Author's Note:
This was my first fanfiction uploaded back then in 2018 and I deleted it due to a horrible plot hole.
I may have edited this a lot now, but the base is still the same. You can clearly see how much of a greenhorn I was — well I still am quite wet behind my ears — but it was way worse back then.
Anyways, let the cringefest begin!
The Melting Pot
John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York
19 Oct 2016, 09:55 AM
Looks like the airbus landed exactly on time. The passengers who stood up from their seats collectively — despite the constant protests of navy blue uniform-clad air hostess — were ready to pounce towards the exit at any moment, just waiting for the stereotyped "Thank you for travelling in Japan Airlines, we wish you a very good luck in your future endeavours, our captain —"
That was the signal for all hell to break loose.
Passengers pushed past one another, grabbing their dishevelled baggages, grappling, dashing towards each other. It seems like everyone wanted to get the hell out of this darned plane. The entire situation is akin to a chaos mine suddenly dropped amidst a battalion of Knightmares.
I couldn't help but be annoyed at the antics of these brain dead, high strung idiots. They could relax on comfy seats with a kindle in hand and exit the plane in a dignified and composed manner, which is much more energy-efficient than rushing like crazed wolves towards unsuspecting prey, which in this case is the poor air hostess.
After twenty minutes of hell ended, I nonchalantly walked through the exit like Gouenji Shuuya. The navy blue-clad air hostess, who had assumed that everyone exited the plane, sighed deeply and took her cap off — her voluminous silky midnight black hair cascading over her back, tumbling onto her shoulders.
I stood awestruck at the picturesque moment that was unveiled before me.
Her effervescent champagne-brown eyes, encompassed by the raven-black arched eyebrows, her daintily sculpted nose and her thin yet succulent lips placed in a perfect symmetry that reminded me of the golden ratio, the slight flush on her beautiful face that might be due to exhaustion, her slight pink flush, as pink as petals of rosa gallica —
I then realised that I hadn't lost my ability to orchestrate details. The author in me gained wings, burst through the bounds —
Snap out of it Hachiman!
Phew! That was close. Else I would have been in all kinds of trouble for ogling her!
If it were middle school Hachiman, he'd have been stuttering and blubbering mess before such a stunning beauty. However, Hachiman v4.0 is different. With a cool demeanour and crisp logic, he analyses the situation first before injecting wrong ideas into his head. He is free from all those nasty hormonal delusions. He is unaffected by the façades donned by the people to hide their dirty linen from society. Years of solitude and seclusion made his already rock-solid defence, nigh impenetrable.
With all those redundant thoughts flooding my head, I climbed down the stairs, only to find that the beautiful woman didn't even notice my presence!
I chuckled uneasily at that. Stealth Hikki is still super effective!
The stairs are connected directly to the departure gate, via a vestibule. It's rather convenient, instead of being transported by an apron bus, which usually has very few or no seats at all. After a few twists and turns, probably laid to handle the large influx of passengers, I finally arrived at the waiting lounge.
Uh…Did I somehow miss the way?
Because, no matter how you may look at it, this looked more like a gigantic shopping arena than a waiting lounge. Endless queue of stalls ranging from bars to the deserted book stores on one end and clusters of four seated tables on the other — this airport is a bloody riajuu haven!
And with those countless billboards hanging from the trapezoidal glass gambrel, the whole terminal-I can be pictured as a website that is spammed with advertisements. Too bad, we don't have AdBlock Plus for airports!
"Of course, they won't, Hachiman!" a mirthful voice interrupted my thoughts. "Else, they would go bankrupt!"
What in the bloody hell?
No one — I mean no one — dares to interrupt me when I'm monologuing. Not when every fibre of my body is absorbing the sights of a brand new place!
Witch. Give me back! Give me back my thoughts! Give me back my feelings!
"That was rude Hachiman. You shouldn't badmouth your dear colleague, you know"
Did she read my mind? Even her too?!
Oh God of romantic comedies, why do you always equip the girls I know with the very exact counter-skills that makes me putty in their hands? You're seriously making them OP. As OP as dog soldiers surrounded by tepees. Oh Lord, I beseech thee to nerf them!
Also, what's with that weird intonation? You sound exactly like a certain annoying kouhai of mine back then in high school.
"You shouldn't blame God for your shortcomings, Hachiman" She chided. "Besides, you were thinking out loud."
Curse you pops and your genes!
"As I said —" she said, bopping my nose with her finger. "Don't blame your parents for your shortcomings!"
Her stern demeanour blossomed into a wide smile.
