Last Dance with Shinobu-chan
By Project Pegasus
Chapter XI: Last Dance with Shinobu-chan
By the time Keitaro arrived at the streetcar stop, it finally began to sink in what he had done to Shinobu. He was no longer furious, only ashamed of his actions. He couldn't have been the one who flung her into the puddle, he tried halfheartedly to convince himself. It couldn't have been him, he told himself, because he would never deny Shinobu anything, much less hurt her. It was a cold evening, and Keitaro felt a rain drop lodge gently on to the edge of his eyelashes. Maybe he was at fault, he admitted, but Shinobu had wounded him deeply. She was such an ingrate, he fumed. The only reason Shinobu got as far she did was because of him. It was he who agreed to go to the dance with her in the first place. After her battled with Motoko, he was the one who persuaded her not to cancel their date. But Keitaro realized grimly that he fell short it the crucial moment. He had abandoned her in her hour of need, betrayed her, and spurned her for another. He recalled painfully that as Shinobu lay in the puddle, she clutched her side. Only then did he understand that she had probably fallen on the same bruise that Motoko had given her.
Though he didn't want to confess it, he knew deep down why she had hurt so deeply. What she said was right. He did let women use him. But he would only acted the buffoon until Fate delivered him his Promised Girl. After that, he would reassert his manhood.
"Deliver his promised girl"? "Reassert his manhood"?
Keitaro scrutinized his logic for a moment. Flopping down upon the bench, he cradled his head in his hands. His faith in Fate was pornographic and shallow. It brought dignity to nobody, least of all to Naru and himself. He acted as though Naru were a government bond awaiting maturation or a dependable investment that had only cost him his dignity. He acted as though his friends and he were nothing more than debts and loans made on the tally sheet of Fate. Shinobu had been his only love all along, but he was afraid to accept his role as her lover. He was a coward; she was the only one willing to challenge Fate, even if she knew from the beginning that she couldn't win.
He could feel his reality tumbling down around him. He removed Mitsune's flask from his jacket and took three strong swigs, emptying the slender tin container. He was tired and it was too late at night for him to start reassessing his reason for existence. He took out Mitsune's pack of cigarettes and put one in his mouth. The lighter was almost out of fluid. He flicked the igniter again and again. The sparks from the flint intermittently illuminated Keitaro's fatigued face.
Just as he had finally plucked a fragile blue flame from his lighter, his face was suddenly struck with an overwhelming white beam. The headlights of a van were charging straight for him. He managed to dive away just as the van collided with the bench. He pulled himself from the ground and raised his eyes to meet the driver of the van: Seta.
"Keitaro," he said amiably, "Sorry about that. I told you that I would be in the area tonight. What's up? Leaving the dance so soon?"
"Seta," Keitaro said urgently, "Naru is in the hospital. An iron fell on her head. Could you please give me a ride there?"
"Naru?" Seta said, concerned, "Yeah, no problem. Get in. What about Shinobu?"
"She's all right," Keitaro said, "She'll find her own way."
"Are you sure?" Seta asked.
"She's going to make it," Keitaro said confidently. Seta unlocked the passenger side door and Keitaro climbed aboard. With a screech of tires and a throttle of the engine, they sped down the deserted road.
*
* *
Hotaru placed the tray of green tea and manjus* in front of a miserable Shinobu. She made no motion; the cups of tea steamed in front of her silently.
"Are you sure that you don't want a new change of clothes? You're soaked." Hotaru offered.
Shinobu shook her downcast head and continued to stare at the floor. Hotaru clasped her teacup in her hands and sipped eloquently without disturbing Shinobu.
"When I was younger," Hotaru began tentatively, "I dreamed that one day, a handsome prince would take me to his castle and marry me. I guess that every girl has that fantasy at one point or another. But as I got older, I realized that there were no such things as princes. Do you know what princes are, Shinobu?"
She shook her head, still to ashamed to peer into Hotaru's eyes.
