Chapter 2 - Meisi's Request
Late into the night, past nine o' clock when most the students had gone home as it was a saturday, there was one particular light on the third floor of Getsukin High.
Slash. Block. Strike.
Inside the makeshift dojo called the gymnastics room, Shingo was working up a sweat, repeating the same maneuvers over and over again. It was a standard form, created to aid a samurai in an actual fight. His instructor often said that if one wants to get better, the most basic tactic is the starting point.
Slash. Block. Strike.
Shingo could imagine enemies closing in on him. Each pointed their sword at him. He could see Seiji in the distance, the ultimate opponent for one with his experience.
Slash. Slash. Block. Strike. Strike.
Images of Seiji were clear in his mind now. The Date child had odd blonde hair like a westerner. Like the finest silk, those strands fell haphazardly over one eye, leaving the other free.
Slash. Block. Strike.
Seiji's movements were clear to him. Seiji was now standing with a wooden sword in the most vulnerable defensive stance before him. Seiji had that chilling calm on his face, completely relaxed, looking so confident. Shingo tensed up and took the first aggressive stab.
Slash. Block. Stumble.
Suddenly, Shingo was on the floor, panting heavily. He was thinking hard, about what Touma said.
"Aren't you that same ass who threw sand in Date's face years ago?"
Shingo raked his head with his finger nails. Why did this strange girl bring that up now? How did she even know about it? It was bad enough as is that he wanted to bury himself in a nine feet deep hole each time he saw his Kendo trophies from that year. Now he had this pretty new girl glaring at him almost every chance she got.
"Touma," whispered Shingo. Thinking about the girl made him feel hot around the ears, a feeling he had never felt with any girl. Sure, when Yumi was suggesting some behind-closed-doors-activities, he had the same reaction. But Touma, the mere though of her made him burn. Idly, he wondered what her softer touch would feel like. How smooth her legs were...how perfect her chest...
"I better go get a drink," said Shingo to himself, shaking away some more inappropriate thoughts. He knew better than to entertain such erotic ideas with a girl before marriage, his parents had preached it enough times. Even with nearly all his guy friends worshipping the nude image of females, Shingo was left oddly alien to their influence. In fact, he felt unusually disgusted with himself for thinking that. That and he was thirsty as he forgot his water bottle at home. He quietly opened the dojo door and stepped into his school shoes. Dirt was something that Sensei Meisi did not tolerate. Shingo knew better than to annoy one of the best Kendo Instructors in Japan, even if he wasn't here.
As he was walking down the hall, he heard some distant talking. Who would be around here at this hour? he thought. It was a Saturday and even Akira, who was usually ardent about practicing Kendo with Shingo, went home early. So, Instead of going toward the water fountain, he walked toward the stairwell where the voices were coming from.
It's Mr. Setshin and...Touma?
From the top of the stairwell, Shingo could see Mr. Setshin holding stack of papers happily bloodied by a red marker. Touma was standing next to Mr. Setshin as he talked.
"Their pop-quiz grades are pathetic, but overall, above average than the previous years."
"Well, you do test them at the university level," said Touma. Her golden bow was nowhere to be seen. In her hand was Mr. Setshin's briefcase and on her back a dark blue backpack. "I see this Houin person scored a fifty percent on this."
Upon hearing that, Shingo had to stifle his need to moan. If Houin did not pass, what were the chances that he passed?
"Haha...that is true. But you, you scored a perfect hundred plus the bonus. Definitely the god-send child."
"You are too kind, Mr. Setshin." said Touma.
"Oh no. Call me Uncle Setshin like you used to." said Mr. Setshin. He flipped through the papers and gave back an unmarked paper. "I've made it perfect like you are."
"Just...don't tell anybody okay?" Touma looked a bit irritated. She folded the paper twice and stuffed it into an outer pocket of her backpack. "I want anonymity for once."
"Anything for Geniichirou's daughter." He started to walk toward a hall way with Touma trailing behind him. "How is he? I haven't seen him since I left the university. I heard he got sick."
"Let's...not talk about that." Touma looked apprehensive about something. "I rather that we get down to business."
Mr. Setshin smiled, much like a predator. "Of course." His old wrinkled hand went immediately to Touma's back and rubbed it suggestively. "Let's go do it."
The rest of the conversation was just indistinct chatter to Shingo. He felt like hitting something hard for his heart fluttered like a dragonfly in the wind. Yumi was right! Touma does sell herself to get good grades. He could not believe it! Why did it have to be her? Touma was better than that! Heck! Any girl in their school is better than that.
