--------------
A Simple Thing
Chapter V - "A Thousand Church Bells"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
My sister had died on a Monday, too.
From the day she was born, Ten'ou Kiboko - 'the sky ruler's small wish,' if
you will - had been a sickly, pale child. I still remember the day she was born more
potently than I remember anything else, because it was snowing. It was snowing fat
flakes as my father and I drove to the hospital, having received a call from my
mother's boss that she had gone into labor, two and a half months too early.
I was almost eight years old, and I can still feel the coolness of the
tempered glass window against my cheek, and I can still see the fluffy white
snowflakes falling onto the ground, coating it fully with soft, white snow.
Father rushed into the birthing room just in time to see my sister born, or
so I was always told when my parents retold the tale. I sat impatiently in the
hallway, a scratchy plastic chair biting at my back through my parka. Occasionally,
a nurse would come up to me to make sure I wasn't getting into trouble, ruffling my
sandy blonde bob of hair and asking me if it was exciting to be getting a baby
sister or brother. I just shrugged. I was quiet even then.
After what seemed to be months, my father emerged, sweaty but smiling at
me. "You have a baby sister, Haruka," he informed me, kneeling in front of the chair,
still wearing the green hospital scrubs. "She's small, but she's going to be okay."
"What's her name?"
"Kiboko."
Kiboko. I snorted. Sounded like a brand of soft drink.
Unfortunately, my sister was not as okay as my father made it sound. Her
prematurity had left her with minor defects here and there - a mitral-valve heart,
shortness of breath, a weakened immune system. She couldn't play with other children
for very long before having to gasp for oxygen. If I came home from school with a
cold, or the flu, or even a minor runny nose, I had to stay as far away from her
as I could, for fear that I would make her sicker than she already was. Her hair was
a stringy, white-blond mass, falling down over her tiny shoulders like limp
spaghetti, and her skin was the perfect alabaster. Dull, washed-out blue eyes stared
out at the world, blinking adorably. By the time she was four - and I was a
rebellious twelve-year-old, smoking the adolescent track circuit - the doctors
declared she wouldn't last much longer. To my parents, it was a shock, something that
they would have never expected.
For me, it was the diagnosis of the inevitable.
I moved out when she was just about to turn six, still fighting with all her
heart to beat the illness that her prematurity had caused. Many times - before I
left, at least - she asked me why I didn't get along with our parents, and I
couldn't help but sigh. "Sometimes, Ki-imoto, you just have to go your own way in
life."
Her vacant eyes stared dully at me. "But I want you to stay," she whimpered,
as if that would solve everything.
I glanced away. "We can't always have what we want, Ki-chan," I sighed,
ruffling her thin hair with a gentle hand. "Sometimes, we have to go where the wind
takes us."
It was September when the phone call came, and Kiboko was only three short
months away from turning seven. She had come down with some virus that was putting a
lot of stress on her heart, my father told me, and she was probably not going to make
it through the night. Would I come and see her at the hospital?
Would I?
The hospital was dark, dreary, and cold as I strode through it, almost
completely alone. Visiting hours were almost over, and the rain - a pouring, driving,
relentless rain - scared off many well wishers of the hospital patients. I asked for
directions to the children's intensive care unit from a rather concerned-looking
nurse and continued my trek, hoping that Kiboko would be alone when I walked into
the room.
She was sleeping when I strode in, and - as quiet as I tried to be - my
footsteps woke her. Pale eyes blinked listlessly at me, and - after a moment of
silent frowning - she smiled.
"Onee-chan," she whispered, her voice more shaken and helpless than I
remembered it. "You came to say goodbye."
Tears bit my eyes, cold, sharp, and unforgiving. I sat down in a chair that
had been pulled up to her bedside, a chair that was strikingly familiar to the
one I had sat in the day she had been born. "Why goodbye?" I questioned, playing
dumb to the truth that she already knew.
"Because I'm going to die."
There was silence, and I could feel a shiver run up my spine. "Die?" I
asked, as though I was surprised. "How do you know you're going to die? You're
surrounded by doctors and nurses, and each and every one of them want to see you
grow up someday."
She shook her head and smiled slightly. "Maybe you don't see it," she
breathed, reaching out to touch my hand with a clammy hand, "but I can see it. I
can FEEL that my heart isn't doing so well. Pretty soon, it will stop. And when
it does..." She sighed. "I will die."
I pushed away my tears. I tried not to acknowledge them. Or the truth in
my sister's words. I tried not to recognize what she was saying, what she knew would
happen... I tried to fight it.
A tear snaked down my cheek. "Well, if you're so sure," I gulped, hoping
that the croaking of my voice wasn't as obvious as I thought it was, "then I'll
just have to say goodbye. Just to make you happy, of course."
Her smile was back. "Of course."
"So, then..." I stood and reached down, hugging her gently. I hadn't
remembered her as being so thin and gaunt, so pale and helpless. She looked so...
Sad. Sad and listless.
"Sayonara, Ki-chan."
She hugged me back. "Sayonara."
The nurses told me that she died only five minutes after I left the room.
---
I straightened my tie and glanced at myself in the mirror, making sure that
I didn't belittle my position as a suave writer...and a high school gym teacher.
It was a rainy, disgusting Thursday morning, the kind of Thursday that no one would
want to greet them upon waking. But I woke up a hour earlier than I normally did
and donned my suit, this Thursday... Because this Thursday was not a normal day.
Megumi's father was to have his funeral on this rainy, ugly Thursday.
I had not been formally invited to the event; very few teachers had, in fact.
And most of those who were invited - the ever-polite school nurse excluded - had
declined, saying that it was too much for them to bear. Inwardly, I wondered which
part of the funeral was so hard to bear: the ceremony itself, or the dead man's
daughter.
Michiru had been invited, and she told me that I was supposed to come with
her. I didn't know if she was telling the truth or not. When I had heard the news,
I had become utterly certain that the redhead wouldn't want me to be there, and the
fact that she hadn't called me up personally seemed to prove me right. I ran a comb
through my hair, wondering how much of this whole ordeal was not Megumi's will but
rather Michiru taking things into her own hands. Somehow, it seemed like a VERY
Michiru-like thing to do.
My doorbell rang, and I set down my comb and gave myself a brief once-over.
A dapper black suit with a silver shirt and blue tie. Nice. My hair combed back, still
just a little damp from that morning's shower. Perfect. I looked like a million
bucks.
I think Kiboko would have been happy to know I went to someone else's
funeral, I smiled to myself, starting across my apartment and toward the door. Even
if I hadn't been invited to hers.
"Good morning, Haruka," smiled Michiru from the hallway, totally surprising
me. I had expected that her driver would be taking us through the wet Tokyo streets,
making sure that his employer - his most precious of cargo - would be safe from
harm. Seeing her standing there, wearing a raincoat over what I expected, was some
sort of black dress, caused my eyes to bug out.
She chuckled at my reaction, rolling her bright eyes playfully. "Let me
guess," she smirked, tossing her slightly damp aquamarine hair. "You HATE women
drivers."
My smile came naturally. "Hey, now, I never said that," I retorted, grabbing
my keys and tossing them in my back-most pants pocket. "I'll have you know that there
is one woman driver I trust completely with my life."
