"Falling. You see? We don't say 'rising into love.' There is in it, the idea of the fall."
Alan Watts
When I was in high school, I had an obsession with literature. I never did anything too impressive, like writing novels or award-winning essays, but, when I was at home and not doing anything for Mother and Father, I devoured books. I was especially interested in modern masterpieces. "No Longer Human" in particular, but that has little to do with the story.
Anyway, in my third year, we were asked to put down on paper what colleges and programs we planned on applying to. This piece of paper wasn't anything too serious, probably a subtle method of telling students to think about their future beyond Sobu High School. I didn't have much thinking to do.
After I turned it in, Hiratsuka Shizuka, my homeroom teacher, called me to the staffroom. When I arrived, she was sitting at her desk, going through various papers. Some had my name and writing on them.
"You're applying to science programs?" she asked after we exchanged greetings. This was early in the year, and we hadn't talked much before, so I answered the question seriously.
"Yes. Is there a problem with that?"
"Huh, I thought you'd be more inclined towards liberal arts." I shook my head. She picked up some of the papers and glanced through them. "I've seen some of your essays. You read a lot, don't you?"
"I read what's required."
"Come on, now. I can see the influence on your writing."
"You're pretty perceptive, Sensei."
"Heh, you think? I just see what I see." She looked back at the papers and picked one. "You read Dazai, huh?" It was a character analysis I'd written for a book in class, not for one of the books I had piled up in my room. Dazai's words seemed to apply to it. I smiled like a kid whose work had been recognized, even though I didn't feel this was an honor or anything special like that. Teachers liked that kind of expression.
"Anyway," she said, "if you ever want to talk about this stuff, my office is open. I used to be a literature buff myself." She winked at me. "Though, I haven't really been reading much lately. Unless you count-"
"Manga?" I asked. Her eyes widened. They were a deep purple.
"How'd you know?"
"You should do a better job of hiding it." I pointed at her bag sitting open on the floor, where a red JUMP book stood out between folders and notebooks.
"Well, you're pretty perceptive yourself."
"I just see what I see." She smiled at that.
That was the odd start of my relationship with Hiratsuka Shizuka.
I did end up going to her office to talk to her about literature. That became boring rather quickly. She was well versed in literature, but she didn't have the answers I was looking for. Answers about myself. Well, perhaps there isn't a person, from literary masters to teachers, who could give me those.
Instead, I was more interested in her stories about her relationships. When the scent of cigarettes lingered on her, more pungent than normal, she had a recent story to tell.
I remember asking her, "Do you usually smoke a lot, Sensei?"
"Not usually. Do I smell?" I leaned over and sniffed her, though the smell of tobacco reached me from where I sat, and her cheeks flushed. "O-oi…."
"Yes, you do." I smiled at her as if my actions were natural to take. She cleared her throat.
"Well, this week hasn't been the best."
"Wanna talk about it?"
"Mmm, it's not really a story for minors."
"Then cut out all the parts you need to."
"You really want to hear it?"
"Yes, please."
"I don't want rumors to start…."
"Sensei, I can keep secrets," I said.
I take back what I said earlier.
That was the odd start of my relationship with Hiratsuka Shizuka.
"Yes, Mother. Where do I meet him?" I ask into the phone. She tells me to meet my potential future at this upscale restaurant in Chiba. At least the rendezvous wasn't in Tokyo this time. It's not a far train ride, but it's too much time wasted for what will most likely lead to nothing.
"I'm heading there now," I say when she asks about Yukino and her apartment.
"Talk to her," she says before saying goodbye and ending the call. I shove the phone in my pocket and catch up with my acquaintances.
"Sorry about that, ladies," I say.
"Don't worry about it," Usako says.
Usako is one of those gyaru-type girls, with her strawberry-blonde-dyed-hair and loose style of dress that shows off more skin than she should. One thing I do admire about her style is her sense of makeup; she doesn't put on more than she needs, and her blending is top notch.
But, she can be a bit too aggressive when it comes to seduction, which is why I think she didn't end up leaving with a boy after the mixer.
"Who was it?" Hitomi asks. After I tell her that Mother called, she continues, "You're not in trouble, are you?" I shake my head in response.
Hitomi, on the other hand, is more of a prim and proper lady. Straight, long dark brown hair. She wears classy, but inexpensive clothes. And, though I suspect Usako helps her, Hitomi barely needs any makeup at all to look pretty.
But, she was too passive today. In fact, it was like she didn't even want to be there. She played wingman the whole time for Usako, and her personality didn't get to shine.
