Last Dance with Shinobu-chan.
By Project Pegasus
Chapter VI, Part I: And Then She Kissed Her, Her Only Love . . .
Shinobu tossed up her hands in resignation as the rest of the room turned toward Mutsumi and shouted, "WHAT?!"
Mutsumi put her hands on her face in embarrassment. "Ara! Ara! Shinobu-chan, don't worry, I won't tell anybody else your secret."
There was an intense silence for a moment as the other residents stared at Mutsumi, as though even Hinata Sou itself stood still in anticipation.
Then Naru cast the first stone. "Wait, wait, Keitaro and Shinobu . . . a dance?!"
After Naru had acted as rainmaker, the deluge of outbursts began.
"Shinobu and Keitaro, when did this happen?! Are you lying, Mutsumi" Sara demanded
"Mutsumi, what are you talking about?" Suu asked in disbelief.
"This is too much to handle," Mitsune shouted in exasperation, "This calls for that bottle of whiskey I've been saving. Anybody want to go shot for shot with me?"
"Myu! Myu!" cried Tama-chan.
From the threshold of the living room, Shinobu stole away as the questions were still being chaotically hurled at Mutsumi. She broke out into tears as she raced down the hall and took refuge in her room.
Shinobu's mind buzzed with a multitude of thoughts, each one demanding predominance. How was she to set things right with her friends? Would they still be her friends if she went to the prom with Keitaro? How could she still go to the dance with Keitaro? How would they treat Keitaro when he returned home? But as much as she tried to anchor her thoughts, they just violently raged against each other and her, making her cry even more bitterly.
She didn't want to cry. She honestly didn't. She had never seen Narusegawa-sempai weep, and perhaps that's why Keitaro loved her so much, because she was so strong and gifted. She was not only an intelligent Todai student, but she had so much beauty that it almost pained Shinobu just to look at her Narusegawa-sempai had a posture that was tall, stately, and statuesque. She had graceful, streaming hair that seemed to shimmer like a skein of silk, and part and ripple like fields of wheat under the play of a summer breeze. But perhaps most agonizing of all, Narusegawa-sempai's chest seemed like an effortless, constant, and humiliating taunt directed at Shinobu. She no longer wanted her uniform to fall flatly against her body. She no longer wanted Keitaro to lust over Narusegawa-sempai. She no longer wanted to be a child. But all she could do was watch as her tears fell upon her desk.
Shinobu arose from her desk and took her futon from her closet, spread it against the floor, and lay down upon it. She almost waited for Keitaro to come through the door, lie down beside her, and wipe her tears away. She longed to tell him that he needn't be shy around her, and that he needn't hide his feelings any longer. Unlike Narusegawa-sempai, she would always be gentle to him, and unlike the hesitant and shifty Narusegawa-sempai, he would always have her to love. Often, late at night or upon waking in the morning, she would dream about Keitaro entering the privacy of her room, laying down beside her, and holding her. What did it mean to be grown up, Shinobu asked herself. Perhaps Keitaro-sempai could show her . . .
But almost immediately, Shinobu was revolted by her own filthy, carnal fantasies. They just proved how immature she really was, she thought: she was escaping into her dreams instead of trying to figure out how to make things right.
But for Shinobu, it was more than a need for mere physical intimacy; she wanted to believe that he understood her, and he would come to save her from her classmates, her parents, Narusegawa-sempai, and most of all, from her own pain and loneliness, and somehow she believed that Keitaro could still reconcile her with the other members of Hinata Sou.
She closed her eyes and once again summoned the impression of Keitaro's warm embrace. She never wanted to wake, she thought. After all, why should she stop dreaming about him?
* * *
The sound of knocking roused Shinobu from slumber.
"Shinobu-chan, would you like some dinner? I made it for you."
Shinobu recognized Mutsumi's voice immediately.
"I'm sorry about this afternoon . . . If you'd only give me a minute, I'd like to . . . I'm just really sorry, Shinobu-chan."
Shinobu didn't move from her futon.
"I'll just leave your tray here."
Shinobu heard the sound of a clack as Mutsumi placed the tray on the floor and walked away. Quickly, Shinobu slid her door open, pounced on her tray and brought it into her room, as though it were like stalked prey.
In her room, she placed her tray on her desk. It had been quite a while since Mutsumi had last prepared a meal, and Shinobu had forgotten how exceptional a cook Mutsumi was. As the eldest child, her mother back home on Okinawa had depended on her to help with much of the housework. She realized that Mutsumi must miss her numerous siblings dearly. Her adjustment to life away from them must have been difficult, just as it had been difficult for Shinobu to learn to live with people her own age when she had first had begun to board at Hinata Sou.
She took the plate of curry off of the tray and set it on her desk. Beneath the tray, she noticed a small white envelope. She opened it and found her prom ticket inside. She read the names on the card again: Maehara-Shinobu and Urashima-Keitaro. She recalled how, like a charm, those names side by side had brought her so much pleasure only a few hours earlier. Now she realized how petty she had been. Back in the cafeteria, she just wanted to spite Ikuko and she had jeopardized her most cherished friendships just for the chance to do so. As she ladled Mutsumi's miso soup and curry into her mouth, she realized that she had won the adolescent war, but at the cost of everything dearest to her.
The darkness was faintly falling on Hinata Sou. Inside, Shinobu stared out as the streets running along Hinata Sou grew quiet and mournful in the darkness that was falling faintly. She clutched her white ticket. She peered outside her window to the wooden balcony and no longer saw Motoko training. Although she had not been in the room at the time, she surely had found out by now. She was the last to know, and the one person Shinobu most direly wanted not to know, even more than Narusegawa-sempai.
She finished her dinner, piled the dishes back onto the tray, and set it outside her door. She closed the door behind her, slid to the floor, and leaned against the door. The scent of her dinner spectrally lingered in her room. She was faintly aware that beneath the overwhelming spices of the curry, and the subtle afterglow of the somehow almost compassionate miso soup, she could sense the anxiety, fear, and hope Mutsumi put into her meal: she could taste her world. Suddenly, there was the clatter of dishes as the tray was lifted from the floor. Shinobu quickly rose to her feet, startled but unafraid.
It was no doubt Mutsumi. Shinobu knew that Mutsumi would never deny her any comfort. Should Shinobu ask her for forgiveness? Would it matter? What could Shinobu say to her, that she felt as though she were falling and fading and that Mutsumi was the only one helping her to breathe? Nothing mattered, Shinobu thought as she turned off the lights and raced back to the security of her futon.
***
A full day passed and Shinobu had still only left her room to go to school. In the morning, she made her lunch long before any of the other residents had arisen. The early hour was when she had first asked Sempai to the prom. This time, she was alone and intended to remain that way.
The day after, she saw Motoko meditating on the wooden balcony. Shinobu was determined to reach out to at least her. She opened a drawer and took out the training gi that Motoko had given to her as a gift. She peeled out of her uniform and slipped on the gi. From her closet, she found the sheathed sword that Motoko had also given to her. She slung it on her shoulder and scurried to meet Motoko outside.
End of Chapter VI, Part I
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