"It's good to see you after a long time, Hachiman!"
"S-same to you." I stammered.
Drat! Even after four years, my brain turns into mush at the sight of a pretty girl smiling at me like that — it's as though I have suddenly become a middle schooler for that moment.
"So, did you go to the check-in baggage counter?"
Her question thankfully knocked the rose glasses off me.
"No, I just came here and was admiring the scenery."
"Admiring, I see…" she dragged her words into a teasing drawl. "If this is how you admire, then I definitely don't want to know how you criticise."
"Sod off."
"So, I'll make quick work of baggage counter and you call Haruno, in the meanwhile. Say that we are waiting at the terminal-I."
Huh? Make quick work of baggage counter?
Use your expressions properly missy. You aren't an arsonist.
Wait.
Are my ears still rusty due to jet lag — or did she say something really incredulous — something about calling Haruno-san?
"Harshita-san! Wait!" I bellowed.
But, alas, it was too late. The crowd drowned out my voice. And this girl hasn't got her US SIM yet.
Harshita-san, what a predicament you have pushed me in.
I have no choice. I'm totally at sea here, and so is Harshita Chawla-san, my age-long partner in crime — err, I mean, my accomplice in research — Chuuni, go away! — Or, is it vice versa?
I rummaged through the contacts for the Haruno-san's number — There! Found it!
It never ceases to amaze me how our network only seems to widen more and more as years pass by, especially considering how my contacts list had been fixed to a steady solid three, just until four years ago.
On the flip side, the interactions ceased to be meaningful. Genuine, heartfelt conversations became scarcer than water in the Sahara desert. Sometimes, it made me question myself. Was the change really for the better?
I swiped her icon left and the call started connecting — it connected! I could hear the flamboyant tune of "Gonna get you... like a space boy!" as my stomach churned like a spin dryer.
Heh, who knew that Haruno-san listens to Euro Beats of all things? That was honestly, quite unexpected.
It didn't mitigate my bubbling anxiety, however.
More than six months passed since she had left for America. I promised I'd be in regular touch with her. But not even once I had called her — until now.
True, the final year schedule was absolutely head breaking and on top of that, there's this research project. But that doesn't change the fact I was a scummy fair-weathered friend to her, who only calls when he needs something.
"Hello…"
Her plastic greeting did not change at all, which morphed into an obnoxiously loud sing-song voice the instant she recognised the voice of her favourite victim.
"Oh Hachiman! How rare of you to call me!" that blared through the speakers of my phone, for which I was met with causticising looks.
Just what is with these people and their repugnant stares, as though I am a grotesque slimy alien that just teleported here? I just accidentally put my phone in loudspeaker mode. I'll turn it off! So stop staring at me and mind your own freaking business, goddammit!
Time often renders the conversations , tiresomeness does work wonders at times.
"Haruno-san, Harshita-san might have messaged you this already, but we've just arrived and are at terminal-I," I said without beating around the bush.
Let's face it. I'm a scummy fair-weather friend. We both knew it. Then why waste both of our times with pointless small talks?
"So, what of it, Hachiman?" she asked nonchalantly as if she was asking about the weather.
But, apparently, she thought different.
"Err….Haruno-san, since you live near Manhattan, which is near to the conference venue, I hope you can provide accommodation to us for these three days."
"Ara ara! How scandalous! Asking a lady to stay in her home, so you can do this and that things? How bold~"
This woman — I sighed despondently. I mean, I expected things would be bad, but definitely not this bad!
But I knew I pretty much deserved her scorn.
"Haruno-san, please…"
I took a deep breath.
"Haruno-san. I know I haven't called you once since you left for America, despite promising you to stay in contact. I know I'm being extremely rude by asking this and no amount of apologies would cut it. But please…"
Silence. Absolute silence enveloped us. It was killing me bit by bit from inside.
"...Please Haruno-san. I will stay at a hotel outside. But I don't want things to worsen between you and Harshita-san. Especially not because I had been such a prat to you."
"...You changed a lot, Hachiman," she uttered softly. "Well! Since you're going to attend such an important conference. So, worry not! This onee-chan will take good care of you!"
I sighed in relief.
I wouldn't say things are magically fine now. I may be dense, but I'm not blind. Things only changed from 'lost cause' to 'barely salvageable' right now. It might take months — or even years — for things between us to be like back then. Or maybe things might never be the same again.
My heart gave a sudden hard thump at that, as the bottom dropped out of my stomach.
I wouldn't blame her for it though. Trust is like a balloon. It takes a lot to build. But once you prick it, never expect it to fly again.
