Burning the Midnight Oil
Chapter 7
Breakthrough
~Futaro~
He was going the wrong way. The road home from the cake shop was two blocks west, five blocks north and a lock and key away. Instead he turned east and followed the river north until he reached a familiar destination. Each step was the promise of another finding his way back to his futon. Each step was another moment spent not studying, another moment not sleeping. And yet he persisted, something had become more important.
Those five would be finished with his assignment at this hour, meaning Nino has seen his question. A patient man would wait to tomorrow to check their answers. In any other week, Futaro would have been that paragon. But not this one, and not tonight. Tonight he would have his answer and put everything to rest. The knowing will set his mind free.
He stopped outside their home and saw the incandescent window on the second story. Only one of the girls would be up at this hour, he had no doubt who. What would she say when she answered the door? He was through guessing, the woman was his game of chance where the odds were never in his favor. But he knew his every action like he were a chess Grandmaster arranging his pieces twelve steps ahead. All he had to do was get himself inside, ignoring her insinuations as needed, and find her paper. He'd see her answer before the night was done, that was all that mattered. Then things could settle; manageable or not, they would settle. He'd deal with whatever was left.
His plan was thrown out the metaphorical window when he found the door open. Not like the gates of Troy after Odysseus's deception, but just barely shy of its lock jamb after someone sloppily pulled it shut without checking for a click. The gentlest pull would set it free.
He knocked softly enough to keep the door in place. No response. He gently grasped the handle and opened the door so a sliver of light shone through like the heavens after a storm. He called, "Hello? Anyone there?" The soft, warm air flowing through the crack was inviting and empty of sound.
Futaro knew the home was a sacred place, especially for these five, and moreso for Nino. His presence inside was a hard-won accomplishment, and that was with an invitation. To enter unannounced was asking for fury. On any other night he might have walked away, respecting their established boundaries. Tonight he was desperate, and something didn't fit right with him. Here was another puzzle he wanted to solve.
He peeked inside, "It's me, ah, the door was open, I'm coming in." He stepped into the entryway and removed his shoes. Here he spotted his second clue: the trail of muddy steps passing the single step into the hall and heading for the kitchen, and doubling back to the bathroom. Futaro took off his shoes and carefully avoided the mud by hugging the wall. Just before the bathroom he spotted clue number three: dirty dishes in the kitchen. Nino would never leave the kitchen in such a state, meaning she hasn't turned in yet.
Clue one: door, clue two: mud, clue three: dishes. There were simple explanations for these anomalies and a few extreme ones. Futaro's mind naturally jumped to the most implausible and disturbing of them. It would only last an instant before rational thought deafened his eagerness, but in that moment he was filled with a need to act, and the courage to do it. He didn't think, his body moved to the bathroom like a flash of lightning in the night.
"Nino, are you-!" He stopped and the moment died.
Nino was curled in a ball against the tub. Two ladies flats, coated with mud, were lying between them. All urgency died like someone casually flicked its switch. Futaro sighed, then he wondered how she hadn't heard him. She must be asleep. Why was she sleeping like she was trapped in a box?
He knelt in front of her and gently shook her shoulder and wondered how furious she'd be with him for entering uninvited. She loved him, but he was sure she loved her home more. He said, "Nino, wake up."
He expected her head to shoot up like a rocket, blink away her confusion, and scowl at his disturbance. Instead she shrank further into herself, tightening like a can imploding in the deepest crevice in the ocean. She held herself like she wanted to crush herself smaller, so small that she might disappear.
"Nino?" Futaro asked, leaning down to see her face between her knees. Her eyes were open and nothing like the girl he remembered, they were puffy and red as if from heavy blows, her makeup scarred by tears that had run dry. And within their drained basin he saw those dark circles closing in around her eyes like a castle under siege, a castle who's queen was ready to submit. Nino, confident and indominable, had once again hopped the spectrum and landed in defeat and despair.
And Futaro suddenly felt insignificant and out of place. He sat beside her and saw the door with two muddy marks, the last clue he needed to fit everything into place. Nino's anguish was like a fog that he breathed, seeping through his lungs into himself. He tried to say something, anything, as if the right words were a magic spell to banish misery, a medicine to purge the body of sorrow. He hearkened back to every fact from every book he's ever read for some answer to the problem he saw. He found nothing, all his dedicated studies gave him nothing here. And for the first time he wished he was more like his father. He would know what to say, what to do to catch her from her sorrow. And if his father couldn't, he would at least do something. But not him. He didn't know.
