Chapter 6
Koushiro's turn...
Miyako sat on the edge of the boardwalk, legs dangling over the edge,
the low tide waves of Tokyo Bay gently splashing at the cement wall some
eight, nine feet below her, splashing the soles of her shoes. She
rested her head on her arms, crossed across her chest and resting on the
lower rungs of the rope fencing that stretched along the crossable perimeter
of the island. Odabia was a clean and peaceful place, especially
compared to the rest of Tokyo, but it was all man-made, built on a landfill
and completely artificial - not much different from the way she felt that
she had been presenting herself to others.
She's spent the last three years trying to cover it up, bury it, build on top of it and pretend it never happened, Koushiro silently observed. He sat next to her in much the same matter, his legs hanging a bit shorter and a blank expression on his face. It was a strange and foreign feeling for him - not having an answer to a problem. She had just told him everything, and he had no idea what to do. The suddenness of it all had left him completely unable to comfort her or even provide any practical advice. There were strange things in life that he could accept - after all, he had been to the digital world. Still, his knowledge and experiences had not prepared him for this.
It's impossible! It can't be! Yet he knew that Miyako would never lie to him. It was almost impossible to comprehend, however, that such a seemingly innocent boy could be capable of such an act. Koushiro thought he knew Iori, but for once he had been completely wrong. He did not know Iori's grandfather very well, but judging from the few times he had met him, he seemed like a genuinely kind man. I guess you can't judge books by their covers.
It had been a perfect morning; just the two of them, alone in the computer lab. He had been looking forward to it all week, not just because he could throw himself into his work yet again, but that she would be working by his side. However, they mostly kept to themselves, immersed in their respective tasks and speaking to each other in a geekspeak only the two of them understood. It took Koushiro all morning to build up the nerve to ask her out for lunch, and when he finally did it felt like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It would be the perfect chance to tell her how he felt, and he had the perfect place in mind.
Now they were sitting right where he had planned all along, but under completely different circumstances than he hoped. He had pulled Miyako off the ground where she had been weeping and shaking for a few minutes, where passersby stared at her and exchanged judgmental glances toward Koushiro, and led her to the edge of the boardwalk. There she recounted the story to him in short bits, interrupted by blasts of tortured sobbing. Koushiro felt helpless. The girl he loved was suffering, reliving an event that he could not intervene with. He might as well have been a witness, for he could picture it all in detail so vivid that he felt utterly ashamed of himself for dwelling on it. Every agonizing second of it had been running itself through his head since for the past half hour, long after she had ceased speaking and resigned herself to silently staring across the water. Koushiro found himself staring off as well, watching as the train carried passengers across the bridge and to Shimbashi Station, near the beach. It passed them every five minutes, but he had lost count of how many times it gone by. Watching the time was the last thing on his mind; he was still processing the situation. Should I hug her? Should I hold her hand? Should I say something encouraging? What good will any of that do? To him, expressions like 'I'm here for you', 'It'll be alright' or 'We'll get through this' were just clichés, preprogrammed responses that were meaningless and certainly were not going to solve anything.
It was like a war inside of him, one part wanting to support her as a friend, another wanting revenge on her attackers, and yet another part wanting to take the moment to express his real feelings for her. But I can't do that now! I'd be taking advantage of her just like they did! He knew what he wanted to do about it, but he saw it as a futile act, one that if performed in a haphazard manner and in the state of rage that he was slipping into could backfire or completely fail. You're being selfish, he thought to himself. Violence doesn't solve anything. Yet some kind of action still seemed preferable to planning, so he reached out and took her hand.
"Thank you for telling me that," he said honestly. "It means a lot to me that you would trust me enough to tell me that." That's just great Koushiro, keep congratulating yourself! "What I mean is, I hope that you feel better now that you've told someone. Its not good to keep secrets like that bottled up for long."
She turned to Koushiro, resting her chin on her one arm, holding his hand with the other. It was the first time he had ever seen her without her glasses (which he had picked off the ground and had slipped back into her pocket before she realized she had dropped them), and it only confirmed his theory that she was not only the prettiest girl in the world, but perfect for him. She was not any more or less attractive without her them, but gone he could see her natural beauty. He had lost himself in her eyes before, but only from across the room or through the computer screen (as they would sometimes chat using their web cams). This time her gaze had made him forget everything except his love for her and how much he wanted to physically express it. Anyone watching them could have seen that he was obviously leaning in for a kiss, and his intentions certainly weren't lost on Miyako. It would have made the perfect moment if he hadn't stopped himself in the act, remembering why they were sitting there in the first place. He felt a surge of guilt as he came back to reality, and he did the only that he could think of that could possibly make up for his blunder. Jumping off the ledge into the ocean seemed like a possible option, but instead he awkwardly reached around her and pulled her into an embrace. There they sat for some time, although he wondered if his actions had only made things worse. Her muffled crying seemed to indicate that they had, but he still held her tightly, never wanting to let her go.
After a time Miyako stopped crying but laid still. It was a few minutes before she regained her composure, sat up, brushed her tear soaked hair from her face and spoke.
