For all the water and tea she drank, Mitsuri's lips had been peeling an awful lot lately.
She had noticed little chapped cracks in the webbing of her hands as well. The veins in her wrists stood out more, the circles under her eyes more blue. The lines she dragged across her skin took longer to fade, too. She felt like she was buzzing inside.
Horribly, she was starting to like it.
Mitsuri absentmindedly traced her thumb and index finger over her mouth, scraping and picking at dead skin.
"Mitsuri?"
She blinked once or twice to refocus. "Hm?"
Obanai's eyes quirked at the corners, an obvious tell that he was privately smiling. "Are polynomials really not that interesting to you?"
She let out a performative, exasperated groan and collapsed over her notebooks and calculator, reaching both arms across the table to grasp and jostle his wrists. "Obanaaaaiiiiii," she moaned. He let her grab at his hands, let her interlock her fingers with his and shake him playfully. "Who even cares about polynomials! What am I ever going to use this for?" she cried. Mitsuri looked up at him, her chin still glued to the table.
Obanai was looking down at her, mostly how he normally looked at her. A mixture of serene patience, amusement, and a little bewilderment.
She narrowed her eyes at him, unable to keep from smiling at him. "Remind me again why you're the most qualified tutor I have? You're an animal guy, not a math guy!"
Still holding hands, he leaned forward and placed his elbows on the table. "Biologists have to be able to do a lot of math," he teased gently. "An unfortunate fact of the trade."
Mitsuri cheerily grinned up at him. "I'm sure Kaburamaru needs you to solve for noodle x all the time." Gosh, it was so easy to smile at him!
Obanai laughed a little before releasing his grip and moving to stand. He stretched his arms over his head and swiveled his neck and once more, in his presence, Mitsuri found herself transfixed. The hem of his black sweater rode up just a little, revealing a sliver of pale, hairless abdomen above his belted black jeans. At a satisfying little pop, he dropped the stretch and Mitsuri snapped her eyes back to his masked face.
"As soon as you start making jokes, I know it's time for us to take a break," he said.
She protested with a cry of "What's that supposed to mean!" as he crossed from the table into his kitchen.
At a certain point within the past two months, they had taken to studying at Obanai's apartment. Perhaps it was because he lived alone, perhaps it was because he was less likely to have friends turning up out of the blue, perhaps it was because he was minimal by nature and had fewer things around to distract her. Whatever the reason, it actually worked; Obanai never let her focus wander for long, gently pressing her to get back to the studying she was supposed to be doing. This arrangement had several benefits, chief among them that they got to spend more time together.
Obanai was in the middle of applying for several PhD programs of herpetology and had to spend lots of time at his computer, writing essays and letters of intent and reformatting his CV. While Mitsuri would have loved to spend time with him frivolously, she was more than happy to meet him on his level. Even if that level was studying.
He grabbed a mug from his cupboard and set his kettle to boil, glancing back at Mitsuri. "I don't know if you've met you," he said, "but your length of concentration tends to become everyone else's as well. You're very convincing."
Mitsuri followed him like a duckling, leaning against the counter and trapping him in his kitchen. "Convincing?" she asked, placing a foot on her opposite upper thigh. "Or distracting?"
Obanai gave her that slanting glance that always caught at the base of her throat. "Both," he murmured with a hidden, indulgent smile.
Mitsuri couldn't quite have told anyone how it happened, her and Obanai's friendship. It had happened so suddenly and so effortlessly, like they had been destined to be friends. Following the party, texts had started to flow, mostly prompted by Mitsuri but occasionally by Obanai. They asked each other questions, revealed their opinions and tastes, covered their easy likes and dislikes. And then Mitsuri and Kyojuro started having friends over for movie nights or Friday unwinds, to which Obanai was a faithful guest. It just...happened.
She tolerated the biting, violent black comedies he preferred and he comfortably sat through the blaring albums of sunshine-indie-pop-rock she blasted. She actually found herself liking the industrial, yet melodious, electronic music he played for her and he routinely told her he liked the bubblegum anime she watched. He would vocally back up her mild arguments with the group about representations of women in the movies they watched, and she would come to his defense when any of the Boys decided he would be the latest target of the hour. And she adored his patient white snake that he'd bring out every now and then, wrapped contentedly around his neck. Everything they found in common with each other would be discussed later over text or in his apartment with "yes", "yes", "yes", "yes!"
He even knew that she liked peppermint tea.
"When is your final, again?" Obanai asked as the kettle flicked off, reaching for a packet of tea.
