I had briefly considered the possibility that Midori could be an enemy agent. When I met Reiha of the clinging flamingo-colored dress, the thought came up again. However, two teenaged agents seemed too farfetched; that's found only in manga and anime. In fact, the human wall, the clumsy shopper, or the fat man at Guido's could have been enemy agents. The permutations made my head spin.
Without any facts to go on, I went with my gut instinct. Instinct told me that Midori was an eccentric, but otherwise normal girl. That instinct brought me to the point I was at: over the barrel.
One Weekend
6. Over the Barrel
My heart pounded. My throat and mouth were dry enough to cough sand. Profuse sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. I stood so very still.
Midori's sideways stance and aim held rock steady. Her gaze was focused like the narrow red line cutting through the darkness, pointed at my heart. Midori hardly blinked during those long moments.
Sticky sweat slid and gathered on my eyebrows, until one drop slid through the small hairs and onto my eyelid. I closed my eye against the drop; I ended up closing both of my eyes. At that moment, I heard and felt a resonating boom. My hear leapt. I squeezed my eyes tighter in anticipation of a sharp impact punching through me. A point on chest itched in anticipation, but the impact didn't come. It had been thunder. A humid wind blew in from the slightly open window behind Midori; it carried the scent of hot pavement.
I dared to open my left eye. The red light had traveled up to my face. I involuntary brought up my arms to ward it off. I peeked around my arms to see the shaft of light rise to the popcorn painted ceiling. It continued to move away from me.
Midori relaxed her nearly akimbo stance, and then stood facing me. Both of her hands were folded around the handle of the massive black gun. The barrel rose until it was planted against the soft skin beneath her jaw. She tilted her face to the ceiling as if in prayer.
A part of me wanted to run, but I saw her face crack into a strange expression. Her eyes screwed shut. The corners of her mouth had pulled down, and tightened into a thin line; the right corner twitched in spasms. Her nose flared with each breath. In the tension, I read the confusion in the square, the fatigue on the skywalk, and the far-off look on the rail to Tokyo-2 and coming to this place.
Another stroke of lightning arced over the city, lighting the room in a stark flash. I shied away from the brightness. Through the blood-filled filter of my eyelids, I spontaneously saw Midori pulling the trigger. A tremor of thunder rolled through the building, up my feet, and through my body to my head. In my mind, her eyes bulged with surprise as a red blossom vividly bloomed from the top of her head.
I opened my eyes again to see her still in gun prayer. A tear squeezed out from the corner of her eye. I might have heard a sob. As if in a dream, my body moved before I could consider the motion. I licked my dry lips with my sandpaper tongue as I took the second leaden step forward.
Midori cracked open an eye.
"Stay away," she croaked while barely moving her mouth.
I stopped for a brief moment as another stroke of dry lightning illuminated the sky. She was casted in black against the white light. I took the next step after the thunder rumbled past. The black barrel remained locked under the delicate bone of her chin. Momentum carried me into took another small step and then a larger one.
"Stay away," she repeated.
Step by step, I approached until I stood within arm's reach.
"I'm switching on the safety," I said.
"Stay away," was all she said.
I reached past her thin fingers and flicked the switch. I wrapped a hand around the barrel and firmly twisted the heavy gun from her hands. She did not resist. I flicked off the ruby laser. Midori fell onto me as if she had been propped up by the weapon.
I staggered backward and managed to crash land against a wall. We slid noisily to the thin carpeting. My stale breath escaped in a long heave. Midori wrapped her arms tightly around me beneath my arms. She buried her face into my chest. She began to cry. The silent tears dissolved into shaking sobs. A small keening emitted from her throat.
Awkwardly, I unloaded the clip and the chambered bullet. I laid the lot to the far side from Midori, and then let my arms close around her warm and sweaty body.
Awkwardly, I stroked her from back of her head to the small of her back. I felt the bumps of her vertebrae, the bulge of her bra strap, and the heaving of her breath.
