Inspired by Yoshizumi Wataru's Marmalade Boy
Chapter 8: The Karma of Deception
"Alright, they've been spotted." reported Youji in a whisper, as he peaked through the tear in the shoji screen, inconveniently positioned so that he had to hunch over.
"And?" asked Fukutami impatiently.
"Chiyako's pretending to ignore them, but Koishikawa's obviously staring. Oh, Hirokazu-sempai and Yamashita-san are pretending to just see them. They're approaching the table. Hirokazu's waving, looks like he's speaking with Koishikawa-san."
"And? And?"
"I can't hear them from back here," Youji apologized.
"Improvise!" Fukutami had the world's loudest whisper, making Youji thankful for the restaurant's lively din. "I'm going crazy with suspense. Can we have a rematch on Rock Paper Scissors? Please Youji-kun."
"You've already lost three rematches." Man, she didn't take defeat gracefully.
"I think you cheat."
Youji raised an eyebrow, reminding himself he should be thankful that Fukutami knew the maitre'd and had been able to get them such an ideal spying spot. He continued his observation report.
"Hirokazu's speaking to Koishikawa, motioning to the waiter. Great, they're bringing two more chairs over. Chiyako's got a rather sour look on her face."
"Serves her right. Hey, if you'll switch places with me, I'll pay for my half of the dinner."
"I had assumed you were planning on that anyway," he said under his breath.
But it wasn't worth the effort; the spy hole wasn't terribly useful, and his neck was getting sore. Youji relented, quickly sidestepping as Fukutami positioned herself in the coveted spot and wasted no time in plastering her eye to the screen.
"They're all at the table, girls on one side, boys on the other, couples facing each other. Hirokazu-kun's ordering for Rumi-chan and himself, probably something expensive. And- oh no!" Fukutami cried in alarm.
"What, what?" What could have gone wrong this early into dinner?
"They just sat someone at the table in my line of site. I can't see a thing. The injustice of it!" wailed Yayoi.
Youji grimaced; hoping that his dinner companion's voice wasn't as loud as it seemed.
"It doesn't matter," he tried to assure her, "The tricky part is over. So long as Koishikawa's doesn't get suspicious, everything will go according to plan."
Fukutami pried herself away from the lookout and scowled. "My, but you're cocky. How'd you get to be so smart?"
"One - a nosy grandmother who loved to gossip, two - a kid sister with an extreme romantic streak, three - watching way too much television with both of the above." Youji raised his fingers, counting off while he spoke and added for emphasis, "I've probably seen more soap operas than you."
"Probably," she admitted, "I was into Ultraman."
"Poor, deprived child."
"So, draw upon your vast knowledge and tell me what's happening."
"Well, assuming this was a standard romance, Hirokazu-sempai would act like an ass; Koishikawa-san would get ticked off and pop him one. Chiyako, embarrassed, would run out of the restaurant. Yamashita-san, on the other hand, would stand by Koishikawa, thus proving herself the worthier girlfriend at which point Koishikawa would apologize profusely for not realizing that she was the only girl for him all along. Hirokazu misses all this, as I'm afraid that he'd be unconscious still. Which leaves only us, the side characters, naturally, we unwittingly fall for each other."
"You and me? Nothing personal Youji, but you're not my type."
"Indubitably, aren't you glad this isn't really a soap opera?" I am.
"Thank the gods." Fukutami gave the peephole another go. "I can kind of see them. Damn, I wish I could hear what they're talking about."
"It wouldn't be interesting. It's what they're not saying that's important."
Fukutami looked at him inquiringly; Youji continued.
"Here's my honest guess as to what's going on. I know Chiyako feels rotten for what happened to Yamashita, and Koishikawa-san must feel ten times worse. Now they see Yamashita, for the first time in month, smiling and having a good time. It's what they've been hoping for, and yet. . " He let his voice trail away, carefully planning his next phase, "it doesn't settle their consciences. Quite the opposite, because now they get the added guilt of not being happy for Yamashita."
