Chapter Thirteen - Starlight
Madoka woke to an unfamiliar ceiling.
It was a low ceiling, much closer than the one in her apartment, and certainly closer than in her bedroom at home. The mattress was firmer than she preferred, the sheets didn't carry her scent; in search of an explanation, her mind recalled the events of the previous day.
Rain was pouring from the night sky when she showed up on Yanagida's doorstep. The reclusive man lived in the unit above his store, a cramped apartment that served as little more than a place to eat and sleep. Madoka knew he considered the store as much a part of his home as the apartment itself.
His eyes were awash in questions when he opened the door, but after seeing Madoka's face he did not voice them. Instead he ushered her inside, drew a bath and gave her his bed, even changing out the sheets beforehand. She would have been fine with the couch, but he insisted, and a sudden tiredness dragged at her when she hit the mattress.
Madoka sat up in bed and surveyed the room. A small Gundam model kit lay open on a table by the door, halfway complete. Next to it was a toolbox packed with an array of tweezers and other tools. A pang of guilt pricked her when she saw a steaming mug of chamomile tea waiting for her on the dresser. Yanagida must have gone down to open the shop already.
She checked the time and saw that it was just past eight. The back-alley apartment didn't get much sun, but it was removed from the street noise. As she nursed the mug in her hands, she felt like she had been tucked away into a tiny crack in an overlooked corner of the world.
That same muted feeling from before remained in the pit of her stomach. The warmth from the tea, the morning chill, all of it felt very far away, like a work of fiction.
The light from her phone screen pierced the soft gray shadows of the room. Homura's email remained unopened. Madoka's thumb hesitated above the screen. Part of her wanted to leave it, delete it even, and hide away in this forgotten hole forever. But even if everyone forgot about her, she would surely never forget them.
She needed to know. That desire for understanding stirred within her, the same one from the night she and Homura watched In the Mood for Love. That feeling spurred her to begin reading.
'I probably still haven't completely adapted to the world…I feel like this isn't reality. The people, the scene; they just don't seem real to me.'
It was a quote from Norwegian Wood that stood out to Homura during her second read through. She hadn't really noticed it the first time, filled with such asides as Murakami's writing was. But the second time it stuck, and she found herself thinking about the quote often.
Homura didn't really have anything she cared about back then. There was nothing that came to her mind the moment she woke up in the morning; nothing left unresolved when she fell asleep at night. She did well enough in school, but was far from exceptional. Teachers knew her surname but not her given name. Not once was a nasty rumor spread about her in class. Not once did she catch a boy stealing a glance at her from his desk. She merely existed, neither here nor there, like the sand that lay beneath the ocean. Undeniable but overlooked.
She was aware, at least peripherally, that she was wasting time. Yet she continued to do as she always did, spending her afternoons in the library alone. Because it didn't feel like reality, she lacked any sense of urgency.
Asami was different. Following the twilight storm, Homura's upperclassman began to frequent the library after class. They rarely spoke once she arrived; instead she would take a seat by the windows, where she would invariably study until the sun went down. Asami never took breaks, instead preferring to continue until the day's work was done.
Homura felt restless watching Asami study so relentlessly each and every day. She found it difficult to sit and read idly while the girl was present. It made her acutely aware of the time she was wasting, a truth she had grown used to not acknowledging.
Her eyes darted over as she flipped to the next page.
'Don't feel sorry for yourself. Only assholes do that.'
Thanks, Murakami.
Once Asami was done studying she would bring a chair over and set it down across from Homura. The two of them would then talk about nothing in particular, until the sky grew dark and it was time to head home.
"I stopped by the bookstore and bought a copy of Norwegian Wood," Asami said, setting it on the desk. "I had to rush through it to write the report, but I didn't want to take it from you again."
Homura smiled softly. "I wouldn't have minded. It's my job."