"Haruno-san…your address…"
"Don't be a stranger, Hachiman! One of my favourite persons is coming to New York. The least I could do is to come and pick you up! Stay glued. I'll be there in a jiffy!"
"Wait—"
And there she cuts off.
Well, mission accomplished…I guess?
Still, Haruno-san did change a lot. I mean, she is never the type to wear emotions on her sleeve. Even with her closest persons, she seldom confides her innermost thoughts and feelings.
Or, did her facade improve that much, that even I'm no longer able to get a read on her?
I squirmed in guilt at that.
"Hachiman!"
A raspy voice broke me out of my thoughts.
I turned towards the source to find Harshita-san, pushing both our luggage carts.
"So, what did Haruno say?" she asked, panting.
"She is coming to pick us up," I said, a bit curtly, more than I intended.
And like a hawk, she sensed the change in my demeanour instantly.
"Hachiman." She narrowed her eyes at me, "Did something happen between you and Haruno?"
How the hell did she know about that?!
"Oi, were you eavesdropping?!" I demanded.
"Oh come on! It was pretty obvious Hachiman." she chided. "You are all excited and monologuing like crazy just before, and after I asked you to call Haruno-san, all of a sudden you are like a kicked puppy. Anyone with half a brain can put two and two together, you know.
So, tell me. What happened?"
I sighed despondently.
"Let's sit somewhere private. It's quite a long story."
"Well then, I saw a bookstore near the baggage counter. It also has a mini-library inside. And the prices are quite reasonable too. How about it?"
I nodded wordlessly. And thus we began treading through the crowd with luggage trolley being our only holy ark.
"Harshita-san, this is a bookstore right?"
"Ya."
Ah! Thank goodness! For a second I thought I was kidnapped and woken up at effing congress library. As if!
"Tell me what part of it looks like a mini library?"
Because no matter where I look, all I see is an ocean of books.
Books that were meticulously arranged in numerous shelves, category by category, genre by genre. The greyish-white words Detective Fiction on a dark background gave a mysterious aura to the name board, which attracted my attention.
Before I knew it, my feet automatically carried me there and I was already rummaging through numerous books.
The murders in the Rue Morgue— Nah! I have already read that, three weeks ago.
And there were none—isn't that Agatha Christie's? I put that aside to buy, as I don't have a good hard copy of it. The price is also quite reasonable for an airport bookstall.
A study in the scarlet, Scandal in Bohemia—wait, aren't they all part of The complete Sherlock Holmes? Then, why in the world are they selling them separately? To get quick money? I shrugged and put them back in their racks, lest the store personnel complain.
A quiet cough broke through his thoughts.
Yep. Just like that.
But still, sitting on a comfy cushioned chair, reading a novel in a warm air-conditioned room — Ah, perhaps this is what they call heaven! If only there was a hot MAX coffee wending machine, I'd have settled here for life!
"Hachiman! Stop pretending as if you didn't hear me."
And here comes the eternal downer — I sighed deeply.
"Alright. Let's sit there."
"So. You haven't contacted her once, since Haruno left for America six months ago." She said, with a piercing stare.
I could only nod guiltily.
She sighed in exasperation.
"You are in what? — Fourth-year. And you are going to graduate within the next six months. But you have the social behaviour of what? — a grade-schooler!"
I flinched.
She let out another sigh, with her hands glued to her temples.
"Look Hachiman. I know you hate small talk. When you don't contact me for like a month, I would be like 'Ah, he's just asocial like that' and shrug it off. Even Haruno understands that too. But you know, those little messages will tell us that you are fine and something untoward did not happen to you."
I just gaped at her, wide-eyed. To think that there is such an eye-opening depth behind the small talk.
Ever since childhood, I had always hated small talk. And when I say I hate it, what I really mean is I'm abysmal at it. Just a total failure. Be it offline or online.
The weird thing is, it's not that I have some general aversion to talking to people — Well, maybe I did, back then — but it's different now. I have no problems whatsoever in talking to people. It's just the fact that small talk is like an entrance exam to the real meaningful conversations — that always irked me.
They say that small talk is meant to be light and fun. That it's a social lubricant of sorts.
But from what have I seen, it's just two people dancing around each other with shallow, useless messages and memes. It is like a game of chess where both players always know each other's next move. Predictable exchange with predictable results.
But the truth is — humans crave predictability. Predictability is comforting. Unpredictability is a risk that may snatch away their comfort. As they say, odds are always poison.