Why do I even care? thought Shingo as he lightly knocked his skull. Touma was a new girl. The two times they met, she had yelled at him. She was pompous and cold. Definitely not accommodating and nice like Aoi and Yumi. I'm going to give back her ID, and that will be the end of it.
---------------------------------------------
When the next school day came around, monday, Shingo forgot the girl's ID at home again. Shingo was at his wooden practice swords wearing his usual kendo practice garb early in the morning, berating himself for forgetting such an important thing as he repeated numerous drills. He had heard that ID cards were so important that anyone could just use it to find out important things like criminal records and bank account numbers. Wait. Maybe he could use it to...
"Concentrate!"
Shingo jumped a little.
Sensei Meisi stood watching Shingo like a hawk ready for the kill. Meisi was a bald man in his sixties. He wore age-old traditional clothes that were normally for home, outside. There was a slight hump on his back and he always shuffled slowly from one place to another. When Akira first met him in middle school, he laughed and asked Meisi, "Don't you need a walker?"
Akira went home that day needing a walker.
Shingo knew better than to make stupid comments like that around Meisi. So he did not require the walker until a week after Akira could move without pain again.
"That's enough!" ordered Sensei Meisi.
Shingo stopped in mid-swing, then slowly lowered the wooden sword. Sensei Meisi may have said to stop, but Meisi was always testing him. Shingo was, after all, Meisi's pride and joy. So much that Shingo received free lessons even after Shingo's parents refused to pay the fees. Shingo deserved it as Meisi would do anything to cultivate such a rare natural talent that Shingo had for kendo.
"Sensei?" queried Shingo. Sensei Meisi had a strange look on his face. It was solemn like usual, but Shingo could tell that Meisi had something on his mind.
"I've received the pre-list of the participating schools and students to this year's Kendo Championship," said Meisi, picking up stack of neatly stapled paper. "Your favorite person is not on there."
Shingo blinked uncomprehending for a split second then said, "You mean, Date?"
"Yes," answered Meisi simply.
Shingo became silent. He knew what Sensei meant and wanted by informing Shingo of this. Although the competition finals were at the end of next spring, everyone had to register before leaving for winter break. Those who failed to register before the deadline were forbidden to participate. The youngest generation of the Date household just happened to register too late in the last three years, depriving Shingo of a much needed rematch.
"I went to Sendai recently to meet with the Grandfather, we are old friends. While I was there, I saw his grandson practice with an iron practice sword. He was," Meisi took a moment to look up and sigh. "Incredible." Meisi then looked down to Shingo. "Just like you." he said as an after thought.
"Thank you sensei," muttered Shingo. He personally did not like how Meisi had to look away. Seiji must have improved vastly over the years to get such an approval from Meisi. Shingo knew his own kendo aptitude had increased in the last few years, enough that Meisi openly told people about him. It would be interesting to see who was best between them.
"Old Kenishiro said that Seiji will not compete again unless..." Meisi looked to Shingo squarely in the eye, curiosity clear in his filmy orbs "you personally request it."
Shingo stared at Meisi stupidly. He understood what Meisi was implying. "What?"
"You heard what I said. Now, go." Meisi dismissed Shingo. "School starts in an hour."
With that Shingo dismissed himself. He grabbed a hold of his duffle bag and left the Meisi Dojo.
Shingo found the streets outside the Dojo empty as usual. It was still very early in the morning as Shingo was excused sooner than usual. Meisi was nice enough to allow Shingo to practice in his own home, which was only a few blocks from school.
Walking toward school, Shingo could not help but think about Touma again. Sensei Meisi's mention of Date reminded Shingo of Touma's comment last Saturday. With her less than pretty words, he still remembered the incident at the train station. Then there was Mr. Setshin touching her back...
"You forgot," came a familiar voice.
Shingo twisted around on a heel as if he was marching. He almost fell over when he saw the girl.
Touma approached him with a limp. Even in the faint early morning light, he could spot various painful swellings near her cheek, jaw, and neck. An ice pack was held to her cheek with a hand that had three band-aids on it. There were dark circles under her eyes. Even her legs, covered by long socks, looked asymmetric from possible bruises. With all obvious signs of blunt trauma on her body though, her uniform was immaculate. Nothing was out of place, even her hair was jelled and bounded in place with a dark blue scrunchie.
"Are you alright?" asked Shingo. He was naturally concerned. She looked like she traversed through an torture chamber to attend school.
"That's a stupid question," said Touma sarcastically. "Do I even look alright?" She removed the ice-pack on her cheek, her wrist bones crackling painfully, to reveal a very nasty purple bruise.
"What happened?" Shingo had never seen a girl so physically hurt in real life. He thought he was immune to blood and gore from all the TV he had watched, but seeing an actual girl with all those swellings just made his heart twist into a knot.
