"Every tear comes to dry..."
--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter II - "She"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
A few days went by and, as much as I didn't enjoy admitting it, I ended
up making a pretty decent gym teacher. Those students who, the first day, had
gaped wide-eyed at me in the locker room now smiled and greeted me cheerily
as I crossed campus. "Ten'ou-sensei, look this way!" they called. "I got a
perfect score on my math test, sensei!" "Perhaps you can substitute for my class
sometime, sensei? My friends don't believe you're a woman, and I want to prove
them wrong!" Respect, as delicate as it is, was mine for the taking, and in
taking it, I gave it right back. The students liked that.
They liked ME.
Megumi, for all her giggly tendencies and slightly adolescent attitude,
became my only friend in the world. She tried to introduce me to other teachers,
dragged me to a few social events, forced me to eat lunch with the principal
and his secretary. I didn't enjoy that aspect of my career in education, and I
told her so over a lunch of egg salad on my third day at Giakiin.
She laughed. "Haruka," she chided, having decided on my first day that
the too of us should be on a first-name basis, "what are you going to do for
the next six weeks, then? Hide in the locker room every day!"
I told her that it didn't sound half-bad, and she laughed again.
Of course, social occasions were the least of my worries. I only avoided
them because I wanted to avoid HER. Kaioh Michiru. It seemed that she was always
lurking around one corner or another, always with her head peaking around the
corner, always with her bright blue eyes shining as she talked to the other
teachers. She was beautiful, and I couldn't deny it. Still, despite all my
hotheaded adoration, I didn't know if I could talk to her. Okuno's warning
echoed in my ears every time I saw her, and my own nerves did a double back flip
in the pit of my stomach each time I thought of that first day I saw her. It
seemed that I should remember her from somewhere, something... But I didn't.
It was Thursday, and it seemed that September was getting colder. I
found myself running into the main building from the parking lot, my breath
crystallizing in the air as I exhaled. "I hate the cold," I muttered to myself,
kicking off my Nikes as I entered the building and searching for my Giakiin-
issue indoor shoes. I had a meeting with the rest of the physical education
department that morning about getting new gymnastic equipment. I had been
told by the department chair that I didn't HAVE to go, but he had also hinted
that he wanted the input of someone who had once been a well-known high school
athlete. I had sighed and told him I'd be there.
"I am not a fan of this weather, either," responded a soft, feminine
voice from nearby. I looked up from tying my laces, only to see bright blue
eyes staring into my face. I nearly fell over.
The orchestra instructor chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her
face. "Ten'ou Haruka, ne?" she questioned of me, her pink lips pursed into a
polite smile. "You're the substitute for Yahii, if I'm not mistaken." She
extended a hand. "I'm - "
"Kaioh Michiru," I finished, reaching up to shake hands with her. Her
skin was soft and rich, and I could smell lilacs as I rose to stand face-to-
face with her. Or, more accurately, chest-to-face; she was a good three or four
inches shorter than I. "I've heard much about you from Megumi-san."
The musician blushed, and I could tell that the mention of the English
teacher made her uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I try not to bother Megumi-san too
much," she responded, folding her hands over her flat stomach as she spoke.
"Do you spend much time with her? You two seem...close..."
I cursed my masculine shoulders and androgynous form. A case of mistaken
identity had struck again. Oh well, I told myself with an inner shrug, I'll just
run with her assumption that I'm a male.
"Well, Megumi and I are...friends," I replied ambiguously. Frankly, I
didn't want to think of the always-laughing redhead as too much of a friend.
Friendship was not something I took lightly, and - at least in my mind - it had
to be EARNED. "But what about you? Don't you eat with her sometimes?"
"Occasionally," nodded Michiru, glancing awkwardly at her watch as she
spoke. She seemed as nervous and speechless as I was, and I couldn't help but
wonder what was going on in her head. Then, she swallowed audibly and looked up
at me, eyes filled with hope. "Ten'ou-san, do you believe in...Fate?"
I froze. Fate? How was I supposed to answer that?
I didn't have to, because someone called my name just then. It was
one of the other physical education teachers, a loud, brash man whose name I
could never really remember. "Ten'ou!" he shouted, pointing down the hallway.
"We're waiting on you in here!"
Flushing, I nodded and watched him retreat. "Gomen ne, Kaioh-san," I
told the beautiful woman next to me. I hastily grabbed my gym bag and slung it
over my shoulder. "I'll have to answer your question at a later date, alright?"
Michiru smiled. "Don't worry," she responded with a small shrug and a
knowing look on her face. "We'll see each other again."
---
See each other again? I mulled over Michiru's words at lunch, my eyes
staring blankly at a copy of that morning's "Daily." Why in the world did she
think that we would see each other again? If I had successfully avoided her for
nearly a week, I could probably keep it up for the subsequent five.
I sighed and chewed thoughtfully on my turkey burger. What was it about
her? Again, seeing her gave me that feeling that I should know her. And hearing
her voice did it again. My mind ran away from me, imagining all the places I
could have met her. A high school track meet? No, she was too musical. A
motocross competition? No, she would never get near that much mud. One of my
piano recitals in junior high? Yeah, when pigs fly, maybe.
"Haruka!" scolded Megumi, plopping down in the chair across from me
unexpectedly. I gave a start, having had my daydreams ripped apart suddenly.
"I thought we were going out today, and now I find you here, eating..." She
peered at my lunch suspiciously. "Did you just totally have a brain lapse or
something?"
Rolling my eyes, I folded up the paper and shrugged. "Sorry," I quickly
apologized, only half-faking my regret for ditching her. "I had a lot on my
mind this morning and just totally forgot."
She laughed softly, glanced up at me, and then frowned. "What's wrong?"
she asked. I suppose I should have worked harder at hiding my emotions if I
hadn't wanted her to know I was out of it. I mentally kicked myself for
forgetting our lunch plans. "You really don't seem like yourself today..."
I sighed. "I'm not feeling well," I lied, taking a bite out of my
sandwich and chewing deliberately. "I had to get in early, and I got a really
bad parking spot and had to walk in the cold, and then - "
"May I sit down?" asked a familiar voice.
I nearly choked on my sandwich as Megumi began to gush. "Michiru-san!