People create their own barriers to protect themselves from harsh unpredictable reality. They dance around each other because they are scared of destroying their barriers, their sanctum of solace. It's all so simple!
Hudson Book Stall, John F. Kennedy International Airport, New York
19 Oct 2016, 11:25 PM
I closed the book and checked the time. Woah, one and half-hour passed already, just like that? Man Chronos is scary!
"Why hello, Hachiman!"
A blithely cheerful voice cut through the silence of the library like a knife through hot butter. A thick strawberry scent engulfed the entire room.
I turned to see a well-endowed woman with glossy jet black hair, that cascaded up to her waist, ends that are dyed purple —
Just wait — Haruno-san has waist-lengthhair? Since when?!
Man, if it weren't for those ce soir violet eyes, purple-dyed ends and that obnoxiously 'cheerful' tone, she'd be a carbon copy of Yukinoshita, the younger one I mean.
Ah, I forgot that the younger one isn't as 'blessed'.
Before I knew it, she already closed the distance and leaned her chin on to my shoulder. Her long velvety hair bristled my nose, which made me catch a whiff of her scent.
My breath hitched for a moment. That sweet alluring scent emanating from her completely short-circuited my senses.
God! I've never smelt anything like that before. Just what is with that scent? — Perfume? Shampoo? Lotion?
Her soft palms gently cupped my cheeks. I could now feel her unbelievably delicate fingers that enticingly traced my jawline, which sent pleasant shivers down my spine.
I exhaled sharply.
But she, in response coiled her arms around my torso, tightening her embrace onto me. My head was enveloped by the soft, fluffy sensation of her chest.
Close — you are too close woman!
However, I can't let her know that her touch alone left me this incoherent!
Inching her sumptuous lips closer and closer, she cooed, "What are you reading Hachiman?"
Her tantalising breaths through my sensitive ears left me paralysed.
"Hmm…The Maltese Falcon?"
Her suede soft lips grazed my helix. Something stiff poked my shoulders.
Her nipples? Does that mean, she's not wearing a bra? I instantly flushed red in embarrassment.
How are you even comfortable with this, woman?! I shook to get myself in a better and comfortable position, physically giving her a hint to offer me some personal space.
But, she further tightened her hold onto me. Her firm, high, round breasts pressed tightly onto my shoulder and their stiff standing nipples poking my shoulder blades. Caressing my cheeks with her soft, delicate ones, she cupped my chin and slowly tilted my face towards her.
Vibrant ce soir eyes met dull indigo grey.
Her luscious lips inched closer and closer as if she were about to kiss me. I gulped slowly as I attempted to turn away from her, but to my shock, I couldn't.
My breath was stuck in my stomach, my limbs benumbed and my senses catapulted into a no-go area where terror meets exhilaration. Her lips are now dangerously close to mine, a few more centimetres, we'd be engaging in a direct kiss.
My entire body was paralysed at this fact. A truth, a horrible truth that looked so beautiful through the rose coloured glasses of others, who don't know/are vain enough to ignore the dire consequences that follow.
Her strawberry lips are so close now, that they almost grazed mine. At the very last moment, she slightly tilted her face and placed her sultry lips on my oral commissure.
Something snapped in me.
The chains of rationality that have been restraining the wanton lust, which I had shoved in the deepest parts of my mind, were set ablaze. Her alluring scent, firm embrace are clouding my senses and is chipping away my sanity.
A sensual nibble on my ears was the last straw that broke the camel's back.
It's only a few fractions of seconds that I'd toss her on the desk and do things to her that would make her scream my name in pleasure. Things which I might regret in the future.
Regret.
That pummelled me back to my senses.
Phew, that was really close! Both literally and figuratively.
However, why do you have to torture me in such an excruciatingly sensual way, woman? Put me in a prison. Have me starve on a deserted island. Steal all the MAX coffee wending machines in Japan.
All of these combined, I could endure.
But this…
This is the purest form of torture, any hot blooded man is subjected to! Even the heart of a hardened loner has its limits and you completely broke them! It was really a stroke of a miracle that I regained my rational self at the very last moment.
"Ahem!" A disapproving cough interrupted us.
It might be an interruption to her sadistically sensual fun, but it was a saving call for me, albeit it arrived a tad bit late. But whatever part of my mind that was in the euphoria, is completely awake now, ready to take on anything that this rotten society dumps on me.
I could see a flash in her eyes, a flash of resentment, loathing and displeasure. But it disappeared instantaneously, giving way to the sulky pout that formed on her face, while she playfully crossed her arms with a "Hmph!", which further emphasised her — ahem — womanly parts.
