"Beachside" - continued from Part III

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Hotohori swerved off the road.

Nuriko, having been expecting such a reaction, had already braced himself, and thus narrowly managed to avoid smashing his head against the window.

The car screeched to a halt on the side of the road. "N...NANI!?!" Hotohori gasped, turning to face him with wide, shocked eyes. "Did...did you say... Wh...why...and...uhhh...N...h...I...I don't...whuh?"

Nuriko offered a thin smile. "No need to be so eloquent," he murmured dryly. Once the words had left his lips, however, he sighed again, let his head droop low. "Hotohori-sama...the appointment's at ten, and it's almost a quarter 'til..."

Hotohori didn't move, however, merely sat there in his seat, gasping and choking on his words until finally, finally, he managed to sputter out something vaguely resembling speech. "But...but, Nuriko...you can't have an abortion...you're a guy!" He broke off, eyes narrowingis suspiciously. "A...aren't you?"

Nuriko glanced over at him, looking vaguely surprised...and, then, abruptly, burst into laughter. He bent weakly at the waist, clutching at his stomach and laughing so loudly and so hilariously that a few passersby took one glance at him and skittered nervously away. Hotohori himself was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable...when, at last, Nuriko seemed to come back under control, sat up in his seat and let out a long, heavy sigh of laughter. "Ohhhhhh, Hotohori-sama," he breathed, still grinning slightly from the effects of the laughing. "Hotohori-sama, *I* don't need the abortion! Good God, you thought...you thought I--!" He broke off, again plunged into a fit of giggles. It was several minutes before he managed to gain control of himself again.

By that time, Hotohori felt adequately embarrassed...but, at least Nuriko's mood seemed to be brighter... As the violet-haired writer finally stopped laughing, however, Hotohori turned to him, frowned deeply. "But, Nuriko...if it's not for you...then, who IS it for?"

Abruptly, the smile melted from Nuriko's face. He sighed, leaned back in the seat and let the back of his head touch against the headrest. "I'll...I'll explain it all to you once we get there, Hotohori-sama." He lifted his head a bit, gazed down at the dashboard clock. "But, please...I need to get there on time. It's very important."

Insanely curious but sensing the real urgency in Nuriko's voice, Hotohori glanced briefly over his left shoulder, slipped the car into drive, and swung them back out onto the road. Eight minutes passed before Nuriko lifted that slim finger again, pointed to a small, clean-looking white building. Hotohori glanced at it a bit suspiciously, taking in the smooth, clean white walls, the few bushes and flower beds around the sidewalk, the simple wooden door...and, the sign, stuck into the ground with a thin rod of metal, onto which the ominous words of "The Clinic" had been etched. Inadvertently, he shivered.

Nuriko, too, looked decidedly uncomfortable as they slid into a parking space near the front, came to a slow halt.

"Well," said Hotohori slowly, glancing a bit warily at his companion. "We're here, Nuriko..."

Nuriko nodded silently, staring at the squat building with something very akin to fear shivering in his eyes. At last, he drew in a long, deep breath, reached a trembling hand to the car door, and pushed it open.

Hotohori frowned. "Nuriko?"

The other man turned, gazed down at him from where he stood beside the car. "Hm?"

He was silent for a long moment, considering...then, abruptly, pulled the key from the ignition, jammed it into his jeans pocket, and pushed open his own door.

"Hotohori-sama...you don't have to come in with me." Those dark violet eyes drifted towards the ground for a moment, then rose again, latched onto his face. "Please. It's going to be...uncomfortable enough without having anyone else there."

Hotohori's lips bent slightly downward, and he turned, closed the car door and leaned against it, folded his arms on the roof of the car. "I'm coming in with you," he said firmly. "I don't know what's going on...but, I know that whatever's happening, you shouldn't go through it alone. But, Nuriko...please, at least tell me who's having an abortion." He sighed softly. "You owe me at least that much, don't you?"

Nuriko suddenly looked very uncomfortable, turning and leaning his back against the side of the car. His eyes scanned the far-off grey and mottled-blue of the horizon, and his slim hands moved almost of their own volition into the shallow pockets of his jeans. Finally, he sighed. "She's not...having an abortion today. Not...not yet."

"Who?"

Nuriko turned, then, stared at him with those wide, glittering violet eyes. His lips were pressed into a thin, tight line, his jaw clenched as if gritting his teeth against some kind of pain... "My sister," he said quietly. "Kourin."

---

Chiriko smiled cheerily. "Ohayoo, Mitsukake-san."

"Coffee," the broad-shouldered man mumbled.

Miaka glanced up from her bagel, raised a hand to greet the physician. "Ohayoo, Mitsukake!" she intoned cheerfully. "Ne, why're you getting up so late? Don't you have to get to work?"

"Coffee," Mitsukake mumbled.

Moving with zombie-like grace, the dark-haired man thudded the rest of the way into the kitchen, took Miaka's own route of clinging to the counter as he moved...then, finally, he reached the salvation of the coffeemaker, smiled and reached for his mug.

Miaka and Chiriko exchanged glances a bit nervously.

"Uhh...Mitsukake-san," the younger began hesitantly. "Mitsukake-san...Nuriko...uh... Nuriko-san didn't make any coffee today."

A thick and heavy silence descended upon the kitchen.

Miaka and Chiriko sat fearfully at the table, respective breakfast items hanging loosely from their fingers, eyes wide and frightened. A low, growling rumble began to echo through the room, and the mug clutched in that thick-fingered hand began to shake, just slightly. The rumble was growing steadily, stretching into a beastlike growl...then, finally, it came to an enraged zenith, and Mitsukake turned around, the bleary fire of too little sleep and not enough caffeine blaring in his eyes...

"No...coffee?" he asked in a low, trembling voice. His eyes flashed, and he raised his arms, smashed his fists down onto the table. "No...COFFEE?!"

Miaka jumped up from the table. "Anou...I need to get to class...!"

Shaking and wide-eyed, Chiriko nodded hurriedly, scurried out of his seat. "I-I'll come with you, Miaka-san...!"

The two ran from the room, stomped through the adjoining living room, and a moment later, there came the sound of the front door slamming shut. Skittering footsteps echoed down the hallway, faded...and then, there was silence once more.

Mitsukake smirked briefly, turned, and calmly switched on the coffeemaker. A moment later, he was stretched out comfortably on one of the kitchen's eight wooden chairs, his bare feet propped up on the edge of the table, the newspaper clasped lightly between his fingers.

"Sometimes it's too easy," he murmured softly. Then, he leaned back, inhaled a long, deep breath of the brewing coffee, and enjoyed the peace of a nice, silent, empty kitchen.

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