Of COURSE you can sit with us!" I watched in both delight and horror as my
happy-go-lucky lunch date pulled out the chair next to me and gestured for the
director to sit down. "Ten'ou Haruka, this is Kaioh Michiru, our orchestra
instructor. Michiru, this is Haruka, and she substitutes - "
"I know," smiled Michiru calmly in a soft, polite voice as she set down
her bowl of ramen. "We met this morning."
I saw Megumi's blue eyes light up, and I groaned inwardly. Why did I
suddenly dread the moment the aquamarine-haired beauty stood to leave?
Instead, I focused intently on my lunch and said nothing. The redhead,
of course, chirped merrily about all the things that had gone on during the
first half of the day: one of her students had thrown his pencil out the window
in anger; she confused her students into thinking "egg" actually meant "elbow";
and she finished correcting what she called a "sea" of papers on the importance
of being a good citizen. I listened to her chatter and couldn't help but be
amused. No wonder she called Michiru quiet! She didn't let the orchestra director
get a word in edge-wise.
When Megumi had finally paused for air, Michiru leaned in front of me
and picked up the section of the paper that I had left setting on the table.
The scent of lilacs flooded my nostrils, a soothing and familiar scent that I
was certain I had smelled all my life. "This is a copy of the 'Tokyo Daily,'
is it not?" she asked of me, opening the paper with interest. "Don't you write
for the paper?"
"I used to," I admitted, sipping my black coffee slowly. "I took a leave
of absence to be a teacher here."
The redhead across from me blinked a few times, and then laughed. "You
gave up job at the newspaper to teach high school physical education? Are you
INSANE?" Her smile faded as she saw that I wasn't laughing along with her.
"Sorry," she flinched, embarrassed that she had just mocked me so.
I shrugged. "It's alright," I responded. "My editor said the exact
same thing to me when I quit. It's hard for anyway to climb the ranks at the
paper, and you have to hang on for dear life once you make it to the top."
I glanced warily at Michiru and sighed. "Especially when you're a woman."
"I admire when I woman works in what is usually a man's profession,"
the musician smiled, setting the paper down on the table as she spoke. "It
shows that you have great strength and dedication to your line of work."
My eyebrows arched, and I forced myself to keep my cool. I raked a
hand through my short hair. "Thanks," I told her a bit shortly, pushing back
my chair. I picked up my empty tray and smiled. "But if you two will excuse
me, I need to - "
"Let me!" cut in Megumi quickly, violently seizing my tray and starting
off to the dish drop with it. "I need to buy my lunch anyway. Ja!"
I blushed a few times, and I sensed that Michiru was blinking, too.
I turned to glance at her only to see her staring at me, and we both turned
bright red. I picked at my cuticle like some sort of little schoolgirl.
There was a long moment of silence, neither of us daring to speak. After
a long moment, I bit the bullet and shrugged. "So, you wanted to know if I
believe in Fate?" I questioned archly, my normal cynicism shining through. I
tried to push the sarcastic tone from my voice, but it seemed to fail me. "I
believe that things happen for a reason, and I believe that there's nothing we
can do from stopping them."
Michiru considered my answer silently, chewing thoughtfully on the
end of her chopstick. Then, she smiled softly and nodded. "That's a well-thought
answer," she responded softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I like
that."
The bell rang, signaling the end of my lunch hour. I apologized and
rose to leave, and she chuckled.
"Seems you're always running away," she smirked, winking a blue eye.
"I'll have to rectify that, sometime."
Somehow, I thought she knew more than she was telling.
---
I had just finished changing out of my sweatpants when I heard my name
blearing across the all-school intercom system. "Ten'ou Haruka to the nurse's
office, please," chirped the ever-friendly voice of one of campus secretaries.
I recognized her as the woman I had met with to get my identification badge on
the very first day of school. She was nice but heavy-set, and always very
friendly.
Groaning, I grabbed my bag and placed it on my shoulder, just like I
always did. Why in the world would the school nurse want to see me? I was sure I
had turned in all my medical records already, a necessary (and totally old-school,
but whatever) background check. I pushed through the doors and started down the
hallway toward the nurse's office.
After school hours were always my favorite hours of the day. The students
always cleared out as quickly as they could, going either to their club sessions
or home to do their assignments, whichever they preferred. Only a few - perhaps
running late for their club, or coming from a conference with a teacher - wandered
the halls...which meant I didn't have to cope with the whispered, confused
questions to who I was or why I looked like a man. I brushed my bangs from my
face, sighed, and continued walking.
The nurse's office was located just off the main hallway, complete with
a cute little sign that read "School Nurse" in purple and white letters. Inwardly,
I wondered what kind of woman this nurse would be. At my first high school, the
nurse had been a tall, angry-looking woman with red hair down to her waist. I had
only visited her once, for... For...
Hmm. Yet another blurry spot in my memories. Ah well.
I rapped lightly on the door before starting into the office. "Hello?" I
called out, glancing around. It was a simple enough room: a desk and chair beside
a file cabinet, a cot in the corner with pillows and blankets, a counter covered
all sorts of little canisters with labels like "swabs" and "wash-wipes." A tiny
bathroom, complete with a toilet, shower, sink, and scale, stood open on the back
wall. "Is anyone - "
"Ten'ou Haruka?" questioned a voice behind me, and I whirled around to
come face-to-face with a tall, green-haired woman looming over me. Her red eyes
looked me up and down, as if giving me the once-over of a lifetime.
Nodding, I felt my skin crawl slightly. Not AGAIN, I groaned to myself,
resisting the urge to slam my head into a wall as hard as I could. Not ANOTHER
person who set off this feeling of deja vu.
The nurse smiled brightly as soon as I affirmed my identity and pushed
pass me, striding into her office. "Sit down, then, Ten'ou-san!" she instructed
cheerily, gesturing to the cot. "I know it's not much," she admitted, "but it's
my office, and I make do with all I've got."
"Thank you, Miss..." I frowned and pursed my lips. Why in the world did
I have such an urge to call the woman Setsuna? I had never met her before, and
yet...
Yet...
"Meiou Setsuna," she introduced herself, crossing her ankles beneath her
chair. I nearly fell off the cot. My half-assed guess had been right? What in the
world was WRONG with me?! After a moment of silence, she sighed. "I just wanted
to give you the...'heads up,' if you will, about one of your students."