My goodness, that's so not you! Also, please refrain from crossing your arms.
"Don't hmph me Haruno-san!" Harshita-san bellowed. "Please do whatever you're doing behind four walls, not here. This is a library for the god's sake, not motel-6."
"Huh?"
What on earth is a Motel-6? Is it something like Area-51? Also, please keep your voice down lest you attract some unwanted attention.
Though, it's already too late for it. The entire library was staring at us, half amused and half disgusted at our antics.
My hands were already nesting on my temples.
"Well, let's go to the parking slot," Haruno uttered resignedly.
Apparently, she was bummed that her fun was interrupted. But withyour fun, I'm done for!
"Don't worry, it's only a few meters walk!" she added.
We passed through various shops and food stalls that screamed high class! — Seriously, what's with these haute cuisines and their outrageous prices?
So, despite our rumbling stomachs, we had to hold in our hunger. Come to think of it, didn't Haruno-san say that she has to buy some sort of exclusive anklets?
She must have forgotten then. Or she might have already bought them before she met us.
But, I don't see any shopping bags — Wait, why does it matter to me in the first place? Why should I look a gift horse in the mouth?
We reached the parking slot. True to her word, it was a few meters walk. But —
How in the blue hell are we going to find our car in this plethora of cars?
This area is so huge, there's no way the key remote would work. We'd need a bloody scooter to get to our car!
"Wait here, the car is in H-block, which is far inside. I'll bring the car here."
We waited for about three minutes when the slow purring sound reached our ears.
We turned toward the source of that sound, only to be surprised by its colouring. Cerulean blue with silver stripes? That's not the normal colouring that the cars of Richie Riches usually have!
Usually, it would be ebony black or whatever blandest shades of black they can get. Freaking elitists!
As the car approached closer, I could see her black rectangular triple grills, carbon fitted front spoiler, beady headlights, and it suddenly struck me what she exactly is.
My eyes widened at the revelation.
It's a Porsche 911!
And a heavily modified one at that too!
Just how on earth did she get the money to buy that? No way she got it from her Showa era parents!
"That's a se-ec-ret!"
Wait, when did she come out of the car? I didn't even notice her. Does she possess her own version of Stealth-Hikki? Stealth-Haruno?
"I came out when you're busy ogling my car," she said cheekily. "Get in" she added.
I instantly jumped into the back seat, as I did not want to be in her vicinity for a while. My Hachiman senses are already overloaded thank you very much.
I laid myself in a sleeping position, which is an indication to not disturb me. Harshita-san can squeeze in the front for all I care.
Wow, the seats are quite comfy, though they are a bit congested in the leg space. I was about to slip into beautiful slumber when suddenly, the seats went downslope and I fell down.
"Ouch!" I muttered, nursing my head.
Only this devil does these things. Even now she finds a way to torture me, somehow or other. I glared at her in annoyance.
She easily ignored my glare though.
"You were being rude Hachiman, blatantly sleeping in a sports car like that," she said simply.
I couldn't help but sigh exasperatedly. So, I have to sit in such a congested leg space now.
I searched for the lever to push the driver's seat a little bit front so that I'd have a bit more space for legs. But I couldn't find it, no matter how keenly I searched for it.
Then it hit me. This car is completely electronic controlled! From the control of seat angles to the shutters of windows, everything was present on the front panel below the steering wheel.
Bloody hell! There's no way for me except to sit in the front with her. I groaned.
Harshita-san was happy enough to exchange seats with me. That lucky bitch!
I tilted slightly to see the side windows, that was tinted light green, which is a good combination over the cerulean blue body. The front windshield is a standard one, of which the top six inches is covered by a sun film. I shifted back my posture to look at the front panel.
Woah, it looks so sophisticated! Vivid buttons with their functions unknown were intricately fabricated over the panel. While the more recent cars like Tesla Model S focused on autopilot and complete touch screen, this one stuck to the orthodox interior, yet it looked futuristic. No wonder this is a Porsche!
I stooped to reach for the button which I presume, is for the seat adjustment control. I touched it and the upper part of the seat drooped slightly.
Oh, it is actually a trackball, not a simple push button.
Apparently, I've to move the trackball slightly up/down for the fore/aft movement of the seat. I slid it down and finally, I leaned on the comfy seat, ready to enter the realm of dreams —
Only to suddenly fall on my face, metaphorically and literally.
Fuck! it hurts!
"What the fuck! Just what the hell is wrong with you woman?!" I bellowed angrily.
Tch! I lost my temper quite easily there.
