Chapter Five: Thanks, I Guess

(Author's Note: Sorry this took so long, was out of commission for a few days. But here it is. Enjoy! )

-Tomiko-

Walking around the streets and noisy piazzas of Rome was a delight, I had to say. Vespas puttered noisily, plying one tiny cranny after another with logic-defying agility. Smells of cooking food descending from cramped apartments in villas permeated most of—well, all—of town. Vibrant displays of food and gifts glittered enticingly from under multi-colored awnings, and the whole city itself had a charm that you wouldn't quite get from just looking at pictures of it in a book. I found myself feeling slightly less irritated that I was seeing the wonders of Italy with a girl who acted mostly like a lecherous old man.

Quite honestly, I was starting to enjoy myself, and there was actually one time that I was glad I was with her.

The streets of inner-city Rome are littered with enterprising artisans, trying to cut themselves a little piece of tourist euro. The polizia apparently turn a blind eye to these hawkers, probably because they don't want any wrinkles on their Armani uniforms chasing after them. But I digress. They do add a certain spice to the dish, if I may say so.

Anyway, Sei and I had some free time, so we went around with Rizu and Kei, going from one hawker to the next. They ran the gamut from selling blah souvenirs that just plain screamed 'tourist!', to little treasures from underappreciated masters. There was one such master on the street that day, an old man painting little vignettes of underwater life without using a single paintbrush. He was a fingerpaint master, turning the most elementary of skills into actual fine art. He used everything attached to his shoulders—his fingers for details, his palms for big sweeping washes of color, his forearms for certain textures reminiscent of fans of coral. He didn't quite limit himself to blue water, splashing pools orange, purple and gold. Needless to say, I was quite impressed, and quite glued to the sidewalk I was standing on.

He waxed poetic about this and that while he painted, putting on more of a show for his increasing number of patrons. From what I could understand of his heavily passionate Italian, he was sending out messages to us to live life and continue a craft that he spent fifty years nurturing. At the end of his wildly emotive demonstration, he invited everybody present to his studio. It would have ended there, but for some odd reason I seemed to have caught hiseye. He came right up to me and looked me in the eye, and started speaking in his vivacious tone.

"You must come with me to my studio," he said melodiously, taking hold of my arm. His paint-stained fingers continuously stroked the back of my arm, and would not stop. "I am interested in painting your body."

I didn't quite know what to say. I was enamored with his work—I definitelywould want to know how exactly I can do that for myself—but I definitely didn't want to go ANYWHERE with him, either! I stood there with a weird look on my face, with him looking intently into my eyes, still stroking my arm.

I suddenly felt Sei muscle in and put an arm around both my shoulders, turning me in the opposite direction. I heard her rattle off endlessly in Japanese, and I saw that her face had a smile that I couldn't quite read. She was tense.

"Gomen, gomen, wakaranai, wakaranai! Nihonjin dakara!" (trans. "Sorry, sorry, we don't understand! We're Japanese!")

She guided me through the sea of people on the sidewalk and ushered me through the street. When we were out of sight of the lecherous old artist, she squeezed me to herself, her arms still around my shoulders.

"Oi, daijoubu ka? Are you all right?" she asked. I thought I detected a hint of worry. "That was pretty dangerous, not reacting or anything."

It was as if I was shaken awake from a trance.

"Ah… hai." I felt a bit ashamed of myself. "I'm sorry, I honestly didn't quite know what to do. I really liked his art."

"Well, so did I, but all of that went to pot when he started molesting you."

Sei's eyes were as hard as steel. Though I knew she was probably angry with the artist, I couldn't help but feel that somehow I was at fault too.

"I'm sorry," I said. The cobblestones of this street were wet with the light mist of morning.

She sounded surprised. "Why should you be? You were only attracted to his work, which was great, I'll admit…" She stopped in her tracks and nudged me playfully in the arm. "Oi, stop that. You're looking at your feet again," she reprimanded lightly.

I looked up at her. I felt like crying, or breaking something, but something in her eyes that moment placated me somehow. Sei smiled at me, brushing a stray bang away from my face.