My mind was still too busy reeling at what had just happened for me to
hear a word she said. Setsuna? Her name was Setsuna? How in the world had I known
that off the top of my head? Visions of a small country manor in the woods filled
my mind, of baking pies from scratch and children's books littering the floor...
What in the world were these things?
Another vision, stronger than the other. A vision of myself, standing on a
the roof of a strange building in downtown Tokyo. Horror. Fear. An exploding
helicopter...
A hand reaching for mine...
...and a head of aquamarine ha -
"Ten'ou-san?" questioned the nurse firmly, my daydream shattering as she
spoke. I blinked and shook my head a bit before glancing at her. She looked
confused and concerned at the same exact time. "Is everything alright,
Ten'ou-san?" she asked politely. "Is this a bad time?"
I forced a smile and shook my head. "I'm sorry," I replied, not really
certain if I was sorry or not. "I just spaced out for a minute, that's all." There
was a brief moment of silence, and I was almost certain that Setsuna didn't
believe me. "Now, you wanted to talk to me about a student?"
She nodded curtly and reached back to her desk, taking from it a rather
large manila folder. "This is the file on Tomoe Hotaru," she informed me in a
matter-of-fact tone, handing over the folder. "I think you should read it over.
It may help you understand her better."
So Setsuna was somehow tied to Hotaru, and I had visions of both? Sighing,
I pushed those thoughts all from my head. It wasn't time to worry about deja vu
and funny feelings and knowing the nurse's name out of nowhere. I had to deal
with the here and now, and the here and now was a folder full of medical jargon.
I flipped to the first page, which appeared to be some sort of student
profile. All the basic information was presented on the form, written in purple
pen by what appeared to be a young hand. Name, age, height and weight, birth date
and place, address, phone number, parent's names... I frowned a bit.
"Tomoe Keiko and Tomoe Souichii," I read, glancing up at the nurse
uncertainly. "Says here her mother died when she was three. Is that what you want
me to know?"
She shook her head, and gestured to the file. "Keep reading..."
Shrugging, I looked down and continued reading. Allergies...she was
allergic to milk. Fine. I wasn't planning to serve milk in class, anyway.
Permanent medications. Handicaps. Blah blah blah.
Arching an eyebrow, I looked to Setsuna. "No offence, Meiou-san," I began,
closing the folder, "but I don't think this is going to - "
"Keep reading."
I sighed and went back to the page. "Please use the back of this sheet
and any other sheets to note other ailments, physical difficulties, maladies,
hospital visits, et cetera," I read in a mumble, rolling my eyes. What in the
world did this nurse want me to know? And why in the world did -
My eyes must have tripled in size when I moved to turn the page over.
Stapled to the first profile were at least ten more pages, front-and-back, of
lined paper, each filled completely...and written in the same purple pen.
Setsuna saw my shock and nodded, crossing her hands on her lap. "We gave
the students a class period to fill out that sheet," she explained softly, "and
Hotaru asked - very politely - if she could take it home and double check
everything with her father. I allowed her to...and she came home with that."
"Is everything accurate?" I asked, flipping idly through the sheets. There
must have been five hundred dated bullet points in the packet.
"As far as I can tell, yes," responded the woman, moving to brush a strand
of hunter hair from her face. "I've called every hospital mentioned, and they have
confirmed. I had her father come in to double-check her world, and he says that,
if anything, she's probably missing a few dates."
I blinked. "Missing a few?"
"And that's not all," she continued, standing and sitting next to me.
She turned the packet to the last page, pointing at the final entry. "She was
miraculously cured of EVERYTHING - things like epilepsy, physical weakness,
chronic fatigue - about four years ago." She sighed. "It's an odd case, and I'll
be the very first to admit it. We don't know what's going on."
Turning to look at the school nurse, I raised an eyebrow. "And this is
supposed to help me understand her...how?"
She chuckled and leaned back against the wall. "Perhaps 'understand' is
the wrong word," she responded after a moment's thought. "You can't understand
the impossible, now can you?"
"I suppose you can't," I condescended, not quite certain that I knew what
she was getting at. "So, then, what?"
"Take home the folder and read it," she told me, rising. "And watch
Hotaru carefully. I want to know if it's a miracle, or coincidental, or..."
"A lie," I nodded, catching her drift. I used to be like her, I realized
after a moment. Always in search of the REAL story. Of the gospel truth. Of
everything and nothing.
I wonder when I stopped being like that. I couldn't remember.
She smiled. "Exactly." There was a pause as I rose and gathered my things,
and she extended her hand toward me.
I shook it. "It was nice to meet you, Meiou-san," I told her, not complete
lying.
She smiled. "Nice to meet you, too."
---
Hotaru's file, believe it or not, was probably the most riveting thing I
had ever read...next, of course, to "Car and Driver." The girl had chronicled
every hospital visit and general ailment - from the tiniest flu bug to a near-
fatal laboratory accident - in a neat, concise order. She even asterisked moments
that she could not remember, noting "from my father's records" wherever those
times occurred.
I was almost through the ten-page listing when the phone rang. Groaning,
I dropped the file and rushed to the kitchen, managing to catch it on the last
ring.
"Moshi moshi," I chimed into the receiver, glancing at the wall clock. It
was only six. Couldn't be anything too urgent.
"You are WAY too happy for your own good, Haruka," barked the familiar
voice of my editor on the other end of the line. I suppressed a chuckle. "Got a
girl over there or something?"
I rolled my eyes. "No girl, Okuno," I assured him with a small sigh.
"Though, if you have any who will take me up on the offer..."
He snorted, and I could visualize the toss of his head that probably
accompanied it. "The arts editor - you know, Watari Fuki, the babe with the purple
hair? - just called with her panties in a bundle. Seems that her drama review
guru just came down with a nasty case of food poisoning and took a week off. She's
convinced me that you're the best and that I should lend you to her fighting force
for a few days. And I didn't have the heart to say no."
"You're a sucker for a pretty girl in trouble," I reminded him, digging a
pad of paper out of a drawer. "So, what do you need?"
There was a pause as he shuffled papers around on his massive (and always
messy) desk. "Some art troupe is paying for these big name Shakespearean dolts to
come in from Britain and put on 'The Tempest,'" he told me quickly. I scribbled
everything down as fast as I could. "You need to go and write the physical review.
