Chapter 72c: The Origin of Smoke
I would slip my hand affectionately over her cheek like I always do.
Trail my fingers over her jaw towards her ear.
She'd be smiling all contently like she used to do back then.
My fingertips would gently curve around her earlobe.
Soft little touches that are our brand of 'sibling affectionate'.
But they are also touches that betray nothing of my real aim.
Her earlobe is as gentle and soft as the most tender bit of a drumstick.
And then... I'd gently grab it.
Squeeze it.
Firmly.
Unbiddingly.
Pin it inbetween my fingers so there's no more escape.
Her lip would come to quiver as the truth sets in, but I would steel my heart to it.
I'd turn my head away as I drag her along, her whimpering audible.
We would reach the bath tub that is still filling up in anticipation of this glorious moment.
Tears would muddy the clarity of her eyes, and that is where I'd risk floudering.
That wouldn't be good.
I have to pull on her earlobe. Maintain the grip. Not let her squirm away.
'No, you don't get to change.'
'Yes, it is happening.'
'You should have thought of that before you did it.'
Our eyes would have a silent conversation, just like that, to the music of the clattering stream of water impacting the surface it lands on.
I'd ever so surely force her in.
It is after all my responsibility.
But also a release. A secret joy. A hidden pleasure.
"It is your own fault." is what my eyes would say.
She would plead in sheer panic, but she would also know she deserves it.
Then, finally, those pink sneakers cannot make up for the misplaced center of mass any longer.
The balance would be gone...
And she would tumble...
...
As I splash the cold water onto my face, I let my hands hit my face unnecessarily firmly.
Come on, my dear sensibilities. Return to me.
What the hell am I thinking about, anyway? This sort of thinking gets awkwardly close to sadism, doesn't it? And about Setsuka of all people? Fookin' hell.
As I grab the towel from besides the basin and dry my face, the realization hits me.
I don't even know what her expression would be.
Not at that very last moment. That moment where she knows it is inevitable.
Bah. It would probably be just as cute as all the other ones I already know.
It has to be. Puppies can't be not cute, and similarly, Setsuka can't be not cute, either.
Some rational part of me still wants to reason that she's going to grow up and eventually lose that cuteness... but now I don't know anymore.
Hell. That reminds me: just the other day, she sketched that super-ugly dog that won the ugliest dog competition. Then she came to show it off in an attempt to fish for a compliment and appease me to make up for that fucking stunt she pulled last week.
Frankly, all I could think about was how disturbing it is that someone so cute can recreate something that is so ugly that the dictionary lacks words for it, and yet be blissfully unaware how weird that is. Just... ugh.
She'll grow out of this cute phase. She just has to, right?
Perhaps it is a case of the weeds looking wonderful next to a slab of concrete. Her cuteness has got to be on the decline as she grows older, but I just can't tell because she's drawing such weird things nowadays as opposed to folding frogs and swans and cranes.
I casually glance towards the clock as I move to get my things, and my heart jumps a bit. It's that late already? Fuck. Her school is going to let out in forty minutes, and I still have to ride the bus there!
After quickly slipping on some clean clothes and my jacket, I swing my bag with those dirty workout clothes over my shoulder with a natural grimace as a consequence. Nevertheless, I leave the dressing room and head towards the exit of the gym, trying to pick up the pace.
I've got to rush if I don't want to be late, but the pain makes it little more than an awkward hobble. But as long as I keep moving, it'll become bearable. Just got to keep going.
Agreeing to study under Tovi is a fucking nightmare I shouldn't have agreed to. It's always the stick with him, never the carrot. Just the stick, the stick, the stick!
Has nobody ever told the fucker there's such a thing as fucking exercise where you do not hurt all over at the end of it? The goal is to be fit, not to be resistant to bouts of professional torture! Damn it!
As the sliding doors part in front of me like the waters did for Moses, the air out the in and the out mix. The stuffy air that's filled with sweat and stink lessens, making way for the more liberating scents of the outside: freshly cut grass, gasoline fumes and cigarette smoke.
Ugh. They've always got to do it right at the entrance, don't they? As if ten steps further is such an unacceptable price to pay to keep that unhealthy habit away from others. But there's no excuse right now!
It is May: summer is right around the corner. The British weather is uncharacteristically dry today, too. The temperature is utterly devoid of wintery aftertastes, and the gentle breeze is just the cherry on top to make it perfect!
So why stink up a perfectly fine entrance?!
I send an annoyed glance to the side of the building to see what culprit is so inconsiderate, but that simple look gets me far more than I ever bargained for.
"Cain?! Fuck! What the hell are you doing here?!"
Fuck. Of all the people to run into, I had to run into her!
"Oh, uh... Hey there, Jenny..?"