"I'm sorry. I didn't want to do that. Its just…right now I'm so confused…I don't know what to do," she sniffed.
"It's okay. I'll take care of it," said Koushiro.
"You're not going to tell anyone," she asked him. "Are you?"
"Miyako, you know that we have to tell the police about it," he said. "They can help you, and they can make sure that he never does that to anyone ever again."
"No!" Miyako pleaded. "You can't tell anyone! If my father ever finds out he'll…please…please don't."
"But it's not your fault. You didn't do anything. You have to believe that."
"I know! I know! He's just…my whole family is…they just wouldn't understand. Please don't tell them!"
"Miyako…" Koushiro gently grabbed her by the arm and looked her in the eye. "I promise I won't tell your parents. I'm not going to the police either, not if you don't want me to."
"Koushiro?"
"Yes?"
"Promise that you won't tell any of the others?"
He was hoping that she wouldn't push them away. They were the only help she had. "Are you sure? They're your friends, they'll want to help you! You know that you can trust them!"
"No Koushiro, please don't tell them. Promise that you won't. Everyone else thinks I'm a boy-chasing flirt. They'll either think I'm making it up for attention…or they'll think I was asking for it."
"No they won't. Believe me, they care about you just as much as I do!" He suspected that some of them might pass judgment on her, at least initially, but he knew that she needed more support than he alone could give her. I don't want to lie to her, but still I can't insist on anything. He decided not to push the issue any further for the time being. "I promise I won't tell any of them."
They sat for a few minutes more, not saying much. Miyako looked back across the bay as another train made its way across the bridge. Koushiro watched people pass them by on bikes and skates, pushing strollers and walking in groups. A young couple was leading their child down the boardwalk, one of the thousands of families that had made the weekend trip to "Rainbow Island" as it was sometimes called. As he watched them together he longed to hold his real mother's hand or be picked up by his true father. He wanted to go back, back to when he was young and the world was a friendly place full of discovery and wonder. However, he had found out that it wasn't always what it seemed to be, and all of those rosy memories spent with the people that he grew up calling his parents now felt somewhat tainted. He loved them dearly, but in a way he felt deceived by the world. While he tried to remember his youth Miyako flicked a small pebble into the water, its splash breaking him out of his trance.
Eventually they got up and began walking back in the direction of the school. Neither of them had said anything but they had decided to give their work there a rest. Having spent almost the entire day together, there was not much left for either of them to say. Ahead, Koushiro spotted a tea house, and he was about to suggest that they stop inside for a drink when Miyako let out a long sigh. It's too late to try to salvage the afternoon, he thought. You can't just pretend that nothing happened. Besides, she needs to go home. He did not want to leave her, partly because of the pain that she was in, partly because of the emptiness he would feel having gone another day hiding his feelings from her. They finally reached her apartment building and rode the elevator to her floor, where he left her with kind but ultimately meaningless words that worked like a Band-Aid on the mortal wounds she had taken.
"Promise me that you'll call if you need anything," Koushiro told her. "I can be over here in five minutes."
"Ok," Miyako replied solemnly. "Thanks Koushiro." They stood silently for an awkward minute before she officially ended their day together. "I guess I'll see you Monday."
"Ok," Koushiro agreed. He tried to think of something else to say, but 'have a good weekend' just didn't sound right. "See you later."
"Bye," Miyako said as she closed the door.
Koushiro lingered outside the door for a minute until he remembered that she could be watching him through the peephole on the door. He quickly walked down the hall and into the stairwell. There, he sat down on the landing and buried his head in his hands. How could I be so stupid? His best friend had just poured out her soul to him and he had given her nothing back, even though he wanted to give her everything he had and more. He had been carefully choosing his words though, not wanting to sound insensitive yet not wanting to confess his love at a time when she was feeling so insecure and vulnerable. Patience...restrain yourself...good Koushiro, now that you're alone you can figure this out. At least he hoped he could.
Collecting himself, Koushiro got back up and walked down the down the stairs, all the way contemplating his next move. Halfway to the ground floor, he suddenly stopped. Checking the number on the nearest door, he realized that he was now on Takeru's floor. Koushiro needed someone, not necessarily to talk to, but just to be with. Takeru's smile always cheered him up, so he opened the door and started down the hall to his apartment. I hope he doesn't mind a surprise visit.
Two minutes later, his knocking still hadn't gotten any response, and
Koushiro soon remembered why. He left with the others to pick
up Wallace at the airport. How could I have forgotten? He
was about to leave when he noticed a key protruding from the lock.
One of them must have left it here this morning. He reasoned
that simply leaving it alone would be just as irresponsible as leaving
the door wide open, so he quietly opened the door. I'll just set
it on the counter and leave, no harm in that, he thought as he flipped
the light switch. Setting the keys on the kitchen counter, he saw
a note.
Takeru I'm so sorry, but I won't be home until after midnight. There's leftovers in the fridge. I promise we'll go out later this week. I love you Takeru. ~mom