"Yeah - YOU," she snorted, as though she was offended. She crossed her arms
over her chest and looked cutely at me. I put on my most surprised look, as if I
had not been expecting that answer from her. She frowned. "That's what you were going
to say, now, wasn't it?"
I stepped into the hallway and pulled shut my apartment door. For the first
time, I felt completely comfortable in her presence. There was something about her
and her light, carefree smile that made me feel totally at home.
As if I had known her for eons... and as if I would never lose her.
"No, Michiru," I responded, wrapping an arm around her waist like a proper
escort would. "I trust YOU."
She was speechless.
---
My parents had decided not to invite me to Kiboko's funeral. It had been a
difficult decision for them, locking away their older daughter from such a forlorn
ceremony, but they had done it nonetheless. "It's better this way," my father told
me sadly after I had phoned to ask where and when the funeral would be. "But you
can visit her gravesite after the ceremony. She'll be buried at the Nilanu Graveyard.
You do know where that is, right?"
I had assured him I did and hung up the phone.
Megumi's father was being laid to rest in Nilanu as well, and bittersweet
memories flooded my mind as Michiru pulled into the large parking lot in the back
of the graveyard. I remembered the sunny fall day I had gone to visit Kiboko's
grave. It had taken me three hours to find it amongst all the other sites; my father
had given me the general area of her memorial, but nothing more.
It was a plan gravestone. "Ten'ou Kiboko. Born: December 21, 1986.
September 17, 1993. Rest in peace."
We climbed out of Michiru's modest purple Honda and began to trek up the hill
towards the newer, fresher grave stones. The pouring rain had given away to a gentle
misting, the moisture enough to blur my vision and dampen my hair, but not enough
to require my umbrella.
"It's so sad," sighed my companion after a small moment of silence, her head
bowed reverently as we passed by so many resting places. "I can't come here without
being reminded of my father's funeral."
I arched an eyebrow at her comment, remembering the vague comment she had
made about her father, earlier that week. What was it she had said? That the death
of Megumi's father brought back the pain of her father's death?
She chuckled embarassedly, raising a hand to her lips. "I know, it's
foolish," she continued on before I could pause to ask about her father. "He died
only a year ago, but I can hardly remember." Her eyes fogged over, and she turned
her face away from me, gazing across the graveyard. "Do you ever feel like that,
Haruka? That you have memories sitting on the edge of your consciousness, but you
really can't remember them at all? It's like a...a blur, and you FEEL so many things,
but you just can't place them..."
My breath choked in my throat. I felt my heart race, my stomach twist, my
hands grow clammy and begin to shake. She felt the same things I did! Part of me
wanted to grin, to seize her in my arms, to kiss her and tell her that I feel all
those same things about her, but part of me... Part of me was seized with fear.
Was it fate? Was my friendship with this woman part of a destiny I did not
understand?
I pushed all those thoughts, fearful and joyous, from my mind. "Sometimes,
I get these moments of deja vu," I responded, thrusting my hands into my pockets
as I spoke. My eyes moved to glance at the wet grass. "As though I'm remembering
something locked away, something secret... Something I - "
" - should have felt years ago," Michiru finished, her soprano lilt chiming
in with my darker, tenor voice to speak the words in unison. I moved to look at her,
only to find that she was looking at me, and our eyes met in a spark of emotion.
I imagined her in a white dress, sitting on red-carpeted stairs as she told
me of her vision of the apocalypse. Of the power, darkness, and terror that would
be the end of the world. And then, she smiled and told me that a girl at her school
admired me, even though she - like me - was a girl.
A girl...and a girl. My on-going torment. Loving the one you can't.
I sighed and pulled my gaze from hers. For a moment, we stood in the midst
of the grass, neither of us saying a word. What could you say to that?
The silence was broken by a voice calling out to us. "Michiru-san! Ten'ou-
san!" waved the forever-odd school nurse, Meiou Setsuna, as she jogged up hill after
us. Michiru smiled politely and nodded her hello, and I just pursed my lips. Talk
about a ruined moment.
"So, Megumi invited you to this shin-dig, too?" questioned the green-haired
medical maven, brushing a stubborn strand of hair from her bright red eyes. My
eyebrows raised in doubt, and she chuckled. "I'm sorry," she apologized humbly,
probably afraid that I would take offense to her comment. "Death tends to make me a
bit jumpy. I lost my entire family a long time ago to a disaster, and I haven't
viewed death in the same way, since."
Disaster? I glanced at her saddened face, and was hit with the picture of an
exploding castle. I shook the image from my head; the last thing I wanted was more
deja vu.
"I can understand," nodded Michiru softly, her pink lips drawn into a small
frown as she responded. "I lost my father last year, and it was...terrible."
They both looked expectantly in my direction, and I shook my head. "I haven't
had the misfortune to lose anyone in my life," I lied smoothly, tossing my head.
"The people I love are all fine."
---
The ceremony itself was short and mostly painless. Megumi, wearing a black
pants suit and a black veil, spoke first, tearfully explaining how sweet a heart and
soul her father had. "He was like a gift to my family and I," she sniffled, clutching
a red rose to her heart. Her usually bright eyes stared down at the red-brown
casket, which was suspended above the ground for all to see. "Even after our mother
died, he looked over Kiri and I, like...like an angel..." She broke into sobs and
quickly tossed the rose onto his casket before moving to stand beside some sort of
relative and receive a consoling hug and tissue.
Next was her sister Kiri, a short, spry young woman with a tuft of red-brown
hair and the same shining eyes as Megumi. She basically echoed what the older woman
had said before adding her flower to the casket top and walking off.
A few more relatives - aunts, cousins, and some sort of distant step-sister's
husband - spoke about the dead man's general kindness and goodness. It seemed as
though he had been a model citizen, perfect husband, and outstanding father, raising
two motherless girls through their terrible teenage years without ever having to
bat an eye or worry the least about their rebellions. With every speaker, there was
a rose added to the top of the casket until seven perfectly red roses - one for
every decade of his life - laid before us. With each added rose, Michiru would begin
to sniffle and tear up even more than she had with the first speech, and by the
time the last relation was done talking, she was struggling to hold back a sob.
Then, Megumi stepped forward and announced that a freshman student had
offered to sing for the funeral. "She is a very talented young lady," she assured
us, her eyes red and puffy from bawling her way through the funeral. "She, herself,
has battled illness and beaten the odds to be here today, just as my father had
attempted to do until the very end." She was near tears once again.
My brow furrowed, and I exchanged wary glances with Setsuna. There was only
one freshman-aged student I knew of who had battled illness, and I'm sure that the
green-haired nurse was thinking of the EXACT SAME girl.
Out of the small group of people stepped a previously unnoticed Tomoe Hotaru.
She was dressed in a long black skirt with a matching black-lace blouse. I almost
thought she had stepped out of something along the lines of "Teen Fashion" and not
a funeral party; after all, wasn't black "in" this season?
She cleared her throat and began to sing, and I suddenly understood just
why Megumi would have chosen her to sing at the funeral. Her voice was GORGEOUS.
Four stanzas of "Amazing Grace" later, even I was forced to hold back tears.