Mitsuri thought briefly, before she said, "End of next week. That Friday, I think." She collapsed into herself a little with a whine as Obanai fixed her drink. "Ugh, of course it has to be the very last exam on the very last possible day. How dumb. I just want to be done with this class." She accepted the steaming mug of tea he offered and let him squeeze past her. "And then winter break."
And winter it was. They'd been studying since just after noon, only for a couple of hours, and already it felt like the sun was going down.
Obanai's apartment was quite small, with an open living space that managed to contain a kitchen, table, and lounge area with an entertainment setup. He was minimal and stark in his decorating style: only black and beige furniture pieces were scattered in the room and there were no pictures on the walls. His apartment only had two windows in the main room, which made his space feel dark even in bright daylight; now, with winter in full swing, even in the afternoon it felt like midnight.
Despite this, Mitsuri felt vastly comfortable in his space. Maybe because it was his? While he had little, he was never less than inviting to her. The only exception in his space was the door that led off to his bedroom. Mitsuri had never been in it. She hadn't asked to go in, and Obanai hadn't invited her. They both solidly never mentioned it.
The darker blues and ambers of twilight filtered weakly into the apartment, and while the overhead light was on, it was noticeably harder to see than it had been a few hours ago. Obanai moved to flick on a few lamps before striding to his couch and sinking into it. He exhaled heavily. Immediately, Mitsuri followed and flopped bonelessly next to him, draping her legs over his lap. He accepted without question.
They let a moment of tired silence wash over them, both exhausted; she by the approaching end of the semester, he by the upcoming submission deadlines. However, the quiet didn't feel strained; silence between them felt pleasant. Special. Intimate.
"We'll have to celebrate," he said after a beat, staring up at the ceiling. She hummed her assent and sipped her tea. Obanai moved his eyes to her, angling his head while not lifting it from the sofa. His hair rumpled as he did so and Mitsuri's heart clenched. Cute. "Is there anything you want to do?"
She shifted her legs, aware of the bones of his thighs against the full flesh of her calves, his denim and her leggings separating skin from skin.
He was so thin. Hm. He was so thin. A brief thought zipped through her mind, of what kind of girl someone his size would want to date. Blegh.
She shrugged with a bright smile and drank some more tea, the mint of it calming. "It would be fun to get everyone together one last time before they all leave for the holidays. I know we tend to drink a lot, but one more party wouldn't hurt, I think." A thought occurred to her and her grin turned devious. "And Shinobu would finally have a break, so she might actually get wild for once."
"What do you mean?" Obanai asked.
Mitsuri considered. "Well, she usually ends up being DD, and she has to take care of her sisters most of the time. I don't know, she just has a lot of responsibility, so she just holds it all in. But sometimes, like at the end of a semester, she'll sort of...let go. Like, last spring, she ended up getting Kyo, Tengen, and Giyuu to break into our apartment's pool and go skinny-dipping with her." She caught his eyes and gave him a charming, wicked smile. "Aaaaand, if Giyuu is there next week and is drinking with her, she's sure to do something else. You knoooowwwww?"
Obanai slid his shoulders more in her direction. "No, I don't know. Is there...something going on between them?" Everything about him was angled and delicate; a razorblade.
She squealed and wriggled so abruptly that she sloshed some tea down her front. "Obanai! Are you kidding? Oh my gosh, 'is there something going on', ummmm!" She swiveled her hips to slide her shins underneath her, crawling closer to him on her knees. "They are clearly so in love. Ahh! It's so cute! I can't believe you haven't noticed!"
"I-I thought...isn't he...queer?"
"He is," Mitsuri affirmed. "He's bi. I think? I think he usually prefers guys, but he's still. Like, definitely bi. Maybe? I don't wanna speak for him or anything."
"Ah." Obanai squirmed a little and used effort to keep his voice casual.
She grinned at him. "What?"
He shrugged, his black sweater unable to hide the silhouette of his prominent shoulder bones.
Every little detail about him made her want to put her hands on him. All the time. All of it.
Obanai ducked his head, screening his face with his hair. He snorted a little, clearly self-deprecating. "There was a time…" he admitted, "when I was growing up...that-" he paused to squirm again "-that I thought I might be queer."
Despite his bowed head and hanging hair, his eyes glanced to the side, up at her. It was his blue eye. Throat clench. Stomach clench. Maybe something even deeper clenched.
Mitsuri's eyes brightened. "Really? Yes! Me too! What made you explore that? Or-" she considered "I mean. Wow! I don't know this about you! Haha! I can't believe this! I don't know what you like!"