"Sorry." I apologized instantly.
"No, it is actually my fault", she admitted, with an uneasy expression on her face that I'd see usually on Hayama than on her. Then, her upper lip curled in disdain.
"Sorry Hachiman. You see, some idiot suddenly appeared before me and I had to slam the brakes hard — Besides, I thought you have already put your seat belt on. So it's partly your fault too!"
Her scowl subsequently turned into a cute pout.
Well, I couldn't argue with that.
I sighed in resignation and was about to lean back onto my seat when a hand on my shoulder stopped me.
"What now?" I grumbled.
I was surprised by the forlorn expression on her. But it was only for an instant, after which she replied "It's nothing", with a default smile on her face and unhanded me.
The entire phenomenon was bizarre.
Haruno-san is devious, shrewd, opportunistic and whatnot — but forlorn is certainly not the word that I'd associate with her.
Or is that really the case?
Au contraire, Hachiman! You had misread the situation, several times in the past, so it might be the same now. The deeper you try to read her, the more you will understand that her wall of facade is thicker and higher than it initially seems.
I had always prided myself in my ability to read people and to decipher their ulterior motives, quite easily, if I might add. But when it comes to people close to me, strangely, I am always off the mark.
No. I can read them — but that's it. That's all there is to it.
I can never comprehend the depths of their feelings like Yuigahama can. I don't know whether God exists or not, but whoever or whatsoever force, that was responsible for the creation of us, made sure that this humanity is balanced.
For instance, I'm good at reading people like books, but I have zero interpersonal skills, which actually is essential in this world, despite how much I despise it. Yuigahama is extremely adept in reading the mood, understanding emotions, which is quite superior to my ability.
Honestly, she was like a glue that held all of us together. If it hadn't been for her, I'm damn sure Yukinoshita and I would have torn up each other into shreds.
But she's a dunce in almost everything else. Ah, how could I forget that she's an expert in cooking poison?
Yukinoshita is good at everything she touches, almost to the point of unfair. But her stamina sucks. She's a veritable glass canon. She tried everything from aikido to protein-heavy diet — but all in vain — well not exactly. Her stamina did improve, but it wasn't enough.
Suppose, even if she gained superhuman stamina, will her core remain the same?
For instance, improving your muscles greatly increases your arm strength. On the other hand, unnecessary muscles hinder the free motion of your arm. In other words, bulky muscles mean high arm strength at the cost of agility. That's why tennis players are not heavy bodybuilders.
Everything is so intricately balanced like a ball on the tip of the needle.
Haruno-san is also seemingly good at everything, however, her weaknesses are extremely guarded secrets, constantly protected by her AT field, 24x7. However, it is an undeniable truth that she too has some weak moments. It is quite easy to forget, but she is as human as we are.
Wait, actually there's quite an obvious one. She's an insufferable sis-con.
Heh, like I'd talk about others when I'm actually the same!
There's no such thing as being perfect. Every person has some gaps or holes, no matter how good they might seem to be. Since they have those gaps, they try to work themselves to fill them. Then, when those gaps are filled, once they think that they are perfect, a new gap will appear. Then they will try to improve themselves again, to fill that gap as well. Ad infinitum.
Once you begin to think that you're ultimate, you cease to grow. You're stagnated. Stagnated are mercilessly cut off from society. No matter how much one denies it, this is the harsh truth of life.
I gazed through the window. Even though it's already approaching noon, the skies are still cloudy, like my mind. Looking at the pale green clouds…
Wait, since when are clouds pale green?
Ah, I conveniently forgot that the glasses were tinted light green. Heh, we always have a distorted view of the world through our own glasses, no matter how much broad-minded we think we are.
"Go! Go! Go!Go!Go!"
A flamboyant yet soft sound interrupted my quasi-philosophical musings. After a cacophony of various — probably drum and bass sequences — which scraped the very limits of the speakers — Nah, not that much, as the volume is low.
"Gonna get you
Like a space boy
Gonna get you
Like a space boy
I'm ready babe"
Again followed by the cacophony of drum and bass, and screams.
Bloody hell! Yukinoshita Haruno, the conductor of a classical orchestra, listens to Euro beats! Freaking Initial D Euro beats!
Ugh, I sounded like one of those TRP hungry media people, didn't I?
But still, you cannot deny the fact that most of the persons who are involved in classical music have this holier than thou personalities, as if the screams and bloody murder they listen to under the name of opera, is somehow superior to modern songs.
Needless to say, they look at Euro beats, like a Tarzan looking at an uppity ape in the jungle.
