Burning the Midnight Oil

Chapter 2

Pump The Brakes

~Futaro~

"WAKE UP UESUGI!"

Danger! Danger! All senses on full alert! Coal to the fires, boys, we're under attack! Dive! Dive! Di-oh it's Yotsuba.

"That's better! You looked like Saigo Takanari after the gatling guns in the Setsuna Rebellion!"

"That was...mostly wrong."

"Yes! Progress!"

"Why're you wearing a tracksuit?"

"Morning run time! Gotta get the blood flowing to do some learning."

The bathroom door snapped open like a treasure crate and Ichika walked out wearing a towel. Just a towel. "Yotsuba, the tub's all yours."

"Waaah! Ichika, Uesugi's awake. Quick, before he notices!"

"Oh, he's awake?"

"Too late," Futaro glanced away. "I'm surprised you didn't hear us."

"Yeah, Ichika," came the voice that made his blood reverse flow in retreat, "I'm sure it's just an accident."

Ichika laughed nervously, "Er, of course, what else? How about I go change? Yotsuba, it's your turn."

"Just a minute," She turned to Futaro, "Hey, Nino's preparing breakfast. Want to have a bite before you leave, since you're already up?"

"It's because of you that I'm awake."

"Think about it, I'll see you when I get out." She skipped to the bathroom, paused, and turned, "And Uesugi...no peeking."

"Ever hear of locks?"

"It happens a lot around you."

Nino jerked, "What?"

"Don't even start!" Futaro shouted.

Yotsuba shut the door and the lock clicked. Futaro stretched and leaned against the kotatsu. The sound of a spoon clacking against a plastic bowl filled the room as the only other occupant continued her mixing. She wore her purple tracksuit with the jacket wrapped over her hips, her undershirt damp from rain or sweat.

Futaro waited for her to turn around. Of course she'd make the first move, he thought, unless it dealt with studies she seized the initiative like it owed her money.

Minutes passed. She wasn't looking. Had she grown eyes in the back of her-stupid idea. So that was it? She just changed their entire dynamic in an instant, as if it was as simple as changing your outfit? It was too easy, he didn't buy it for a second.

He stood, "Hey, I think I'll head home, I'm late enough as it is."

Nino continued stirring and said, "You sure? There's plenty to spare."

"Yeah, Raiha will be making something by now anyways."

"Alright, get home safe."

That's it? Too suspicious.

"Bring the dishes before you go."

Ah, that's right. The dish settled on the table was crowned with crumbs and cream, all the remnants of Nino's delicacy. Ah, their manager would loved to have seen it. Maybe he should have saved a sliver. Wait, he'd considered it last night, right after his first bite. For some reason it hadn't seemed like a good idea at the time. He couldn't remember why.

He picked it up and placed it in the sink. "Do you have a-"

"I'll take care of it with the rest."

Was she trying to speed this up? Fine, whatever. He could live with that. "I'll be off then. Thanks for having me." He put on his shoes and reached for the door. Only he remembered, she did go through the effort to prepare the tart for him. It'd be rude to leave without saying something. He turned, "Hey, Nino."

She looked up at him like a poker player hiding her bluff, "What?"

He gave her a thumbs up, "It was delicious. Thanks."

"I'm glad," she said as she deftly grabbed her bowl and turned away, pouring the first pancake into the skillet. She escaped!

Futaro scowled and swiftly entered the chill of early spring morning. The bitterness nipped at his cheeks on the long walk home, but inside he felt warm like the flames of Prometheus descending from Olympus.

Nino! Nino, always Nino! He wanted to grab a dictionary and replace the definition of frustration with Nino! Why couldn't she be a normal person and settle on what kind of relationship she wanted instead of bouncing all across the emotional spectrum? No, bouncing wasn't the right word. She bought a one-way plane ticket from bitter loathing to utter infatuation in the time it took to blink! And last night she booked an overnight train straight to absolute ambivalence!

Why couldn't she choose an emotional state and stick with it? At least then he could adapt. Hatred? Fine! He'd bring a carrot and stick to make her study until her eyes were white as a flag of surrender. Perfect neutral? Also fine! He'd convince her sisters to drag her to graduation. As for 'love', he admitted that was a challenge. He'd have to play it carefully until she came to her senses and hastily killed off her silly infatuation.

