Notes:
Eiji and English: The Anami family speaks English at home, unless a guest is over. This is Eiji's way of keeping everyone's English fresh. His wife, who has never lived in the states, is not fond of this.
Teenagers and dating: I'm told that, despite what we see in anime, it's very uncommon for Japanese high school students to date (although they are certainly interested in one another). They are often viewed as children until they finish their basic schooling. (This is also why it's kind of silly to get bent out of shape over shipping wars in Digimon; the kids are just too young, especially when you consider the norms of the culture). Thus, culturally, Eiji probably has a point, at least to some degree, but he seems to be going a bit overboard. But it's up to the reader to decide what they make of it.
Fabric around the bento: A Japanese boxed meal is called a "bento." Often, the bento box is wrapped in a piece of fabric each day, for ease of carrying (although not always). The fabric, called "furoshiki," is often patterned and attractive; hence, Eimi recognizes one belonging to Koushiro's father.
Addressing your senpai: A younger Japanese student usually addresses an older student by their last name and senpai, ie, Izumi-senpai. Yukio calls Eimi by first name and uses "-chan," which strikes Koushiro as being too familiar.
Boundaries, Pt 1
Eimi walked into the kitchen and threw open the blinds. Soft morning light streamed in, and she bent to observe puffy clouds against a powder blue sky.
Just like yesterday... Eimi giggled as she turned to the cabinets. Her thoughts could only stray from yesterday's outing long enough to perform simple tasks, such as preparing a bowl of cereal. Then, it jumped treacherously back to receiving her plush dolphin, and she placed the cereal box in the fridge with the milk carton. By the time she poured herself some orange juice, she was humming. By the time she sat down at the kitchen table with her food and a book, she was singing.
"God, it's too early for this…"
Eimi's shoulders twitched inward, and she bent over her book, hiding her face behind it. The floor vibrated as her father clomped in from the hall. He walked towards her, but Eimi didn't look away from her page.
Eiji slammed the table, rattling her glass. Eimi looked up automatically and scowled, like a disturbed student in a library. His expression hardened from annoyed to sullen. "Singing so early in the morning… What do you have to be so happy about, anyway?" he snapped.
Eimi rocked back in her chair. Her blissful mood was shoved aside by hurt, but she struggled to maintain the appearance of neutrality. She cleared her throat and said, "Good morning."
Eiji's upper lip curled back. "Girl, when I ask you a question, you answer."
Eimi lowered the book and packed it in her school bag. "I'm trying to be polite. Good morning."
Her father pulled out the chair opposite Eimi's, and it squealed against the tile. He leaned in so close that Eimi could smell his morning breath and see the overnight growth of hair on his cheeks. Her nose wrinkled.
"Four more years," he said. "Four more years, girl, and you're no longer my responsibility."
He paused, letting the proclamation sink in. Eimi took a deep draught from her glass, stalling for time before she had to speak. She was about to start the last year of middle school, and then she would spend three years in high school. Apparently, her father intended to cast her off when she graduated. Her throat worked convulsively, and she fought not to choke. How am I going to suddenly support myself when I'm eighteen?
Eiji was smiling when she finally sat the glass down. His eyes glittered with a triumphant sort of anger. "Now. Answer the question."
"No." Perhaps Eiji had intended to encourage obedience through fear with his announcement, but it only hardened her, increasing her determination to respect herself. She sat up straight and folded her hands on the table. "Demanding that I explain my happiness implies that I have no right to be happy, which I do, and which I am, and which I will continue to be."
Eimi wasn't sure how intelligent her father was. Could he hear the unspoken statement that he could not control her emotional state? His eyes were narrowing, but that was his only reaction.
"Where were you all day yesterday?"
Eimi scowled and tipped her head. She had given this information to her parents yesterday, so why was he asking for it today? "I went to an amusement park, like I told you."
"Alone?"
"With a friend."
"Who?"
"Whom?" Eiji was ridiculously proud of his English, so correcting him wasn't wise, but Eimi was in the habit of instructing her friends. It slipped right out, and she twitched when Eiji grimaced. "Koushiro."
Eiji leaned back, slouching against his chair. He steepled his fingers and stared at her, his posture domineering and oddly professional. Eimi was reminded of CEOs giving job interviews in movies, which was probably something they never actually did.