The tiny soprano had what I would term the most beautiful voice I had ever heard in
my entire life, filled with emotion, love, and peace. Michiru's quiet sniffles turned
into full-fledged sobs as she leaned into my shoulder, crying.
Megumi thanked us all for coming and more-or-less dismissed us to leave.
Then, she walked up to me and, without a word, threw her arms around my neck and
hugged me tight.
For a moment, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I decided to hug her
gently back, showing her sympathy and caring. "It will be alright, Megumi."
I heard her sob into my shoulder. "I know," she choked out, raising her head
to look me in the face. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and a few drops of the
familiar moisture had already slid down her cheeks. "I just wanted to thank you for
coming. When I told Michiru to bring you, she said that you wouldn't want to go."
Michiru chuckled slightly and rested a hand on my arm. "I think I just proved
how little I know about Haruka," she responded to the redhead's comment, her smile
gentle and reassuring. "She knows when she needs to warm someone else's heart."
I smiled too, flushing a bit. I hated hearing things like that.
The group dwindled down after a bit, leaving only the three of us - that is,
Michiru, Setsuna, and I - and Megumi's family remaining. I stood apart from the
group, hands in my pockets, staring out into the distance at a little grove of three
oak trees. Under the leftmost tree, I knew, laid my little sister's grave, her simple
grave stone and a small patch of roses that my mother had planted beside her grave.
I glanced back to Michiru. She didn't notice me; she was too busy chatting
solemnly with the others. She wouldn't even notice if I was gone.
And so, I started out toward the three trees.
---
So many of my memories were blurs in my mind as I strode through that
graveyard in the misty morning. I found myself struggling to remember what my father
said when I last spoke to him, what my piano instructor from high school looked like,
who my friends were when I was still taking classes. Instead, I remembered all the
moments from elementary school, and everything in the last four or five years. That
was IT.
Psychological experts believe that, when a person is forced to live through a
traumatic experience, his mind pushes the memory of that experience all the way
into his subconscious in an attempt to rid him of that memory. That way, he can
keep on living despite the pain he went through. Sort of like selective memory loss,
only the selectivity comes not from his own choosing, but his mind's decision.
I tried to remember what happened when I was high school. What in the world
would trigger such a reaction in my mind? The only major occurrence I could remember
was my sister's death.
...and an exploding helicopter...
...and something with Michiru...
...and Setsuna...
...Hotaru...
My pondering brought me right before my little sister's gravestone, and I
sighed. As Shinto as they had claimed to be, my parents had insisted on a Western
burial for little Kiboko, without the traditional trappings of a culture the girl
hardly got to experience. Despite this, I felt guilty. Guilty for showing up empty-
handed, nothing to present to my little sister.
I got on my knees and stared blankly at the gravestone, my eyes staring at
the words "Rest in Peace" as I tried to think of things to say. I could feel the
tears biting at my eyes, trying to break free, but I refused to let them. I refused
to give in.
"Well, imoto," I began shakily, folding my hands atop my knees, "I went to
a funeral today. The father of my friend passed away, and she asked me to be there.
She was very happy I was there, like you would have been had I come to your funeral.
That wasn't my choice, you know. Mother and Father asked me not to come... And so,
I stayed. Part of me wishes I would have come to say goodbye to you another time,
though."
I pursed my lips and moved to brush my bangs from my eyes. "I'm on leave
from the newspaper to teach high school gym. I know, isn't that silly? Well, that's
where they need me, and I'm mostly glad that I did it. I've met a few great people,
like Megumi, Setsuna, and Michiru... Mostly Michiru." My nose wrinkled. What was I
supposed to say about Michiru? "Michiru is... She's a wonderful human being, so
full of sweetness and life. Her smile lights up the world, and her voice is like...
Like a dream, something sweet and perfect. Not unlike yours was. I think you would
have really liked her, Ki-chan. I think that - "
"Haruka?" The word was soft, well-formed, said as only one person in the
universe said it. I gave a start and whirled around, eyes wide. Standing behind me,
her hands folded at her waist, was Michiru.
I jumped to my feet, brushing wet grass from my pants. "G-gomen," I stumbled,
my voice catching in my throat. "I didn't think you would miss me, so..."
"Your sister?" she questioned, her blue eyes looking past me and at the
memorial stone. I nodded weakly, and she stepped forward, standing next to me so that
she, too, could look upon the grave.
Then, she smiled with all the sweetness of a million angels. "Hello, Kiboko,"
she greeted the grave, bowing her head in polite reverence. "I heard your sister
talking about me just now, so I thought to introduce myself. My name is Kaioh
Michiru, and I teach orchestra to high school students. It's an honor to meet you."
A blush, warm and slightly uncomfortable, touched my cheeks as the aqua-
haired beauty turned away from the grave, her face tilting up until I could meet her
gaze. For a moment, we stood in silence, my hands shaking at my sides as I stared
into her magnificent blue eyes. My mind reeled with what I should do. Kiss her? Hug
her? Thank her? A combination of all three?
Before I could think of something to do, Michiru stepped forward and wrapped
her arms around my waist, her cheek against my chest as she hugged me tightly. "I'm
sorry for your loss," she breathed, her voice like the soft chiming of a church bell.
"I didn't know."
I hugged her back, closing my eyes in contentment, the reality of the morning
completely lost to me. I had somehow walked into a dream, a dream where Michiru was
a goddess and I was a mortal, a dream from which I never wanted to wake.
---
That same night, my dreams were haunting, bittersweet moments that I had
never seen before. I dreamt that I was standing atop a roof in downtown Tokyo, my
wrists weighed down with heavy golden bracelets. A slight wind ruffled not only
my shaggy hair but also the outfit I was wearing - a short, dark-blue skirt that
jutted out from a white body suit with various bows on it. I watched in hidden
horror as a woman, dressed in gold, attempted to murder this younger, blonde girl.
Suddenly, the picture shimmered, and I was standing in some sort of arena.
At least, it looked vaguely like an arena, but it did not seem to have walls or
doors. A vague, always-shifting backdrop of reds, blacks, and silvers shifted around
me.
"Why are you doing this?!" screamed a voice suddenly, and I turned to see
Setsuna standing before me, clutching a long staff. At least, it looked as though it
was Setsuna. Her long green hair and bright red eyes were the same, but her
clothing... She wore a ludicrous outfit that was much like mine, only hers was mostly
a greenish-black color. Some sort of metal headband sat on her forehead, a dark
red stone set into the pure gold of her tiara.
Tiara? Why did I think it was a tiara? I -
"Uranus! Neptune! Stop!" screamed a younger voice, and my eyes moved to
glance at a thoroughly horrified little girl. Hotaru! my mind screamed as I glanced
into her frightened purple eyes. But why was Hotaru, too, dressed in such outrageous
clothes? And why was she holding some sort of G-shaped weapon?
Words came to my mouth, words I did not remember ever learning. "World
Shaking!" I screamed, my hands and body moving without my bidding. A globe of orange
energy shot out, and -
The picture shifted again, and I was riding in my familiar yellow
convertible, shooting down the seashore, my hair blown by the cool wind as I drove.
"I don't plan on letting you go, tonight," I said to no one in particular,
not even realizing I said it. My eyes moved to glance at my passenger, and I blinked
inwardly.