He glanced at Nino who still refused to move anywhere but into herself. He wondered if she even knew he was here, or if she was shrouded in a veil that shielded her from the world. And suddenly he was angry at her silence. Did she think staying quiet would solve her problems? If only she said something, if she gave him a hint, he could figure this out. He was running on insufficient data! He could solve this if she gave him the rest.
As the thoughts passed, he saw them for what they were and cursed himself. What the hell was he doing? He had the equation, how to draw Nino out of her despair. But if he started blaming the person he was trying to help, wouldn't he only make it worse, like burning down the forest to remove invasive fungi? Maybe his father was right and he'd never face an equation harder to solve than this. But was this even solvable?
But he wanted to do something to make things better. Maybe it wouldn't bring her fully back into the world, but anything was better than nothing, right? He followed the dry trail of tears that looked to have stopped only because the well ran dry.
There. A problem he could solve.
"Stay here, I'll get you some water," he said, standing up with new purpose. He checked Nino as he left, if she knew he was there, she wasn't showing it. She was at woman frozen in time, a slave to whatever fear gripped her mind like a neck in the noose.
Fetching water. A task so simple a child could do it. Somehow it took Futaro a very long time. Not because he didn't know where the glasses were, he did, and he knew where to fetch it, from the filtered tank in the fridge. It was almost empty, the water was a thin surface no taller than a marble. He turned the tab and watched the last of the purified water drain into the glass. He emptied it until there as nothing left. Like Nino.
He'd never noticed, not until the very end. All the signs, her exhaustion, fatigue, the pressures, he missed them all. All he saw was the woman dancing illusion into his life, he tried grabbing her to hold her still, to understand her. And he still missed all of this. He failed. Worse, how much of her pressure was from him? And then he wondered, was this how Nino felt when she saw him that night almost a week ago? Nothing changed, they only switched places.
Futaro had opened the door to his heart just a crack to see what it meant to feel again. He'd felt mostly impatience, anger, and frustration; he was ready to call his little test a failure. But now he felt something new, something he hadn't felt fully in years: shame. Because if even a part of her misery was because of him, maybe even the part that toppled her into depression, he was responsible. Was this how she felt the night of her promise? Responsible?
Futaro almost snapped his heart closed that moment, this confusion he felt was so many feelings swimming in his chest like fish caught in a net. He thought it was a burden, not fuel. But something greater, a memory perhaps, won out as that pressure beat in tune with his heart. This swell of fresh emotion congealed into a desire to do something, however small, to make things better. It was the will to act, and to help. And in this feeling, he realized he'd come closer to understanding Nino than ever before.
So he let his feelings control him and bring him closer to his answer. He felt that amalgamation burning in his chest, and from there flooding his veins with every heartbeat, filling him with a second wind. He took the water filter from the fridge and refilled it in the sink. His arms groaned under the weight as he returned it to the fridge, but they'd have clean water in the morning. One less weight for Nino to lift. Then he grabbed an armful of rags from under the sink and wiped up the mud at the entrance, the hallway, and from the kitchen leading to the bathroom. He took away the mark of her mistake so she wouldn't have to face it again.
He took her water and another handful of rags into the bathroom. Nino still hadn't moved, if anything she looked smaller like she was fading into the distance. He knelt beside her and took her hand, it came with him lifeless as a corpse, he set the water on the floor and wrapped her hand around it. He wondered if the cold made her feel anything, or if she was still trapped in her mind as a spirit on another plane. He didn't wait for her to respond, he hoped she'd wake up on her own. He took the rags and turned to clean the door.
"Wait!"
Nino burst from her spot by the tub and was on him in an instant, grabbing the rags and pushing him aside. "I'll do it."
"Nino, you-"
"I," she started, then breathed, "I'm doing it. It's my job."
Nino clenched a rag and ripped it over the door as if to bore a hole through it. She scrubbed the door clear of drying mud and moved onto the floor, working her way back to the toilet and tub. All the time she kept her head down, her face almost pressed to her work. Her face was hidden in a veil of hair. Futaro realized she wasn't doing this in focus, but so he wouldn't see her. For when he saw her eyes through her shifting locks she saw the emptiness in them, the hopeless desperation that fixing this would fix everything else with it, but knowing deep down that it didn't matter anymore. She saw this inescapable truth she could no longer ignore.