"I don't know if I understand how you feel, but you weren't at fault here. The only fault I see is that you were so awed by his work that you couldn't quite accept that he was quite a lech." She broke into a naughty grin then, sliding her arm around my shoulders again, this time more playfully. "Demo daijoubu! I'll protect you from all lecherous old men from now on!" she beamed.

I smiled wryly. "Somehow I feel like I've leapt from the frying pan into the fire."

"Iie, iie," Sei replied, "though now you have to give me some sort of prize for protecting you." She gave me quite a squeeze as she rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "Hmm… Aha! What about a kiss?" she grinned at me, her face only inches from mine. She closed her eyes and puckered up. I took her face in my hand and pushed her away.

"What about… NO?" I said, wriggling away from her hold.

"Aw, no?" she asked plaintively, her lips turning from pucker to pout. "Why not? I did save you from that lecherous old coot. I think I deserve some kind of compensation," she justified.

"I think I just moved from one lecherous old coot to another," I retorted. Why, why, why did it have to be a kiss? What, can't a coffee and a biscuit do it anymore?

"Oh? But every prince in every fairy tale gets kissed for every deed he does for the princess," Sei insisted. "And this is one of the most romantic places on earth. Why waste it on just some boring old tours to some crumbling buildings with dusty old things in frames?" She grinned. "Why, when you can be falling in love?"

"Because I can be doing something worthwhile, like appreciating a culture that existed before the Dark Ages, or experiencing the sights, sounds and smells of one of the most famous cities of the world—or maybe—"

"Experiencing a kiss in one of the most romantic places on earth!" Sei cut in, squeezing me tightly and stroking my hair. "Come on, just one. Please?"

"N-O. You're insane, Sei Satou."

"Aw, don't give me that. I won't stop talking about it until you kiss me," she said.

I raised an eyebrow. "Knowing you, though, you'd probably forget all about it tomorrow and move on to a new game," I said. "Probably something more disturbing than today's."

"Ah, ah, that's where you got me wrong, Tonkoneko," Sei said, waggling a finger at me. "I move from one game to another, but I never, never leave a game unfinished." She smirked. "And I intend to finish this game, Ton-ko-ne-ko."

"You might finish, but you'll never win," I said confidently.

"I always win, my dear Tomiko," she retorted smugly, sinking into a seat in the café we just entered. "Always."

Sei

The Sistine Chapel was up next on our tour. We joined up with the rest of our little group, comprised mostly of people we knew in passing, and, of course, Rizu and Kei. Before we met up with them, I kept heckling Tomiko about that kiss that she 'owed' me. My attempts at getting said kiss were thwarted at every turn by the blue-eyed barbarian, no matter how nicely I asked. So I decided to throw asking nicely out the window and tried a different approach. I snaked my arm around her waist and pulled her very close. "You sure you don't want to give me that kiss? We're about to meet up with Rizu and Kei, you know, and we'll lose our privacy."

Tomiko snorted as she swatted my hands away. "What privacy? We're on a busy street chock-full of Italians! This isn't private!"

"They're Italians. They won't mind a little kiss!"

"Maybe they won't, but I will!"

"Aww…"

"Why do you want to kiss me anyway? I don't taste good."

"Why don't you let me decide that?"

"Iya yo." (trans. "No way".)

We got to the park where we'd be meeting up with our group and guide. No one we knew was there yet. I spotted a beautiful pond nearby and, pulling Tomiko along with me, walked towards it. I threw in some small coins with a grand flourish. "I wish for a kiss from Harada Tomiko!" I proclaimed with a grin.

Tomiko glared at me. "What the hell? Announcing my name to some unseen deity lurking around here won't grant you any wish. Besides, you're supposed to toss coins into a well or a fountain. That's neither." She pointed off in some vague direction. "The Trevi's over there."

"This'll do," I laughed. Then I leaned in close again, hoping to catch her off-guard.