"The library can have this copy once I'm done. That way you can have two." Asami flipped through the book. "I'll read you some quotes I like. Midori's my favorite character so far. Here's this part where she says, 'I may be a little bit mad, but I'm a good girl, and honest, and I work hard. I'm kind of cute, I have nice boobs, I'm a good cook, and my father left me a trust fund. I mean, I'm a real bargain, don't you think?'"
Homura rolled her eyes. "Are you still talking about Midori?"
"You're such a flirt. Oh, and this part where she goes, 'The whole world is donkey shit.'"
"She was talking about traveling through Uruguay."
"When do two people sit around talking about donkey shit and Uruguay?"
Homura smiled. Asami met her eyes and they shared a laugh.
"Okay, maybe people do."
"Midori is rather eclectic," Homura admitted.
"Way better than Naoko. Much more straightforward." Asami's eyes softened. "I like this one a lot too. 'I'm looking for selfishness. Perfect selfishness.'"
"Which part is that?"
"When Midori's talking about how she wants a man who will drop everything to buy a strawberry shortcake for her, just so she can throw it out the window. Then she wants him to apologize for having all the 'intelligence and sensitivity of a piece of donkey shit.'"
"I never realized how much Midori likes donkey shit."
"I know, right? She's nuts. That's why I like her."
Their initial interactions were strictly confined to the library. Homura quickly noticed that Asami was never alone. During a couple lunch breaks she took a detour on the way to the library, fancying that she would run into Asami and invite her to eat together. But the girl was always at her desk, surrounded by a knot of other students. Asami was always smiling and laughing; she seemed an easy center of attention.
One afternoon Homura left the library and walked to the hallway that overlooked the track behind the school. From there she peered through the window at the track team holding practice. Each of the girls were taking turns sprinting once around the track to measure their times. Asami sat on the grass nearby, chatting with the others. The sun was strong that day and their bodies, glistening with sweat, appeared vigorous and powerful. When it was Asami's turn to run Homura looked away and returned to the library.
"Do you bike to and from school every day?" Asami asked her once.
Homura was busy unchaining her bike from its stand. "Yes, weather permitting."
"Why don't you just take the bus?"
Homura thought about it. "I don't like standing around next to other people. It makes me uncomfortable."
Asami laughed. "So you'd rather wake up extra early every morning to bike to school?"
"Pretty much."
"That's some serious dedication."
"My priorities may be out of order, but I do have them."
They left the grounds together. From the gate extended a long road that later branched towards the main town in one direction, and Homura's house in the other.
"Why don't you come running with me this weekend?" Asami said. "We have a meet coming up and I want to train, but none of the girls are free."
They met that weekend at the school track, on a morning wreathed in fog. Homura managed about a mile's worth of laps before collapsing onto the grass nearby, gasping for air. After she had recovered she watched Asami run laps around the track, her long ponytail flying behind her. Homura had looked away before, but as she watched now she found herself oddly bound by the girl's form. Asami was just running in circles, but Homura felt like she was being left behind.
Afterwards they laid side by side with their bodies splayed out on the grass.
"Can I ask you something?" Asami said.
"Sure."
"Have you got any friends?"
Homura looked over. "Are you picking a fight?"
Asami laughed. "No. Genuine question."
"Not really. I didn't really have friends in middle school, and I don't really have friends now. I don't think people hate me or anything. But I don't have friends."
"Why?"
It took Homura a long time to answer.
"I guess I just like being by myself," She said finally.
"Hmm." Asami blew her bangs out of her eyes. "Well, at least you've got me. We're friends, aren't we?"
"I suppose."
Asami pouted. "What kind of a response is that? This is why you've got no friends."
"You're probably right."
Asami chuckled. After a while she sat up and looked at the track, turning her head away from Homura.
"Well, I guess I'm kind of glad you're a loner," she said.
"Why's that?"
"If you weren't, I'd still be studying by myself every day."