"Well, Jin's going to be jealous, that's the plan. But why wouldn't Chiyako be ecstatic? Unless of course she's worried she won't be able to hold onto her newly acquired boyfriend."
"Correct," Youji agreed reluctantly, adding. "But also, because she's worried for Yamashita. You said yourself that Hirokazu's a playboy. Chiyako knows this, and that Yamashita's has had a very limited dating experience. She doesn't want Yamashita's heart broken again."
"Boy," Fukutami said sarcastically, "so everyone is good and decent and all the troubles are just misunderstandings? Kind of naïve, aren't you Youji-kun?"
"Koishikawa-san and Chiyako are fundamentally good people, Fukutami," said Youji firmly. "They didn't want to hurt anyone; it's just the way it all played itself out."
Fukutami looked unconvinced. "They hurt Rumi-chan. They hurt you. You can't deny that."
Youji signed. He wasn't comfortable having this conversation with her, but he knew he was going to keep talking anyway.
"What we're doing isn't upstanding or noble either, Fukutami-san. If this works out, we will have manipulated and deceived two people who care for each other. We will have deliberately lied to them, caused them to doubt each other, and hurt them. It's not something I'm proud of." He dropped his eyes, not wanting to see Fukutami's reaction.
"So why are you doing this?" she asked, sans sarcasm.
"Because Yamashita still loves Koishikawa. Loves him very much. Chiyako and Koishikawa are still very new into their relationship. At this point, I think Yamashita has more claim to him. And I think she deserves him more. And . . I don't know, I'm just rooting for her."
"Wow." said Fukutami with reverence, "are you for real?"
Youji grinned, "My sister says I'm chivalrous and that I can't stand to see a woman unhappy."
"Hmmph." Fukutami returned her attentions to her spy hole. "So what's the next step of the plan? Arrange for another accidental double date?"
"No, that would be too suspicious. We lay low for the next two weeks. Let Rumi and Hirokazu be seen in public a few times so they're officially known as a couple. You and I need to get our stories straight, in case Koishikawa or Chiyako come asking us."
"You don't think that's moving too slow?" asked Fukutami, "The plan requires that Jin be jealous and worried enough that he'll go back to Rumi-chan when they visit home over break. That's only three weeks away."
"Don't worry," Youji assured her, "more than enough time. I just need to talk to Yamashita first to explain what we need her to do."
*****
"And I've been tennis captain president ever since," concluded Hirokazu.
Silence descended once again around the table. Rumi added ginger to the remaining piece of sushi on her plate. It was a waste not to eat it, but her nervousness had vanquished any appetite. Even the after dinner green tea she ordered made her feel queasy.
Why, oh why, couldn't they leave. Call the whole plan a failure and just give up.
She was such a bad actor; there was no way Chiyako or Jin could believe this evening was anything but a set up. Throughout dinner she'd kept mostly quiet, letting Hirokazu keep up the conversation. It had been very one-sided, as Jin and Chiyako's replies were mostly monosyllabic.
They kept giving Rumi these questioning looks, as if to implore her why she was doing this. No, they weren't fooled, couldn't be.
She forced herself to look up. Jin was staring back at her, a searching look across his open face. Probably wondering how I could have sunk so low, Rumi accused herself. Jin, who always valued honesty, must be so disappointed with her, so glad to realize how right he was to end their relationship.
And Chiyako, who was eyeing Hirokazu in a scrutinizing manner, she must be wondering if Rumi had chosen him to deliberately remind her of their short unsuccessful date. But she hadn't! She had thought that Chiyako had dumped him up until recently.
So, from that sin, at least, her conscience was free from guilt. Pity she couldn't excuse herself from the rest. It had all seemed so straightforward and simple when they'd come up with the strategy, Yayoi's idea, Matsuura's implementation, and Rumi's contribution, small but significant.