Tomiko made a face. "STOP IT. I mean it." She pushed me away and then abruptly walked off, leaving me behind at the pond. Oops. I guess I might have overdone it. I was about to go running after her when I thought I heard someone calling my name, so I looked around.

I was mildly startled to see someone in a Lillian High School uniform standing some distance away. That was when I remembered that the second-year students were on their own field trip to Italy, which would mean that Yumi, Yoshino, and Shimako would be around somewhere. I briefly considered looking for them, but almost immediately changed my mind. They were on their trip, whatever lesson they had to learn they'd have to do it on their own, or they wouldn't grow. I had no doubt that those three could handle themselves, but I wanted them to figure that out. Especially my petit soeur, Shimako, who needed just a little bit more confidence in herself. If I wanted to help her, that meant I couldn't let them catch me here.

"Oi, Sei!" That was Kei's voice. Drat, so they were here already. I turned to see Kei, Rizu, and Tomiko waiting for me, so I forgot all about the Lillian girl who was gawking at me (why is it that most Lillian girls gawk at me?) and went off to join them.

Kei gave me a wry grin. "Spacing out? Not a very good idea, you know, especially since we're bound to get lost if we don't stick together."

I grinned back. "I've already been here before, so I kind of know my way around. Besides, your argument doesn't hold water. We could still get lost together." I gave Tomiko a sly wink. "Though I'd rather just get lost with her. Ne, Tonkoneko?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'd rather that YOU just get lost."

Rizu giggled inanely.

I looked at her. She seemed…happy. Was it the chocolates? I sneaked a look at Kei and found her to be a little too…lively…to be Kei. I suppressed a smirk, wondering if the Bacis Kei had bought happened to have a little too much sugar or if this strange development was due to something else. Chocolate-related, but something else. I glanced at Tomiko and saw her looking curiously at Rizu and Kei. She was probably wondering the same thing. I don't think either one of us had ever heard Rizu giggle. Laugh, snicker, guffaw, yes, but giggle? Inanely?

In a few minutes, we were all off to the Sistine Chapel. I didn't want to put Tomiko in an off-mood, so I decided I'd play the kissing game some other time. I didn't really expect her to kiss me, honestly, but I couldn't help myself, I guess. That stupid kiss thing was actually just a spur-of-the-moment idea, something that popped into my head after the whole artist incident. That goddamned lecher. I was hoping Tomiko would slap him the instant he put his hand on her arm, but the girl remained frozen in shock. I thought she'd gotten enough practice fending off amorous attempts from me to be able to effectively deflect any other such move. Guess she needed a little more practice. Having her stop any and all attempts at kissing on my part would probably be a good thing for her. Also, I knew that coddling her after the artist practically pawed her would be a bad idea. A return to normalcy was in order, and everyone knew what I was like normal.

And besides…

I guess I was curious. A small part of me wanted to know just what it felt like to kiss Tomiko. Because that small part of me was almost a hundred percent certain that it would be a pretty good thing. And, damn me, I wanted to believe it.

I'd been to the Sistine Chapel before, so it wasn't quite as big a deal for me as it probably would be for my three amigos. Honestly, churches and the like don't really impress me. God and I have had our little spat in the past, and we're still not speaking to each other. At least, I wasn't speaking to Him yet; and I had no idea if He was trying to speak to me. (You know how it is. When you say you talk to God, people think you're spiritual, but when you say He talks to you, people will think you're insane.)

At any rate, we were in. Boy, I wish I could've taken a picture of Kei and Rizu. Their expressions were priceless. I was suddenly reminded of baby birds impatiently waiting for their mother to drop food into their open beaks, only in their case there was no trace of impatience, only a wide-eyed, slack-jawed admiration for the paintings literally wallpapering the entire chapel. There was a moment of respectful silence, and then they started whispering to each other, pointing out various biblical scenes and what not. I watched them go off together, trying not to yawn, and then I turned around, looking for Tomiko.

I wasn't quite prepared for what I saw.