She gathered the rags and opened the door, pausing when she saw the clean floors. Futaro said, "I already cleaned there." Nino's shoulders shifted in barely controlled breaths. Someone had seen her private shame and she could never deny its existence again. Futaro knew it being him only made it worse. Nino wiped the sweat forming at her brow, then stormed to the washing machine and threw the dirty rags inside like a pitcher's fastball.
As she worked Futaro checked the water in the bath. It was well below lukewarm. The rushing inside his chest pumped through his arms and made him move. He drained half the tub and ran the hot water to restore its temperature. Nino asked from the hall, "What are you doing?"
"Drawing a warm bath."
"Why?"
"You're sweaty, you need to get ready for bed."
"I'm not done yet."
No, he saw the dishes and the cleaning caddy. So much left to do. But not tonight. He said, "Yes, you are."
"Why are you even here? Just go." She said with as much venom as she could muster to push him away, which wasn't much, her fangs were dry as her eyes. Her emptiness made the pressure inside him swell like a river frothing as the winter snow began to melt.
He stepped outside as Nino set the washer. She tried to storm past him with her head down like a charging bull, but Futaro caught her shoulders. "Look at me," he said slowly. She resisted, but he made her look. And when their eyes met she tried, oh she tried to be strong. Her expression was shattered glass in the light.
Futaro said, "Go. I'll be outside."
Whether she agreed with him or the fuel to her fire was merely spent, she slowly entered the bathroom like a prisoner to her cell. Futaro settled beside the door. He left it open a crack in case he heard something strange. He didn't think Nino would do anything rash, but he'd read stories of people literally drowning their despair to quell it, and his own fear insisted he be aware of her. He heard the water shift as she entered like the soft opening to an orchestra.
Minutes passed in silence. Futaro could have used this time for analysis, to assemble these new pieces into a more cohesive whole. But his mind was empty, almost zen as he waited for the next stage. He sat at the door like a sentry, a silent guardian. Nino would like that analogy.
"Futaro?"
He shifted, "What?"
"Are you doing anything Wednesday?"
"Where did that come from?"
"I'm not asking you out. I just want to know if you're doing anything with anyone."
"Aside from study hall, no, no plans. Why?"
"No reason." Her voice betrayed her, but hid the details. At least she sounded better, he thought.
Soaking with her thoughts must have been a balm for Nino. When she emerged in her pajamas she almost looked like her old self. Her eyes were alive as if someone added fresh kindling to her embers, but those black crescent moons still held up her eyes like infants in cradles. She moved for the piles of dirty dishes.
"No. Bed." Futaro was firm as an iceberg, he impressed himself.
Nino scowled, "You're not the boss here."
"But I am your tutor, and I want you in top shape tomorrow. Go. I'll see myself out." He felt like such a parent. He wondered if he'd make a good one. A good strict father, the opposite of their grandfather.
Nino narrowed her eyes in defiance, but it was meager compared to the woman in her prime. And she was ashamed at being seen at her most vulnerable. It was worse than that time with the towel, this was more intimate, her deepest failings on open display. She relented and made for the bedroom, glaring at him one final time before she closed the door, as if he was a snitch ratting her out to the cops. Futaro let himself out and pressed the lock bulb before shutting the door. And as he did he felt the swelling in his chest unclench like gloved hands releasing his windpipe.
He started for home and wondered if they had any of Raiha's leftovers in the fridge. From fridges he thought of food, from food to dirty dishes, from dirty dishes to Nino, her face shifted into an absence of hope inside eyes so far away. And suddenly he wasn't heading home anymore. The swelling in his chest that carried his hands to clean breathed again and flushed into his legs. Those feelings his father said were crushed as the soles of his feet now carried him away.
He caught the bus, his mind wandered into empty eyes and tried to find traces of where her fire had gone. He took it two stops, five less than before, then got out and transferred to another line, taking it three stops further. He got off at a familiar bus stop. It looked lonely in the streetlights, its open bench welcoming his company.
He blinked as if waking from a dream. Why had he come here? He tried to recall the train of thought, but he was searching for something that didn't exist, logic hadn't guided his footsteps. He sighed and sat on the bench, then frowned as he realized he needed to cross the street to get home. Double bus fare for nothing. Not that it mattered, the next bus wouldn't be here for a while. Time to think if he could manage it. Only he didn't know where to start.