"Evil spirits. Damn stairs. Damn Korin," she mumbled more to herself than to answer Shingo's question. "So why did you leave my ID at home again?"
"Um...Um..." spluttered Shingo. He thought a girl like that would immediately start telling him of how she was in an abusive home or who had touched her or who should be in jail for hurting her. All the ways that a girl would ask someone, anyone, to protect her. Instead, she was shrugging her condition off as if it were a minor inconvenience. Shingo squirmed under the girl's intense gaze. How did she know I don't have it?
"Forget it," the girl sighed. "Just take your lovely time. It's not like I need to wait an entire day in line at the licensing office for the loss and replacement of an official document."
"Now that's unfair!" objected Shingo. "So I didn't know you were going to attend my school. So I forgot it once. You don't have to yell at me for it."
"Yes I do!" Touma was getting defensive. "Do you know how many freakin' times I had to call my mother to get into my own house because the security guard wouldn't let me in? How much do you like sitting outside until three in the morning?"
"It's only been two days!" screamed Shingo. "I'll get it tomorrow so quit being a bitch!"
Touma's eyes widened at Shingo's choice of words. Angrily, Touma attempted to stomp off, but the stomping idea was immediately discarded as the pain in her legs shot up her spine. "Kuso!" she cursed softly to herself.
It took Shingo another five second of staring before he took the last minute in. Shit. He realized with horror that he probably should not have used that word. With a little effort, he ran up to catch up with the girl. Limping could only take a person so far in such a short time.
"Hey," he called.
Touma limped on.
"I'm sorry!" he apologized. "I won't call you by that word ever again!"
Touma ignored him.
"Look! I can help carry your briefcase for you," he offered.
Touma stopped in her tracks and looked back. Shingo was relieved, but before he could say a word...
"Do I look like an invalid?" asked Touma, sounding outraged.
Shingo resisted the urge to scream at her. This girl had proven to be ungodly difficult. Some girls at school would die for the chance to carry his stuff, let alone him offering to carry their stuff.
"Yes! You look like an invalid," said Shingo, barely keeping his voice steady. "Heck! I don't even know why a girl in your condition would even bother coming to school instead of staying in the hospital getting x-rays. Don't you know large bruises could result in death if the clots get into your heart and brain? I only want to be nice to you because I forgot your stupid ID. So let me help you carry your stuff!"
Touma's dark eyes, accusing eyes never blinked nor changed intensity. Touma must be one of those strong-headed girls who would never admit defeat. She did, however, hold out her briefcase straight in front of her.
Shingo held out his hands and caught the briefcase as Touma released it with another painful crack of her wrist.
"Thank you!" huffed Shingo. "Now don't go do anything stupid. I don't think I would like to explain to the medic or the police why you're like this."
Touma rolled her eyes but did not reply. They continued to school in silence, meeting only a couple of students along the way. Both students took time to gawk at Touma and Shingo as they walked past them. Shingo's was right because both of them stopped and asked her if they needed to call 911 for her.
Shingo walked a few paces behind Touma as she took her time to limp toward school. Touma seemed to have lost her earlier aggravation, but Shingo could bet that was probably due more to sleep-deprivation than to his lecture. The young man had gotten into enough fights to know the difference between hurt and exhaustion. Eventually, his pace evened up next to Touma.
"So, why are you coming to school anyways?" asked Shingo. He was bothered by his curiosity and her silence.
"Who will tell me what assignments are due?" said Touma. "I hate falling behind."
"That's it? I could've told you all the assignments."
"Riiiiiight...And how do you propose to do that?"
"I could call you."
"You don't know my number."
"I could find you."
"You don't know my address."
"But I do."
"Reeeealy...And how in the world do you know that?"
Shingo smirked. "Easy. I have your ID."
Surprisingly, Touma chuckled. Shingo noticed that she had a pretty laugh, even if there was discoloration from the many bruises. The sound reminded him of the swirling of autumn leaves.
"You're beautiful when you smile, you know that?" confessed Shingo.
Touma made a sudden stop, but did not look at the young man. Shingo cringed inwardly, predicting that she would blow her top again. Surprisingly, he heard a very soft "Thank you." Then Touma said with a louder voice. "You're not bad looking either."
Shingo grinned widely. Her words had made his heart soar like a falcon. He was sorely tempted to tightly hug Touma for all his worth, but thought better of the idea at the last second. Touma was hurt so he would probably cause her pain if he even touched her. He was sorely disappointed when they had to part at the gates since he was still quite stinky from his morning practice. As he half stumbled to the school showers, he could only think of her words.
You're not bad looking either
--------------------------------------------------
Standard disclaimers apply here.
Suikorin