Fuki will fill in the blanks."
I had almost completely copied down my assignment when I realized exactly
what Okuno had said. "Shakespeare?" I gaped, glowering into the phone. "You KNOW
that I hate all that old English mumbo-jumbo! Hell, I hardly SPEAK English! There
is no way that - "
"Oh, wow, look at the time!" Okuno said suddenly, cutting me off in the
midst of a budding rant. "We go to copy really soon!"
"Bullshit! It's six in the evening! You have four hours until copy!"
"Gotta go! Review's due next Thursday! Later!"
He hung up the phone with a resounding click, and I let out a defeated
sigh.
Why me?
---
By lunchtime the next day, I was irritable, groggy, and altogether not in
the mood for human contact. I had stayed up half the night trying to find tickets
for "The Tempest" - both online and by phone - but it seemed that it was all sold
out. Okuno had forgotten to warn me that it was a one-show-only deal...and that
the Art Society of Tokyo hadn't thought to make any tickets available to the
press. "I'm sorry, Ten'ou-san," one snippy secretary addressed me at a quarter to
midnight, "but we just DON'T have any tickets left. You'll have to call your editor
and tell him - "
"Her."
" - that the article is an impossibility."
My first class, which was actually fourth period, seemed offended that I
was so tired and out of it. Worse than that, I had come to school only to be
reprimanded severely by the school nurse. "You can't leave my files at your
house!" she shot at me angrily. "I'm not supposed to lend them out!"
"Then why in the world did you let me take it in the first place?" I spat
back coolly. I was not in the state of mind for a piddly argument about a
single file folder.
Setsuna recoiled slightly and sighed. "Because I thought I could trust
you."
I was in a sour mood as I sat down in the corner-most table of the
lunchroom, content to huff into my salad silently. Two more classes to go, and
then I would call Okuno and inform him that he was shit out of luck and that it
served him right to -
"Have you seen Michiru?" questioned Megumi, seeming to pop out of nowhere
and plop down next to me.
Resisting the urge to groan, I shook my head and said absolutely nothing.
The last thing I wanted to do was come face-to-face with Michiru. The mere thought
of coping with my deja vu flashes made my skin to crawl.
The redhead sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "She's been looking for you
all morning, but you've been pulling a recluse on us." Arching an eyebrow, she
glanced dubiously. "Is something wrong? I saw you arguing with Setsuna earlier..."
Does she know EVERYONE in the school by their first name? I thought to
myself, annoyed. I was in no frame of mind to cope with a "hooray, the world is
great!" attitude this Friday morning. "I was up late last night on a newspaper
lead," I informed her, not TOTALLY lying. "Put me in a bad mood for the day, that's
all."
"Oh," she responded, her face thoughtful and almost childish as she swung
her legs under the chair. "Well, if I see Michiru, I'll tell her that you're not
in the mood to talk. Maybe she can call you?"
Yes, because I wanted that SO badly. "If she'd like," I replied, finishing
up the last few bites of my lunch and standing. "But, if you'll excuse me..."
Megumi nodded. "Feel better."
Yeah, right.
---
With all my classes finished for the weekend, I started outside with just a
bit more spring in my step than I had retained that morning. Even if Okuno (and
the arts woman) got angry about the ticket issue, it wasn't my fault. I'd end up
having a free weekend to myself, a weekend to reflect on what it was to teach
high school gym. I had time to finish reading the Hotaru file, practice piano,
bake a cake... Okay, so I wouldn't bake a cake, but I COULD. And that was the
great part.
I was almost all the way to my car when I heard someone holler my name
from behind me. The clicking of high heels on pavement echoed in my ears as I
turned around...and saw Michiru jogging in my direction. I sighed. Why me?
"Ten'ou-san!" she smiled, panting lightly as she stopped next to me, her
arms full of papers and folders. "I was afraid I wouldn't catch you. Did Megumi
tell you that I was looking for you earlier?"
"Uhmm... Well..." I couldn't decide what would be worse in the long run:
lying or telling the truth. I opted for a mixture of both. "She might have
mentioned something," I admitted in my most innocent tone, "but I really wasn't
listening. I was sort of wrapped up in my own thoughts."
Michiru chuckled a high, elegant chuckle. "The secret is to not listen
very closely to Megumi," she told me softly, as though we were sharing a great
secret. "She is very childish and rash, almost like a girl..."
A mental picture of a blonde girl with goofy pigtails and a bright smile
flashed within my mind. I blinked it away and focused on the musician in front of
me. "Did you need something?" I asked, hoping that it would be a simple favor
and nothing Earth-shattering.
She smiled sadly and nodded. For a moment, she said nothing, as though she
was trying to find the right words to say something. "I am a member of Tokyo's
Art Society," she began, shoving her hands in her back pockets as she spoke. "I
painted when I was younger, before I quit violin and decided to teach, and the
Society thought I would make an excellent member." She paused and pursed her lips.
"The Society is sponsoring a play tomorrow night - William Shakespeare's 'The
Tempest,' if you have perhaps heard of it."
"I've heard of it," I nodded, a feeling of immense dread welling up in
the pit of my stomach. Here was a woman who was part of the society that was
putting on the play that I needed to review! Talk about a sense of true irony.
"Anyway..." she continued, scuffing her feet together. For the first time,
I became aware of something very obvious: Michiru was nervous. She was NERVOUS
being around me... The thought caused me to fidget a bit. Why in the world would
a well-known musician be nervous around a less-than-nothing journalist? "I was
planning to take a friend of mine to the show tomorrow, but her father is very
ill and she cannot attend. I was wondering, perhaps, if you could accompany me."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. My mind flooded with visions,
visions of sitting beside Michiru as a violin concert was presented, visions of
preparing her to play with the Three Lights, visions of accompanying her at a
ball. What was this? And why couldn't I escape it?
I nodded dulling, gulping down the lump in my throat. "Sure," I answered
timidly, finding myself without anything more to say.
She smiled a brilliant, beautiful smile. "Wonderful," she responded, her
voice alight with appreciation and kindness. "I will come by at six tomorrow
evening. Ja!"
I watched her stride away, her flowered dress blown by the cool autumn
wind, and I sighed.
So much for my free weekend.