"The way I see it," Yayoi had initiated the planning, "If we can make Jin-kun realize that he still loves Rumi, then he'll drop Chiyako and Youji-kun can pick her up on the rebound."
"I think you're oversimplifying things," said Matsuura, who Rumi suspected, might be slightly miffed by Yayoi's flippant evaluation of his and Chiyako's roles in all this. Or maybe it was her insistence of calling him by his surname.
"It shouldn't be too difficult," countered Yayoi, "Koishikawa dated Rumi for forever, his feeling for her must run deep. Guys want what they can't have. If he thinks he's lost Rumi, he'll realize just how much she means to him. The key, my friends, is jealousy."
She means well, Rumi reminded herself. Yayoi had a way of trivializing people when she spoke about them without intending to. But now was not the time to start defending Jin's character, no matter what her impulse. She glanced over to Matsuura, trying to project mentally her disagreement with Yayoi's seeming universal condemnation of men.
The corner of Matsuura's lips turned up, as if sharing her observations about her roommate. He returned his attention to Yayoi and said:
"It's conceivable that if Koishikawa were to see Yamashita-san involved with someone else, he might recognize that he still loves her. Arrange a few dates for Rumi, make it appear that she's serious, it might work. I seem to recall my sister Emiko having a series of books along this line, I'll get in touch with her and see how they set it up."
"Great," said Yayoi, nodding at Rumi, as if to indicate her agreement as well, "So Rumi goes out on a few dates with you, Youji-kun, and -"
"What?"
"Wait a second!" interrupted Rumi and Matsuura simultaneously and with equal indignation.
"What?" asked Yayoi, "I assumed you'd have no problem pretending to date Rumi, Youji-kun."
"Well, I suppose I could," admitted the flustered Matsuura, "But, it isn't, I -"
Rumi jumped in, ashamed for Matsuura's embarrassment and bewilderment, "I don't think that's a good idea. After all, if Jin comes back to me because of Matsuura-san, then I don't think Chiyako will look favorably on him. And part of the plan is to get them together as well."
"That's not the highest priority," said Matsuura, "What we-"
Yayoi threw up her hands.
"Whatever." She said, giving up, "So whom should we get to fill in as rival?"
She looked at Matsuura, who looked at Rumi. The name came to her unbidden and she spoke it without thinking,
"Well, there's always Hirokazu Nabishi."
So in the end, it was her suggestion, her idea that got her here tonight.
Something nudged her foot, drawing her back into the present. There it was again. She looked at Jin, old instinct and old habit reasserting themselves. But it was Hirokazu who was watching her, smiling with complete self-confidence. Another nudge, and he winked. This last was witnessed by Chiyako to judge by the way she flinched.
"This has been a delightful evening," Hirokazu said suavely, all the while eyeing Rumi, "But I'm afraid we have a movie to catch."
"Oh, well we wouldn't want to keep you." replied Chiyako primly.
"Yeah, have a good time," added Jin, sounding unsure.
Polite nods and short bows were made as Rumi and Hirokazu stood. Oddly, because she'd been waiting for this moment all evening, Rumi paused. Etiquette required her to say at least something; she'd been terribly quiet throughout the meal.
"It was nice to see you again."
She really did mean it. Yayoi and Matsuura were becoming good friends, but she'd known these two much longer, trusted herself with them even now.
Desperately she searched their faces, sure that she'd see only disgust and disappointment in their faces. Their faces were impartial, too tasteful to condemn her in such a place. Or maybe now she didn't even rate such consideration
I'm sorry, she wanted to cry out, forgive me, I miss you! But before she even opened her mouth, Hirokazu spoke:
"Yes, it has been delightful. Shall we go dear?" and with that he caught up her hand and swept her out of the restaurant.
At the door, she glanced back, to see the couple one last time. No lofty scorn, no subtle relief to be rid of her, the was some other expression on their faces. Confusion, surprise, disbelief, what could it mean? She pondered as they walked down the street.