Michiru! Sitting beside me, garbed in a burgundy-and-green school uniform,
her hair falling about her shoulders in the usual beautiful way, was Michiru! But,
if she was there, then where were we? And why did my dream feel so familiar?!
I awoke to the dueling sounds of my alarm clock and my telephone blearing in
my ears. Groaning, I rolled over and turned off the stupid clock, wondering silently
why I had bought it when I could just as easily be alerted to the morning by Okuno's
phone calls.
"Moshi moshi, Okuno," I grumbled into the receiver, my eyes half-opened.
It was to be Megumi's first day back at school since her father's heart attack, but
I was expected to show up and watch the presentations that I had forced her students
to put together. Talk about injustice.
Okuno snorted on the other end of the line. "How'd you know it was me?" he
asked crankily, obviously not having a good morning. I hadn't really looked over the
Daily in the last few days, and I wondered if there was something wrong.
I chuckled. "Who else calls this early in the morning?" I responded with
a smirk, sitting up in bed and groping for my comb. My mind started making a mental
list of what I had to do before school; shower, eat, gather all Megumi's supplies
to return to her...and that was just naming a few of the many. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's WRONG," he growled at me, and I sighed. Would he ever give me
insight to his psyche? Probably not, I decided with an inner shrug. Some people just
never shared...like me. "I was wondering, though, if you want to go out tomorrow
night. There's a big party here at the paper, and everyone's missing you like crazy.
You making a cameo appearance might do some good."
Good for me, or his section? I wondered silently. "Lemme guess," I chortled,
running a hand through my shaggy hair. "You're under major duress to win me back
to the paper before I decide to become some sort of crazy teacher."
There was silence, and I could see his face in my mind. He was probably
grimacing, not sure if he should tell me the truth or lie through his teeth.
Predictably, he chose the latter. "We all miss you, Ten'ou. You should know that.
Everyone will be excited to see you, again."
"Especially the editor-in-chief," I retorted. He didn't respond.
I glanced at the pair of concert tickets that were sitting on my nightstand.
The concert, I knew, would only last until seven or so, and then what? Asking Okuno
was out of the question because of the paper party, and, honestly, my intent of
inviting him had diminished to zero. The correct choice had become obvious.
"I can stop by around seven or so," I told him with a small smile. "I'm
going to a concert in the afternoon, but I'm sure my date and I can swing by
afterwards."
"That's fine," he began to respond. "The party won't be getting good un -
WHAT?!"
I laughed aloud. "You'll like her," I continued, leaning back against my
headboard as I listened to him sputter on the other end. "She's very smart, beautiful,
and plays violin."
"You're bringing HER?!" he roared, shock and surprise registering in his
voice.
"See you then, Okuno."
"But - "
"Have a good day."
"Ten'ou!"
"Ja!"
"Te - "
I hung up the phone.
---
Despite the high spirits that had greeted me when I first woke up that
morning, I found myself drifting through the day in a trace-like state. My dream
remained fresh in mind, startlingly real. It was as though I hadn't dreamt it at all
but had actually lived it, and the dream had been but a manifestation of my memories.
But what could it mean? The question plagued me, haunting my every breath
and thought. Why would I have dressed in a short skirt and a bodysuit, and why would
Hotaru - a student I had met but weeks before - call me "Uranus?" Uranus was a planet
near the very end of the solar system, not my name!
And yet, the name was familiar, like a blanket you shroud yourself in during
the cold of winter.
All my classes - both those I was relinquishing back to Megumi and those that
I taught on my own - were uneventful. Boring, even. I wandered through them idly,
disinterested in what was going on. The Japanese presentations were all cute and
rather informative, and Megumi was quite pleased. My gym students ran a 1600 meter
race and totally ignored my existence. Not that I minded dreadfully; I wasn't in the
mood to chat with a bunch of teenagers, anyway.
I didn't see Michiru at all until after school. I immerged from the locker
room carrying my track bag, my T-shirt blowing lightly in the wind. The nasty, rainy
Thursday had given way to a beautiful, sunny Friday, a Friday that was unseasonably
warm for the fall.
She was standing outside the gymnasium, waiting for me. Initially, I thought
it was a coincidence, but I realized when she smiled at me that it wasn't. Her face
lit up like a Christmas tree, her eyes sparkling and her lips curving into a smile.
My heart did a flip-flop in my chest, and I found myself smiling, too. Why in
the world was I letting myself fall so far for this woman?
Maybe she was right. Maybe there WAS fate, after all.
"Haruka," she greeted me, her face still as bright as a thousand stars. "I
was hoping to run into you."
I smiled bashfully, my cheeks flushing like a schoolgirl's. "I'm glad you
found me," I responded softly, totally at a loss for words. What was happening to me?
I was turning into a hopeless romantic without even trying! "I was meaning to ask
you something."
"Me too," she nodded, blushing on her own accord. "Maybe you could go first?"
My head bobbed a "yes" without my ever knowing it. For a moment, I couldn't
help but stare down at her, her beautiful aquamarine tresses held back by a thin black
headband. For a moment, I imagined myself standing only inches away from her at a
track meet, the wind ruffling my hair and rumpling my sweatshirt. But the vision
disappeared as quickly as it had come, and I once again found myself standing outside
the Giakiin gymnasium, gazing down at the most beautiful woman in the world.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, suddenly feeling awkward. Here I was,
standing across from another woman, about to ask her to spend an afternoon and evening
with me - to ask her on a DATE. And this woman was completely, totally, and utterly
STRAIGHT. What a fool I was!
She arched her eyebrows at me, questioning the silence. "Are you going to ask
me your question, or do I need to break the ice with a song and dance?" she joked,
her chuckle high and light.
A smile lit my face. Was there anything she couldn't do? "I have tickets for
this amazing concert tomorrow afternoon," I informed her, my stomach somersaulting
within me, "and then I'm going to a party that the newspaper is hosting." I paused.
What else to say? "I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go with me...sort of...
Well, sort of as - "
"A date?" she smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and mirth. I could
feel my face lose all its color immediately, but all she did was laugh. Her laughter
was so graceful, so elegant... Like the sound of a thousand chiming church bells, all
ringing in harmony. "It was a joke, Haruka! A joke!" she chortled, assuming that I
went white at how false her jest had been.
If only she knew how true it was...
"But I would love to go!" she smiled, clasping her hands together. "I've never
been to a journalistic party. It sounds like an experience, if all reporters are like
you."
Few are, I thought inwardly with a sigh. Very few.
A moment of silence passed before I realized that she'd mentioned needing to
ask me something. "What about your question?" I said, breaking the quiet. "Did you
need to speak to me about something?"
Her eyes slanted in mirth as she smiled charmingly. "Oh, I was just going to
ask you if you wanted to catch dinner tomorrow night," she responded, as though it
meant nothing. "But you beat me to it."
I smiled and laughed. Fate was beginning to make more and more of a case for
itself.
And so another day set upon Giakiin High School, leaving me certain of only
one thing in my life:
I was in love with Kaioh Michiru.
---
End Chapter V.
---
A Simple Thing
Chapter V - "A Thousand Church Bells"
Written by Kate "SuperKate" Butler
--------------
My sister had died on a Monday, too.
