us," she commented dryly.
Fujita flushed in embarrassment and hastily stood up, gathering up her mess as she did. Hisa helped her, taking a plastic garbage bag to dispose of the empty plastic containers and cigarette butts. She decided not to mention it again, and the mood seemed to lighten up considerably after that.
She had really been in danger there. It had been a while since she had gotten so worked up. Now she remembered why she didn't visit Fujita's apartment much and usually contacted her over the phone.
Theirs had been largely an experimental relationship for Hisa, a few years ago. She was the one who started it, and she was the one who ended it, leaving a heartbroken Fujita to start her own life on the day she moved into her first apartment. That didn't mean Hisa used the woman, however. She had genuinely thought it was love, but it took her time to realize that it was only a fascination with the concept of a romantic relationship, and Fujita's personality, which was much like her own.
"All right, I think that's it," Hisa declared, wiping the sweat off her brow with satisfaction. "All we need to do now is toss those clothes in the wash, dry them, and you're all set."
"Thank you, mother," Fujita answered dryly.
She grinned cheekily in response. "You're welcome, daughter."
The woman could only shake her head. "I really feel for your future kids. But then again, if they all turn out like you, it could be fun to watch."
"What are you talking about?" She asked indignantly. "I won't be having any children."
Fujita raised an eyebrow. "Oh? But aren't you getting married to that Hitoshi guy?"
"That's…" She faltered, remembering for the first time since she her visit everything that had happened. "I'll figure out a way to avoid that. And besides," she added cheerfully, "it's not like he can force me to bear children even if I do marry him."
"Your confidence is pretty amazing, even with odds like these. Or are you just faking it again?"
"Is it fake if I'm sure that something, someone, will come along and fix everything?" She asked helplessly, almost to herself. Fujita's sudden accusation had rung true, and it shook her.
The pro smiled sadly and pulled her into a comforting hug, the pushed away at arm's length once both of their grips weakened. "You already know I would, but I'm definitely not the person you're waiting for, no matter how much I wish I was. And besides, I'm a laughably poor person." She patted Hisa's head. "I know you can pull through, so don't just wait for something to happen. You're going to have to count on yourself more than luck. This isn't mahjong."
"I know it isn't," she stated, "but life is just as reliant on luck as mahjong. It struck once and saved my family from poverty. Why can't it strike twice, or even three times?"
"Listen to yourself! Are those really the words of the Kiyosumi mahjong team leader? The one who brought her rookie team to qualify for the national tournaments? Believe in yourself! You're a great player because you use your opponents' fears against them, and you're a great leader because you're willing to work hard and understand your team. Neither of those two have anything to do with luck!"
Fujita was glaring at her now, but she knew it was for her own good. She wasn't saying those words to be mean, and Hisa knew she should be flattered, but all she felt right then was shame. Had she really become so desperate that she had forgotten that there were things that only she could do in her position? She just had to take advantage of that somehow.
"You're right. Thanks, Yasuko."
Fujita grinned. "Anytime. Just call me when you're ready to leave for the camp."
"I will."