But all three? That was a game of Russian roulette. He wasn't ready to die yet.

"I'm home," he grumbled and stepped through the door.

"Brother, you're home!" Raiha threw herself into a hug. Futaro blinked and remembered to return it. She smelled of conditioner and cooking oil.

"Hey sis, morning. What's that I smell?"

"Brunch!"

"Oh? What'd you make today?"

"I made something new: curry-ritto!"

"Ah, fusion food. Such a masterful chef."

He took off his shoes and sat at the table. His father greeted him, "Hey there Futaro! You're just in time to eat. How was your time at the Nakano's?"

There was a pause.

"Daddy, did it get colder all of a sudden?"

"Can't be, I paid the electric bill this month."

Futaro said, "I only studied a fraction that I would have here or at the library. So much wasted opportunity."

His father gleaned, "Oh? Were the girls distracting?"

"I'm going to stop you there. If they're not studying, they're causing trouble. I'd much rather have come straight home than try to accomplish anything with those five."

His father frowned, looking concerned, "Futaro, you are the only teenage boy in the country who can be surrounded by five beautiful young ladies and hate it."

Futaro scoffed and said to Raiha, "Dad's going off again, sis."

"No, he's right. You're weird."

"Et tu, Raiha?"

"What's that mean?"

Their father slammed his hand on the table, "As your father I can only be concerned that my only son has never felt the flame of romantic desire! Or perhaps..." he paused, then looked steadily at Futaro, "Or perhaps you have, just not for women…my son, is there anything you want to tell me?"

"Oh no. We're not going there."

"I want you to know that no matter what secrets you hide, I am still your father and you will always be my son."

"Raiha, this is getting serious. Why don't you wait in the bathroom."

"Raiha stays. There are no secrets among family."

"Yeah! No secrets!"

"So I'm supposed to share my secret now? Is that it?"

"Yes, my boy, and know that I will love you no matter what you choose to love!"

"Dad, I'm not gay."

"What?"

"I said I'm not gay."

"Who said anything about being gay?"

"Huh? But you were implying..."

"I meant books, Futaro. You're a complete bibliophile."

"Oh I get it. That doesn't mean what you think it means, dad."

Raiha said, "Why not? It goes with zoophilia, necrophilia, pedophilia-"

Futaro gasped, "Raiha, how do you know such things?"

"How do you?" She shot back.

"I...read about them in a medical book."

Father shouted, "See? It's always back to books!"

"Okay, wait. Bibliophilia is not like the other philias. It means I like books, not really like books."

Father huffed, "Scientists need to make such important terms clear, and easy to understand."

"Can we get back to how Raiha knows these things?"

Raiha changed the subject, "Brother, he's got a point. I've seen those girls with their hands all over you and you hated it. Aren't guys supposed to like that kind of thing?"

Where was she getting these ideas? "I'm not like most guys."

Raiha asked, "How? What's your philia?"

"Women! Happy? My brain is wired to like women! Can we drop it now?"

Father said, "We'll have to take your word, since I've never seen you express interest to anything that isn't printed."

"Because there's nothing to express. I understand now what people see in love, but I still have no interest in finding it, it's a distraction and a waste of time. Yes, my brain likes girls. I could appreciate a beautiful woman as easily as the next guy, but that desire is primitive and I've worked to overcome it, because knowing those weaknesses and ignoring them is power. It's all distractions leftover from our time in the wilds. But now we can pursue the higher pleasures, and I can only practice them if I ignore unproductive lesser urges."

Father frowned, "And what about us? Are you telling me you don't love sweet Raiha and your dear old dad?"

Raiha whined, "Yeah, brother, don't you love us?"

"Family is the exception. You are the one thing I hold closely. Everything else is unnecessary."

Father nodded and rested his head in his hand, "Maybe so, Futaro, but most of the folks who wrote those heavy books you love, they didn't ignore those primitive urges. Many embraced them, and it made them who they were."

"That's why I'll be better, I'll give myself wholly to academics and sharpen my mind to a razor's edge of intellect."

"My boy, still so naive." He smiled when he saw how it pissed Futaro off, "You still have a lot to learn."