From the day she was born, Ten'ou Kiboko - 'the sky ruler's small wish,' if
you will - had been a sickly, pale child. I still remember the day she was born more
potently than I remember anything else, because it was snowing. It was snowing fat
flakes as my father and I drove to the hospital, having received a call from my
mother's boss that she had gone into labor, two and a half months too early.
I was almost eight years old, and I can still feel the coolness of the
tempered glass window against my cheek, and I can still see the fluffy white
snowflakes falling onto the ground, coating it fully with soft, white snow.
Father rushed into the birthing room just in time to see my sister born, or
so I was always told when my parents retold the tale. I sat impatiently in the
hallway, a scratchy plastic chair biting at my back through my parka. Occasionally,
a nurse would come up to me to make sure I wasn't getting into trouble, ruffling my
sandy blonde bob of hair and asking me if it was exciting to be getting a baby
sister or brother. I just shrugged. I was quiet even then.
After what seemed to be months, my father emerged, sweaty but smiling at
me. "You have a baby sister, Haruka," he informed me, kneeling in front of the chair,
still wearing the green hospital scrubs. "She's small, but she's going to be okay."
"What's her name?"
"Kiboko."
Kiboko. I snorted. Sounded like a brand of soft drink.
Unfortunately, my sister was not as okay as my father made it sound. Her
prematurity had left her with minor defects here and there - a mitral-valve heart,
shortness of breath, a weakened immune system. She couldn't play with other children
for very long before having to gasp for oxygen. If I came home from school with a
cold, or the flu, or even a minor runny nose, I had to stay as far away from her
as I could, for fear that I would make her sicker than she already was. Her hair was
a stringy, white-blond mass, falling down over her tiny shoulders like limp
spaghetti, and her skin was the perfect alabaster. Dull, washed-out blue eyes stared
out at the world, blinking adorably. By the time she was four - and I was a
rebellious twelve-year-old, smoking the adolescent track circuit - the doctors
declared she wouldn't last much longer. To my parents, it was a shock, something that
they would have never expected.
For me, it was the diagnosis of the inevitable.
I moved out when she was just about to turn six, still fighting with all her
heart to beat the illness that her prematurity had caused. Many times - before I
left, at least - she asked me why I didn't get along with our parents, and I
couldn't help but sigh. "Sometimes, Ki-imoto, you just have to go your own way in
life."
Her vacant eyes stared dully at me. "But I want you to stay," she whimpered,
as if that would solve everything.
I glanced away. "We can't always have what we want, Ki-chan," I sighed,
ruffling her thin hair with a gentle hand. "Sometimes, we have to go where the wind
takes us."
It was September when the phone call came, and Kiboko was only three short
months away from turning seven. She had come down with some virus that was putting a
lot of stress on her heart, my father told me, and she was probably not going to make
it through the night. Would I come and see her at the hospital?
Would I?
The hospital was dark, dreary, and cold as I strode through it, almost
completely alone. Visiting hours were almost over, and the rain - a pouring, driving,
relentless rain - scared off many well wishers of the hospital patients. I asked for
directions to the children's intensive care unit from a rather concerned-looking
nurse and continued my trek, hoping that Kiboko would be alone when I walked into
the room.
She was sleeping when I strode in, and - as quiet as I tried to be - my
footsteps woke her. Pale eyes blinked listlessly at me, and - after a moment of
silent frowning - she smiled.
"Onee-chan," she whispered, her voice more shaken and helpless than I
remembered it. "You came to say goodbye."
Tears bit my eyes, cold, sharp, and unforgiving. I sat down in a chair that
had been pulled up to her bedside, a chair that was strikingly familiar to the
one I had sat in the day she had been born. "Why goodbye?" I questioned, playing
dumb to the truth that she already knew.
"Because I'm going to die."
There was silence, and I could feel a shiver run up my spine. "Die?" I
asked, as though I was surprised. "How do you know you're going to die? You're
surrounded by doctors and nurses, and each and every one of them want to see you
grow up someday."
She shook her head and smiled slightly. "Maybe you don't see it," she
breathed, reaching out to touch my hand with a clammy hand, "but I can see it. I
can FEEL that my heart isn't doing so well. Pretty soon, it will stop. And when
it does..." She sighed. "I will die."
I pushed away my tears. I tried not to acknowledge them. Or the truth in
my sister's words. I tried not to recognize what she was saying, what she knew would
happen... I tried to fight it.
A tear snaked down my cheek. "Well, if you're so sure," I gulped, hoping
that the croaking of my voice wasn't as obvious as I thought it was, "then I'll
just have to say goodbye. Just to make you happy, of course."
Her smile was back. "Of course."
"So, then..." I stood and reached down, hugging her gently. I hadn't
remembered her as being so thin and gaunt, so pale and helpless. She looked so...
Sad. Sad and listless.
"Sayonara, Ki-chan."
She hugged me back. "Sayonara."
The nurses told me that she died only five minutes after I left the room.
---
I straightened my tie and glanced at myself in the mirror, making sure that
I didn't belittle my position as a suave writer...and a high school gym teacher.
It was a rainy, disgusting Thursday morning, the kind of Thursday that no one would
want to greet them upon waking. But I woke up a hour earlier than I normally did
and donned my suit, this Thursday... Because this Thursday was not a normal day.
Megumi's father was to have his funeral on this rainy, ugly Thursday.
I had not been formally invited to the event; very few teachers had, in fact.
And most of those who were invited - the ever-polite school nurse excluded - had
declined, saying that it was too much for them to bear. Inwardly, I wondered which
part of the funeral was so hard to bear: the ceremony itself, or the dead man's
daughter.
Michiru had been invited, and she told me that I was supposed to come with
her. I didn't know if she was telling the truth or not. When I had heard the news,
I had become utterly certain that the redhead wouldn't want me to be there, and the
fact that she hadn't called me up personally seemed to prove me right. I ran a comb
through my hair, wondering how much of this whole ordeal was not Megumi's will but
rather Michiru taking things into her own hands. Somehow, it seemed like a VERY
Michiru-like thing to do.
My doorbell rang, and I set down my comb and gave myself a brief once-over.
A dapper black suit with a silver shirt and blue tie. Nice. My hair combed back, still
just a little damp from that morning's shower. Perfect. I looked like a million
bucks.
I think Kiboko would have been happy to know I went to someone else's
funeral, I smiled to myself, starting across my apartment and toward the door. Even
if I hadn't been invited to hers.
"Good morning, Haruka," smiled Michiru from the hallway, totally surprising
me. I had expected that her driver would be taking us through the wet Tokyo streets,
making sure that his employer - his most precious of cargo - would be safe from
harm. Seeing her standing there, wearing a raincoat over what I expected, was some
sort of black dress, caused my eyes to bug out.
She chuckled at my reaction, rolling her bright eyes playfully. "Let me
guess," she smirked, tossing her slightly damp aquamarine hair. "You HATE women
drivers."
My smile came naturally. "Hey, now, I never said that," I retorted, grabbing
my keys and tossing them in my back-most pants pocket. "I'll have you know that there
is one woman driver I trust completely with my life."