"Princes," she began again, her voice gaining momentum, "are nothing more than throwbacks from a time of inequality and unfair privileges. And do you know what happened to them? All dead. When people realized that princes were only silly fools playing dress up, princes were put to the guillotine, toppled by revolution, or society just passed them by. The ones that survive today are all inbred and make a living by owning Laundromats. In actuality though, none of them 'survived.' There are no such things as princes anymore because everybody knows that princes are just as fatally human as everyone else. Do you get what I'm saying?"
Shinobu took her teacup from the table. The inviting tea heated her frigid and sodden body. She had been shivering since Keitaro hurled her into the puddle. The cab she took from her school to the Tomoe mansion had a broken window that wouldn't shut. She finally felt alive again. "I understand perfectly," Shinobu said, faintly smiling, "Thank you."
"Don't thank me," Hotaru said modestly, "I'm just telling you what you knew all along. I'll get Kaori, my father's assistant, to give you a ride home." Shinobu emptied her teacup and put it back on the table. She began to giggle a bit. Hotaru gave her a puzzled look.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
"Tonight," Shinobu said serenely, "I was afraid of breaking teacups and making stains. I think that I finally figured out how to finish my tea like a lady. Grandmother would be proud."
*
* *
"So the duck says, 'Just put it on my bill, Mack!" Seta blurted out before exploding into a peal of laughter.
"That's great, Seat-sensei," Keitaro said disingenuously, "I'm sure that'll get the attention of all your students."
"Get it? Put it on my bill!" he repeated, "And he's a duck!" After laughing anew at the punch line, Seta reached under his seat and produced his joke book. "I've marked out my favorite jokes. Tell me what you think of them." He began to meticulously scan the pages for the traces of his blue highlighter. The car careened from one side of the street to the other. Keitaro lunged over to grasp the wheel, and took control of the van in time to narrowly avoiding a passing car. "Ah here we go," Seta announced proudly, "This one will split your sides."
"Seta," Keitaro exclaimed, "We're almost at the hospital."
"Then you'd better let me drive," Seta said while batting Keitaro's hands away from the wheel.
"So what did the limestone say to the geologist?" Seta asked deviously.
"We're going to crash into that ambulance!" Keitaro screamed as he bailed from the moving van. He executed a barrel roll as he spilled away from Seta and the van.
"No, actually he said, 'Stop taking me for granite!'" Seta corrected, "Get it? He's a limestone and he told the geologist . . . Woops!"
At that, Seta's van slammed into the side of a parked ambulance. A tremendous explosion burst from the impact and shook the windows of the hospital. On the third floor, Keitaro noticed the familiar heads of Mitsune, Mutsumi, Motoko, Sara, and Koalla peeking out.
"Seta's van?" Mitsune asked, posing to Keitaro the almost rhetorical question.
"What else?" he confirmed.
A cluster of hospital personal rushed outside and began to search the rubble. They exhumed a critically burned Seta. To Keitaro's shock, the left side of Seta's body had been cleaved away.
"Seta!" Keitaro yelled as they carried him away on a stretcher, "Are you ok?"
"See Keitaro," he replied, "Without the left side of my body, I'm 'all right.' Get it? I'm . . . " To Keitaro's relief, Seta passed out without being able to repeat his punch line.
Keitaro peer upward once more. "He'll be fine," he said, consoling his friends, "It's Seta, after all."
"We're in room 324, Keitaro," Mitsune told him.
"I'll be right up," he shouted to Mitsune. He made his way up three flights of stairs and down a hall to Naru's room. He knocked on the nondescript wooden door and was greeted by the girls.
"We're glad that you could make it, Keitaro," Mitsune said.
"How is she?" Keitaro asked.
"The doctors got the test results back," Mutsumi informed him, "They performed a CAT scan, and there's no permanent damage. In fact, the doctors can't understand why she hasn't woken up yet. The trauma was severe, but not severe enough to put her in a coma."
Keitaro approached Naru's bedside. He pulled back her sheet enough to hold her hand. An IV punctured her arm and an air pipe was put down her throat. He continued to caress her hand as he stared at her face. Slowly, hesitantly, and timidly, he began to bend forward. One fearful movement after another, his lips neared hers.