Well, sadly but surely, there was another reason why they didn't receive much attention.
"Like I was saying, you are way too popular, Haruno-chan," Hitomi says while we're walking towards the station.
I didn't want to brag about it. In fact, I hated how it always ended up this way at mixers. I wanted to be other girls' support during these kinds of things, but instead I would be bombarded with questions and flirtation.
"Sorry I had to leave early," I respond. "I'll make it up to you two next time."
"It's fine. Those guys probably wouldn't have come if we didn't say Harucchi was coming," Usako says. "The way they left like that after you had to go."
"They had bad taste. Maybe next time you'll find the one for you."
The two of them look at each other then begin laughing. I'm surprised, but all I do is smile at them.
"Ha! That's a good one. Mixer boys are only interested in sex," Usako says.
"Like you're one to talk, Usako-chan. She brought one guy home then ignored all his calls and mails because he wasn't-"
"Okay, stop! Look, he was the one to blame. Wanting to meet up again after that night…."
"Well, what about the time when…."
The two of them continue to reminisce about Usako's many (apparently) mixers.
At least going out with them has been a breath of fresh air. Sure, I went to the mixer to keep up appearances, but it was a bit more fun than the last one I went to. The other group of girls I went out with were so interested in finding their respective soulmates. Usako and Hitomi were down-to-earth in comparison.
"Harucchi's quiet. Are you a prude?" Usako asks while smirking. I come up with a quick response.
"Just thinking about how you're living up to your name." Hitomi has a laughing fit while Usako pouts at me.
"Not you, too!"
"We should start calling her Usagi-chan, huh?" Hitomi asks.
"Usagi-chan," I say.
"I'm not a damn Sailor Soldier!"
"Heh, right. You're way too lewd to be in a kids show."
I smile at them as Hitomi continues teasing Usako. It's even more refreshing to spend time with people who aren't always looking for approval.
"Besides, we've got our whole lives ahead of us. Anything could happen from here. Why spend time now looking for marriage partners? Might as well have fun while we can," Usako says.
The two of them look at me.
I like these girls, but lying is the easiest solution in these situations. Besides, I wouldn't bother to correct their mistakes.
"If you say so." Usako nods over and over while Hitomi smiles at me. I put on an inquisitive look, with a single eyebrow raised and a finger on my lips. "So when's the next mixer?"
"Tomorrow, if you're free."
"If it's later in the afternoon, I am. We can't keep Usagi-chan backed up, after all." I end with a smirk.
"Jeez, can you stop?" Usako says while slapping my arm in a playful manner.
"Well, we do have a different solution for that, Haruno-chan." I watch as Usako latches onto Hitomi's arm and intertwines their fingers. Hitomi doesn't even flinch.
"Speaking of which, you want to come over tonight, Hitomi?"
"Thought you'd never ask." Hitomi pulls Usako even closer and whispers something in her ear. Usako giggles in response.
"So you two swing that way," I say.
"It's not really like that. We're just fooling around. Like I said, 'have fun while you can!'" Usako lets go of Hitomi and shrugs. "Besides, it's not like gay marriage is allowed here. Right?" She looks to Hitomi as she asks that question.
"Yeah." Hitomi twiddles her fingers next to her jeans and looks away from Usako, towards the ground.
So that's why she goes to all these mixers, huh?
Interrupting my thoughts, Usako speaks, "Harucchi, you can come if you want."
"Can we all fit on your bed?" Hitomi asks.
"We'll figure it out. Besides, Harucchi's so slim." She looks at me with hopeful eyes.
"Sorry, Usako-chan. I'm staying at my sister's place today." Boo, she says back. Hitomi places her hand on Usako's shoulder.
"Maybe next time then, Haruno-chan." I smile and nod, but I know Hitomi is glad that I declined Usako's offer.
We part ways at the station, their arms interlinked once again.
Two girls, who are complete opposites, fulfilling the other's physical needs. I smirk at the thought of them.
Well, that's what these mixers are for. Satisfying other people and yourself while you can because looking for a spouse is so far into the future.
Well, that might be the case for Usako. Hitomi is the daughter of the CEO of a banking company, so she might be married off to the heir to some other company in the future.
If gay marriage was legal and celebrated, maybe we'd end up married.
As if Mother would allow that.
Too bad for Hitomi's feelings, though. That's the life people like us live. I wonder if she has marriage partner meetings like I do. She's twenty. That was when I started doing them.
Eventually my train arrives, and I take the line to Yukino's apartment.