"Yeah - YOU," she snorted, as though she was offended. She crossed her arms
over her chest and looked cutely at me. I put on my most surprised look, as if I
had not been expecting that answer from her. She frowned. "That's what you were going
to say, now, wasn't it?"
I stepped into the hallway and pulled shut my apartment door. For the first
time, I felt completely comfortable in her presence. There was something about her
and her light, carefree smile that made me feel totally at home.
As if I had known her for eons... and as if I would never lose her.
"No, Michiru," I responded, wrapping an arm around her waist like a proper
escort would. "I trust YOU."
She was speechless.
---
My parents had decided not to invite me to Kiboko's funeral. It had been a
difficult decision for them, locking away their older daughter from such a forlorn
ceremony, but they had done it nonetheless. "It's better this way," my father told
me sadly after I had phoned to ask where and when the funeral would be. "But you
can visit her gravesite after the ceremony. She'll be buried at the Nilanu Graveyard.
You do know where that is, right?"
I had assured him I did and hung up the phone.
Megumi's father was being laid to rest in Nilanu as well, and bittersweet
memories flooded my mind as Michiru pulled into the large parking lot in the back
of the graveyard. I remembered the sunny fall day I had gone to visit Kiboko's
grave. It had taken me three hours to find it amongst all the other sites; my father
had given me the general area of her memorial, but nothing more.
It was a plan gravestone. "Ten'ou Kiboko. Born: December 21, 1986.
September 17, 1993. Rest in peace."
We climbed out of Michiru's modest purple Honda and began to trek up the hill
towards the newer, fresher grave stones. The pouring rain had given away to a gentle
misting, the moisture enough to blur my vision and dampen my hair, but not enough
to require my umbrella.
"It's so sad," sighed my companion after a small moment of silence, her head
bowed reverently as we passed by so many resting places. "I can't come here without
being reminded of my father's funeral."
I arched an eyebrow at her comment, remembering the vague comment she had
made about her father, earlier that week. What was it she had said? That the death
of Megumi's father brought back the pain of her father's death?
She chuckled embarassedly, raising a hand to her lips. "I know, it's
foolish," she continued on before I could pause to ask about her father. "He died
only a year ago, but I can hardly remember." Her eyes fogged over, and she turned
her face away from me, gazing across the graveyard. "Do you ever feel like that,
Haruka? That you have memories sitting on the edge of your consciousness, but you
really can't remember them at all? It's like a...a blur, and you FEEL so many things,
but you just can't place them..."
My breath choked in my throat. I felt my heart race, my stomach twist, my
hands grow clammy and begin to shake. She felt the same things I did! Part of me
wanted to grin, to seize her in my arms, to kiss her and tell her that I feel all
those same things about her, but part of me... Part of me was seized with fear.
Was it fate? Was my friendship with this woman part of a destiny I did not
understand?
I pushed all those thoughts, fearful and joyous, from my mind. "Sometimes,
I get these moments of deja vu," I responded, thrusting my hands into my pockets
as I spoke. My eyes moved to glance at the wet grass. "As though I'm remembering
something locked away, something secret... Something I - "
" - should have felt years ago," Michiru finished, her soprano lilt chiming
in with my darker, tenor voice to speak the words in unison. I moved to look at her,
only to find that she was looking at me, and our eyes met in a spark of emotion.
I imagined her in a white dress, sitting on red-carpeted stairs as she told
me of her vision of the apocalypse. Of the power, darkness, and terror that would
be the end of the world. And then, she smiled and told me that a girl at her school
admired me, even though she - like me - was a girl.
A girl...and a girl. My on-going torment. Loving the one you can't.
I sighed and pulled my gaze from hers. For a moment, we stood in the midst
of the grass, neither of us saying a word. What could you say to that?
The silence was broken by a voice calling out to us. "Michiru-san! Ten'ou-
san!" waved the forever-odd school nurse, Meiou Setsuna, as she jogged up hill after
us. Michiru smiled politely and nodded her hello, and I just pursed my lips. Talk
about a ruined moment.
"So, Megumi invited you to this shin-dig, too?" questioned the green-haired
medical maven, brushing a stubborn strand of hair from her bright red eyes. My
eyebrows raised in doubt, and she chuckled. "I'm sorry," she apologized humbly,
probably afraid that I would take offense to her comment. "Death tends to make me a
bit jumpy. I lost my entire family a long time ago to a disaster, and I haven't
viewed death in the same way, since."
Disaster? I glanced at her saddened face, and was hit with the picture of an
exploding castle. I shook the image from my head; the last thing I wanted was more
deja vu.
"I can understand," nodded Michiru softly, her pink lips drawn into a small
frown as she responded. "I lost my father last year, and it was...terrible."
They both looked expectantly in my direction, and I shook my head. "I haven't
had the misfortune to lose anyone in my life," I lied smoothly, tossing my head.
"The people I love are all fine."
---
The ceremony itself was short and mostly painless. Megumi, wearing a black
pants suit and a black veil, spoke first, tearfully explaining how sweet a heart and
soul her father had. "He was like a gift to my family and I," she sniffled, clutching
a red rose to her heart. Her usually bright eyes stared down at the red-brown
casket, which was suspended above the ground for all to see. "Even after our mother
died, he looked over Kiri and I, like...like an angel..." She broke into sobs and
quickly tossed the rose onto his casket before moving to stand beside some sort of
relative and receive a consoling hug and tissue.
Next was her sister Kiri, a short, spry young woman with a tuft of red-brown
hair and the same shining eyes as Megumi. She basically echoed what the older woman
had said before adding her flower to the casket top and walking off.
A few more relatives - aunts, cousins, and some sort of distant step-sister's
husband - spoke about the dead man's general kindness and goodness. It seemed as
though he had been a model citizen, perfect husband, and outstanding father, raising
two motherless girls through their terrible teenage years without ever having to
bat an eye or worry the least about their rebellions. With every speaker, there was
a rose added to the top of the casket until seven perfectly red roses - one for
every decade of his life - laid before us. With each added rose, Michiru would begin
to sniffle and tear up even more than she had with the first speech, and by the
time the last relation was done talking, she was struggling to hold back a sob.
Then, Megumi stepped forward and announced that a freshman student had
offered to sing for the funeral. "She is a very talented young lady," she assured
us, her eyes red and puffy from bawling her way through the funeral. "She, herself,
has battled illness and beaten the odds to be here today, just as my father had
attempted to do until the very end." She was near tears once again.
My brow furrowed, and I exchanged wary glances with Setsuna. There was only
one freshman-aged student I knew of who had battled illness, and I'm sure that the
green-haired nurse was thinking of the EXACT SAME girl.
Out of the small group of people stepped a previously unnoticed Tomoe Hotaru.
She was dressed in a long black skirt with a matching black-lace blouse. I almost
thought she had stepped out of something along the lines of "Teen Fashion" and not
a funeral party; after all, wasn't black "in" this season?
She cleared her throat and began to sing, and I suddenly understood just
why Megumi would have chosen her to sing at the funeral. Her voice was GORGEOUS.
Four stanzas of "Amazing Grace" later, even I was forced to hold back tears.