When had his life become a roller coaster? Had everything before been the slow ascent to the top, only to drop into a wild flurry of curves and whiplash? He bet he couldn't find another tutor dealing with anything of his magnitude, it was like comparing a hike in the woods to climbing K2. What would he give to go back to a simple life with simple worries. Only, that wasn't right.
How many chances did he have to walk away? Too many to count. How many had he taken? Exactly one. And after months of scheming, bargaining and compromising to bring them to the table, they sacrificed a lifestyle to keep him there. And he couldn't reject them, even when money was taken out of the equation, he stayed. Because in spite of all the headaches and frustration, he found a place where he was relied on, where he was important. And these five had become important to him too. Ichika's developing career while bettering herself was important to him. Miku's growing love of history and stories was important to him. Yotsuba's slow, steady crawl from zero to one hundred was important to him. Itsuki's dream of standing in his shoes one day was important to him. And Nino.
His father's questions flashed through his mind: what is this girl to you? And what do you want her to be? Why were those questions so important, and why had his father brought him here to answer them? Because his mom had an epiphany on this very bench? Was it supposed to be a magic bench? Was here the spring feeding the roots of Yggdrasil? Did a doctor's expertise come from his scrubs, or a king's decrees from his regalia?
It was silly. And it was even sillier to think that he was in the same place as his mother all those years ago. Even if the wood was mostly the same, this were not the same space. The world endlessly revolved around the sun, which itself circled the galactic core, a community of stars endlessly drifting through the void. That point in space-time was a million light years away. What good was it to pretend this was the same spot? Why should a bit of dead wood and concrete hold any meaning?
Ah, there it is again. That cold logic that guided him like a GPS not caring there was a mountain in the way. He wanted to set it aside for a moment and ask himself, what did he want to feel? He sat on the bench and imagined himself embodying the same space as his mother with the same questions running through his mind. Could he leave here with an answer, like her?
He used to be his mother's son, before she got sick. It was only after seeing his father's strength in her illness that he began idolizing him, but before that it was her. His mother with her kindness and her loving heart that fed him and made him grow tall. He'd forgotten these things over time as new goals and desires buried them like dirt under grass. But they were still there, his foundation. He remembered, and he was still her son. So he felt her there, sitting beside him, and he asked himself, he asked her, what did this girl mean to him?
A bus came, then another, and another. The line continued to run and still he sat, wondering and wandering in place. Time seemed to stand still on that bench, as if it were holding itself back, giving him an eternity to find his answer. And there beside him was his mother, trapped in time, waiting to help her son.
One bus stopped by and opened its door to him. He ignored it like the rest, but the driver asked, "Are you getting on?"
"Not yet."
"This is the last bus tonight, kid."
"I'm not going."
"Alright, stay warm." He closed the door and drove off.
Nino Nakano. Who was she to him? He turned it over and over like a coin expecting to see a different face each time. Partner. Partner, partner partner. He kept coming back to that ubiquitous title that meant nothing. Partner in what? Was their partnership any different from her sisters? And if so, why?
And then he wondered, maybe the question was too far. Maybe he needed to go broader before he could answer it. He shortened the question: who was she?
Nino Nakano. The second daughter. Expert cook. Loving sister. Jealous sister. Romantic. Candid. Hates him. Tolerates him. Loves him.
There were no pieces he could assemble, only pictures in his memory. A thousand moments assembling into a collage of her. He picked them one by one, running them like clips of a movie. He didn't know what he was looking for, only that he would know it when he found it. He remembered her tears outside their apartment, the smile she gave him in the woods, the boldness in her eyes as she confessed, embarrassed but unashamed. There was her defiance as she firmly rejected him from their lives, the firm concentration as she scrubbed her family's dishes, her-.
Wait. Go back. He found something there.
What was special about Nino at work? It wasn't the act of cleaning, he realized, but the look in her eye, the firm concentration and total dedication to her task. That same look was everywhere, but it shone like the north star when she worked for those she loved. It mirrored his own whenever he focused on his studies. Theirs was the same passion that inspired them. And for what purpose? To create a home for the people they loved, to be needed and relied on. Except for him, it was still a dream he was only beginning to live. He studied, he tutored, he found a place to be meaningful to others in teaching. She was relied on now, and for years. She's been living his dream.