---
End Chapter II
---
--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter II - "She"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
A few days went by and, as much as I didn't enjoy admitting it, I ended
up making a pretty decent gym teacher. Those students who, the first day, had
gaped wide-eyed at me in the locker room now smiled and greeted me cheerily
as I crossed campus. "Ten'ou-sensei, look this way!" they called. "I got a
perfect score on my math test, sensei!" "Perhaps you can substitute for my class
sometime, sensei? My friends don't believe you're a woman, and I want to prove
them wrong!" Respect, as delicate as it is, was mine for the taking, and in
taking it, I gave it right back. The students liked that.
They liked ME.
Megumi, for all her giggly tendencies and slightly adolescent attitude,
became my only friend in the world. She tried to introduce me to other teachers,
dragged me to a few social events, forced me to eat lunch with the principal
and his secretary. I didn't enjoy that aspect of my career in education, and I
told her so over a lunch of egg salad on my third day at Giakiin.
She laughed. "Haruka," she chided, having decided on my first day that
the too of us should be on a first-name basis, "what are you going to do for
the next six weeks, then? Hide in the locker room every day!"
I told her that it didn't sound half-bad, and she laughed again.
Of course, social occasions were the least of my worries. I only avoided
them because I wanted to avoid HER. Kaioh Michiru. It seemed that she was always
lurking around one corner or another, always with her head peaking around the
corner, always with her bright blue eyes shining as she talked to the other
teachers. She was beautiful, and I couldn't deny it. Still, despite all my
hotheaded adoration, I didn't know if I could talk to her. Okuno's warning
echoed in my ears every time I saw her, and my own nerves did a double back flip
in the pit of my stomach each time I thought of that first day I saw her. It
seemed that I should remember her from somewhere, something... But I didn't.
It was Thursday, and it seemed that September was getting colder. I
found myself running into the main building from the parking lot, my breath
crystallizing in the air as I exhaled. "I hate the cold," I muttered to myself,
kicking off my Nikes as I entered the building and searching for my Giakiin-
issue indoor shoes. I had a meeting with the rest of the physical education
department that morning about getting new gymnastic equipment. I had been
told by the department chair that I didn't HAVE to go, but he had also hinted
that he wanted the input of someone who had once been a well-known high school
athlete. I had sighed and told him I'd be there.
"I am not a fan of this weather, either," responded a soft, feminine
voice from nearby. I looked up from tying my laces, only to see bright blue
eyes staring into my face. I nearly fell over.
The orchestra instructor chuckled and brushed a strand of hair from her
face. "Ten'ou Haruka, ne?" she questioned of me, her pink lips pursed into a
polite smile. "You're the substitute for Yahii, if I'm not mistaken." She
extended a hand. "I'm - "
"Kaioh Michiru," I finished, reaching up to shake hands with her. Her
skin was soft and rich, and I could smell lilacs as I rose to stand face-to-
face with her. Or, more accurately, chest-to-face; she was a good three or four
inches shorter than I. "I've heard much about you from Megumi-san."
The musician blushed, and I could tell that the mention of the English
teacher made her uncomfortable. "Yes, well, I try not to bother Megumi-san too
much," she responded, folding her hands over her flat stomach as she spoke.
"Do you spend much time with her? You two seem...close..."
I cursed my masculine shoulders and androgynous form. A case of mistaken
identity had struck again. Oh well, I told myself with an inner shrug, I'll just
run with her assumption that I'm a male.
"Well, Megumi and I are...friends," I replied ambiguously. Frankly, I
didn't want to think of the always-laughing redhead as too much of a friend.
Friendship was not something I took lightly, and - at least in my mind - it had
to be EARNED. "But what about you? Don't you eat with her sometimes?"
"Occasionally," nodded Michiru, glancing awkwardly at her watch as she
spoke. She seemed as nervous and speechless as I was, and I couldn't help but
wonder what was going on in her head. Then, she swallowed audibly and looked up
at me, eyes filled with hope. "Ten'ou-san, do you believe in...Fate?"
I froze. Fate? How was I supposed to answer that?
I didn't have to, because someone called my name just then. It was
one of the other physical education teachers, a loud, brash man whose name I
could never really remember. "Ten'ou!" he shouted, pointing down the hallway.
"We're waiting on you in here!"
Flushing, I nodded and watched him retreat. "Gomen ne, Kaioh-san," I
told the beautiful woman next to me. I hastily grabbed my gym bag and slung it
over my shoulder. "I'll have to answer your question at a later date, alright?"
Michiru smiled. "Don't worry," she responded with a small shrug and a
knowing look on her face. "We'll see each other again."
---
See each other again? I mulled over Michiru's words at lunch, my eyes
staring blankly at a copy of that morning's "Daily." Why in the world did she
think that we would see each other again? If I had successfully avoided her for
nearly a week, I could probably keep it up for the subsequent five.
I sighed and chewed thoughtfully on my turkey burger. What was it about
her? Again, seeing her gave me that feeling that I should know her. And hearing
her voice did it again. My mind ran away from me, imagining all the places I
could have met her. A high school track meet? No, she was too musical. A
motocross competition? No, she would never get near that much mud. One of my
piano recitals in junior high? Yeah, when pigs fly, maybe.
"Haruka!" scolded Megumi, plopping down in the chair across from me
unexpectedly. I gave a start, having had my daydreams ripped apart suddenly.
"I thought we were going out today, and now I find you here, eating..." She
peered at my lunch suspiciously. "Did you just totally have a brain lapse or
something?"
Rolling my eyes, I folded up the paper and shrugged. "Sorry," I quickly
apologized, only half-faking my regret for ditching her. "I had a lot on my
mind this morning and just totally forgot."
She laughed softly, glanced up at me, and then frowned. "What's wrong?"
she asked. I suppose I should have worked harder at hiding my emotions if I
hadn't wanted her to know I was out of it. I mentally kicked myself for
forgetting our lunch plans. "You really don't seem like yourself today..."
I sighed. "I'm not feeling well," I lied, taking a bite out of my
sandwich and chewing deliberately. "I had to get in early, and I got a really
bad parking spot and had to walk in the cold, and then - "
"May I sit down?" asked a familiar voice.
I nearly choked on my sandwich as Megumi began to gush. "Michiru-san!