And then understanding dawned.
"They actually think we're dating," she said in awe, part of her still disbelieving it. "They bought it."
"Hook, line and sinker" replied Hirokazu, confident as always.
"But I was sure they'd see through it, sure they'd know."
"Nonsense. We were very convincing. Especially you, had 'I've-run-into-an-ex-how-embarrassing' written all over your face."
It was a nice compliment, and Rumi felt herself relaxing for the first time all evening. She glanced up at Hirokazu, and felt her cheeks flush.
"Umm, Hirokazu-sempai, you can let go of my hand now."
"What? Oh, of course."
Smile as charming as ever, he let go. Rumi wondered if he might not have given her hand a quick squeeze at the last moment, but she must have imagined it.
"Say," he said, turning to her, "How about I treat you to dessert? There's a great French pastry place not far from here. I noticed you didn't eat much, you must be hungry."
"Oh no," said Rumi, against her stomach's protests, "I couldn't ask you do that. You just paid for dinner."
The tennis captain chuckled, "I'm afraid you'll have to come up with a better excuse. My weekly allowance is more than enough to take young women out for sushi and pastries every day of the week."
"Well, I guess I can't argue then," said Rumi, she always had a weakness when it came to sweets.
The place was a bit of a walk, but Rumi didn't mind. It was nice to be outdoors; the sushi bar had been stifling psychologically and physically. Now that she knew it had been at least a partial success, she could let her mind float. She was vaguely aware of Hirokazu talking in the background, about his family or something. If it was important, Rumi was sure he'd repeat it.
The shop turned out to be an adorable café on the eight floor of a department store. It had a marvelous view, and smelled delicious. Hirokazu insisted on ordering a large sampler plate, containing at least one of every available confection.
"But we can't eat it all," Rumi protested.
"If the plan continues to be this successful, you'll be back to dating Koishikawa and I won't have a chance to take you here again. I insist that you enjoy all the fine delicacies this place has to offer. It's not like I can't afford it."
"When you put it that way, I can't say no."
The desserts were even tastier than they looked. And Rumi finished far more of them than she should have.
"I'll probably pay for this later," she said afterwards, her pants fitting more snuggly than earlier in the evening, "but everything was so delicious."
"It was my pleasure." And Hirokazu smiled again.
"I do feel a little guilty."
"I've already explained that I have more money than I know what to do with." He certainly brought up his wealth a good deal, Rumi noted.
"It's not that. I mean that you could have been out on a real date. Everyone has the same amount of time."
"Would you believe me," said Hirokazu, leaning towards her in a conspiratorial manner, "That I've had more fun this evening than I could have with any other girl on campus. And I speak from experience."
Rumi blushed, "I. . ."
Hirokazu shushed her, "Never fear, I know my place. But until you get Koishikawa-san back, I am going to enjoy hanging out with you. Nothing wrong with that, is there?"
Rumi shook her head.
"Oh, and I was thinking, to strengthen the illusion of us dating, we should be more informal. How's about you call me Nabishi and I call you Rumi? That okay?"
"It make sense." Rumi agreed, and it did. Besides, he had been so gentlemanly about everything this evening, she'd feel badly to turn down this request. She noticed her stomach was discomforted, probably protesting all the sweets she'd just eaten.
*****
The clock's second hand never moves so slowly as in the last five minutes of class, Youji observed. But thankfully it did move and at long last, the bell rang.
"About time," he observed to the woman next to him. Seeing that she was sleeping, he poked her.
"Wha - Huh- Oh, your class is over. You know, college math classes aren't as bad as high school ones I remember." She yawned and stretched.
"You slept through it all, Yayoi" Yamashita pointed out.
"That's how I spent my high school math classes," said Fukutami defensively, "I just never brought my pillow along back then. Makes it a lot more comfortable."