And there was his answer, and the revelation broke a dam in his heart, flooding him with mirth and warmth that was like the streetlights coming to life on the darkest night. What was this girl to him? Someone he admired, someone who proved his dream, even shared it and lived it. And suddenly that brash girl didn't seem so far away. He wanted to know why. He wanted to know her.
And then he knew her pain and understood why tonight had torn her apart like an earthquake crumbling cities. The failure to live up to that dream, it haunted him sometimes. But it was still something far away for him, for her it was real. And when faced with proof that she wasn't enough, that she could fail...when she woke up and saw those dishes uncared for, bathroom uncleaned, lunches unprepared, would she feel like a failure again?
No, she wouldn't. Not tomorrow, no, he realized as he checked his watch, not today. This time when he stood he knew where his energy came from. He checked his watch again, half past midnight. The last bus was resting in the depot somewhere in the city limits. How many kilometers was it to home, then back to the Nakano's? Seven stops, plus three more. Two stops from his place to theirs, multiply that by the average distance between stops…
He thought, screw it, and took off.
A generous observer would call his chosen method of transportation 'running', and anyone else might call it a spirited homage to the idea of running. Futaro wouldn't have cared, outside opinion never bothered him before and they wouldn't start now. He had one thing on his mind, and that thought fueled him like gravity fuels a river, giving him the strength to ignore the exhaustion that forever limited him on the track. Mind over matter, he thought proudly.
He'd never returned home so sweaty in his life. He thought of his body as a limitation, a sack of meat necessary to sustain his mind where he truly belonged. Maintaining it above the minimum was wasted mental might. Maybe he should rethink that, he felt like falling apart.
He stepped inside, Raiha and his father were fast asleep. The weights on his eyelids asked to join them, they were refused by his heart like a boss rejecting an employee's raise. He went to the bathroom and pulled out their family cleaning caddy. It had a few major brands inside, along with many homegrown solutions his family had discovered in their years living in run-down apartments. It wasn't Nino's fault she couldn't keep the place spotless, she just didn't have the right tools. Cleaning a luxury condo was nothing like cleaning a slum.
"Hey there, you're home late." he froze, then peeked out from the bathroom. His father was up, sitting on his futon between him and the door. Futaro felt like a burglar in his own home. His father gestured to the caddy and asked, "What're you doing with that?"
"This? Ah..." Futaro began, unsure what he could say, "There's a thing, with the girl, and-"
"Come back safe, grab a coat before you go." His father rolled back into bed without further comment. Futaro couldn't remember loving his father more, and for all the freedom he gave his children. He always trusted them to find their own way.
Love. True, unsolicited love. He could still feel it after all, not just out of familial obligation, but because he was human. Maybe he still had something to learn after all.
He reached into the closet for a coat, choosing the one from his school trip as soon as he saw it, and headed out the door with the caddy in hand. He couldn't run to the Nakano's with it, but he moved as a man with purpose beyond the academic. Something personal.
He had a plan, a plan involving a break in. Nothing violent, a simple picked lock would suffice. He'd never actually picked a lock in his life, but he knew the mechanics, how hard could it be? And yes, technically it was a crime, but it was nothing compared to the triple drugging he'd endured at Nino's hands, he thought as if crimes could cancel each other out. All that was thrown out the window when he saw the lights on inside their home.
How long had she waited after he left? A minute? A second? Was she an automaton that couldn't enter sleep mode until all daily tasking was fulfilled?
He left the caddy next to their door before knocking. He said, "It's me. Again."
Futaro was a man of predictions, and he considered himself more reliable than any prophet because his fortunes were based on cool, confident logic. He expected to see the same struggling, battled girl from the bathroom meekly peeking out the door. But as the door was flung open wide, the one confronting him was unquestioningly Nino, as blunt and decisive as ever. Take away those scars of exhaustion and he'd assume she was having a normal evening. Defeat was nothing more than a speed bump for her. If she tripped and fell, she might cradle her wound for a moment, but she always got back up, just like now, to get the job done. Nothing would keep her down, and she dared fate to try and stop her. Just like he did, he realized.
"What're you doing here?"
"What're you doing out of bed?"
"It's my house!"
"You think I've forgotten?"
"So what? You get lost in a circle?"
"Forgot my wallet again."