"He's going to kiss her?" Sara asked Koalla.
"What are you doing?" Mitsune demanded, "That's not going to help Naru, just so you know."
"Pervert," Motoko ridiculed.
As he was about to press his lips to Naru's, a faint voice rose from the bed. Keitaro jerked back his head immediately.
"Naru?!" the girls yelped in disbelief.
Feebly, Naru, pointed at her air pipe. Gently, Keitaro removed it and put his ear in front of Naru's mouth.
"Where am I?" she whispered into his ear.
"You're at the hospital, Naru," Keitaro informed her soothingly, "An iron fell on your head and you were knocked out."
"But the dance," she murmured, "You. Shinobu. The dance."
"I left early," he stated matter-of-factly, "Just me. Shinobu didn't want to go."
"Just for me?" she asked, overwhelmed with emotion, "You left Shinobu for me?"
"Save your strength," Keitaro said tranquilly
Though her mind was still clouded over and her cognition was foggy, she knew that what Keitaro had said all along was true: he and Shinobu did go to the dance as friends. His heart was true and his intentions were pure. This proved that his love for her was unconditional and had always been constant.
"Keitaro, come closer to me," Naru said softly. She closed her eyes and tenderly lifted her chin, her lips summoning Keitaro's. He responded in kind, closing his eyes and drawing his body closer to Naru's. She knew that he loved her, would sacrifice anything for her, but that she could never truly return his love. She would always resent him for that. As Keitaro neared, silent and disarmed, she grabbed him by the shirt. She picked up a nearby bedpan and began to repeatedly club Keitaro.
"Fight! Fight! Fight!" Sara and Koalla chanted.
She drew back the bedpan and let fly a wildly arching haymaker that knocked Keitaro to the opposite wall.
"Naru! Stop! You'll injury yourself!" Mitsune commanded.
"Ara! Ara! Naru-chan please," Mutsumi begged.
While Keitaro writhed on the ground in agony, Naru rose from her bed. She had not taken her IV out of her arm. As she hobbled to the Keitaro's scrunched up body, she menacingly wielded her weighty IV stand like a weapon.
"Why can't you leave me alone?!" she demanded. She raised the metal rod overhead and brought it crashing down to Keitaro's head.
"Leave me alone! Why can't I kill you?" she wailed as she bludgeoned him again and again with the dense base of the IV stand. He tried desperately to shield his head with his arms, but it was no use. He could no longer feel or move his arms after being battered repeatedly with the metal instrument. Naru, in her cosmic rage, struck Keitaro's defenseless head relentlessly. He was quickly loosing consciousness.
"You're going to kill him!" Mutsumi screamed as she rushed to restrain Naru.
"Jesus! What's gotten into you, Naru?" Mitsune yelled as she followed Mutsumi.
Motoko only smirked and chuckled in an undertone as she leaned against the door with her arms crossed, observing the whole incident as an impassive spectator. Sara and Koalla had long ago halted their cheering and looked on in disbelief.
Mitsune wrested the stand from Naru as Mutsumi wrestled her to the ground. Naru struggled bestially against them both. When Keitaro realized that the thrashing had stopped, he turned his head and reached his hand to Naru. Naru, who was still fighting against Mutsumi on the ground, immediately returned her attention to Keitaro. "What are you looking at?!" she shrieked, "Are you looking up my hospital gown?! You are! I know it!"
She shook off Mutsumi and pushed away Mitsune. Ascending above Keitaro like an angel of death, she clutched him by his tuxedo jacket and raised him above her head. She marched to the open window and prepared to send him hurtling three stories to the concrete below. The other girls held their breaths in anticipation. "What are you so scared about?! You know damn well this won't kill him!" She almost wept.
But unexpectedly, she paused at the threshold of the window. She did not complete her disposal of Keitaro. Her body was unnaturally motionless. She simply peered out of the window to the sidewalk below, as though engaging in a silent dialogue. She let Keitaro slide to the ground; a moment later, she exhaustedly collapsed to the floor.