People think that Richie riches always had it easy. Well, I used to be one of them too. Until I have seen what Haruno-san or even Yukinoshita had to undergo. Aikido, Polo, Violin, Piano, Billiards, Flower Arrangement, basically they are trained in all elitist activities since their childhood. No wonder they have no friends!
I bet that Haruno obtaining a bachelor in sciences at Chiba University is also forced by her family. I mean, if you look at the choices of her courses, most of them are inclined towards architecture and management. It's painfully obvious that she's the one who is going to inherit her father's construction conglomerate.
With her intellect, she could have easily aced the Tokyo University entrance exam. Heck, forget Tokyo University, she could have landed up in effing MIT!
Yet, she was restricted to Chiba University, just to sate her father's political motives and aspirations.
Professors complain that she's noisy during classes, doesn't wear her uniform properly, that she is always loafing around, participating in festivals, showing off that she has lots of friends — it's all fake!
It's all just a part of her well crafted amiable persona, while in actuality, she was just a bird trapped inside a golden cage.
Her complete life, starting from her birth to her education is pre-determined by her family. I bet she'll be arranged to a random guy that she doesn't know just to secure some alliances. The poor girl didn't even have the freedom to listen to the music that she likes!
And here I thought my life was bad.
A painful surge struck my thigh, interrupting my musings.
Ouch, it hurts!
Who the hell pinched me?!
I glared at the obvious perpetrator, who has a nonchalant expression on her face. But Harshita-san on the other hand —
"Hachiman! What is with you and your monologuing?!" She exclaimed angrily. "We've arrived. I called you thrice, but it looked like you were too busy in your own world!"
She took a deep breath and continued.
"Anyway, where did you put that poster?"
"Poster? What poster?" I asked her, my head barely out of the clouds.
"It is for poster presentation, you idiot!" she barked.
Ah, that foldable poster, I remember it now.
"Open the middle zip of my black bag. It is between the two books." I replied, getting myself out of the car.
She got the poster and unfolded it to check for any deformations, which fortunately did not happen. It looked as prim and pristine as ever. We both sighed in relief.
Somewhere in Manhattan, New York
19 Oct 2016, 01:10 PM
I looked around after bringing our luggage out, which were quite a few. To my surprise instead of tall buildings… reach up in vain…Tinseltown is in the rain.
Stop! Stop!
Where did that come from?
Anyway, instead of glossy tall complexes that touch the sky, I was surrounded by late 1880s to early 1890s brownstone architectures.
In front of me was a house — no it's way too wide to be called a house — it is a bit of the second empire styled mansion, made of Italianate brownstone, with tall stoops, long windows and majestic entries flanked by enormous acanthus leaf brackets that faced the street. The faded brownstone blocks — wow, they must be quite old, like 1850s or 60s — invoke this serene atmosphere — especially when paired with old trees, overflowing flower boxes, and heavy cast-iron railings of intricate designs.
Whenever you think of Manhattan, the first thing that comes to mind is transient people, who are corporate slaves for big affluent Multi-National Companies that are super busy, have many important engagements but splurge more than half of their income to go out and party all nights of the week, eventually shifting elsewhere after they burn out.
The second thing is tall buildings…reach up in vain….
Seriously, I need to stop.
Does this place look affluent? Oh, definitely yes!
But unlike the busy corporate slave atmosphere, this place evokes a feeling of serenity in our minds. I have to admit it, Haruno-san's choice was excellent.
Which made me wonder. Are we really in Manhattan?
"Of course, we are Hachiman!"
The she-devil had read my mind, which is creepy as always, but, honestly, I'm used to it now.
"Ever heard of St. Nicholas Historic District in Harlem?"
Harlem? What's that? Sounds a lot like a harem. Does she have a reverse-harem?
Alright, that was a stretch. I'll stop at it.
No, stretch is an understatement. It was a cringe-inducing wordplay. As cringey as the puns of the Itagaki family or the quizzes of Professor Agasa, which again are lamest puns of the highest order.
Of course, I've read somewhere about Harlem, like it was named after some grouchy businessman from Dutch, who settled here and developed this into a colony in the 17th century and later in the early 20th century it was leased by some African-American Businessman, that lead to the mass migration of Africans to here — trivia like that.
But, how come it has Italian influence in its architecture? Who knows?
"Well, this is my home. Get in!" she said sweetly.
Bloody Hell! You mean you completely own this frigging mansion?
Well — it is no surprise — they are freaking Yukinohitas —
"Of course not, Hachiman." She interrupted me even before I finished my monologue. "That is impossible, even for us. We own only a portion in it."