Homura found herself thinking about her upperclassman's question as she lay in bed that night. She didn't really know why she didn't have friends. She never decided one day that she wouldn't. Things just sort of ended up that way. It wasn't like she was against having friends.
Asami had friends, and she studied hard, and ran till her legs gave out on the weekends. She was pretty, probably had nice boobs and was a good cook, and perhaps her father had even left her a trust fund. A real bargain. She was likely experiencing things Homura could only approximate through reading. Asami must know so much more about the world than her, despite being only two years older.
She was reminded of this whenever they touched each other. Asami touched others without a second thought; during conversation she reached out and brushed a hand or pressed their shoulders together with a practiced ease. Meanwhile Homura found herself memorizing the softness of the girl's hands, the shape of her shoulder. She lacked the courage to touch Asami herself, knowing it was unlike her.
Unfortunately, Homura couldn't know what she didn't know.
One afternoon Asami came to the library and opened the door without knocking. She usually knocked twice, only entering once Homura called out. But today she didn't, instead grabbing a nearby chair and setting it down next to Homura's. She had Homura turn to the side so they could sit back to back, both leaning on the other. Then she took out her copy of Norwegian Wood and began reading, flipping through the pages pointedly.
"You don't have to study today?" Homura asked.
"I don't want to," was all Asami said.
Homura wished she could turn to see the girl's face, but did not dare. Partly because she wanted to stay like that, but also because the agitation radiating from Asami's body was palpable. Looking would only serve as confirmation.
They both read in silence for about half an hour before Asami spoke again.
"I don't like Naoko," she said. "She's nice enough on the outside, but she's got this dark side to her."
She was talking about the book. Homura flipped a page. "Naoko certainly has a dark side. But I enjoyed her character."
"I just don't get it." Asami's voice reverberated against Homura's back. "The main character is in love with her. She knows that. He'd probably do anything for her. But she keeps pulling away. I feel for him."
"Naoko's first lover committed suicide," Homura pointed out. "She hasn't gotten over it yet."
"I get that. But people come in and out of your life," Asami muttered. "What else are you supposed to do? You have to move on."
Homura said nothing more. In the ensuing silence she tried to piece together Asami's words and actions but couldn't quite figure out what was bothering the girl. It occurred to her then that she didn't understand Asami at all. The girl never really talked about herself. She liked peaches and strawberries, she ran track, was at the top of her class and all her peers liked her. But Homura didn't truly understand her. The realization made her feel lonely.
After a while they gathered their things and left the library. Asami walked a bit ahead as Homura followed her down the long road that led them away from school. The sun set much earlier this late in the semester. Half the sky was still a fiery orange, the other half dotted with stars. Asami tilted her head back as they walked.
"I've loved the stars since I was a kid," she said suddenly. "I was a huge science nut in elementary school. Obsessed with space and things like that. I learned the names of all the constellations. Was really into star signs in middle school too, back when that was popular. I'm a Gemini, by the way."
"I have no idea what I am."
"When were you born?"
"February 22nd. Triple deuces."
"Then you're a Pisces." Asami smiled to herself. "Terrible compatibility with Geminis."
"I knew it had to be something."
Asami stuck her tongue out. They walked a bit more as the sky darkened further.
"You know that mountain in the distance?" Asami said, pointing. "If you hike up there on a clear night, you can see so many stars it just blows you away. My dad used to take me up there all the time a couple years ago. Even before we moved here, he'd always take me stargazing. I always thought we'd keep doing that. I thought once he got too old, I'd take him up the mountain instead. But we don't go anymore. We haven't been in years. He keeps promising to take me, but he never does."
Her tone had grown dark and somber. They reached the end of the long road, where it split in two directions. Here they typically parted ways. Homura kicked the stand on her bike and set it down, drumming her fingers nervously on the handlebars.
"Can I ask you something?" Homura said.
Asami turned towards her. Homura caught the girl's eyes and was taken aback by the raw emotion she saw therein. Suddenly she couldn't bring herself to say what she wanted to, and she found herself looking down at the ground instead, searching for something else.