"Keitaro," she puffed, "Shinobu is down there. I think she wants to talk to you."
"Shinobu?" he whimpered, "It doesn't matter. I should stay here with you. You are the hospitalized one after all."
"Shut up and go before I send you down the hard way," she spat.
He slowly and cautiously go to his feet before wobbling out the door. Naru said nothing as she watched him leave.
*
* *
"Shinobu," Keitaro said as he came through the sliding glass doors of the hospital, "You shouldn't be out here. It's still drizzling."
"It's not a problem, sempai," she assured him. Falling into silence, they awkwardly fumbled for something to say that would restart the uneasy conversation.
"I'm sorry that I . . ." Keitaro began before his voice trailed away like a thin, hollow reed.
"Think nothing of it, sempai," Shinobu comforted, "I think that we were both a little mislead by everything that has happened these last few weeks."
"Yeah I guess we were," Keitaro sheepishly acknowledged. "But still, I ruined your special night."
Shinobu shook her head. "You suffered too sempai," Shinobu said, "I know you did. You didn't get your last dance."
"Twice in a row I've missed the last dance," he said while scratching his head, "I guess when it comes to starting unlucky streaks, nobody beats me. Proms. College admittance. Love. Life. Some people just aren't made to win, I suppose."
"You'll have your day in the sun, sempai," Shinobu said with a smile, "Whatever happens is meant to happen, right? Blame it on Fate."
Keitaro winced at the word, 'Fate,' but returned Shinobu's smile nonetheless.
In the background, Koalla stealthily picked through the flaming wreckage of the ambulance and Seta's van, digging up the ambulance's sirens. She booted up her laptop. "Thank goodness for my new satellite Internet connection," she told herself as she began a download. She spliced a few wires from her laptop and the sirens. Her hands worked nimbly and calculatingly, completing the task just as the download completed. "Done!' she cheered. The music download from her computer blared over the sirens: "Wild Horses" by The Sundays.**
Childhood living
Is easy to do.
The things you wanted
I bought them for you.
Harriet Wheeler's*** voice crooned over the loudspeakers as Keitaro peered into Shinobu's brilliantly shimmering eyes.
"The last dance," a teary Keitaro whispered, "This song was played at my prom. The last dance."
"After you mentioned the song, I looked the lyrics up on Koalla's computer," Shinobu said, "I guess she thought it had some special significance to me."
They continued to stare into each other's eyes for a moment, afraid that if one reached out, the other would shatter like lead crystal.
Graceless lady
You know who I am.
You know I can't let you
Slide through my hands.
The song continued. "Hey, you idiot, would you just dance with her already!" a voice sounded from above, "This song is less than five minutes, you know?"
Keitaro gazed upward and saw Naru haranguing him from the third story window.
Fearlessly, he offered his hand to Shinobu. "May I have this dance?" he propositioned with a bow.
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away.
Delicately, she reached out and accepted his hand. It was sensitive, and just a little clumsy, but it was a hand that acknowledged and empathized with hers. He pulled her close to his body as they wrapped their arms around each other.
I watched you suffer
A dull, aching pain.
Now you've decided
To show me the same.
For the first time in weeks, she felt safe, safe from her gossiping classmates and protected from the jealous glares of the other girls of Hinata Sou. It was a time when she could forget about her own insecurities and anxieties. It was a place far removed from her bickering parents. They began to sway submissively to the music.
No sweeping exits
Or offstage lines
Can make me feel bitter
Or treat you unkind.
But she knew that it was all a pleasant illusion that couldn't outlast the melancholic lyrics and the mellifluous vocalist. Though her brief world was doomed, she nuzzled closer to Keitaro and held him even tighter.
Wild horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
Couldn't drag me away.
The song reached its bridge as Wheeler hummed to the melody. During the interlude, Shinobu sang the lyrics to herself in her head.
I know I dreamed you
A sin and a lie
I have my freedom
But I don't have much time.
Two lovers caught in a routine of destructive co-dependence. An undeterred lover refusing to admit defeat. A tear dropped from Shinobu's cheek as she conceded that this couldn't be Keitaro's song to her. Instead, it was Keitaro's song for Naru.