"Koushiro-kun," he drawled. "Just so I'm sure we understand one another... You spent all day yesterday at an amusement park, alone with a boy."
She was tempted to point out that she couldn't have been both alone and with someone, but this clearly wasn't the time for that. Eimi paused long enough to steady her nerves, then said, "Yes. I did what I told you I would do on Saturday evening."
He rapped the table with his knuckles, sending a sound like gunfire echoing through the kitchen. "You didn't tell me anything like that."
"I did," she said. Her voice sounded garbled and far away, like a recording played from across the room. "I did. It's not my fault you didn't look away from the television."
Eiji rolled his eyes. "Why would you talk to me if I'm busy? Make sure you have my attention first."
"What am I supposed to do?" Eimi demanded, losing control at last. "I talk to you, and you keep doing whatever you were doing. It's been that way for years. This isn't me trying to sass you, this is an honest question: Am I supposed to grab your face and point it at me until I'm done talking? Do you want me to leave you memos? What do you want from me?"
Eimi nearly jumped from her chair when something touched her. Her mother was standing behind her and squeezing her shoulders in a way that was probably meant as a warning, but it was too late for that now. She had already finished, and Eiji's cheeks resembled two swollen apples. He jabbed a round, wagging finger at her, and its pinkness completed the image of a moving sausage.
"All you have to do is obey." He paused, took a panting breath, and stared at her with hard, narrow eyes. "That's all. Go to school, come back, and obey. Why can't you do that anymore? You were a good girl until all those damned monsters and those kids got to you..."
A tremor ripped over her body, a personal earthquake. Not good? Not good? Me?! She was too upset to comment, and Eiji continued.
"And I've decided that, until you learn your place, your privileges will be revoked."
Eimi clamped a hand to her mouth, but a derisive snort slipped through. "Privileges? Like what?"
Eiji made a face that was normally reserved for reacting to the scent of rotting garbage. "Are you listening to your daughter?" he said to Umeko. "It's just that kind of attitude that is making me do this. You don't even realize all of the things you have. There's your cellphone, your laptop, your e-reader-"
"Those are all hand-me-downs from Koushiro, and I'm on Taichi's family cellphone plan. I also use the Izumi's wireless Internet. And I'm very grateful for those things." Eimi folded her hands to prevent their shaking. Her father provided her with shelter, food, and a limited wardrobe for the few times when she wasn't wearing her uniform. Everything else, her electronics, leisure books, art supplies, and so on, were gifts from her friends or her mother. Eimi couldn't bring herself to say so directly, but the only way for her father to give her less would be to starve her, kick her out, or take her clothing.
Still, Eiji must have heard the implication. His eyes darted to his wife's, then to the side. He cleared his throat and said, "Fine. You're grounded, then."
"Grounded," Eimi repeated. "Dad- I literally spend all of my time either in this building, at school, and sometimes out on Sunday, always within curfew and always with people you've met. What could I be doing wrong?" "You should be studying on Sunday," he countered. "Your high school exams are coming up soon."
"I'm the number two student in my class," Eimi pointed out. "You know I study. Besides, I already took a mock entrance exam with Jyou-san." Eimi opened her school bag, removed a paper listing her results, and handed it over, but Eiji made no move to accept it.
"I'm not arguing with my child over her discipline-"
"This isn't discipline! A person is disciplined for wrong doing, and if I had done something wrong, I'd be the first to admit it. I'm defending myself because you're marginalizing me, and I don't deserve it."
"Eimi, please." Umeko's hold on her shoulders kept growing more and more painful. "Calm down. No one's attacking you. We all know you're a good, smart girl."
The pressure in her chest had barely eased, and Eimi was desperate to keep talking. But Umeko's combination of fear and sympathy, underlied with irritation, struck her too much to continue. A good girl. A smart girl. Bravo. A whole lot of good that's done for me. Her hands curled into fists, balling up her test scores. If I disrupt your domestic harmony by rejecting my father's behavior, then I'm just a nuisance.