"Why did you start rereading Norwegian Wood?" Homura asked. "I thought you didn't reread books."
Asami blinked, then smiled softly. When Homura mustered the courage to look at her again the brief chink in the girl's armor was gone, replaced by the usual Asami.
"You said there aren't many books you like," she said. "And I wanted to understand you better."
As Homura biked home that night, she thought she might have figured out why she didn't have friends. The utter enigma of the "other" was what terrified her. Characters in novels, even Murakami novels, were simple and easy to understand. She didn't like associating with others because they confused her, confounded her. It was proof that she didn't know a damn thing about life or how to live it, and it was an ignorance she didn't know how to tackle, let alone overcome.
After that day Asami never skipped another day of studying. She came in after knocking twice as usual and worked as diligently as ever. But she now felt utterly unapproachable when she studied. An aura of rage emanated from the desk by the window each afternoon. It was so acute, so miasmic that Homura became terrified to ask the begging question. And aside from the apprehension, Homura didn't ask because she thought she might fail to understand the answer.
These circumstances continued for a number of weeks, until one day Asami didn't come to the library. Or the next, or the next. Asami disappeared for a full week without a trace. When Homura peeked into the girl's classroom she was still there, but she did not come to the library. They had never shared contact information, so it really felt like her upperclassman's existence had been scrubbed clean from her life. It seemed that as sudden and unexpected Asami's entrance had been, a person could just as easily leave without warning.
Homura felt a bit sad as she went to bed at the end of that week. But just as she was about to fall asleep, her phone began to ring.
"Hello?" She said, pressing it against her ear.
"Homura?"
"Asami? How did you get my number?"
"I asked a teacher. Said it was for an assignment."
Her voice sounded shaky. Homura tilted her head. "Are you okay?"
"Just fine. Listen, are you free tomorrow? And the day after?"
"I can be."
"Let's meet by the station in the morning. Eight o'clock."
"Alright. I'll be there."
"Okay. Goodnight, Homura."
"Goodnight, Asami."
Madoka approached the consumption of Homura's manuscript with an apprehensive caution. From the very first page she read at a painstakingly slow pace, digesting every line before moving on to the next. She only wanted to do this once, and was afraid of missing something, of misunderstanding a critical moment.
Yet as she pressed on, Homura's writing reached out and took her hand. Slowly but surely, Madoka found herself becoming absorbed by the story. The strangeness of reading a tale so clearly based upon recent events was undeniable, but in a way this too served to immerse her in this world of Homura's making.
She began the story fully prepared to hate it. What else could she possibly expect from a literal manifestation of betrayal? But as she read, she felt her tight expression begin to relax. Her eyes, tired and empty like a dry well, flickered briefly. She did her best to let go and allow herself to be guided.
The ensuing journey was not what she would have expected. The tale was raw, devastating, and unrelenting; what felt like all of her deepest insecurities laid bare. But it was also kind. And gentle. Though the story was hurtful, Homura's words were not. Madoka felt a slight stirring of emotion in her chest, struggling against the damp deadness that buried the rest of her, and she knew that these were Homura's true feelings.
This complicated things. Having been denied the opportunity to see Homura as incorruptible, part of Madoka wanted to label the girl completely corrupt. But things weren't so simple; this manuscript was proof enough of that. She felt her soul struggling to reconcile these two entities, the Homura who lied and hurt her and the Homura who could write so tenderly.
She read throughout the morning and the afternoon. When at last she reached the incomplete ending of the manuscript, the sun had nearly set outside. She hadn't eaten all day, but she felt no hunger.
Yanagida returned from the shop downstairs and made another helping of chamomile tea. He handed one to Madoka, who took it but did not drink. They sat across from each other at a small table in the kitchen, by a window that overlooked the alley below.