It is too expensive for Yukinoshitas? Then just how high is the market value of this building?
I gulped uneasily at that.
"Seventy-five billion dollars," Harshita-san whispered.
I couldn't believe my ears!
Goodness! That's almost 10% of Apple's total shares! Does this old building have that much value?
My knees quivered at the thought of staying here. Even my monthly stipend probably isn't sufficient to rent a room here for a single day!
We both followed Haruno-san in stunned silence at that revelation. She pressed the doorbell button. I actually expected an intercom.
After a few seconds, the door opened to reveal a tall, dark, clean shaved butler clad in a red button-up suit of golden linings, and a reddish cap with golden edges, which to be honest, looked quite ridiculous, but I didn't dare to voice it out loud, lest I be kicked out from this mansion.
「Miss Yukinoshita Haruno」, he bowed deeply in respect, 「These are your guests, I presume」.
「I believe they are, Mr Jonathan, 」 she answered in surprisingly fluent English, not even looking at him. "Come Hachiman! Harshita-san! I'll show you your rooms." she ushered us.
「By the way, Mr Jonathan, the lunch is ready, I hope?」 she added, by which she probably meant, What the fuck are you staring at for? Prepare the lunch already, you bloody plonker!
Well, not exactly that crude, but you get the point.
「Right away, madame, 」 he said, a bit unnerved and vanished immediately.
I understand your plight, my good sir. You're another victim of Haruno-san's tyranny. My sincere condolences to you.
Now that the butler is gone I took a good look at the interior.
It was like, I had been time-shifted to Renaissance-era!
The ceiling higher than normal was slightly vaulted at the edges. The entire ceiling despite being layered with pale gold coloured stucco, is quite plain and devoid of any murals, which quite opposes the principle of renaissance interior design, except for a rosette in the middle, onto which a four lamp chandelier is hung. Luxurious navy blue curtains embroidered with floral patterns adorned the oak windows, that were furnished dark black. The vaulted edges of the ceiling were decorated with geometrical patterns. Every bit of furniture here is carved, gilded and painted to perfection. But unlike other lobbies, this isn't overloaded with furniture.
Because, after all, Renaissance is about space and freedom, enriched by abundant décor of few furniture pieces, as well as the walls and ceiling.
I actually wanted to take photos of every nook and cranny of this mansion to show off to Komachi, as I'll never get another chance like this in my entire life. But it'll look awkward in this tight-fisted atmosphere. So, with no other choice, I followed the duo, having one last glance at the fresco — was it the expulsion of the merchants from the temple? Nah, it's probably a replica — near the huge oak door.
Being on the third floor, with no elevator — why? Just why? — reaching our flat was a bit tiresome. Add jet lag to that. No sooner did she direct us to our rooms, than I plopped down on the bed.
It is after a good hour and a half, Harshita-san called me shouting that the lunch is ready.
My stomach grumbled in response.
I freshened up myself in record time and arrived at the dining table. There's nothing that beats free food, after all!
On the table, were the assortment of silvered dishes, probably brought in by that erratic butler. Haruno-san opened each of the smaller dishes to reveal three plates of Egg-Benedict. The two larger dishes contained rice and egg curry.
So that erratic butler knows how to make curry, huh. Colour me surprised!
"Gomen Hachiman! I couldn't prepare anything special as I had to start early to pick you up. But, don't worry! I'll make Harunon's special curry omelette for you in the evening."
"Um — it's alright — but what do you —"
She cut me off.
"What's special in a curry omelette you ask? Well, it is packed with Harunon's love. Kyaaa! That was so high in Haruno points!" she squealed, somehow successfully imitating Komachi's tone. I'll give her 7 out of 10 on Komachi metric scale.
But strangely, I found no urge to resist. So I didn't.
Harshita-san let out an awkward cough at that. She repeatedly switched her glances at her and me. On the other hand, I'm already used to the antics of this woman.
"It's alright Haruno-san. I wanted something simple anyway, considering jet lag and all. Besides this egg-benedict is quite delicious."
"So you prefer Jonathan-san's cooking over mine! Boo! That's so low in Haruno points!" she exclaimed as she puffed her cheeks and pouted.
Funny, I resisted my urge to poke her dimples. Eventually, she gave up her pout and started giggling.
The rest of the lunch went on quietly, sans some awkward jokes fired by Haruno-san, which we uneasily laughed at, masking our apprehension. I, for once, was glad when the meal was over and was able to retire into our allotted rooms.