Of COURSE you can sit with us!" I watched in both delight and horror as my
happy-go-lucky lunch date pulled out the chair next to me and gestured for the
director to sit down. "Ten'ou Haruka, this is Kaioh Michiru, our orchestra
instructor. Michiru, this is Haruka, and she substitutes - "
"I know," smiled Michiru calmly in a soft, polite voice as she set down
her bowl of ramen. "We met this morning."
I saw Megumi's blue eyes light up, and I groaned inwardly. Why did I
suddenly dread the moment the aquamarine-haired beauty stood to leave?
Instead, I focused intently on my lunch and said nothing. The redhead,
of course, chirped merrily about all the things that had gone on during the
first half of the day: one of her students had thrown his pencil out the window
in anger; she confused her students into thinking "egg" actually meant "elbow";
and she finished correcting what she called a "sea" of papers on the importance
of being a good citizen. I listened to her chatter and couldn't help but be
amused. No wonder she called Michiru quiet! She didn't let the orchestra director
get a word in edge-wise.
When Megumi had finally paused for air, Michiru leaned in front of me
and picked up the section of the paper that I had left setting on the table.
The scent of lilacs flooded my nostrils, a soothing and familiar scent that I
was certain I had smelled all my life. "This is a copy of the 'Tokyo Daily,'
is it not?" she asked of me, opening the paper with interest. "Don't you write
for the paper?"
"I used to," I admitted, sipping my black coffee slowly. "I took a leave
of absence to be a teacher here."
The redhead across from me blinked a few times, and then laughed. "You
gave up job at the newspaper to teach high school physical education? Are you
INSANE?" Her smile faded as she saw that I wasn't laughing along with her.
"Sorry," she flinched, embarrassed that she had just mocked me so.
I shrugged. "It's alright," I responded. "My editor said the exact
same thing to me when I quit. It's hard for anyway to climb the ranks at the
paper, and you have to hang on for dear life once you make it to the top."
I glanced warily at Michiru and sighed. "Especially when you're a woman."
"I admire when I woman works in what is usually a man's profession,"
the musician smiled, setting the paper down on the table as she spoke. "It
shows that you have great strength and dedication to your line of work."
My eyebrows arched, and I forced myself to keep my cool. I raked a
hand through my short hair. "Thanks," I told her a bit shortly, pushing back
my chair. I picked up my empty tray and smiled. "But if you two will excuse
me, I need to - "
"Let me!" cut in Megumi quickly, violently seizing my tray and starting
off to the dish drop with it. "I need to buy my lunch anyway. Ja!"
I blushed a few times, and I sensed that Michiru was blinking, too.
I turned to glance at her only to see her staring at me, and we both turned
bright red. I picked at my cuticle like some sort of little schoolgirl.
There was a long moment of silence, neither of us daring to speak. After
a long moment, I bit the bullet and shrugged. "So, you wanted to know if I
believe in Fate?" I questioned archly, my normal cynicism shining through. I
tried to push the sarcastic tone from my voice, but it seemed to fail me. "I
believe that things happen for a reason, and I believe that there's nothing we
can do from stopping them."
Michiru considered my answer silently, chewing thoughtfully on the
end of her chopstick. Then, she smiled softly and nodded. "That's a well-thought
answer," she responded softly, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "I like
that."
The bell rang, signaling the end of my lunch hour. I apologized and
rose to leave, and she chuckled.
"Seems you're always running away," she smirked, winking a blue eye.
"I'll have to rectify that, sometime."
Somehow, I thought she knew more than she was telling.
---
I had just finished changing out of my sweatpants when I heard my name
blearing across the all-school intercom system. "Ten'ou Haruka to the nurse's
office, please," chirped the ever-friendly voice of one of campus secretaries.
I recognized her as the woman I had met with to get my identification badge on
the very first day of school. She was nice but heavy-set, and always very
friendly.
Groaning, I grabbed my bag and placed it on my shoulder, just like I
always did. Why in the world would the school nurse want to see me? I was sure I
had turned in all my medical records already, a necessary (and totally old-school,
but whatever) background check. I pushed through the doors and started down the
hallway toward the nurse's office.
After school hours were always my favorite hours of the day. The students
always cleared out as quickly as they could, going either to their club sessions
or home to do their assignments, whichever they preferred. Only a few - perhaps
running late for their club, or coming from a conference with a teacher - wandered
the halls...which meant I didn't have to cope with the whispered, confused
questions to who I was or why I looked like a man. I brushed my bangs from my
face, sighed, and continued walking.
The nurse's office was located just off the main hallway, complete with
a cute little sign that read "School Nurse" in purple and white letters. Inwardly,
I wondered what kind of woman this nurse would be. At my first high school, the
nurse had been a tall, angry-looking woman with red hair down to her waist. I had
only visited her once, for... For...
Hmm. Yet another blurry spot in my memories. Ah well.
I rapped lightly on the door before starting into the office. "Hello?" I
called out, glancing around. It was a simple enough room: a desk and chair beside
a file cabinet, a cot in the corner with pillows and blankets, a counter covered
all sorts of little canisters with labels like "swabs" and "wash-wipes." A tiny
bathroom, complete with a toilet, shower, sink, and scale, stood open on the back
wall. "Is anyone - "
"Ten'ou Haruka?" questioned a voice behind me, and I whirled around to
come face-to-face with a tall, green-haired woman looming over me. Her red eyes
looked me up and down, as if giving me the once-over of a lifetime.
Nodding, I felt my skin crawl slightly. Not AGAIN, I groaned to myself,
resisting the urge to slam my head into a wall as hard as I could. Not ANOTHER
person who set off this feeling of deja vu.
The nurse smiled brightly as soon as I affirmed my identity and pushed
pass me, striding into her office. "Sit down, then, Ten'ou-san!" she instructed
cheerily, gesturing to the cot. "I know it's not much," she admitted, "but it's
my office, and I make do with all I've got."
"Thank you, Miss..." I frowned and pursed my lips. Why in the world did
I have such an urge to call the woman Setsuna? I had never met her before, and
yet...
Yet...
"Meiou Setsuna," she introduced herself, crossing her ankles beneath her
chair. I nearly fell off the cot. My half-assed guess had been right? What in the
world was WRONG with me?! After a moment of silence, she sighed. "I just wanted
to give you the...'heads up,' if you will, about one of your students."