Yanagida was still wearing his usual face mask when he sat down. He took it off and set it aside to partake in his tea.
"How are you feeling?" He asked. "Are you doing okay?"
Madoka wasn't sure how to answer that. She still felt very far away from herself, like a mere witness to her own experiences. Her reflection in the surface of the tea stared blankly back.
"Homura and I had…a falling out," she said finally. Yanagida observed her carefully. "She had been hiding something from me. It broke my trust in her. I don't know if I can forgive her."
"What did she do?"
Madoka shook her head.
Yanagida did not press further. They were silent for a long time, listening to the muted footsteps beyond the alley.
"One of my old friends from high school visited the shop today," he said. "I hadn't seen him in almost ten years. He came in and said 'Yanagida, you haven't changed one bit! All these years, and you're still here.' It kind of bothered me to hear him say that. He's graduated from college, and he's got a wife and kid on the way. We talked for a while, and once he left I kept thinking about it."
Yanagida finished his tea and picked up his face mask, stretching it gingerly in his hands.
"I didn't go to college," he said. "Didn't want to. I liked it here, in the shop. I wake up, I sell models. The people who come speak my language. I've never really been interested in anything else. I always told myself it was too much trouble."
After fidgeting for a while Yanagida put the mask back over his face. His voice became slightly muffled by the fabric.
"I've always been that way. I hated high school because everyone's made to do things together. Clubs, culture festivals, things like that. Spend enough time with someone and you don't know what to think of them anymore. That's why I've mostly decided to live on my own. But lately I think I might regret that decision."
Madoka looked up. "What do you mean?"
"When my friend left today, I wanted to talk to him a bit more," Yanagida said. "But I didn't know how to tell him that. I couldn't. I mean, it's not something I would do. The words just died in my throat. It might be a little too late for me. I'm already too used to this life. People don't come together all nice and neat like a model kit."
The words were somber, but he said them peacefully. They were the words of a man who had accepted his fate. But Madoka, who had yet to accept hers, understood she was not meant to partake in that peace. Not yet.
They finished their tea and cleaned up. While Yanagida did the dishes Madoka remained seated and thought quietly for a little while.
"Mr. Yanagida?" She said.
"Hm?"
"Is it alright if I spend one more night here?"
He smiled. "Of course. Are you heading back to your apartment tomorrow?"
"No. I'm going home."
The next morning Homura rose with the sun and set off for the station. She hadn't slept a wink, but fortunately it was a Saturday. Per Asami's instruction she brought a jacket and running shoes, though in her case all she had were a pair of beat up sneakers.
She broke out her bike and pedaled down the dirt road that greeted her every morning. It had been a long time since she last took this road to go meet someone. Knowing someone was waiting for her made the journey feel completely different. The sky was a soft and clear blue; it was a beautiful day.
Asami was waiting at the train station, a large backpack set on the bench beside her. Homura locked her bike to a stand by the entrance and followed her inside, where they bought two tickets and waited quietly on the platform. Aside from a brief greeting they shared no words.
The train arrived two minutes early. When they boarded the car was empty. They chose a seat by the windows where the sunlight painted squares of light on the floor. A moment later the doors slid shut and the train slowly rocked into motion. The gentle swaying of the car lulled Homura to sleep, and she lost consciousness for a while.
When her eyes opened the scenery outside had changed. Her head was resting against Asami's shoulder. Through her cheek she could feel the soft warmth of the girl's skin. When Asami felt Homura shift she reached out and placed a hand on her thigh.
"You can rest a bit more. We aren't there yet."
The buildings outside the train were gone, replaced by farmland and wildlife. She could not have been asleep more than an hour, but already the scenery outside was unrecognizable. She was made to acknowledge just how small her world was.
She must have fallen asleep again, because after a while Asami shook her awake. They left the train and stepped out onto a platform that didn't even have a roof, exposed in its entirety to the sky. As the train trundled off Homura turned and saw the mountain looming behind them.