Futaro didn't listen. He hated when his father waxed childishly, like he was the narrator of a children's story. Only he wasn't a child anymore and was past believing silly things.

"Thank you for the meal!" Father and Raiha said in unison. Futaro look up, somehow these two had found moments to clean their plates while talking. He grabbed his own curry-ritto and took a bite.

Ah, it's gone cold.

~Futaro~

Weekend study session round two!

He arrived at the Nakano apartment armed as a man ready for war. Texts, citations, worksheets galore! He'd drag these girls to academic success if it killed him, which, given past experience, it just might!

"It's unlocked, come in," someone said when he knocked. He gripped his backpack and stepped into the apartment like a gladiator into the roaring arena. Only instead of armored Goliaths and roaring lions, there were five girls chatting at the kotatsu. They'd appear tame if he didn't know better, and he knew much, much better. He recognized the menace hidden in those eyes.

Itsuki looked flustered, "Ah, you're already here! Just a minute, I almost finished the last of my homework." She sounded worried. Did she think he was going to scold her again? It was only Saturday afternoon, he couldn't expect miracles.

Miku went to the kitchen and brought a plate to the table. "I made an early dinner, I thought you'd be hungry."

He sat down, "Yakisoba, huh? Thanks Miku." She took a seat and watched his plate. He asked the others, "Isn't anyone else going to eat?"

Ichika said, too quickly, "Oh no, we had a huge lunch! We're fine!"

Itsuki patted her stomach mournfully, "Yeah, all good…"

Miku said, "It wasn't that much."

The sound of pencil marking paper caught his ear. He noticed Nino plucking down numbers on one of the extra geometry worksheets he'd left yesterday. His eyes followed the trail of numbers like a pilgrim on the holy road to Jerusalem. The pencil stopped and Nino looked up, "What are you looking at?"

He pointed, "Check this one and tell me where you went wrong."

She did, and said, "I don't see any mistakes."

"What's the Pythagorean theorem?"

"It's a plus b equals c."

"Wrong, a squared plus b squared equals c squared."

She checked her work again, then vigorously eradicated her error with her blunted eraser.

Yotsuba chimed, "Squared? That means putting it in a box, right?" Futaro's death glare barely dampened her spirits, "Hey hey, settle down. Kidding...but can you go over that again please?"

Futaro sighed, "I guess we're starting with math today."

From math came science and reviewing the periodic table, where he reminded Ichika that moles were a unit of measurement as well as the English term for the mammal. From there they arrived at Japanese where Futaro had prepared a lesson tying in with English vocabulary, and finally ending with a brief recap of the Meiji period. And then he dropped the bombs.

"A pop quiz!?" Itsuki screamed.

"Futaro, you're too cruel," Miku said.

Futaro grinned, "Settle down, if you paid attention this past week you should have no trouble."

Yotsuba looked ready to cry, "Uesugi, you traitor! I trusted you!"

Nino glared daggers at him for an instant, then shook it off and took the quiz. "Let's get this over with." The rest looked to Nino, then resigned themselves to their torment. The quintuplets were predictable, topple one and the rest will fall like dominoes in a row.

He accepted the quizzes one by one, the paper heavy as bowling balls in their hands as they handed them over. He piled them up and broke out his trusty red pen, the second one he'd ever owned after the first gave the last of its lifeblood for their holy crusade of knowledge. Who actually used up a red pen? Whoever taught these five, that's who.

Ichika looked at the clock and said, "It's already half past nine. Why don't we call it a night?"

Futaro's hand deftly arced his pen in grim check marks and circles, mercilessly tearing apart their progress like a beach bully knocking down childrens' sand castles. He didn't care if they saw him as overly strict. He was, but he wasn't cruel. He would illuminate every alley of ignorance and drag them through it to make them grow.

He paused, that analogy went somewhere awful.

He said, "I'll leave these here, review them in the morning and prepare for a make-up test on Monday."

Itsuki moaned, "There goes our Sunday."

"It's going to be the exact same test. I'm giving you the answers."

Ichika smiled, "You still believe in us. How generous of you." She stood, "We'll just be getting ready for bed. Feel free to make yourself at home."

"Bring me your textbooks before you leave."

"Which ones?"

"All of them."