Faith has been broken
Tears must be cried
Let's do some living
After we die.
But even though she acknowledged that this was Keitaro's song for Naru, she still felt comforted knowing that at least this was her dance. Nobody could take that away from her.
Wild Horses
Couldn't drag me away
Wild, wild horses
We'll ride them some day.
The guitar strummed its finals chords as the song faded into silence. Keitaro held still for a moment, still embracing Shinobu. Almost imperceptibly, he leaned his head toward her ear.
"Shinobu," Keitaro said slowly and deliberately, "I love you."
She took a step back from Keitaro. Without his arms around her, it the icy rains beat down upon her. The scene stood still. The only sound was from the pattering rain pittering interminably and patiently. The drizzle parted her hair and plastered it against her scalp. She brushed away the loose bangs stranded over her forehead. The streetlamps were made misty and unreal by the falling silver streaks of rain. She lifted her hand to Keitaro's humble and plaintive face. It was a face she had love for years now. His voice was uncertain but sincere. His stooped shoulders and drooping glasses gave him a neurotic and fussy demeanor.
He had always seemed fussy and neurotic, but his face appeared somehow changed. Perhaps part of it must have been the rains, which distorted and effaced everything. But the rains had done something more. They had baptized Keitaro and washed away his sins. Reborn a new person, Shinobu found it difficult to recollect the visage of man whom she loved before. While she gazed softly at him, she could still recognize her old Keitaro faintly refracted by the streaming tears of the rain as they ran down his face. But she could not bring herself to resurrect Keitaro as he had been. The broken shards were all that remained. She collected the shattered image of Keitaro in her mind; they were sticky and deathlike, and had the faded scent of apples. His fractured likeness retained a pleasant allure, but it was an attraction that was no longer fresh or pure or naïve. It was as though he was one among many pale childhood memories, memories discolored and made brittle from afternoons left in the sun. She stared into his eyes, but it was as though she were not even looking at him; her knowing and pensive gaze seemed focused on something intangible far beyond Keitaro.
"It's too late, Keitaro," Shinobu said.
"Huh?" Keitaro exclaimed.
"It's too late for you to be joking around like this," Shinobu said quietly, "The hospital might stop taking visitors soon and here you are outside joking around."
"But Shinobu," Keitaro interjected, "I just said that I love . . . "
"Keitaro," she interrupted, "Naru is waiting."
"I'd better get back inside then," he said, humbled.
"Sempai," she called out to him.
"What is it?" he asked.
"She loves you," Shinobu said, "Naru, I mean. Never doubt that."
"Does that even matter?" he asked in a flat voice.
"I couldn't tell you," she replied, "but I'll be cheering for you both."
"That's not necessary," a defeated Keitaro answer, "We both know how it'll end."
He nodded and headed over to pick up Koalla's laptop. Before reentering the hospital through the sliding glass doors, he turned around a final time. He began to wave. She held back for a moment as though making a final decision. Finally, she signaled her goodbye to him. He wandered through the doors and down the lobby before finally disappearing into a stairwell.
"Farewell, my prince,"**** she whispered to herself. Shinobu gave herself a subtle, Mona Lisa smile. She was alone. She wasn't quite sure of the path home, but wasn't at all worried. The curtain of rain continued to fall as she followed her own path into the night.
**END**
*manju – a type of Japanese pastry
**"Wild Horses" by The Sundays. – A song originally written by the Rolling Stones, remade by The Sundays.
***Harriet Wheeler – The lead singer of The Sundays.
**** OK I stole the prince motif from Revolutionary Girl Utena.
Note: I hope everyone has enjoyed "Last Dance with Shinobu-chan." It's my second fan fiction, my first serious one. Thank you for all of your support, emails, and positive (and negative) reviews. Much love. Cheers. - Project P.
Disclaimer: All concepts, characters, and other copyrighted materials used in the fan fiction, "Last Dance with Shinobu-Chan" are property of their respective owners. This is to be used for non-lucrative purposes only.