The tiny soprano had what I would term the most beautiful voice I had ever heard in
my entire life, filled with emotion, love, and peace. Michiru's quiet sniffles turned
into full-fledged sobs as she leaned into my shoulder, crying.
Megumi thanked us all for coming and more-or-less dismissed us to leave.
Then, she walked up to me and, without a word, threw her arms around my neck and
hugged me tight.
For a moment, I didn't know what I was supposed to do. I decided to hug her
gently back, showing her sympathy and caring. "It will be alright, Megumi."
I heard her sob into my shoulder. "I know," she choked out, raising her head
to look me in the face. Her eyes were brimming with tears, and a few drops of the
familiar moisture had already slid down her cheeks. "I just wanted to thank you for
coming. When I told Michiru to bring you, she said that you wouldn't want to go."
Michiru chuckled slightly and rested a hand on my arm. "I think I just proved
how little I know about Haruka," she responded to the redhead's comment, her smile
gentle and reassuring. "She knows when she needs to warm someone else's heart."
I smiled too, flushing a bit. I hated hearing things like that.
The group dwindled down after a bit, leaving only the three of us - that is,
Michiru, Setsuna, and I - and Megumi's family remaining. I stood apart from the
group, hands in my pockets, staring out into the distance at a little grove of three
oak trees. Under the leftmost tree, I knew, laid my little sister's grave, her simple
grave stone and a small patch of roses that my mother had planted beside her grave.
I glanced back to Michiru. She didn't notice me; she was too busy chatting
solemnly with the others. She wouldn't even notice if I was gone.
And so, I started out toward the three trees.
---
So many of my memories were blurs in my mind as I strode through that
graveyard in the misty morning. I found myself struggling to remember what my father
said when I last spoke to him, what my piano instructor from high school looked like,
who my friends were when I was still taking classes. Instead, I remembered all the
moments from elementary school, and everything in the last four or five years. That
was IT.
Psychological experts believe that, when a person is forced to live through a
traumatic experience, his mind pushes the memory of that experience all the way
into his subconscious in an attempt to rid him of that memory. That way, he can
keep on living despite the pain he went through. Sort of like selective memory loss,
only the selectivity comes not from his own choosing, but his mind's decision.
I tried to remember what happened when I was high school. What in the world
would trigger such a reaction in my mind? The only major occurrence I could remember
was my sister's death.
...and an exploding helicopter...
...and something with Michiru...
...and Setsuna...
...Hotaru...
My pondering brought me right before my little sister's gravestone, and I
sighed. As Shinto as they had claimed to be, my parents had insisted on a Western
burial for little Kiboko, without the traditional trappings of a culture the girl
hardly got to experience. Despite this, I felt guilty. Guilty for showing up empty-
handed, nothing to present to my little sister.
I got on my knees and stared blankly at the gravestone, my eyes staring at
the words "Rest in Peace" as I tried to think of things to say. I could feel the
tears biting at my eyes, trying to break free, but I refused to let them. I refused
to give in.
"Well, imoto," I began shakily, folding my hands atop my knees, "I went to
a funeral today. The father of my friend passed away, and she asked me to be there.
She was very happy I was there, like you would have been had I come to your funeral.
That wasn't my choice, you know. Mother and Father asked me not to come... And so,
I stayed. Part of me wishes I would have come to say goodbye to you another time,
though."
I pursed my lips and moved to brush my bangs from my eyes. "I'm on leave
from the newspaper to teach high school gym. I know, isn't that silly? Well, that's
where they need me, and I'm mostly glad that I did it. I've met a few great people,
like Megumi, Setsuna, and Michiru... Mostly Michiru." My nose wrinkled. What was I
supposed to say about Michiru? "Michiru is... She's a wonderful human being, so
full of sweetness and life. Her smile lights up the world, and her voice is like...
Like a dream, something sweet and perfect. Not unlike yours was. I think you would
have really liked her, Ki-chan. I think that - "
"Haruka?" The word was soft, well-formed, said as only one person in the
universe said it. I gave a start and whirled around, eyes wide. Standing behind me,
her hands folded at her waist, was Michiru.
I jumped to my feet, brushing wet grass from my pants. "G-gomen," I stumbled,
my voice catching in my throat. "I didn't think you would miss me, so..."
"Your sister?" she questioned, her blue eyes looking past me and at the
memorial stone. I nodded weakly, and she stepped forward, standing next to me so that
she, too, could look upon the grave.
Then, she smiled with all the sweetness of a million angels. "Hello, Kiboko,"
she greeted the grave, bowing her head in polite reverence. "I heard your sister
talking about me just now, so I thought to introduce myself. My name is Kaioh
Michiru, and I teach orchestra to high school students. It's an honor to meet you."
A blush, warm and slightly uncomfortable, touched my cheeks as the aqua-
haired beauty turned away from the grave, her face tilting up until I could meet her
gaze. For a moment, we stood in silence, my hands shaking at my sides as I stared
into her magnificent blue eyes. My mind reeled with what I should do. Kiss her? Hug
her? Thank her? A combination of all three?
Before I could think of something to do, Michiru stepped forward and wrapped
her arms around my waist, her cheek against my chest as she hugged me tightly. "I'm
sorry for your loss," she breathed, her voice like the soft chiming of a church bell.
"I didn't know."
I hugged her back, closing my eyes in contentment, the reality of the morning
completely lost to me. I had somehow walked into a dream, a dream where Michiru was
a goddess and I was a mortal, a dream from which I never wanted to wake.
---
That same night, my dreams were haunting, bittersweet moments that I had
never seen before. I dreamt that I was standing atop a roof in downtown Tokyo, my
wrists weighed down with heavy golden bracelets. A slight wind ruffled not only
my shaggy hair but also the outfit I was wearing - a short, dark-blue skirt that
jutted out from a white body suit with various bows on it. I watched in hidden
horror as a woman, dressed in gold, attempted to murder this younger, blonde girl.
Suddenly, the picture shimmered, and I was standing in some sort of arena.
At least, it looked vaguely like an arena, but it did not seem to have walls or
doors. A vague, always-shifting backdrop of reds, blacks, and silvers shifted around
me.
"Why are you doing this?!" screamed a voice suddenly, and I turned to see
Setsuna standing before me, clutching a long staff. At least, it looked as though it
was Setsuna. Her long green hair and bright red eyes were the same, but her
clothing... She wore a ludicrous outfit that was much like mine, only hers was mostly
a greenish-black color. Some sort of metal headband sat on her forehead, a dark
red stone set into the pure gold of her tiara.
Tiara? Why did I think it was a tiara? I -
"Uranus! Neptune! Stop!" screamed a younger voice, and my eyes moved to
glance at a thoroughly horrified little girl. Hotaru! my mind screamed as I glanced
into her frightened purple eyes. But why was Hotaru, too, dressed in such outrageous
clothes? And why was she holding some sort of G-shaped weapon?
Words came to my mouth, words I did not remember ever learning. "World
Shaking!" I screamed, my hands and body moving without my bidding. A globe of orange
energy shot out, and -
The picture shifted again, and I was riding in my familiar yellow
convertible, shooting down the seashore, my hair blown by the cool wind as I drove.
"I don't plan on letting you go, tonight," I said to no one in particular,
not even realizing I said it. My eyes moved to glance at my passenger, and I blinked
inwardly.