"You know, Yayoi," Yamashita's voice was level, but with a slight edge, "you didn't have to come sit in on our class, we could have met you somewhere afterwards."
"No way. One, I'd never be able to get up this early if left to my own devices. Two, Rumi would have already divulged the juiciest bit of her third Hirokazu date by the time we met up. Even if you repeated the info word for word, it would loose its strength and passion. And three, this way I can honestly report to my father that I attended class this week."
Youji made a mental note to keep his little sister, Emiko, away from Fukutami. There are certain role models that an impressionable teenager didn't need.
"Well, Yamashita-san and I are done with classes for the day. Lets head somewhere discrete so we discuss Rumi's latest date, and plan the next step."
They decided on Youji's apartment. Conspirators, Fukutami pointed out, always failed because of stupid mistakes, like letting the wrong parties overhear them. That made the girl's place a very dangerous spot. Also, Hirokazu and Yamashita were the hot new couple on campus and the rumors were flying. It was great publicity, but Youji was glad for the upcoming summer break, which should mark the successful conclusion to the scheme.
He was also fervently gratified he had cleaned up his apartment somewhat. The kitchen contained about a week's worth of dirty dishes, but at least there was no underwear lying about the place. The sitting room, until now an unneeded luxury, suddenly seemed quite practical.
"Wow." said Rumi, looking about, "You live here by yourself?"
"Yeah," he replied. It really was embarrassing how large the place was. But his grandmother had insisted on a non-rat-infested abode in a respectable neighborhood, and only this place, out of the twenty or so they'd looked at, satisfied her. Well, she and his father were footing the bill.
He slid the coffee table closer to the couch so he could set up the folding chair. Good thing there were only three people in on the plot.
"So does this bachelor's place have any food?" Asked Fukutami.
"There's some chips and drinks in the kitchen. I'll get some-"
"Oh no," she insisted, "It's good to practice being domesticated every so often." She disappeared from site, but continued her monologue. "I remember when I had an apartment with a kitchen."
"When was that?" asked Yamashita.
"My first two years, then my father cut back my allowance when I changed my major from law to communication arts. Turned out for the best, though. These new complexes are so high up that it's difficult to throw things out the windows when you need to vent emotions."
Youji made another mental note about Yayoi, who was emerging with several bags of processed food and a six pack of soda.
"Well, let's begin." he said opening a can. "I heard from my tennis partner yesterday that Yamashita-san and Hirokazu-sempai made quite the impression at last week's tennis social."
"We're calling him Nabishi now." corrected a smirking Fukutami while elbowing Yamashita, who nearly choked on the chips she was eating.
"Really?" asked Youji, at a loss for words.
"Well," explained Yamashita after she cleared her throat, "he asked me to, so it would look more serious. It certainly surprised Jin when he heard Nabishi address me by my given name."
It made sense. Youji himself had been going to suggest Rumi address Hirokazu less formally, but first names still seemed extreme.
"Calling someone by their first name is just so more modern." commented Fukutami, "You should try it, Youji-kun. I'm getting tired of being called Fukutami-san. I've always hated my last name."
Yamashita met Youji's eyes with one of her please-excuse-my-roommate expressions she so often gave him.
"And you know what else," Fukutami added, catching their exchange if not its meaning. "You two should be able to use each others first names. It's not like you don't see each other all the time. Besides, it clears up confusion."
Youji raised his eyebrows to convey an unspoken shall-we-humor-her.
"Youji." Rumi said, extending her hand, western style.
"Rumi." Youji replied, taking her hand and performing the shake. It was a nice name, and fit her well.
"Okay, now that that's settled, tell us about the date." Fukutami commanded. Mentally, at least, Youji couldn't think to call her by her first name. "I can't believe, after I waited past one for you to get home you went straight to bed."
"One? AM?" Youji asked, confusedly, "you were only going to make a short public appearance."