The wad of stress in her chest ripped apart, revealing a tender, aching spot within. The anger dripped away, dampened by hurt and sadness. She swallowed a sniffle and turned her eyes down, so their watering would be less visible. My mother won't help me…
"Aww, see, dear?" Umeko said. She patted Eimi's shoulders and smiled. "She's very sorry. Why don't you just stay home this Sunday, Eimi?"
A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek, and Eimi wiped it as discretely as she could. "I already have plans. Koushiro and I-"
"No," her father snapped. "Eimi, you're a child. You're too young to date. As long as you're under my roof, you will obey my rules, and you will not spend time inappropriately with boys."
"What's inappropriate about the library and the aquarium?" Eimi asked, but Eiji talked over her.
"If you want to go out on Sunday, you will receive direct permission from me-"
"I did that last week! You said 'yeah, sure'-"
"And you will learn to stop interrupting, and to behave with respect."
Eimi stared at him for a long stretch, too overwhelmed to react. Emotions and thoughts screamed within her, blending into an indecipherable, ear-splitting buzz. Language was beyond her, so she obeyed a physical impulse, the only thing that her battered faculties agreed on. She stood, grabbed her bag, and stumbled towards the front door.
"We're not done here, girl," her father called. Eimi didn't look up from forcing her feet into her shoes. She couldn't recall the words that would communicate her intentions, so she wagged her school bag in his direction.
"She'll be late for school if she stays any longer," her mother translated. Her father grunted, reached across the table, and pulled Eimi's breakfast towards himself.
"We'll finish this later," he said. Eimi seized the doorknob and let herself out without bothering to secure her heels in her shoes. She tripped on her first step outside, stumbled, and fell against the guard rail around the outdoor walkway. Her gaze fell against the streets of Tokyo, so many stories below, then flicked up. The sky filled her whole view, and she felt like she could touch it, could fall into it and land far, far away from here, in another world-
"Eimi? Eimi, are you alright? You're bleeding!"
Gasping, Eimi snapped into attention and turned towards Koushiro. He was reaching for her hand. The top layer of skin had scraped away on the railing, leaving some spots shining pink, and others streaked with blood. "It's okay," she said, or at least, that's what she tried to say.
Koushiro stared at her face, frowned, then swept his eyes over the rest of her. "You're not carrying a lunch."
Eimi jerked back towards the closed door of her apartment. Despite the gnawing in her stomach- she had only eaten a bite of cereal- she wasn't going back in there for her lunch. "D-doesn't matter," she muttered.
Scowling, Koushiro grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards his apartment. "Koushiro- We'll be late-"
"Then come along." He opened the door and called to his mother, who entered the hallway. "Mom, I'm sorry to bother you, but Eimi doesn't have a lunch. Is there anything we can do?" He stepped out of his shoes as he spoke, then headed for the kitchen. "Stay here, Eimi."
Eimi wasn't sure what the Izumis discussed in there, but Koushiro returned a minute later with some toast and a second lunch. Eimi recognized the fabric around the bento as belonging to his father. "Kou- I can't take your Dad's lunch-"
"It's alright, Eimi." Yoshie stepped around her son and patted Eimi's head. "Masami enjoys buying lunch every now and then. Let me see your hand." Eimi lifted her right hand reflexively, but Yoshie took the left hand. She spread a cool, clear gel over the injury. "This is an anti-bacterial ointment for your scrape." Eimi's eyes watered as Yoshie tended to her. She was too raw to withstand kindness, and the emotions she had held back before swelled out. Eimi looked anywhere but at Yoshie and Koushiro as tears slid down her flushed cheeks.
"Oh, dear..." Yoshie stroked her head, then pulled a packet of tissues out of a pocket in her apron. "Here, sweetheart."
Eimi took a deep breath and accepted them. She wiped her eyes, blew her nose, and tried to smooth out her expression. "T-Thank you so much. We have to go."
"Will you be alright?" Koushiro asked.
"I'm fine. Thanks. Let's go." Eimi forced a smile as she bowed to Yoshie. She left the apartment, and Koushiro hurried after her.
Koushiro handed her the toast, but didn't pass her lunch over. "I'll carry it. You eat." He walked beside her in silence, but Eimi could feel his gaze on her. As soon as she finished eating, he took her hand and said, "What happened?"