Outside, the rain came down thickly. We sat for a time. The vinyl shades rattled. The wind became cool and soothing. She continued to cry, and I listened to the drops falling both outside and in.
Without any facts to go on, I went with my gut instinct. Instinct told me that Midori was an eccentric, but otherwise normal girl. That instinct brought me to the point I was at: over the barrel.
One Weekend
6. Over the Barrel
My heart pounded. My throat and mouth were dry enough to cough sand. Profuse sweat beaded on my forehead and ran down my back. I stood so very still.
Midori's sideways stance and aim held rock steady. Her gaze was focused like the narrow red line cutting through the darkness, pointed at my heart. Midori hardly blinked during those long moments.
Sticky sweat slid and gathered on my eyebrows, until one drop slid through the small hairs and onto my eyelid. I closed my eye against the drop; I ended up closing both of my eyes. At that moment, I heard and felt a resonating boom. My hear leapt. I squeezed my eyes tighter in anticipation of a sharp impact punching through me. A point on chest itched in anticipation, but the impact didn't come. It had been thunder. A humid wind blew in from the slightly open window behind Midori; it carried the scent of hot pavement.
I dared to open my left eye. The red light had traveled up to my face. I involuntary brought up my arms to ward it off. I peeked around my arms to see the shaft of light rise to the popcorn painted ceiling. It continued to move away from me.
Midori relaxed her nearly akimbo stance, and then stood facing me. Both of her hands were folded around the handle of the massive black gun. The barrel rose until it was planted against the soft skin beneath her jaw. She tilted her face to the ceiling as if in prayer.
A part of me wanted to run, but I saw her face crack into a strange expression. Her eyes screwed shut. The corners of her mouth had pulled down, and tightened into a thin line; the right corner twitched in spasms. Her nose flared with each breath. In the tension, I read the confusion in the square, the fatigue on the skywalk, and the far-off look on the rail to Tokyo-2 and coming to this place.
Another stroke of lightning arced over the city, lighting the room in a stark flash. I shied away from the brightness. Through the blood-filled filter of my eyelids, I spontaneously saw Midori pulling the trigger. A tremor of thunder rolled through the building, up my feet, and through my body to my head. In my mind, her eyes bulged with surprise as a red blossom vividly bloomed from the top of her head.
I opened my eyes again to see her still in gun prayer. A tear squeezed out from the corner of her eye. I might have heard a sob. As if in a dream, my body moved before I could consider the motion. I licked my dry lips with my sandpaper tongue as I took the second leaden step forward.
Midori cracked open an eye.
"Stay away," she croaked while barely moving her mouth.
I stopped for a brief moment as another stroke of dry lightning illuminated the sky. She was casted in black against the white light. I took the next step after the thunder rumbled past. The black barrel remained locked under the delicate bone of her chin. Momentum carried me into took another small step and then a larger one.
"Stay away," she repeated.
Step by step, I approached until I stood within arm's reach.
"I'm switching on the safety," I said.
"Stay away," was all she said.
I reached past her thin fingers and flicked the switch. I wrapped a hand around the barrel and firmly twisted the heavy gun from her hands. She did not resist. I flicked off the ruby laser. Midori fell onto me as if she had been propped up by the weapon.
I staggered backward and managed to crash land against a wall. We slid noisily to the thin carpeting. My stale breath escaped in a long heave. Midori wrapped her arms tightly around me beneath my arms. She buried her face into my chest. She began to cry. The silent tears dissolved into shaking sobs. A small keening emitted from her throat.
Awkwardly, I unloaded the clip and the chambered bullet. I laid the lot to the far side from Midori, and then let my arms close around her warm and sweaty body.
Awkwardly, I stroked her from back of her head to the small of her back. I felt the bumps of her vertebrae, the bulge of her bra strap, and the heaving of her breath.
Outside, the rain came down thickly. We sat for a time. The vinyl shades rattled. The wind became cool and soothing. She continued to cry, and I listened to the drops falling both outside and in.