"I, well, it got complicated." Rumi took a deep breath and started her narrative:
"Nabishi picked me up after my tennis match. Chiyako saw me leave, as per the plan. She looked really uncomfortable and Nabishi suggested this karaoke bar for dinner. There were some mechanical problems with the subway. So we walked and didn't get there until past seven. Nabishi really wanted to do karaoke, but there was such a long list by that point that we had to wait until almost nine." She took a sip of pop, obviously uncomfortable with what she was to say next. "Nabishi had been drinking, it was a bar, and well, he really enjoyed the singing and wanted to stay. I suppose I should have gone then, but I didn't feel comfortable leaving him. He had had a bit too much to drink by that point."
"Not surprising," said Fukutami, "he's a pretty cheap drunk."
"It got to be pretty late before he was willing to leave. Lucky for me the trains were back in service by that point, but I wanted to make sure he got home okay. So it was quite late when I got home. I was so tired, I just wanted to fall asleep, that's why I didn't want to talk then." She smiled, "Good thing I'm not really dating him, huh?"
She's hiding something, thought Youji. Carefully he phrased his next question, "So Hirokazu just got drunk and needed to be looked after? That's all?" What a romantic.
Rumi gulped "He threw up a few times," she admitted, dropping her eyes," and, and he tried to kiss me."
"What?" exclaimed Youji.
"Not surprising," said Fukutami.
"What?" Youji turned to stare at her, "You knew Hirokazu was like this?"
"I've heard stories." she replied nonchalantly, "Having Rumi date someone rumored to be dangerous will give Jin even more reason to take her back."
"But we can't let Rumi go out with someone like that!"
"Hey, calm down, calm down." Soothed Yayoi, "Hirokazu's a puppy dog, perfectly harmless, if you want him to be. I dated him myself once, back when I was in second year. He was drunk, that's all. Keep him away from the booze and everything's fine. Right Rumi? He's never done anything like this when he was sober, has he?"
"No." The reply seemed unsure.
"You're sure, Rumi?" asked Youji.
"I . . ." she paused, "He's sometimes implied things about Jin. Like that he's too poor to treat a date correctly. Or that he has poor bloodline."
"He's just being a snob, Rumi. Think nothing of it." Fukutami assured her, "He's from a rich, lower nobility family. It's the way we talk I'm afraid. I can't remember a single family reunion where my uncle and father didn't spend a good hour complaining about the nouveau riche and how they were all descended from lowly fishermen."
"It is true," admitted Youji, who listened to his grandmother's diatribes on much the same subject. "They're even more vehement if they think the commoners are actual rivals."
"Oh," Rumi looked more relaxed.
"I still don't like that he tried to kiss you, Rumi," Youji said, "I'm thinking we should change the final date."
"No, we can't," said Fukutami, "Your idea is brilliant, Youji."
"But I don't think Rumi should be alone with him." he protested, "You wouldn't be comfortable with that, would you Rumi?"
"Actually," she looked back and forth uneasily, "I wouldn't, sorry Yayoi."
"You just have to appear to be alone," Yayoi insisted. "Jin will never know. Listen, here's what we'll do . . ."
*****
Rumi's heart was racing, her palms sweating, and it was way too hot in her apartment. She wished she'd never agreed to this part of the plan, or maybe she regretted her role in the whole scheme. But there was no backing out now. And even if she could, Rumi wasn't sure she would. Hadn't she said she'd do anything to get Jin back? If this was the price she had to pay, then she should suffer it willingly.
She gave a small, embarrassed smile at her guest, the source of her consternation, sitting opposite from her at the low table. He returned it with a smile, dazzling even in the room's dim lightning.
"Umm, the tea should be ready any moment." She said quickly, trying to hide her unease. "Would you like another cookie, Nabishi?"
"You know," Nabishi replied a shade darkly, "When most girls invite me up for tea and cookies, they don't deliver."