My mind was still too busy reeling at what had just happened for me to
hear a word she said. Setsuna? Her name was Setsuna? How in the world had I known
that off the top of my head? Visions of a small country manor in the woods filled
my mind, of baking pies from scratch and children's books littering the floor...
What in the world were these things?
Another vision, stronger than the other. A vision of myself, standing on a
the roof of a strange building in downtown Tokyo. Horror. Fear. An exploding
helicopter...
A hand reaching for mine...
...and a head of aquamarine ha -
"Ten'ou-san?" questioned the nurse firmly, my daydream shattering as she
spoke. I blinked and shook my head a bit before glancing at her. She looked
confused and concerned at the same exact time. "Is everything alright,
Ten'ou-san?" she asked politely. "Is this a bad time?"
I forced a smile and shook my head. "I'm sorry," I replied, not really
certain if I was sorry or not. "I just spaced out for a minute, that's all." There
was a brief moment of silence, and I was almost certain that Setsuna didn't
believe me. "Now, you wanted to talk to me about a student?"
She nodded curtly and reached back to her desk, taking from it a rather
large manila folder. "This is the file on Tomoe Hotaru," she informed me in a
matter-of-fact tone, handing over the folder. "I think you should read it over.
It may help you understand her better."
So Setsuna was somehow tied to Hotaru, and I had visions of both? Sighing,
I pushed those thoughts all from my head. It wasn't time to worry about deja vu
and funny feelings and knowing the nurse's name out of nowhere. I had to deal
with the here and now, and the here and now was a folder full of medical jargon.
I flipped to the first page, which appeared to be some sort of student
profile. All the basic information was presented on the form, written in purple
pen by what appeared to be a young hand. Name, age, height and weight, birth date
and place, address, phone number, parent's names... I frowned a bit.
"Tomoe Keiko and Tomoe Souichii," I read, glancing up at the nurse
uncertainly. "Says here her mother died when she was three. Is that what you want
me to know?"
She shook her head, and gestured to the file. "Keep reading..."
Shrugging, I looked down and continued reading. Allergies...she was
allergic to milk. Fine. I wasn't planning to serve milk in class, anyway.
Permanent medications. Handicaps. Blah blah blah.
Arching an eyebrow, I looked to Setsuna. "No offence, Meiou-san," I began,
closing the folder, "but I don't think this is going to - "
"Keep reading."
I sighed and went back to the page. "Please use the back of this sheet
and any other sheets to note other ailments, physical difficulties, maladies,
hospital visits, et cetera," I read in a mumble, rolling my eyes. What in the
world did this nurse want me to know? And why in the world did -
My eyes must have tripled in size when I moved to turn the page over.
Stapled to the first profile were at least ten more pages, front-and-back, of
lined paper, each filled completely...and written in the same purple pen.
Setsuna saw my shock and nodded, crossing her hands on her lap. "We gave
the students a class period to fill out that sheet," she explained softly, "and
Hotaru asked - very politely - if she could take it home and double check
everything with her father. I allowed her to...and she came home with that."
"Is everything accurate?" I asked, flipping idly through the sheets. There
must have been five hundred dated bullet points in the packet.
"As far as I can tell, yes," responded the woman, moving to brush a strand
of hunter hair from her face. "I've called every hospital mentioned, and they have
confirmed. I had her father come in to double-check her world, and he says that,
if anything, she's probably missing a few dates."
I blinked. "Missing a few?"
"And that's not all," she continued, standing and sitting next to me.
She turned the packet to the last page, pointing at the final entry. "She was
miraculously cured of EVERYTHING - things like epilepsy, physical weakness,
chronic fatigue - about four years ago." She sighed. "It's an odd case, and I'll
be the very first to admit it. We don't know what's going on."
Turning to look at the school nurse, I raised an eyebrow. "And this is
supposed to help me understand her...how?"
She chuckled and leaned back against the wall. "Perhaps 'understand' is
the wrong word," she responded after a moment's thought. "You can't understand
the impossible, now can you?"
"I suppose you can't," I condescended, not quite certain that I knew what
she was getting at. "So, then, what?"
"Take home the folder and read it," she told me, rising. "And watch
Hotaru carefully. I want to know if it's a miracle, or coincidental, or..."
"A lie," I nodded, catching her drift. I used to be like her, I realized
after a moment. Always in search of the REAL story. Of the gospel truth. Of
everything and nothing.
I wonder when I stopped being like that. I couldn't remember.
She smiled. "Exactly." There was a pause as I rose and gathered my things,
and she extended her hand toward me.
I shook it. "It was nice to meet you, Meiou-san," I told her, not complete
lying.
She smiled. "Nice to meet you, too."
---
Hotaru's file, believe it or not, was probably the most riveting thing I
had ever read...next, of course, to "Car and Driver." The girl had chronicled
every hospital visit and general ailment - from the tiniest flu bug to a near-
fatal laboratory accident - in a neat, concise order. She even asterisked moments
that she could not remember, noting "from my father's records" wherever those
times occurred.
I was almost through the ten-page listing when the phone rang. Groaning,
I dropped the file and rushed to the kitchen, managing to catch it on the last
ring.
"Moshi moshi," I chimed into the receiver, glancing at the wall clock. It
was only six. Couldn't be anything too urgent.
"You are WAY too happy for your own good, Haruka," barked the familiar
voice of my editor on the other end of the line. I suppressed a chuckle. "Got a
girl over there or something?"
I rolled my eyes. "No girl, Okuno," I assured him with a small sigh.
"Though, if you have any who will take me up on the offer..."
He snorted, and I could visualize the toss of his head that probably
accompanied it. "The arts editor - you know, Watari Fuki, the babe with the purple
hair? - just called with her panties in a bundle. Seems that her drama review
guru just came down with a nasty case of food poisoning and took a week off. She's
convinced me that you're the best and that I should lend you to her fighting force
for a few days. And I didn't have the heart to say no."
"You're a sucker for a pretty girl in trouble," I reminded him, digging a
pad of paper out of a drawer. "So, what do you need?"
There was a pause as he shuffled papers around on his massive (and always
messy) desk. "Some art troupe is paying for these big name Shakespearean dolts to
come in from Britain and put on 'The Tempest,'" he told me quickly. I scribbled
everything down as fast as I could. "You need to go and write the physical review.