He smiled at her, but there was something careful about the way he continued.
"When I was little, I had some...issues with the women in my family. So for a long time, I never wanted to be around them; I only wanted to be around other guys. So I sometimes thought...I don't know, this sounds so stupid, saying it out loud," he attempted to maneuver away, but Mitsuri leaned in.
"It's not stupid," she cooed softly, suddenly serious, catching his eyes. He was allowed to have walls with her; she certainly had walls of her own. But a hopeful lilt followed her croon. Mitsuri was greedy with Obanai, she always wanted more.
He stared back at her, all teal and gold. He inhaled and exhaled before admitting, "I sort of thought I...might be...gay...because I only wanted to be around men. But," he amended quickly, "that was...I was really young when I thought that. And then I went to high school and had to do sports and…" he smiled at her "I spent enough time in a locker room to realize that was not the case."
Mitsuri smiled warmly with him. "Jock straps didn't do it for you?"
He let out a snort. "Afraid not."
"So…" Mitsuri ventured. "Are you straight?"
Obanai shifted where he sat, turning towards her. "I think so," he said slowly. "I...don't want to make a definitive statement, in case I'm wrong, but I think so."
Her grin turned teasing and she gave him a soft, playful push with her free hand. "You are such a Virgo! You don't want to be wrong about anything."
His face dropped and he actively rolled his eyes.
"Please no astrology," he complained. "I don't think I can handle the stars now."
Mitsuri clucked her tongue and fingered the blunt ends of his hair. "Such an earth sign. You can't believe in anything unless it's right in front of you."
She accidentally brushed against the strap of his mask and Obanai swiftly clutched at her hand, almost a reflex more than anything else. Mitsuri froze, unable to stop the panicked giggle that bubbled out of her throat.
"Sorry," they blurted, synchronised.
Mitsuri darted for the other end of the couch, fearful that she had really screwed something up between them, determined to give him space. Or something. Anything. Geez.
She still hadn't gathered enough courage to ask about his mask. He never took it off, and most often it didn't cover his nose. She'd never seen him eat, and if he did drink it was surreptitiously with a straw. Mitsuri had once, shortly after meeting Obanai, asked Kyojuro about it, and he had given a bizarrely out-of-character response. "I can't," he had said, stilted. "I won't."
It felt distinctly off-limits.
As off-limits as his bedroom.
Mitsuri glanced down and registered, for the first time, the tea that had spilled onto her mint green hoodie. Maybe to give him even more safety-space, but also to save her sweatshirt, she breathed a little squeak and rushed back into the kitchen.
She felt his eyes and head follow her as she skid to the sink.
"Are you okay?" he asked, rising from the couch with concern.
"Yeah!" Mitsuri masked her discomfort with bubbliness and giggled at her own clumsiness. "Stupid me! I didn't even notice that I spilled on myself!" She turned on the tap's cold water and stretched the fabric out to rinse it. She snagged a pump of soap and began dabbing and rubbing it into the stain.
Obanai approached, watching her.
Mitsuri laughed heartily at herself, fully. "I must look so crazy! Like a big green kangaroo pouch into your sink!"
He then wordlessly turned, leaving the room.
It wasn't until he returned and Mitsuri had mostly (hopefully) saved her hoodie that she even realized he had gone into his bedroom. The door was still open.
"Here," Obanai said, holding out a black hoodie. He seemed stone-faced, or...resolved - yet fretful.
Mitsuri herself could barely register his fretting, electrocuted as she was by his offer.
He? Offering her? A jacket? Like, a boyfriend-girlfriend thing? The dull panic opened wider into a keener worry.
…What if it didn't fit?
She immediately colored.
"Oh no, Obanai! Oh, I couldn't possibly take your jacket! This isn't that bad! See, the stain is almost out!"
He remained firm, if not solidly calm. "No, Mitsuri," he said, red rising in his cheeks as well. "Take it. I mean it." At her frantic glance, he added, "I'm not going to let you sit here in wet clothes."
They traded apologies, excuses, and assertions for several more minutes until Mitsuri finally caved, unable to resist a request from Obanai.
"Okay, okay!" she cried. Her face was red and she was sweating. "Here, I'll go change in the bathroom."
Obanai gave her an odd look, a furrowing of his brows and a crinkling of his nose, but he let her float away without another word.
It took a minor, silent pep talk, staring at herself in the mirror of the tiny bathroom before she could pull her stained hoodie over her head.