Her fingers slid between his and clung, gobbling his hand up like a fly trap. "Later," she sighed. "I can't- I need to get through the school day."
His lips drew into a tight line, but he nodded. "Alright. Please let me know if I can do anything for you."
Another swell of emotion spread through her chest, sparking her tear ducts again. I'm so weird. Why is it so much harder not to cry now? Stupid! "T-Thank you."
Koushiro offered a faint smile, then turned away. For the rest of the walk, she focused on calming down, and on the hand squeezed inside of hers.
That Afternoon
Koushiro ended computer club a few minutes early that day. After the last member left, he slid into the hallway and walked to the room where the vocal performance club met. Although he hated to imply distrust towards Eimi, he knew better than anyone that she didn't always think when she was hurting, and he didn't want to give her a chance to do something she'd regret later.
Like slipping out of the school building without him.
Koushiro grimaced and walked faster. The hallways were filled with students lingering after their club meetings, and he had to step around people talking in little groups. An eternity passed before he reached the classroom that housed Eimi's meetings.
Some of the vocalists were already leaving. Koushiro poked his head through the doorway, but Eimi wasn't inside. He faltered, upset and unsure of what to do, until a boy approached the door. Koushiro recognized him as Yukio, a student one year below him.
"Excuse me," Koushiro muttered, stepping back into the hallway.
"No problem. I was hoping I'd run into you, Izumi-senpai." Yukio followed him and leaned against the wall in the hallway. "I wanted to ask you if Eimi-chan is okay."
Koushiro hesitated, stumbling over the layers of implications in those two sentences. Koushiro had never spoken to Yukio before, but the boy knew him, and he apparently connected him to Eimi. Did that indicate that Eimi talked about him during club meetings, or had other students simply noticed the two of them together over the years? And wasn't it a bit too familiar to address his senpai as 'Eimi-chan'?
Koushiro studied the younger student, never noticing that the pause was stretching out too far. Yukio was a round-faced boy with a pleasant, open expression. Despite his height and his solid build, his mannerisms, high-pitched voice, and large, dark eyes made him seem younger than his age.
Yukio began to shift, signaling his discomfort. Koushiro snapped into attention and said, "Why do you ask?"
Yukio sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "She asked to be excused from the meeting today. She's never done that before, and she... didn't look so good. Did something happen?"
Koushiro tried not to frown. He didn't want to waste time talking to Yukio when Eimi was probably wandering around somewhere. A nagging voice in his mind suggested that this wasn't his only reason for feeling irritated, but Koushiro ignored it.
"I'll take care of it. If you'll excuse me..." Koushiro nodded to Yukio and stepped around him. It didn't escape his notice that the boy hadn't asked if Eimi was sick. He apparently understood her well enough to distinguish between physical and mental strain.
Koushiro continued walking down the hall, and he was not emotionally prepared to feel someone slap his shoulder. Gritting his teeth, he turned towards the rest of the person. Chie Akita, the club president, was standing against the wall with Madoka Egawa. She lifted a brow at him, and it disappeared beneath the bangs of her thick bob.
"Eimi-senpai seemed awfully down today," Madoka said. Chie's hand tightened around his shoulder, and she scowled at him.
"It had better not be your fault, Izumi-kun." Although Koushiro knew he wasn't to blame, he swallowed hard. Chie was smaller than him, but she looked awfully fierce at the moment.
Why would she assume that I'm at fault? Koushiro muttered a vague assurance, then continued down the hall. Once he reached the shoe cubbies, he pulled his mobile out of his pocket. The screen flashed with a message alert, and his body went weak with relief when he read Eimi's name. He leaned against the cubbies for support and read:
I skipped my club. I'm waiting for you in the Ivy Shack.
Koushiro closed his eyes and dropped his full weight against the shelf at his back. There were no requests in the text, asking him to come to her. There were no apologies for taking up his time or taking him out of his way. All it contained was a statement- I am here- and the quiet expectation that he would follow.
You've come such a long way... I'm sorry I doubted you. Koushiro steadied himself, exchanged his school shoes for his sneakers, and hurried out of the building.
Author's Note: Part two will be posted either next week or the one after- I haven't decided if I will update this or Seeking Resonance next. Also, please see my tumblr over the next few days for some fun drabbles!