Most men would be aware of the rotating beautiful women bathing in their general vicinity. Futaro knew only his work. He recalled what his dad said earlier and scoffed, what exactly was he supposed to be missing? The door was closed so there was nothing to see, all that changed was the occasional splash of water and a scent of flowery shampoo. He supposed the male mind could take these small stimuli and craft them into something more substantial. The mind is such a powerful, wonderful tool, and he refused to squander it on something so frivolous.

He finished marking the tests. They made his pride bleed, they somehow managed to score worse than last week. But he had a plan! He took out his reference sheet and wrote in a page number next to each wrong answer. He didn't give them the answer, that would be too easy for them. They needed to be engaged. Next he gathered their textbooks and began the laborious process of leafing through each one, using his reference sheet as a guide, and marking each page with the answers with a thin sticky note. The tiny yellow notes looked like fields of wheat when he closed each book.

He was halfway through Yotsuba's history book when Miku plopped down next to him. He turned, "Miku? Something wrong?"

Her blank eyes were like black holes dragging him in, "Futaro, there's something I need to say."

"What is it, Miku?"

"I..." she glanced away, then back to him, "I don't want to be hopeless. I don't want to stay the same. So, please don't give up on us."

"Would I still be here if I could? We're not stopping unless you say so."

Miku nodded, "Thank you." She paused and struggled to bring her words, "Are you going to be much longer? You can stay here again if you can't make it home."

"I won't be much longer. Are you going to bed?" She nodded, and he continued, "Get some rest then. Mind if I see myself out?"

She shifted, "I can stay here until you're done. If you want company."

"It'd be better if you got an early start tomorrow, otherwise you won't have time to do anything but review." He glanced at her, "You do intend to review, right?"

"I will."

"Good, I'll look forward to the results on Monday."

That's funny, did she look upset? He couldn't tell, she rarely expressed anything. She got up and said, "Goodnight."

"'Night."

Back to the grind. He moved on to Nino's, moving quickly through her English text and on to Japanese.

Water splashed in the kitchen sink. He glanced past his shoulder and found Nino rinsing the skillet. "Do you always get stuck with the chores?" he asked.

"Huh?"

"I asked are you the only one that does chores?"

"I've been doing this for years." She said as she began furiously scrubbing the burned pan. Miku burned it with the yakisoba. He watched her work for a minute and not once did her eyes leave her work. She'd hardly made eye contact with him all night. Such a rapid shift unsettled him like a red check mark on his homework.

He finished Nino's books and laid them aside, placing her test on top. "This one's yours. Want to take a look?"

"Do you ever take a break?"

"Sure, I brought my chemistry flash cards in case I have downtime."

"You're not kidding, are you?"

"No."

She eyed him suspiciously, "How about you take a break that doesn't involve reading? Too much reading leads to eye strain, right?"

"Like what?"

"Resting? Watching TV?"

"TV is supposed to help my eyes?"

"It's something different."

He considered this, then said, "Alright, why not." He reached for the remote, then paused. He didn't like the idea of Nino at his back the entire night, especially not when he had no idea what she was up to. But he could take this as a chance! He could use this to figure out what was going on in that head of hers!

"What, never worked a TV before?"

He mused, "Hey, you wanna join me?"

"What?" she asked, her voice rising.

"You could use a break too."

He let her think that over and switched on the TV. He found his usual channel and turned to see Nino setting the skillet in the sink to soak and removing her pink rubber gloves. She sat beside him a body away and asked, "What're you watching?"

"Documentary channel."

"Of course," she sighed.

"Got something else in mind?"

She pulled out her phone and said, "It's fine."

He frowned and turned back to the documentary, a late-night special on Japan's seafaring history. This sort of programming's target audience consisted of three distinct persons: academics, history buffs, and shut-ins with limited cable packages. Nino was none of these. Futaro glanced at her, she was glued to her phone.

So she hated the show, which logically meant she was here for him. No people, no distractions, at least none she couldn't tear him away from if she tried. So why did the minutes tick by empty of sound that wasn't from the TV or Nino's phone? The question remained.