Mitsuri was left there, standing in her black leggings and bra. She felt like a fool. She felt gross. She felt needy.
Her bra wasn't sexy. Most of her bras weren't, actually; having a DDD cup required support and strapping more akin to Olympic swimwear than Victoria's Secret. It didn't matter that it was pink-it still looked ugly.
More than anything, at that moment, Mitsuri wished that she had been wearing something beautiful and revealing. A white hot want seared through her gut, to open the bathroom door as she was and press Obanai against a wall as he verbally lost his mind about how beautiful she was, groping her in all those places men were supposed to grope women.
Back when she had been with him, she had hated it, any time he had touched her she left feeling icky and large. Like a sack of flesh. Any time he had done those things with her, he had said foul things, held her down. She had thought back then that it was sexy, that was what sexy was supposed to be.
Clearly, since then, Mitsuri had started widening her mind to other things, had learned that sexy could be more than what he had dictated for her.
But for the first time, if only for just a moment, Mitsuri wondered if Obanai thought about her body that way. Weren't men supposed to cream themselves about huge tits? (Or had that been a body trend thirty years ago?) Didn't men get hard at even the thought of an ass like hers? Wasn't the big locker room question 'tits or ass'? What did they do if you had both?
He had said he was straight, right?
Couldn't he want her like that?
But then she saw her stretch marks, and the lines her nails had dug. She deflated and it felt like agony.
It didn't matter that she wanted him to plaster his hands on her ass and feel his tongue circle her nipples. It didn't matter that she wanted to feel that deep pressure up between her legs once more, maybe even from straddling those slim hips while she dug her hands into that glossy black hair. It didn't matter that she desperately wanted to tear that mask away and kiss whatever was there.
Mitsuri pinched the flesh just above the waistline of her leggings, knowing there was still too much. There was no way he'd ever want a cow like her.
Her stomach rumbled, a sensation simultaneously uncomfortable and thrilling. That, at least, was a small consolation; even if she still had ways and ways to go, she was making progress.
Her waist was now down to twenty-eight inches.
Progress was progress. She'd manage. Just peppermint tea for the rest of the day, to continue that streak.
Mitsuri took a deep breath and then dove into Obanai's black hoodie.
She emerged from the bathroom a few minutes later, her face stained red.
Obanai hopped up from the table where he had seated himself. "Are you alright?" he asked. "Is your top okay?" He then gave a funny little start and blinked.
"It's fine! I left it in the sink to soak for a little bit, that should get the rest of the stain out." Her fingers rubbed at the cuffs of her sleeves and her lips scraped together. "Ummm...hoooow do I look? Am I edgy yet?" She gave a stupid little pose in an attempt to take the edge off. To distract him from how she looked.
The sweatshirt actually fit, it must have been oversized on him. Because of the size of her breasts, however, on her it had a more cropped fit, and clung to her chest in a way that made them obvious. She was keenly aware of the skin exposed at her stomach, and tried to be discreet as she crossed and recrossed her arms. She felt, despite the high waist and material of her leggings, that her ass was more prominent than ever.
Mitsuri pulled her braids through and flipped the hood up. Just gotta power through this. What a good thing that they were only just friends, just buddies. She didn't know if she could take it, whatever he thought of how she looked.
Obanai blinked a couple times more before abruptly making an about-face and going to sit back at the table. "You look great," he choked. "You look fine." He managed to look at her and said, "We should probably get back to work. These polynomials are looking hungr- I mean lonely."
It didn't matter how much work they did, or how much math she powered through. Now that she had considered what a kiss from him might truly be like, no amount of numbers could have more pull than Obanai's eyes or that open bedroom door.
XxX
"You," Giyuu said calmly, "are out of your minds."
Kyojuro, Tengen, and Sanemi burst out into guffaws and cackles, letting out an even bigger wave of laughter as Giyuu's face continued to remain impassive.
Not even the threat of Twister, it seemed, could rattle his chains.
"Mitsuri!" she heard Kyojuro call her name loudly from the main room.
"Yeah?" she called back just as loudly.
Mitsuri was midway through attempting to line her eyes. She'd been watching lots of tutorials as a stress reliever during finals week and, now that it was officially over, she felt a little bit like a master. She finished the last tail flick and felt successful.
"Come on out!" he boomed. "We're going to play now!"
"Yeah!" Tengen crowed, "Get your ass out here! No way am I going to play without youuuu!"
Something like a smack resounded from the living room, followed by a weak ow!, and even more laughter erupted.