"Bull."
"Should be in the kitchen."
Nino glowered, but stepped away to check. Futaro followed her inside, removing his shoes and closing the door as she returned "It's not there."
Futaro reached into his pocket and pulled it out, "Found it."
"You liar!"
"Let's see what you've been up to," he said as he brushed past her so easily it flabbergasted her, as if it were his name on the door and not hers. Dishes were neatly scrubbed and lain out to dry, and the lunch boxes were gone, likely packed and in the fridge. Nino was pulling an all-nighter preparing for the next day, just like he'd done so many times before. How had he never realized how alike they were? Because he'd never opened himself to seeing the signs, as if he were colorblind. Well he could see them now as bright as stars over a ship in the heart of the sea. He hid his briefest smile from her. He'd show her another time.
Nino stormed in front of him to cut him off, poking his chest, "Enough of this. Fess up, what're you doing here?"
He pointed to the clock, "Pop quiz: what's wrong with this picture?"
"You're here," Nino fumed.
"And if you were in bed, I might feel guilty. Are you done?"
"That's none of your business."
"I'm making it my business."
"You don't get to do that!"
"I just did," he pointed to the bedroom, "Go."
She huffed, "No." They glared at each other, and Futaro remembered an old hyperbole about an unstoppable force and an immovable object. He decided he wasn't interested in how that one ended and changed tactics, "Fine, do what you like."
Nino almost glowed, "Good, now get-what are you doing?"
Futaro sat at the kotatsu and assembled their assignments, "Gonna get some work done."
Nino pointed to the door, "Go!" Her mind was too exhausted for complex thoughts, simple commands were all she could handle.
"No."
Nino looked as though he'd struck her. She stomped her foot in frustration and said, "What's with you!? This isn't your house, ass!"
"You opened the door for me. And it's after tutoring hours, so I'm a guest, right?"
Nino's brain was running on fumes as she tried following his logic, he could almost hear her gears grinding without oil. She said, "That…that doesn't-!"
"Face it, neither of us are giving up. So I'm keeping you company until you're done. Got it?"
Nino stared, her mouth working for an answer like a fish gasping for water. Oh how far she'd fallen in her fatigue. On any other day Nino would be dishing out a verbal whipping so harsh it broke the sound barrier. It was amazing that someone who could string together such colorful comebacks could be so bad at Japanese. But tonight her brain was crawling to each period.
Whether out of embarrassment or surrender, Nino headed to the kitchen. Futaro took one of the assignments, he'd been serious, if he was going to be here he might as well get some work done. He glanced over his shoulder and saw Nino filling up two glasses of water. Nothing unusual. Then she took out a small bottle filled with clear liquid, an eyedropper and a vial. She squeezed a stream into the vial until it was half full, then eyed it as if she didn't suck at chemistry, nodded, and poured it into one of the glasses.
Nino was worse than he imagined if she thought she was getting away with that.
She set the glasses on the kotatsu and slumped beside him, "Fine. Guest. So enjoy."
Futaro mused, "Less impressive than your last refreshment."
"Guests shouldn't complain!"
"Students should sleep. Isn't that what you decided last Friday?"
"Hypocrite."
"Do as your tutor says, not as he does." He rubbed his stomach and asked, "But do you have any snacks? I didn't eat after work."
Nino glared at her ungrateful guest, then got up to get him something. Futaro switched the glasses when her back was turned. She brought him an opened package of crackers, the quality of her catering reflecting her mood. "There, happy?"
"Indelibly. Let's drink," he said and raised his glass. Nino returned it mockingly and together they sipped their water.
How she grinned as she set her glass down, like a baleen whale gorging on its catch. "Too easy!"
"I agree," Futaro said, then got up and walked over to the cabinet. Nino's triumph turned to horror as he took the bottle from the cabinet and upended it into the sink. "Good stuff. You snatch this from your dad's office?"
"I...how-"
"We're three to one now, I'm catching up. Not that I intend to go any further."
Nino's mind was running in low gear, but still fast enough to catch his implication. She looked at her glass as a warrior stares at a knife during seppuku. "Oh, you..."
Futaro bolted over as Nino began to fall, catching her before she hit the ground. She looked at him through eyelashes fluttering like butterflies, "Fuu?"
"Goodnight, Nino."