There was an obvious answer: she'd been genuine last night. He rejected it immediately. She may have meant well, but Nino was stubborn as a bull mid-charge and nothing could stop all that momentum at once. It had to be a tactic, like an army feinting withdrawal to lure their foes into a flanking cavalry charge. So where was it? He felt like he was reviewing a twenty-step equation and couldn't find where he forgot to carry the three.

He needed more data, and it was coming too slowly from a passive stance. He needed a catalyst, something to trigger the expected reaction and validate his hypothesis.

He grabbed Nino's books and said, "Come here, I want you to look at this."

Nino looked up, "Aren't we on break?"

"It won't take long."

She scooted a bit closer as he opened her math text to the first sticky. Most of her math errors can be attributed to key misunderstandings of core formulas. The faster she ironed out the wrinkles she'd see her score improve by double-digits. He led her through the fourth formula when his mouth stretched into a long yawn that, just when he thought it would end, gained a second life and kept coming.

Nino frowned, "You didn't sleep last night?"

"What makes you say that?" he said, then coughed as the yawn loosened something hard in his throat.

"My tart was still there when I went to bed."

He coughed again and patted his chest and turned to find Nino had disappeared. She returned a moment later with a glass of ice water. "For the cough," she said. He took it, the cold soothing his throat on the way down.

Nino sat and asked, "I bet you did nothing but study when you got home."

"And prepare today's lesson."

"You need to get out more, there's more to life than book learning."

"I know that," he said, then something inside him ignited. There it was! The hook! Nino the fisherwoman had cast her line into the suspecting sea and was ready to reel in her catch! Mind you, she chose horrible bait. The last thing he needed to be doing with his day was...huh. Nino was grinning, as if she'd already won! What did she know? What did he miss? Darn this woman! It was like playing chess against a computer playing checkers!

Wait, no, there it was. He knew this feeling. What did he do to deserve it this time…

~Nino~

She took Futaro's shoulders as he slackened like a bundle of meat in a plastic bag, guiding his fall from an avalanche to a feather-fall. His head fell into her lap, he looked up at her through heavy eyes, pretty eyes, and asked, "Nino…?"

"Goodnight, Fuu," she said as the weight became too much for his eyes to bear. She moved the hair away from his eyes as Futaro forcefully entered a blissful slumber. If only she'd been given this chance a week ago. But her stars were twinkling just shy of aligning. She'd push them into position one day. But not now, today's victory was an obstacle course in itself, but one she could feel satisfied with. Futaro was finally getting some proper sleep.

She lifted his head and removed herself, replacing it with a spare pillow. She covered him with the comforter and felt complete in a job well done. Time to wrap up tonight's chores and get some rest herself.

And then she noticed the books. Four neat stacks around the kotatsu punctured with dozens of sticky notes, and one lonely pile devoid of attention. The bite marks on the pencil near them were her clue that they were Itsuki's.

She sighed, maybe she should have let him finish before knocking him out. But no going back now, and this was her fault after all. She grabbed Futaro's reference sheet and used her own textbooks as an example, following Futaro's pattern as best he could to complete the last of his work.

There are parts of a teacher's job the student never understands. Their place looking forward offers them a limited perspective of what goes on behind the desk. They never see the drawers full of half-baked exercises and shorthand teachers use to make their job look easy. In acting as Futaro's proxy, Nino took a peek at what goes on behind the desk, and into the hours of effort she had never known.

It took her over half an hour to finish Itsuki's texts, over twice as long as Futaro would have taken, but she got it done. She piled them neatly with the others and stretched her back. It popped like an air gun and she checked to see if it woke Futaro, but he slept on like a...well, like a man on drugs, when she thought about it.

She slid out her chore list and checked the clock. Nearly midnight, and still so much to do. She looked up and the world appeared blurry, she rubbed her eyes and sighed, snatching back her focus. This place wouldn't clean itself.

A/N

My intention is to update this story once a week as consecutively as I am able. Most chapters should be around 3-6 thousand words, so I think this is feasible, at least for a time while inspiration is hot.

I have an outline for this story, and by my estimates this work will be around 25-30 chapters of approximately this length. This is not a promise, merely a best guess going off of what I have planned, but things can change, stories and characters can drag me in new directions I wasn't expecting.

Thank you to everyone who's encouraged me thus far, please continue supporting this story as it progresses.

Chapter posted March 14th, 2019