"I'll be right there!" she cried.
In the safety of her very pink room, Mitsuri stared at her face, the vanity mirror already tired from use this evening.
Maybe it was because of that encounter at Obanai's apartment, maybe it was the thrill of winter break spreading before her, or maybe it was the exhaustion built up over two weeks, but Mitsuri was feeling bold. Something about the night said bold to her.
She wore her typical black leggings, but had decided on a fitted, stretchy top. It was cream-colored and threaded with glitter and shimmering strands. The most dangerous detail was the neckline, which dipped lower than Mitsuri ever allowed. The stress of the last few weeks had kept her appetite low, and she felt...good. In control. Powerful. From certain angles, in her outfit, she even thought she looked thin.
Her hair was unbound, waving and curling from the day spent in braids. With minimal coaxing and no heat styling, her thick hair could double in volume and had certainly not disappointed today.
Her face, as she stared at it, seemed to keep its shape. Something about the makeup she had applied kept the warping and the dysphoria at bay. She felt...pretty. Mitsuri felt pretty. She wondered if Obanai thought she was pretty.
At the thought of Obanai, she blinked, and without thinking, dotted her eyeliner pen once under each eye.
"KANROJI!"
That would be Shinazugawa.
Not allowing herself to think about it anymore, Mitsuri grabbed an open, fluffy cardigan on her way out and finally made her appearance.
So far, only Tengen, Sanemi, and Giyuu had arrived, with Shinobu en route and no word yet from Obanai. Gyomei had politely declined Kyojuro's invitation.
Tengen, it seemed, had brought the booze.
"ALCOHOL FOR YOU!" he said at high volume, thrusting a shot glass into her hand. She giggled and knocked it back without question.
"Whoa Kanroji, what's the special occasion?" Sanemi asked, grinning from where he had spread out on the couch. "Who's the hot date?"
She blushed a little, bringing her hands to her chest. "No-nothing! No reason! I just felt like looking nice!"
Tengen put an arm around her shoulders and grinned beadily. "Iguro isn't here yet, you're going to have to make another entrance when he gets here."
Mitsuri flared at that, red from her hairline to the tips of her toes.
"W-what? What are you talking about? I-I don't-!"
Tengen's grin widened. "Mitsuri, let me just tell you now, you're way too good-looking for him. That little weasel couldn't handle a knockout like you."
"N-now wait a minute! What's that-!"
"Leave the poor girl alone," Sanemi interrupted from the couch. "Let her like our weirdo if she wants to."
"I-I don't-!"
"Mitsuri likes Obanai?" Giyuu piped up from the floor where he sat on the plastic game tarp.
Did they...bring her out here to trap her? Why did this feel like a firing squad?
Tengen, who must have had a couple shots already to get this loose, barrelled on over to Giyuu, knocking aside a couple pieces of furniture on his way.
"Giyuu, you shithead," he said jovially and plopped himself down. "You really don't pay attention to anything. I guarantee, the minute Iguro gets here, they'll be glued to each other."
Giyuu hummed; it wasn't quite clear if he was agreeing with the statement or just letting them know he heard them.
Sanemi sat up from his repose on the couch and gestured to Mitsuri in as friendly a way as he was capable. "Ah, don't worry Mitsuri, we're just teasing you." She floated over to him hesitantly, moving the pile of coats that he had been laying on. "Tengen's also jealous that it's not him you're glued to," he added with snark.
Sanemi grinned wildly at the response he had hoped for, an acidic "hey" from Tengen, and then they were off in a new direction, Tengen boasting loudly about his polyamorous set-up and the action that afforded him.
Thankfully, while the boys talked a pretty horny game, they tended to leave her and Shinobu alone with body stuff. They could get pretty crude, especially if it was just Mitsuri in the room, but with Shinobu they didn't dare.
Kyojuro slid down comfortably in between Mitsuri and Sanemi, holding a can of Diet Coke for her. "It's alright. They are just glad to see you both have made such fast friends," he whispered in her ear.
She beamed at him; Kyo always knew exactly what to say.
Mitsuri snuggled close into his side with a chirp of gratitude just as Sanemi loudly complained about starting the game.
They all tumbled into action, looking to her eyes like nothing more than a pile of puppies. She let the boys play, keeping a safe perch away on the couch, nursing her soda and serving as scorekeeper and spinner. It was worth it, if only to see Sanemi's eyes bulge with frustration to get his leg over Tengen's pelvis, which he kept thrusting, to toe the same blue circle that hovered under Kyo's sweating forehead.