Fuki will fill in the blanks."
I had almost completely copied down my assignment when I realized exactly
what Okuno had said. "Shakespeare?" I gaped, glowering into the phone. "You KNOW
that I hate all that old English mumbo-jumbo! Hell, I hardly SPEAK English! There
is no way that - "
"Oh, wow, look at the time!" Okuno said suddenly, cutting me off in the
midst of a budding rant. "We go to copy really soon!"
"Bullshit! It's six in the evening! You have four hours until copy!"
"Gotta go! Review's due next Thursday! Later!"
He hung up the phone with a resounding click, and I let out a defeated
sigh.
Why me?
---
By lunchtime the next day, I was irritable, groggy, and altogether not in
the mood for human contact. I had stayed up half the night trying to find tickets
for "The Tempest" - both online and by phone - but it seemed that it was all sold
out. Okuno had forgotten to warn me that it was a one-show-only deal...and that
the Art Society of Tokyo hadn't thought to make any tickets available to the
press. "I'm sorry, Ten'ou-san," one snippy secretary addressed me at a quarter to
midnight, "but we just DON'T have any tickets left. You'll have to call your editor
and tell him - "
"Her."
" - that the article is an impossibility."
My first class, which was actually fourth period, seemed offended that I
was so tired and out of it. Worse than that, I had come to school only to be
reprimanded severely by the school nurse. "You can't leave my files at your
house!" she shot at me angrily. "I'm not supposed to lend them out!"
"Then why in the world did you let me take it in the first place?" I spat
back coolly. I was not in the state of mind for a piddly argument about a
single file folder.
Setsuna recoiled slightly and sighed. "Because I thought I could trust
you."
I was in a sour mood as I sat down in the corner-most table of the
lunchroom, content to huff into my salad silently. Two more classes to go, and
then I would call Okuno and inform him that he was shit out of luck and that it
served him right to -
"Have you seen Michiru?" questioned Megumi, seeming to pop out of nowhere
and plop down next to me.
Resisting the urge to groan, I shook my head and said absolutely nothing.
The last thing I wanted to do was come face-to-face with Michiru. The mere thought
of coping with my deja vu flashes made my skin to crawl.
The redhead sighed and shrugged her shoulders. "She's been looking for you
all morning, but you've been pulling a recluse on us." Arching an eyebrow, she
glanced dubiously. "Is something wrong? I saw you arguing with Setsuna earlier..."
Does she know EVERYONE in the school by their first name? I thought to
myself, annoyed. I was in no frame of mind to cope with a "hooray, the world is
great!" attitude this Friday morning. "I was up late last night on a newspaper
lead," I informed her, not TOTALLY lying. "Put me in a bad mood for the day, that's
all."
"Oh," she responded, her face thoughtful and almost childish as she swung
her legs under the chair. "Well, if I see Michiru, I'll tell her that you're not
in the mood to talk. Maybe she can call you?"
Yes, because I wanted that SO badly. "If she'd like," I replied, finishing
up the last few bites of my lunch and standing. "But, if you'll excuse me..."
Megumi nodded. "Feel better."
Yeah, right.
---
With all my classes finished for the weekend, I started outside with just a
bit more spring in my step than I had retained that morning. Even if Okuno (and
the arts woman) got angry about the ticket issue, it wasn't my fault. I'd end up
having a free weekend to myself, a weekend to reflect on what it was to teach
high school gym. I had time to finish reading the Hotaru file, practice piano,
bake a cake... Okay, so I wouldn't bake a cake, but I COULD. And that was the
great part.
I was almost all the way to my car when I heard someone holler my name
from behind me. The clicking of high heels on pavement echoed in my ears as I
turned around...and saw Michiru jogging in my direction. I sighed. Why me?
"Ten'ou-san!" she smiled, panting lightly as she stopped next to me, her
arms full of papers and folders. "I was afraid I wouldn't catch you. Did Megumi
tell you that I was looking for you earlier?"
"Uhmm... Well..." I couldn't decide what would be worse in the long run:
lying or telling the truth. I opted for a mixture of both. "She might have
mentioned something," I admitted in my most innocent tone, "but I really wasn't
listening. I was sort of wrapped up in my own thoughts."
Michiru chuckled a high, elegant chuckle. "The secret is to not listen
very closely to Megumi," she told me softly, as though we were sharing a great
secret. "She is very childish and rash, almost like a girl..."
A mental picture of a blonde girl with goofy pigtails and a bright smile
flashed within my mind. I blinked it away and focused on the musician in front of
me. "Did you need something?" I asked, hoping that it would be a simple favor
and nothing Earth-shattering.
She smiled sadly and nodded. For a moment, she said nothing, as though she
was trying to find the right words to say something. "I am a member of Tokyo's
Art Society," she began, shoving her hands in her back pockets as she spoke. "I
painted when I was younger, before I quit violin and decided to teach, and the
Society thought I would make an excellent member." She paused and pursed her lips.
"The Society is sponsoring a play tomorrow night - William Shakespeare's 'The
Tempest,' if you have perhaps heard of it."
"I've heard of it," I nodded, a feeling of immense dread welling up in
the pit of my stomach. Here was a woman who was part of the society that was
putting on the play that I needed to review! Talk about a sense of true irony.
"Anyway..." she continued, scuffing her feet together. For the first time,
I became aware of something very obvious: Michiru was nervous. She was NERVOUS
being around me... The thought caused me to fidget a bit. Why in the world would
a well-known musician be nervous around a less-than-nothing journalist? "I was
planning to take a friend of mine to the show tomorrow, but her father is very
ill and she cannot attend. I was wondering, perhaps, if you could accompany me."
For a moment, the world seemed to stop. My mind flooded with visions,
visions of sitting beside Michiru as a violin concert was presented, visions of
preparing her to play with the Three Lights, visions of accompanying her at a
ball. What was this? And why couldn't I escape it?
I nodded dulling, gulping down the lump in my throat. "Sure," I answered
timidly, finding myself without anything more to say.
She smiled a brilliant, beautiful smile. "Wonderful," she responded, her
voice alight with appreciation and kindness. "I will come by at six tomorrow
evening. Ja!"
I watched her stride away, her flowered dress blown by the cool autumn
wind, and I sighed.
So much for my free weekend.
---
End Chapter II
---