Rumi gulped, fighting the urge to inch back. What was he expecting from her? True, her motives for inviting him up had not been purely culinary in nature, but it wasn't like Yayoi hadn't explained it all to him earlier.
The teapot began its frantic whistling, allowing Rumi to spring up and cross the room. She could feel Nabishi's eyes on her as she fussed with cups and spoons, but the distance at least gave her the illusion of having escaped. Moving slowly and methodically, she steeped the tea, a stalling tactic while she got her thoughts in order.
Where was Youji? He had promised to be there when she brought Nabishi home. She'd given him the keys and everything. Hopefully, he was just running late.
The tea was almost ready. Rumi placed the pot on the small platter and returned to the table. Sitting opposite from Nabishi, she began arranging the cups. She pretended to find the act quite fascinating as an excuse not to meet his eyes.
"You've had traditional tea ceremony training," Nabishi said as she poured his tea.
"Oh, this isn't tea ceremony at all," said Rumi, glad to converse on a lighter topic.
"I know that," he said, "But it's obvious from your manner and poise that you were trained."
Rumi laughed at the memory. "It was all my mother's idea. Her grandparents were samurai and mom's kind of stuck on the traditional instructions for daughters. I had to take flower arrangement, haiku composition, and calligraphy too." What she had really wanted was to join the soccer team, but her mother had been mortified. How would being able to kick a ball get Rumi a husband, she used to ask. As if that was all that could be expected from a daughter.
At the thought of marriage, Rumi began to feel worried again. Could Nabishi think those skills a qualification for wife-hood? Would he think she was bragging about them to impress him, the way he bragged about his family's wealth and lineage?
I should have told him I was descended from fishermen and rice farmers, she thought. Where was Youji?
It wasn't quite so bad. Nabishi was perfectly sober tonight, and had apologized for the previous date several times already. And after tonight, she'd never have to date him, never even have to see him again.
When had she begun to loath him, and why? True, he'd been a horrible drunk, and he was conceited and boring. But she'd known people like that before. One of Jin's uncles was renowned for his drunken stupors, and she'd never had a problem with it.
It's because of the deception, she knew it was. At first it had only been lying to Jin and Chiyako, pretending to be happy and in love. But that was okay, hadn't they lied to her? Then it was pretending to the whole school that she and Nabishi were an item. That had been okay as well, it was their choice to gossip. But last week, she'd as much told Yayoi and Youji, who still wasn't here, that she was comfortable around Nabishi, which she certainly was not. And she'd omitted several details of their previous date. Now she was lying to Nabishi, telling him that the other night was forgotten. She hadn't even told her mother that she had broken up with Jin, even agreeing that this summer break they should find out how much a good friend recently spent on her wedding, because it was never too early to plan, just in case.
Was there anyone she wasn't lying to? Herself? I keep saying the plan will work, that when it's all over Jin will come back to me and we'll be just like we were. But they wouldn't, because she could never tell him about the plan. There would always be this deception between them.
"Ouch!" cried Nabishi, snapping her out of her self-flagellation.
"What?" Rumi asked, jumping up.
But she could already see. Nabishi 's teacup was overturned and the liquid was running over the edge. He was clutching his lower arm, and she could see a brown stain on the cuff.
"Spilled the tea," muttered Nabishi through clenched teeth, "Bloody klutzy of me."
"Happens to everyone." Rumi assured him and leaped quickly to the other side of the room where she kept the first aid box. Fortunately, her mother had agreed to first aid training. Considering the death rate in Akira Kurosawa films, it seemed a lot more useful than calligraphy.
"Here, let me see," she said as she knelt beside him.
Rumi unbuttoned the cuff and rolled it back. His wrist was slightly pink; probably not even a first degree burn. Regardless she thoroughly coated it with salve, twice, just to be sure and wrapped it with almost an entire length of bandage.
"There, that should hold it. Although you should probably see a doctor about it, and soon."