She laughed and called out color and appendages as the boys all griped good-humoredly at each other. This went on until a well-timed "moshi moshi'' sounded as Shinobu entered; Giyuu then jerked his head up at her arrival, which caused Kyo, who had been balancing a leg across Giyuu's shoulders, to drop onto the mat and slip on an accumulating sweat puddle, which skidded his heel into the side of Tengen's face, who swore effusively, knocking the back of his head into Sanemi's chin, who also swore and shoved Giyuu to the floor for starting it all the first place. Gravity then intervened for them all. The following scuffle had Shinobu and Mitsuri almost in tears, and Shinobu hadn't even taken her shoes off yet.
To prevent a potential actual brawl, Mitsuri reminded them all of the drinks they had waiting for them in the kitchen.
"You would think they were twelve," Shinobu murmured privately with glee, following Mitsuri to her room. (A bandaid had been requested for Sanemi's chin.)
Mitsuri shrugged and laughed, digging through her vanity's junk drawer. "True. Hard to believe they pass themselves off as gym bros."
"Hey!" came a wild cry from the kitchen. "We are an elite fighting squad, ready to slay at a moment's notice!"
"Yeah!" Tengen chimed in. "These muscles are sculpted works of functional art!"
Mitsuri laughed some more as Shinobu zipped out to the main room to give him a piece of her mind, taking her time finding ointment and a bandage.
Once Sanemi was properly cleaned up and Tengen had been given a Shinobu Special dressing down, a new game started up.
It was decided Kyojuro, Giyuu, Shinobu, and Mitsuri would play, Sanemi electing to sit this one out because of his chin and bad attitude, and Tengen being forced to play scorekeeper due to his potential for pelvic nonsense and lewd comments. The lewdness they couldn't do much about, but this would hopefully curb any further thrusting; Shinobu flatly refused to allow an oversized dong she wasn't going to put in her mouth near her face, even when clothed.
Mitsuri, having polished off her Diet Coke and swallowed two more shots of vodka, was amazed at how great she felt. She felt loose and warm and giddy, ebullient to be playing games and having fun with her friends. The only thing that would make it better was…
"Okay babes, let's see you all get sexy!" A scowl from Shinobu shot Tengen's way as he flicked the spinner. "Rengoku! Left foot green!"
Kyojuro, not to be outdone in having a good time, was starting this game with a full mixed drink in his hand.
"The beautiful Kanroji! Right foot red!"
She giggled and snagged the corner across from Kyojuro.
Shinobu and Giyuu circled awkwardly around each other and Kyo had to move his right hand to yellow, Sanemi providing commentary as if he were a sports announcer all the while.
"Mitsuri! Left foot red!"
And on they went, Shinobu and Giyuu's legs starting to tangle and Kyo's arm getting mixed up in it. He still held his drink aloft, and every few seconds he would twist his head and lips uncomfortably for another sip.
"Mitsuri!" A twinkle appeared in Tengen's eye. "Right hand greeeeeeeeeen."
Crap. Mitsuri had stuck herself facing away from the mat, and green was the furthest color from her. She eyed Shinobu and Giyuu almost smiling at each other, with little "you move"s and "no way"s leaking snidely between them.
Not sure if she was still able to do it but willing to try, Mitsuri counted on the three shots she had taken, bent backward, and reached.
She was surprised. It was still as easy as ever.
"And can you believe it, Kanroji has surprised us all with a backbend out of nowhere, perfectly reaching her green circle! The crowd goes wild!" Sanemi cried, having snagged Tengen's favorite rhinestone keychain as his microphone.
Tengen immediately launched into a monologue, caught between disbelief and attraction. "How are you doing that! Where'd you learn something so hot!"
Giyuu and Shinobu, both now finding themselves under the arch of Mitsuri's spine, sent up complaints that she was going to make them lose the game. Kyo laughed, only marginally caught under her bridge. He moved to 'cheers' her free hand with his cup.
Mitsuri could hardly believe it. She hadn't tried any of her old tricks in years. And here she was, in a one-handed backbend, still as flexible as ever.
Her hair hung down, long and curling; even her bangs fell away from her forehead. She felt open, even giddier than before. This feeling she had been missing. He had said she'd had to quit all of her favorite activities, said they took up too much time. She hadn't even thought...hadn't even known she'd missed them. Mitsuri, in that moment, felt more strong and beautiful than she had in years.
She couldn't help but beam with delight.
And then, Obanai opened the door.