I get off and leave the station. The night has settled in, the cold nipping at my uncovered cheeks. There's not much hustle and bustle in this part of town, but there are still students walking around. A group of them walks past me, their loud conversation filling the air.
I receive a call as I'm walking. It's Yukino.
"Hello, Yukino-chan," I say into the phone.
"Hello. I think that both of us have yet to calm down, so I'll take tonight to think things over. I am just informing you."
How boring. Codependency rears its ugly head once more. I pause for a bit then laugh.
"Oh, I understand," I say loudly and forcefully. "Hikki-kun is there with you now right? Pass him the phone." She says nothing. I continue, "Hurry up."
After some shuffling around on the other end, I hear his voice.
"What?"
"Hikigaya-kun, you really are kind." I say it with a smile, and I'm sure he can hear it. I hang up soon afterward and click my tongue.
I head into a nearby grocery store and buy a bottle of cheap Chardonnay and a bag to carry it in.
Yukino's place isn't far from the store, but I want to get there as soon as possible, so I start briskly walking.
It's not because of the cold or my mood or because of the meeting coming up. No, something about winter nights like tonight reawakens a certain old feeling.
Maybe it's a memory of walking to the station with friends after a night of hanging out or studying. I hear the sounds of our laughter, and see our hot, hazy breaths, and feel the dark road under our feet.
A road that, to my high school friends at least, seemed to lead to infinite possibilities.
That's the tragic naïveté of youth: the idea that we can go anywhere from where we are right now.
I think that nostalgic feeling of mine is a mixture of both pity and something else. Pity for knowing better, and another emotion for not being able to hope in that ridiculous claim. I wouldn't call it envy.
Some people become obsessed with the idea of choices. They say, "Oh, if only I did X when I was younger, my life would be completely different." For those people, maybe that's the truth. Or maybe that's a sad excuse they say to make themselves feel better.
I had neither the liberty nor the time to pursue that train of thought. To me, those infinite roads all seemed to converge to a singular path. One that wasn't for me to decide.
No, my path has always been part of my pedigree, not something easily altered by a single choice.
I'm not saying that it's good or bad. It's simply how things are.
That's why I'll be damned before I call the other feeling envy.
It's easy to compose yourself and ignore these kinds of thoughts during the daytime, when you're out and doing something. But during the nighttime, especially when you're alone, it's a different story.
I arrive at her complex, ride the elevator up to her apartment, and unlock the door with my copy of the key. The apartment looks almost exactly the same as when we toured it with her. The only signs of anyone living here are her everyday items, like the used umbrella stored in the entrance hall.
But this could be anyone's apartment by that metric.
I go to the kitchen and wrap the bottle in paper towels before tossing it in the freezer. I start opening drawers in search of a bottle opener. She has one, I think, for cooking with wine. I'm right.
After ten minutes I check the wine. It's cold enough. I pop it open, and pour it into a glass, and sit down at the dining table. I swirl the glass then take a sniff and a sip. It tastes like it was bottled in a factory last Tuesday. I drink it without tasting it much and pour another.
At this rate, I should drink from the bottle, but a lady trained in etiquette does not do such things. I smile at my unspoken sarcasm and bring the glass to my lips.
Then again, what makes a lady really? Lady is a title. It comes down to pedigree or marriage. It has nothing to do with etiquette or elegance or femininity. Those are like symptoms of a disease, rather than the cause. Arranged marriage is another symptom.
I start wondering what he'll be like. Some CEO's son, to be sure. Probably a CEO with whom Mother wants to form a business relationship. Maybe the guy will be handsome and funny and perfect-husband-material, if such a person exists. It's more likely that he'll be bland, all business, and an asshole. That's how the last few have been.
Though none of those things really matter. Marriage meetings like these are primers. They're not for deciding if you like a person enough to date them with prospects for marriage. Rather, you're sent to these meetings to see who you'll be paired with for another trial run. To show you who you'll be spending more time with at formal parties. Whether or not they're favorable is ultimately up to your parents. I'm lucky that Mother hasn't found the right one.
Or maybe these meetings are a primer she has set up for me. "This is how your marriage will happen," or some idea like that being instilled through unfruitful repetition.
A marriage manufactured out of pure utilitarianism. Exactly like my parents' marriage. I used to wonder if they loved each other. Such a thing isn't genuine. It's the opposite, in fact.
Genuine… don't make me laugh.
Why do Hikigaya's words come up now, I wonder. Well, I know why. After tonight, that genuine thing must be drifting further and further away. For him, and for me. I should have never entertained the idea of those nonsensical words in the first place.