It was a rather small mountain, probably small enough to be climbed in less than half a day. But she still felt tiny and insignificant before it. Asami shouldered her backpack and led them down a long winding road that took them to the entrance of the trail, where they rested and stretched before setting off.
It was the first time Homura had ever been hiking. In elementary school her class once had a field trip to a mountain, but she was still suffering from her heart condition back then and was excused from the trip. She found herself running out of breath rather quickly, lagging behind even though Asami was the one carrying a backpack. Her upperclassman seemed to notice, and after about an hour they stopped to rest by a large rock that overlooked the valley below.
Asami retrieved a bottle of water from her backpack and handed it to Homura, who accepted it gratefully. It was quiet that morning atop the mountain, but different compared to the library. It was quiet but not still. A thick cluster of trees surrounded the large rock, and Homura could sense they were teeming with life. The air tasted crisp and fresh, free of any conditioning. Being up here felt oddly natural, even though she had never been here before.
"How are you feeling?" Asami asked.
"I'll be ready to continue in a bit," Homura assured her. "You seem to be doing just fine."
Asami smiled wanly. "I've been up this trail many times. It's been a while since I last came, but I still remember it very well."
She turned to look at the view below. Homura watched her upperclassman as she sipped some more water. From her position, all she could see apart from Asami was the edge of the rock and the flat blue of the sky.
Once Homura had recovered they continued up the trail, resting occasionally whenever she grew too tired. The hike was an all day affair; Asami had already informed her that they would be spending the night atop the mountain.
"Asami?" Homura asked as they trekked. The girl was walking a few paces ahead, her form steady and resolute beneath the trees' shade.
"Hm?"
"Why doesn't your dad bring you up here anymore?"
It took a long time for Asami to answer. So long in fact that Homura assumed her question had been ignored. By now the sun had passed its apex and was dipping lower in the sky. They were nearly at the top of the mountain.
They stopped one last time before beginning the final push to the summit. Only once Asami had turned her face away from Homura did she begin to speak.
"My parents split when I was really young," she said, hopping over a large stone that blocked the path. "I was five. My mom came home one day and told my dad she was in love with someone else. They fought over me in court for a while, but because of everything my mom did they gave my dad custody. She still sends money and letters. But I haven't seen her in a long time."
Homura said nothing. Even back then, she preferred to remain silent during moments of revelation.
They passed a small stream that gurgled across the path. Asami jumped across and waited for Homura to join her before continuing.
"We moved around a lot after that," she said. "At first we just didn't want to stay in the same house she used to live in anymore. But then he had trouble finding work. My mom was the breadwinner, you see. My dad worked too, but he didn't make as much as her. He was a writer actually, just like you. Not anymore, though."
"What happened?"
"He gave it up. Didn't have time for it. We had some debt, and I think the economy wasn't so great back then. We had to keep moving. I went to three different elementary schools and two or three middle schools. Honestly, I don't really remember anymore. We moved here a couple years ago when I started high school. That was when my dad told me he wanted me to start studying harder."
The knot of trees they were walking under suddenly vanished, and they were at the summit of the mountain, a flat expanse that opened like a dish beneath the sky. Twilight had begun, and the view from the top was breathtaking.
Homura stopped to marvel at the view, but Asami set her backpack down and started to unpack almost immediately. She took out a tightly rolled tent and set it aside.
"Here, help me set this up."
They spent the next several minutes setting up the tent and making sure it was properly secured. Afterwards Asami took out some packaged home made food and handed some to Homura. They sat on a pair of tree stumps near the edge of the summit and ate, watching the sun sink behind the horizon.
"So you've been here ever since," Homura said.
"Yeah. My dad found work at an insurance company based here. It's a nice little town, and the rent's cheap. He's always traveling though. Always going off someplace, meeting clients or whatever. Half the year he isn't really home."
"I'm sure he's doing his best to provide for you."