How quickly the tables turned. Victory could have been sweet as Friday's tart, but Futaro wasn't out for vengeance. The weariness and frustration fell away from her face as she fell into forceful sleep, he hoped she slept as peacefully as she looked. He set Nino on the floor and looked around guiltily for a pillow. Not that he should feel any shame, as far as shooting from the hip goes, this plan went off rather well. He searched a nearby cabinet and found the spare blanket and pillow. He turned and saw Nino resting on the floor and Yotsuba peeking through the bedroom door in her pajamas.
Yotsuba looked from Nino, to the glasses, to him, then back to Nino, glasses, him, as if stuck in a loop. She squealed, "Tell me this isn't what it looks like."
Futaro beamed, "Yotsuba, perfect timing! Help me with this!"
Yotsuba almost shrank, "With what?"
"Get her to bed. Can you do that?"
"What? Oh, yeah, is that all?"
"Yes, then go back to bed."
"Why are you here?"
Futaro pointed at Nino, "This."
"Wha-"
"Yotsuba, there's no time to explain. Please just get her to bed. I'll take care of the rest."
No soul could ever fault Yotsuba for selfishness, if anyone in her field of view needed help, she offered her hand, her jacket, and whatever else she had if they asked. And sometimes even before they did.
She picked Nino up like a bride, or a corpse given how her arms dangled, as easily as if she were carrying a kitten. "What're you gonna do?"
"You'll see in the morning," Futaro began, then said, "Yotsuba, can you call me by my first name again?"
She cocked her head, "Futaro?"
This time he didn't feel nothing. It was something he couldn't describe. Maybe emotions were like muscles, he had to strain them to make them grow. "I like it."
Yotsuba stared, then broke into a smile as welcome as a checkered flag at the end of a race, "I'm glad."
"Goodnight Yotsuba. Take care of her, I'll handle the rest."
Yotsuba waved as she closed the bedroom door. Futaro snatched his cleaning caddy from outside and readied himself for a long night filled with chemicals and elbow grease. But before he opened the bathroom door, his eyes caught the sisters' scattered assignments on the kotatsu. Suddenly he remembered what brought him here earlier that night, before all this chaos took over: a question and an answer.
He sat and opened Nino's paper to the last page and read the final line.
'I'm sorry, I want to talk to you again. Please forgive me'.
'Me too. I forgive you. And I still love you.'
Futaro asked the question, but it was he who learned from her answer. Love may seem like a wild inferno as it first appears, but it can die just as quickly and leave only ash. Or, it can settle into a comforting pilot flame warming the soul. It endures though anger, through fights, through betrayal, it refuses to die. Such love is strong and unwavering and endures with time. This was Nino's love for him, it survived their squabbles and their differences. It wasn't going away. Futaro realized he didn't want it to.
The ice sheathing Futaro's heart cracked and a few shards fell away, letting his heart beat just a bit stronger, filling his cheeks with enough warmth to keep him comfortable through the night. It pushed the blood through his hand, reached for his red pen, and circled her answer correct.
A/N
The core of most modern romantic relationships is a set of shared values, something that can unite two people with common beliefs and let them work as a team through life. This is part of why, out of all the potential romantic relationships for Futaro, Nino struck me as the most likely. I won't repeat why, that's already been shown in the story, but I will add that I believe they share this most strongly over Nino's sisters. That close tie is essential to their relationship, and it's what can make them work. They may go about it differently, Futaro is colder like ice and Nino is wilder like Fire, but they are still intense in their own way.
I've been updating as regularly as I'm able for some time. A chapter a week has been manageable up to now, but that's changing. This chapter was pushing me to the end of my writing deadline and I worry its quality suffered as a result. I knew at some point I may have to reduce my publishing schedule, but I think that time is now. So starting with this chapter, I'll be updating every other Thursday for at least the next two chapters. This will give me time to pace myself better and even finish chapters early and get ahead of my schedule. If things settle down, I'll return to once a week. I'll begin posting estimated updates in the story description.
So please bear with me through this small change in output. Chapters are getting longer, and while I aim to limit them to this length, stories guide change in plans. A special thanks to everyone who has stuck with this story to now, and to those who have reviewed and shared their thoughts on my work. As a writer, those comments have been a great motivator to know others find meaning in my work. You've been generous with your opinions and those have encouraged me to continue writing. So please review if you can, and I will be back again soon.
Chapter published April 18th, 2019.