"Do genuine things exist?" I asked myself before. Certainly such a thing does not exist.
Did he believe in it? He said himself that his relationship with his middle school friend wasn't a genuine one. Did he want one? Seeing him and Yukino, hearing about them from others, I'm thinking that's the case, even if he won't admit it himself.
If that is the case, they're not heading in the right direction, if there even is one.
I empty the glass down my throat again, but it doesn't fill the pit I'm feeling inside.
Hikigaya has his own beliefs. And so does Yukino. And so do my high school friends and those boys at the mixer and Usako and Hitomi. Those beliefs all stem from one thing, really: the option to choose. Once you take that out of the equation, those beliefs become worthless. You have to toss them aside and focus on what's put in front of you, whether it's university or inheriting the family business or marriage.
That's why something genuine, even if it does exist out there, even if it can be reached for and held onto—and tonight convinces me otherwise—such a thing doesn't exist for me.
I look back at the bottle of wine on the table. There's quite a bit left. I move to the couch and drink more wine, trying to drown out my thoughts as the night passes.
Another night when I cannot get drunk.
It's after three-fourths of the bottle when my phone buzzes. I roll over on the couch to grab it from my pocket.
It's Shizuka.
Shizuka: Come to Whiskey today
Me: Shizu-chan's asking me out? How rare~
Shizuka: Ah I should have asked if you're busy first
Shizuka: And don't call me that
Shizuka: You free?
I look back at my bottle of wine then look around at the apartment devoid of any personality.
Me: Heading over in a bit. Get me something strong
I put my phone away, head outside, and call a cab. It arrives, and I tell the driver where to go. When we get there I pay the driver and head into the bar.
The bar is called Whiskey Time. It makes up for the tacky name with its wide selection and quiet atmosphere. There's some British rock playing in the background. The dark wooden walls are decorated with concert posters for bands like The Clash and The Ramones, their albums filling a small bookshelf by an old record player. Bottles line the wall behind the counter. The few people inside are regulars. I wave to all of them, even though I don't know most of their names. Shizuka's sitting in her spot in the corner.
"I got you an I.W. Harper," she says as a greeting.
"No ice?"
"Didn't know when you'd get here. You said you wanted something strong."
"I was close by."
Shizuka is well on her way, by the looks of things. She reeks of cigarettes and alcohol, contrasting with her handsome appearance.
She's wearing the same outfit since back when she was my teacher, a white-collared shirt with a black vest and black slacks. She has curves in all the right places, and her outfit doesn't hide them.
I take a sip of bourbon. It smells like fruit and vanilla under the alcohol and warms me up after stinging the back of my throat.
"So what'd you call me out for, Shizuka-chan? Did you want a pre-Valentine's Day date?" I lean in closer and rub her arm and smile at her.
"Please don't talk about that right now." She swats my hand away.
Shizuka has eyes that you can dive into if you look too close, but right now they are glossed over and flat.
"So it's one of those weeks. Need to vent?" I ask.
"No, that's not it."
"It looks like it. How much have you drunk?"
"I'm not too far ahead. You can catch up."
"I had wine at Yukino-chan's. I might be ahead."
"If you drank the bottle," she says, before raising her head and looking at me. "Right."
"Hmm?"
"I saw you talking to those three today. What were you talking about?"
I pause.
"That's not really your business, is it?"
"I'm worried about them is all. You weren't causing trouble right?"
"What if I was?"
"I just don't want you to stop them from growing up."
"Oh, they're growing up all on their own," I say, my annoyance from earlier returning.
"Why do you say it like that?"
"Do you think where they are right now is okay?"
"I think they're going in the right direction."
"How would you know?"
"I'm watching them."
"I am, too, and they are not going in the right direction. That's for damn sure." I take a sip.
"Do you know something?" Shizuka asks. I can tell that it's her teacher's instinct at work. I want to correct her so I speak.
I tell her about Hikigaya's talk of genuine, his past relationship with his middle school acquaintance, and how things have been going right now. She sips her drink and nods the whole time. I finish mine, and we both get another before I continue.
"Is that what he wants then?" she asks when I finish.
"Ask him. Don't ask me."
"What's wrong?"
"'Something genuine' doesn't exist. He's wasting his time." Shizuka hums and leans in closer. Her eyes are like a deep purple ocean again.
"You really think that, Haruno?"
"What, do you think I'm wrong?" I hate it when she acts all teacherly to me. I'm not a Sobu student anymore.