"I know. But I still miss him."
"Is that why you study so much?"
Asami dug her heel into the dirt. "We made a deal when we got here. He'd work extra hard, so I had to too. He always says he doesn't want me to have to depend on anybody. 'Be your own person,' he says. I shouldn't need anybody, and that probably includes him. But what's up with that? Maybe I want to need him."
After they were done eating they carefully packed up the containers to avoid attracting animals. Homura went inside the tent and laid down for a bit, resting her tired legs. Outside the sun fully set, and a deep chill crept through the tent. Homura shivered and grabbed her jacket as Asami unzipped the entrance and poked her head in.
"The stars are out," she said. "Come see them with me."
They left the tent and walked to the edge of the summit. Dotting the darkness of the sky was a truly endless array of stars. It was a new moon that night, so nothing contested the starlight above. Homura found herself tilting her head back and turning in a circle to take it all in. She felt very small, but the rest of the known universe had never felt closer either.
Asami let out a delighted noise, spreading her arms out and spinning once beneath the night sky. From a pack secured at her waist she produced a pair of binoculars, which she handed to Homura.
"I wish we had a telescope. But these will have to do," she said. "Take a look through these. Start at the North Star. You can see it there…"
Homura spent the next several minutes peering at the stars Asami pointed out to her. She didn't understand everything she heard, but the warmth in the girl's voice was powerful. All traces of the anxiety from the past week seemed to have gone away.
A gust of wind swept across the summit. Homura shuddered. Even in her jacket she felt cold. Asami went back to the tent and returned with a blanket and thermos filled with piping hot tea. They sat together on a tree stump with the blanket wrapped around their shoulders, warming their hands with the thermos. Homura could feel Asami's heartbeat. Suddenly she was very glad for the cover of darkness.
They sat in silence for a while, drinking their tea. The blanket was warm, but Asami was warmer. Beneath the stars, in this place that was quiet but not still, she felt at peace.
"I had a big fight with my dad yesterday," Asami said. Her voice was low but perfectly audible against Homura's ear. "It was about when we were going to come up here again. In the end I told him I would go by myself. He had another business trip; he isn't home. But I didn't actually want to go alone."
The girl's fist clenched beneath the blanket. Homura took her hand and held it.
"It doesn't have to be him. I just want someone who'll always be there," Asami said. "You know, people can come and go just like that. Even your parents. I'm always searching for perfect selfishness. I've always wanted a forever person."
A forever person. Homura wasn't quite sure what Asami meant by that. Even if two people loved each other deeply, one was surely going to die before the other. Departures were inevitable.
Homura squeezed Asami's hand beneath the blanket. "I don't know about forever…but I'm here right now."
Asami smiled and leaned against her. "I know. But you're different, aren't you? You don't mind being by yourself."
Homura could not deny this. She desperately wished to, but to do so would be a betrayal of who she believed she was. But did that even matter? Asami was challenging her, but Homura wasn't ready to leave herself behind.
Some time later they retired to the tent. Asami had only brought one sleeping bag, so they climbed in together and fell asleep back to back. Even pressed up against one another like this, close enough to feel the heat from the other's pulse, Homura felt a million miles away from Asami. For some strange reason she felt like she had failed somehow.
The following morning they packed up and hiked back down the mountain. They waited for the train to arrive and took it back to town. At the station they parted ways, embracing briefly beforehand.
Homura was tired and sweaty when she arrived home. She showered and went about her day, trying to keep her mind off things. But when she laid in bed that night she couldn't stop thinking back to those stars. Despite her exhaustion she had difficulty falling asleep; her body craved another beside it. If only that night on the mountain could have been forever. At that moment she thought she might have understood what Asami meant.
Eternity was fleeting.
A/N
Extra long chapter this month. I'm pretty excited to be finally bringing Asami's character to life, after hinting at and alluding to her for so long. What do you guys think of her?
Thanks for reading.
-Banshee