Nabishi nodded and Rumi started to stand, but he took her hand with his unbandaged one, and looked into her eyes. She froze. Where was Youji?
"Rumi," he spoke with a soft voice she hadn't heard before, "thank you. You're a truly good person, you know."
Rumi nodded, agreeing to another lie, wishing he'd let go of her hand. But she really couldn't yank it away now, could she? Nabishi continued:
"I knew you were a good person before we started this charade, but I didn't . . ." he paused and looked to be collecting his thoughts. "I know you'll get Koishikawa-san back. He was a fool to let you get away in the first place. But, but if it doesn't work out, would you, would you consider me a second choice, a consolation prize?"
Rumi was stunned. Nabishi had said something along these lines when he was drunk, but she had put it up to the alcohol. He was dead sober this evening.
"Nabishi," she said, thinking fast. Where was Youji? "You seem like a nice guy. But I'm in love with Jin. I always have been."
She meant the words, and yet they felt hollow, like one more lie told for convenience sake, to get her out of trouble, once again.
Nabishi's eyes were glistening; was he crying? Great, now she could add breaking a man's heart to her list of ever growing offenses. She wanted to scream, to vomit, and to scrub away at her skin with lye. Where was Youji?
"But he's not as good for you as I am." Nabishi pleaded, holding even more tightly onto her hand so that she couldn't remove it if she wanted to, "I have more money, I can give you so much more. I'll be taking over my father's company some day. It's huge. And even before that, we'll have a big house with servants and we'll go on trips. You'll live a life like you've never had, I promise you."
"Nabishi - " her hand was starting to hurt. Where was Youji?
"You can't love him romantically, you only think you do because you've been together for so long. It's not a passionate love; it's just friendship. Don't you see? That's why he broke up with you. He just loves you as a friend. I'll love you like a boyfriend ought to. I've been trying to tell you that all along, don't you see?"
"Nabi - " she started to say, but he interupted her with a kiss.
It was a hard kiss, unlike any she'd shared with Jin. She could feel his teeth pushing against her lips almost like a bite. He still held her hand, and with his other hand he held onto her sholder, effectively capturing her.
Where the hell was Youji?
"Bleep-bleepity-bleep. Bleep-bleepity-bleep. Bleep-bleepity-bleep. Bleep-bleepity-bleep." Something rang shrilly, electronically and without mercy.
"What the?" Nabishi looked up, relaxing his grip, and Rumi pushed herself back.
She rose shakily to her feet and walked quickly over to Yayoi's desk. It wasn't hard to spot the noise's source, a day glow green key chain ornament in the shape of a misshapen monster with an enormous head and goggle eyes. Rumi pushed his bellybutton and the din stopped.
"It's the signal from Yayoi. He's here." she explained, holding it up for Nabishi to see. "Time to move."
"But-" This time she cut him off.
"He'll be here any second," she snapped, and opened the door.
Sure enough, she could hear sounds from the entryway, and then footsteps on the stairs.
"Just make it look good," she hissed at Nabishi who had come to stand beside her in the hall. He nodded, and leaned over to kiss her.
Rumi unclenched her teeth. This had to look natural. Natural so that Jin, coming home, would think it was real, and draw whatever conclusions his imagination could devise about what Nabishi was doing, or had been doing, that late at night.
And then, afterwards, when she was alone with him on the train ride home, she could choose whatever lie she wanted to, pull any trick necessary to get him back.
The sound of steps halted. Rumi and Nabishi finished the kiss.
"I'll miss you," he said on cue and started out.
Rumi was supposed to say, "Me too," but the words didn't make it out. Instead she was looking down the hall, at Jin, and past him at Chiyako, returning home with him at this late hour. Nabishi was looking back and forth, confused. Rumi didn't care.
Slowly she stepped back inside and closed the door. Only then did she realize she was crying. When had the tears started?
And why hadn't Youji come?
copyright Kim Smuga-Otto July 2000