"Yeah, I do. I think something genuine exists. If you look for it, you'll find it."
"Well, what would you know? You haven't had a relationship that lasted for more than a month in years. You have a couple more glasses, and you'll be crying about how the latest guy didn't treat you right. And you're telling me that something genuine exists. How would you know if you've never had it?"
The room is quiet when I finish.
"... Well at least I'm trying, okay? I'm trying..." She's looking away now.
"Hey, I didn't mean it," I say as I go back to rubbing her arm. Dealing with sad Shizuka isn't fun. No need to push it further. I give apologizing gestures to the regulars around me. "I'll get you a drink."
When I come back she starts talking about her latest ex-boyfriend. They went on a couple of dates and "spent a lot of time together"—even now, she leaves out the vulgar parts—then he disappeared on her. They had something planned for tonight, but he never responded.
I'm reminded of Usako and her story of avoiding a boy who kept calling and messaging her. Hitomi laughed about it back then, but now Shizuka is almost in tears over the same thing.
No one really knows anything unless it happens to them, huh?
It's probably the same with this genuine nonsense. Yeah, if I find something genuine, I'll believe it. Good luck with that. Good luck. Until then, you won't convince me.
The regulars are sending various drinks over now. They walk up to our small table with them and give words of encouragement to Shizuka. One of them tells me to treat Shizuka nicely. I say I will.
"I think I hate guys," Shizuka says.
"Let it out, Shizuka-chan."
I stop drinking, but Shizuka is still going and complaining. It's not only about guys.
"I want to see… before I"—she slurs her words and pauses for a bit—"I want to see them grow up."
"Before what?" She doesn't answer that question. I have a guess, though.
After a while, Shizuka starts to spout nonsense. I head to the bartender to pay the bill.
"I'll pay for Shizuka-chan, too."
"It's fifteen-thousand yen." I don't know how she does this on a teacher's salary. Same goes for her fancy car. After I hand over the money, he continues, "Haruno, be careful."
"Why?"
"There's a man in the other corner. Don't look now. He got here maybe half-an-hour after you. Hasn't ordered much. He's been watching you and Shizuka pretty much the whole time."
I try and remember my surroundings, but the only things I can see clearly are our table and Shizuka.
I look over at her, and she's leaning on the table and finishing her last drink, vulnerable and alone.
"If you need help, yell and I'll be there."
I give him my thanks and head back.
"Let's get you home," I say.
"Why? We're just shtarting."
"Everyone went home already. It's your turn."
"Lemme pay."
"I got it."
"Lemme pay you."
"You're funny. Let's go." I help her up. She puts her weight on me. Beneath all the alcohol and cigarettes there's a distinct lavender scent on her.
We walk out of the bar. We're maybe ten meters from the door when I hear it.
Clack, clack.
The sound of dress shoes striking the pavement. I don't turn around.
Trains aren't running this late. Calling a taxi takes too long. This guy watched us for hours. Shizuka's in no condition to defend herself.
Clack, clack.
"You smell good."
"Not now."
I look around. There are bars and restaurants, but barely any people.
Clack, clack.
I see a building with a bright sign. It's a hotel.
Clack, clack.
The steps become louder with the same relentless rhythm. I take Shizuka into the hotel.
"Good evening," the concierge says. "Room for two?" she asks.
"Yes," I say.
"Overnight?"
"Yes."
"That'll be seven-thousand yen." I walk over to the desk and hand her a bill. She gives me change. I look around. I don't see anyone else. The sound has disappeared. "Room 201."
I take the key, give her my thanks, and help Shizuka to the elevator. We ride it up. She presses against me. I lean against the wall. All I want is to get her to the room.
I try to lay her on the bed, but her arm is still on my shoulders, and Shizuka drags me down with her. I look around. The room is dyed in red and pink. There's only one bed. It's round and large with the same colors. I realize where we are. No wonder it cost that much.
Shizuka's close. She opens her eyes.
"You're pretty."
"You're drunk."
"Shaddup. I only had-"
"You had a lot."
"Well who's to blame for that?"
"Sorry." Shizuka shakes her head and turns to the ceiling.
"No," she says. "You were right. I don't know if I'll ever end up in a real relationship."
"Those guys have bad taste."
"I hate them."
"Yeah, yeah." She looks at me, but I don't know what she sees.
"I meant it you know."
"What?"
"You are pretty."
"Flattery will get you nowhere."
"You're a good listener, too. Ever since back then."
"You didn't have anyone to talk to. I was bored. That's it."
