Big Apple Layover
Fuwa-san stood framed in the light of the doorway, his face grim as the pair stumbled ecstatically out of the woods, their hair thick with leaves from brushing into one two many low-hanging branches in the moonlight. He started to scold them, chiding her over being out for so long without word or warning, making Okami and he believe something untoward had happened, but something about the looks on their faces stopped him and he just sighed, uncrossing his arms before welcoming them home.
Kyoko grinned madly, her heart still full to bursting at Ren's arms tight around her, hugging her to him like he was never going to let go, their vows secreted away in her heart like Christmas morning. They stumbled up the stairs, him refusing to hold her any less tightly to make the passage more easy despite looking like he was nearly folded in half. She was ready to overflow and looked around in wonder at the other guests going about the quiet peace of their evening. How could they not tell? Surely there was a shift in the air, a vibrancy to the entirety of life when he entered. She bounced, pecking him on the cheek, making him chuckle in surprise and squeeze her tighter.
Okami-san glided out from the dining room, her pace serene but her eyes stormy. She saw Kyoko and furrowed her brows, clearly debating something.
"Okami?" Kyoko questioned, still wrapped in Ren's arms. Sho's mother stood still, watching the two of them as if weighing her words, then shook her head tightly and forced a grin over her features. Her demeanor stilled the magic for a moment, drawing them out of the fairy tale.
"Okami-san," Ren began, standing straight for the first time since entering the ryokan. "Is there something we can help with?"
She seemed to sag at that, her shoulders showing their burden. Ren squeezed Kyoko's shoulder and stepped forward to stand just in front of her, his fingers drifting down to lace with hers as he waited, giving the landlady time to compose herself and speak.
"It's… oh, Kyoko-chan, it's that stupid son of mine!" She suddenly burst, her words flowing out of her like a river flooding its dam. "He's flown away, and he's in such a big city, and I know he's not happy, I can tell something is very wrong, but I cannot go to him because of this ryokan, the same ryokan that he so desperately doesn't want and-" She cut herself off, bitterness over the past rising to war with her concern for her son. "And," she began again, more calmly. She looked at Kyoko with pleading in her eyes. "I need a favor from you."
The night and day passed too quickly after that and suddenly it was time for her to leave. They'd stolen as many moments together as possible, filling their nights with time far more enjoyable than sleep and their days with hushed conversation, the feeling of his hand tucked in hers, her small body wrapped completely in his arms as they stood looking over the mountains. They crafted their own world together, creating memories of love that would carry them through the long days before he could join her in Los Angeles. Every day he made her a ring from a different type of flower, sliding the fragile promise over her finger.
Wild honeysuckle. Thinking only of you.
A string of forget-me-nots. Always remembering you.
Yellow marguerites. I will come for you soon.
And on their last day, safe in his lap, their feet splashing gently in the stream as they stretched out the time before she left into as many memories as possible, a cluster of daisies, their petals bright and fresh.
"I love you truly," he whispered in her ear. She burrowed deeper into his lap, pulling his arm across her.
"Despicable man," she said, her voice lilting playfully, the memory freed of pain. She played with the ring on her finger, craning her neck up to look in his eyes. "How far we've come."
He kissed her lightly on the forehead, his fingers tracing over the delicate ring. "I've been saying I love you since the day we met, you know," he said.
"Mmmm," she agreed, nuzzling back into his embrace. "But you've gotten a lot better at it with the practice." Kuon laughed, a sound full of freedom and joy.
"I won't stop until I've mastered it," he said.
"I'm turning out to be a terribly demanding customer," she replied, burying her face in his shirt to hide her giggles.
Before she was ready, she was in the line for security, then through the other side, his figure standing above the crowd, searching for her. His eyes lit with joy when he saw her, making her heart soar that she could have such an impact on such a man. She walked down the hallway to the gate backwards as far as she could, unwilling to lose a single moment of connection with him, but too soon the attendants were calling her flight and even his tall form was disappearing to the distance. It was too much, too soon, and she had to fight back the tears that threatened. A deep breath, her finger twining around Princess Rosa to summon her courage.
This trip was for her.
She was in love with him and would spend the rest of her life loving him. But she would not spend a moment of her life being subsumed by him. He was her solace and her home, but acting… she smiled, holding her hands to her chest as she stepped onto the ramp that would lead her to a whole new stage. If Kuon was her breath, acting was her blood.
A deep breath. The plane started to taxi, pressing her back into her seat with inescapable momentum. Her pulse was racing.
It was time to find her wings and soar.
She had a six-hour layover in New York City before continuing across the country to Los Angeles. It was her third layover - a stop in Moscow, a stop in London, and now a stop in New York City. Cheap flights were exhausting, like being run through an industrial sized washing machine and coming out two sizes too small and covered in other people's germs. She rummaged through her bag, pulling out the notepad where Okami-san had written Sho's hotel address.
The Okami had been right; something was off with Sho. His mom had shown her his last Live video, her hand shaking slightly as his voice sparked out the tiny speaker, tinny and fake sounding.
"He sounds like a worn-out K-pop star," she had said in wonderment, taking the phone from Okami to rewatch. Ren leaned over her, nodding in agreement.
"Whereas typically he sounds like a total prick," he whispered in her ear.
"Definitely off," he said loud enough for Sho's mom to hear.
"Would you… if you… if it isn't a burden, would you check on him? We don't know anyone in America except you."
Kyoko nodded, stuffing down her guilty regret at sharing the details of her trip with the Okami. Just because she didn't want to see Sho didn't mean she couldn't serve her guardians by doing so. She mentally sucker-punched herself, forcing focus in on the necessity of helping those who had helped her so much.
Plus, it could be quite fun to see K-Pop Sho.
She rubbed bleary eyes, trying to fix her hair into a semblance of normalcy before leaving the airport, but the short auburn cut did little to hide her frizz from too many hours of rubbing against a pleather seat. A huff of surrender and she turned and headed for the exit. Sho could take her as she was. He was the one entertaining the anonymous internet masses with his own bedhead, after all.
She tapped her feet on the floor of the taxi, her jetlag vanquished by the shock of the stark gray buildings engulfing the narrow, traffic-clogged street filled with taxis identical to hers. She absent-mindedly played with her finger where he'd slipped on each flower ring, her heart still reveling over the wonderment of a forever together. Her phone sat on her lap, snagging her attention every few seconds with Kuon's messages.
-I miss you already.
-I can hear the sad puppy dog face! I miss you too.
-Don't spend too long with the twat.
-I've only got six hours and a giant hot dog purchase is a must-do. He's got thirty minutes.
-I'm sending you Apple Pay; that hot dog is on me.
She shook her head at the screen; he was turning into a mess. A beautiful, chaotic, childish mess. The more he let himself free from the Tsuruga Ren personality, the more clearly she could see how much of his maturity had been simply an act. He was possessive, and capricious, and insecure, and hilarious, and needy, and kind, and the most genuinely loving person she'd ever met.
She'd be willing to bet, though, that jealousy and not kindness was at the heart of his hot-dog purchase. She rubbed her phone screen thoughtfully, a soft smile playing across her face as she thought through all of her potential replies. She settled on the first.
-Only if you buy yourself a proper breakfast on me!