Michiru! Sitting beside me, garbed in a burgundy-and-green school uniform,
her hair falling about her shoulders in the usual beautiful way, was Michiru! But,
if she was there, then where were we? And why did my dream feel so familiar?!
I awoke to the dueling sounds of my alarm clock and my telephone blearing in
my ears. Groaning, I rolled over and turned off the stupid clock, wondering silently
why I had bought it when I could just as easily be alerted to the morning by Okuno's
phone calls.
"Moshi moshi, Okuno," I grumbled into the receiver, my eyes half-opened.
It was to be Megumi's first day back at school since her father's heart attack, but
I was expected to show up and watch the presentations that I had forced her students
to put together. Talk about injustice.
Okuno snorted on the other end of the line. "How'd you know it was me?" he
asked crankily, obviously not having a good morning. I hadn't really looked over the
Daily in the last few days, and I wondered if there was something wrong.
I chuckled. "Who else calls this early in the morning?" I responded with
a smirk, sitting up in bed and groping for my comb. My mind started making a mental
list of what I had to do before school; shower, eat, gather all Megumi's supplies
to return to her...and that was just naming a few of the many. "Is something wrong?"
"Nothing's WRONG," he growled at me, and I sighed. Would he ever give me
insight to his psyche? Probably not, I decided with an inner shrug. Some people just
never shared...like me. "I was wondering, though, if you want to go out tomorrow
night. There's a big party here at the paper, and everyone's missing you like crazy.
You making a cameo appearance might do some good."
Good for me, or his section? I wondered silently. "Lemme guess," I chortled,
running a hand through my shaggy hair. "You're under major duress to win me back
to the paper before I decide to become some sort of crazy teacher."
There was silence, and I could see his face in my mind. He was probably
grimacing, not sure if he should tell me the truth or lie through his teeth.
Predictably, he chose the latter. "We all miss you, Ten'ou. You should know that.
Everyone will be excited to see you, again."
"Especially the editor-in-chief," I retorted. He didn't respond.
I glanced at the pair of concert tickets that were sitting on my nightstand.
The concert, I knew, would only last until seven or so, and then what? Asking Okuno
was out of the question because of the paper party, and, honestly, my intent of
inviting him had diminished to zero. The correct choice had become obvious.
"I can stop by around seven or so," I told him with a small smile. "I'm
going to a concert in the afternoon, but I'm sure my date and I can swing by
afterwards."
"That's fine," he began to respond. "The party won't be getting good un -
WHAT?!"
I laughed aloud. "You'll like her," I continued, leaning back against my
headboard as I listened to him sputter on the other end. "She's very smart, beautiful,
and plays violin."
"You're bringing HER?!" he roared, shock and surprise registering in his
voice.
"See you then, Okuno."
"But - "
"Have a good day."
"Ten'ou!"
"Ja!"
"Te - "
I hung up the phone.
---
Despite the high spirits that had greeted me when I first woke up that
morning, I found myself drifting through the day in a trace-like state. My dream
remained fresh in mind, startlingly real. It was as though I hadn't dreamt it at all
but had actually lived it, and the dream had been but a manifestation of my memories.
But what could it mean? The question plagued me, haunting my every breath
and thought. Why would I have dressed in a short skirt and a bodysuit, and why would
Hotaru - a student I had met but weeks before - call me "Uranus?" Uranus was a planet
near the very end of the solar system, not my name!
And yet, the name was familiar, like a blanket you shroud yourself in during
the cold of winter.
All my classes - both those I was relinquishing back to Megumi and those that
I taught on my own - were uneventful. Boring, even. I wandered through them idly,
disinterested in what was going on. The Japanese presentations were all cute and
rather informative, and Megumi was quite pleased. My gym students ran a 1600 meter
race and totally ignored my existence. Not that I minded dreadfully; I wasn't in the
mood to chat with a bunch of teenagers, anyway.
I didn't see Michiru at all until after school. I immerged from the locker
room carrying my track bag, my T-shirt blowing lightly in the wind. The nasty, rainy
Thursday had given way to a beautiful, sunny Friday, a Friday that was unseasonably
warm for the fall.
She was standing outside the gymnasium, waiting for me. Initially, I thought
it was a coincidence, but I realized when she smiled at me that it wasn't. Her face
lit up like a Christmas tree, her eyes sparkling and her lips curving into a smile.
My heart did a flip-flop in my chest, and I found myself smiling, too. Why in
the world was I letting myself fall so far for this woman?
Maybe she was right. Maybe there WAS fate, after all.
"Haruka," she greeted me, her face still as bright as a thousand stars. "I
was hoping to run into you."
I smiled bashfully, my cheeks flushing like a schoolgirl's. "I'm glad you
found me," I responded softly, totally at a loss for words. What was happening to me?
I was turning into a hopeless romantic without even trying! "I was meaning to ask
you something."
"Me too," she nodded, blushing on her own accord. "Maybe you could go first?"
My head bobbed a "yes" without my ever knowing it. For a moment, I couldn't
help but stare down at her, her beautiful aquamarine tresses held back by a thin black
headband. For a moment, I imagined myself standing only inches away from her at a
track meet, the wind ruffling my hair and rumpling my sweatshirt. But the vision
disappeared as quickly as it had come, and I once again found myself standing outside
the Giakiin gymnasium, gazing down at the most beautiful woman in the world.
I swallowed the lump in my throat, suddenly feeling awkward. Here I was,
standing across from another woman, about to ask her to spend an afternoon and evening
with me - to ask her on a DATE. And this woman was completely, totally, and utterly
STRAIGHT. What a fool I was!
She arched her eyebrows at me, questioning the silence. "Are you going to ask
me your question, or do I need to break the ice with a song and dance?" she joked,
her chuckle high and light.
A smile lit my face. Was there anything she couldn't do? "I have tickets for
this amazing concert tomorrow afternoon," I informed her, my stomach somersaulting
within me, "and then I'm going to a party that the newspaper is hosting." I paused.
What else to say? "I was wondering if, maybe, you'd like to go with me...sort of...
Well, sort of as - "
"A date?" she smirked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and mirth. I could
feel my face lose all its color immediately, but all she did was laugh. Her laughter
was so graceful, so elegant... Like the sound of a thousand chiming church bells, all
ringing in harmony. "It was a joke, Haruka! A joke!" she chortled, assuming that I
went white at how false her jest had been.
If only she knew how true it was...
"But I would love to go!" she smiled, clasping her hands together. "I've never
been to a journalistic party. It sounds like an experience, if all reporters are like
you."
Few are, I thought inwardly with a sigh. Very few.
A moment of silence passed before I realized that she'd mentioned needing to
ask me something. "What about your question?" I said, breaking the quiet. "Did you
need to speak to me about something?"
Her eyes slanted in mirth as she smiled charmingly. "Oh, I was just going to
ask you if you wanted to catch dinner tomorrow night," she responded, as though it
meant nothing. "But you beat me to it."
I smiled and laughed. Fate was beginning to make more and more of a case for
itself.
And so another day set upon Giakiin High School, leaving me certain of only
one thing in my life:
I was in love with Kaioh Michiru.
---
End Chapter V.
---