"No, that's not it. You were there for me, and you still are."
"I'm still bored."
"Mmm." She rolls over. I get up from the bed and head to the bathroom. After freshening up, I cup my hands and put tap water in them and bring it over to Shizuka.
"Sit up," I say.
"Don't wanna."
"You need water. C'mon." She rests her arm on her face and doesn't move. "What? Do you need it mouth-to-mouth?"
"Would you?"
"This isn't one of your manga." Shizuka doesn't move. "I'll leave." She gets up.
She must be in the mood, I think. Maybe it's the atmosphere of the love hotel and the alcohol. Maybe she's lonely.
My mind wanders back to Usako and Hitomi. I wonder if those two ever came to a place like this after an unsuccessful mixer. I know Shizuka has also brought some of her dates to these hotels.
I hold my hands out to Shizuka, and she drinks the water. She thanks me then slumps back down.
"I'm going." The person that followed us is probably gone by now. Shizuka is safe. I need to be at Yukino's to get my luggage if it comes in the morning. I have a marriage meeting before noon and a mixer afterward.
I pull out my phone to call a taxi. Shizuka pulls me down to the bed.
"Stay."
"You're fine now. I paid for the hotel." She holds onto my hand. "Don't tell me you're falling for me." I smirk at her. Her expression doesn't change.
"Stay with me tonight. Please."
"Fine," I say. I'll leave when she falls asleep, I think. A yawn escapes my lips.
She wraps her arm around me. I can see myself in the reflection of her eyes. Our noses touch.
I don't push her away. She needs this after a rough week. I'm helping her out. There's nothing else to it. It's always been like this with her, without all the touching.
"What if I am?" she asks, her eyes drooping with sleepiness.
"Hmm?"
"Falling for you."
"That's funny. You're funny."
"What if it's the truth?" She seems wide awake now.
"Shizuka-chan, if you think something like this is genuine-"
"You talk too much."
She kisses me. Her lips are wet from the water I gave her. She tastes awful.
Her face is flushed when she separates from me.
"Can I do it again?"
"I don't ca-"
She places her lips on mine a couple more times. She buries her head in my chest. Her breathing calms down, but I'm stuck in this position. I let out a sigh.
How boring. How dreadfully, mind-numbingly boring.
Falling for me over a couple drinks and a broken heart. This isn't the start of a relationship, it's the start of a rebound.
Once again, I remember Usako and Hitomi and their relationship. Shizuka needs physical satisfaction, and that's it. Once she's given that, she'll carry on with trying to find a husband.
A smile creeps up to my face. If I could see myself right now, I'm sure I'd see a wicked, twisted grin.
This is perfect, I think. Shizuka needs a wake-up call, and she's infatuated with me.
We argued earlier about whether or not something genuine exists. I said that it didn't. And I could prove it to her now. I would prove it to her. I'll build up this fake relationship between us, then tear it down.
After all, it's not like I could choose Shizuka. She knows that, yet she's trying to pursue me. Sure, these might be the drunken actions of a lonely woman, but if she's felt like this for a while then I can teach her a lesson.
And, if my guess is correct, Shizuka won't be staying at Sobu High for much longer. She'll be out of my life soon if that's the case.
That settles it.
I'll break Shizuka's heart and, along with it, those foolish beliefs of hers.
A/N: Hello! It's me again~
I hope you like the introduction to this fic. It's been on my mind (on and off) ever since my last full story. HaruShizu this time!
If it's OOC, please explain to me why. I'm pretty worried about Haruno's character (Shizuka's drunk, so I don't feel as bad for her), and if you can correct me, then I'll rewrite this and try to be more true to source material. She's a bit tough for me...
Back to yuri, huh? If you've followed me, then you know about my history with yuri fics… especially if you've followed me to… well, that doesn't have much to do with these author's notes.
Disclaimer, this fic is rated T for right now, but will be rated M in the future. I will also crosspost this to AO3, since AO3 has more lax restrictions when it comes to smut (spoilers). As such, if this is taken off of FF eventually, then I'll repost it "leaving out the vulgar parts." You will be able to see them on AO3 in that case. I'll have to apply for an account there, so expect a small delay.
Big thanks to The Mighty Zingy for giving me the stamp of approval necessary for discord members to post fics… uh, I mean, for being the beta-reader for this fic.
Thanks for reading. As always, reviews are appreciated. See you all next chapter. Or on the discord, as usual~
… Or this chap again if it doesn't work well (:
Brietard/Bchets
Updated for edits.