Tomiko stood stock-still, her head tilted at a dangerous-looking, whiplash kind of angle. Her mouth was slightly agape, and her blue eyes were very, very wide as she took in the entirety of the place. I could read a variety of emotions within those icy orbs: awe, wonder, respect, amazement—all of that, and more. She loved it, being here, lost in that world of hers that no one could enter.

Suddenly, I felt quite alone. A bitter side of me, the one that lost to God a little more than a year ago, resented this place and how it easily transported Tomiko away. Suddenly I was in second year again, and I wanted to rebel, to drag her back from wherever she was, if only out of spite. Before I knew it, I was reaching out, with every intention of doing just that.

And then I stopped.

I couldn't bring myself to shake her out of her trance. I knew how much she loved the arts, especially painting, and for an artist like her to be here, well…let's just say it was probably the equivalent of a devout Muslim's trip to Mecca. Or a Christian's visit to the Holy Land, if you really wanted to be parochial about it.

I sighed. Guess I lost again. I was going to leave, get out, get some air—I was, after all, an uninvited devil in a holy place, if one could call it holy—but then I noticed that Tonkoneko was doing something strange. I watched her for a while, and felt my lips twitching in amusement in spite of myself.

She was starting to walk…backwards. Dazedly, and in small circles, Tomiko was walking backwards, her head still tilted at that angle, taking in every single detail that she could. As if she was the only one around. I glanced about, hoping no one would bump into her, and that she wouldn't bump into anyone, though I hardly thought that she'd notice if she bumped into the Pope himself. That was how caught up she was.

What is your world like? I wanted to ask her. Take me there. I want to know what you're like in there.

After a few more minutes of mindless circling, Tomiko simply sank to her bum on the floor of the Sistine Chapel—the Sistine Chapel—and stared up at the ceiling. She looked like she was on the verge of tears. Some of the other visitors looked at her in surprise; Tomiko must've appeared to them to be quite insane.

Not insane, I found myself thinking, silently defending her. Impassioned. Taken. She was showing her respect by forgetting about everyone else.

I watched her for a while, wondering if Michelangelo's art was really that moving, and then I went over and gently grasped her shoulders. "Come on, Tonkoneko. Up we go."

She didn't protest or resist. I helped her to her feet, then, with a resigned sigh, proceeded to guide her around the Chapel. Tomiko hardly even made a sound. She just went on staring at everything, completely lost in the paintings, lost in her own world. I let out another sigh, knowing there was no other way into that world but to look around myself, and so I did.

Perugino…Botticelli…Ghirlandaio…Rossellini…Signorelli…the premier painters of the 15th century, they were all here, their names and their works immortalized on the walls around us. There was Christ giving the keys of the faith to St. Peter (who was balding, for some reason—must've torn out most of his hair at how the Church must look now), and there was Botticelli's Scenes from the Life of Moses, which I couldn't quite understand save for the couple to the far right that seemed to be eloping from all the madness (good idea, in my opinion), and his The Punishment of Korah, which had even more insanity going on. The entire hullabaloo was making me dizzy. Not so with Tomiko. She appeared to be drinking everything in. I knew somehow that she was admiring the technique, style, and detail of the artworks more than their message. How I knew that, though…I couldn't be sure.

We finally got to The Last Judgment, by none other than my favorite ninja turtle, Michelangelo. By this time, I had to admit, even if only to myself, that the artists of long-ago showed dedication, vision, and passion for their work. Not like most artists of today. Finger-painting lecher, as original as he was, had nothing on these guys (unless he finger-painted an entire chapel while standing on a scaffolding near sixty-eight feet high into the air). As talented as Perugino et al were, and as beautiful as their works were, Michelangelo was, apparently, something else. This guy painted everything—and I do mean everything. And he wasn't one for censorship, the bad-ass. I remember reading up on a dispute he'd had with the Pope's Master of Ceremonies Biagio da Casena. The guy said that Michelangelo's work was more suited to the public baths and taverns than a papal chapel. Michelangelo retaliated by working a likeness of da Casena into Minos, judge of the underworld. I told myself I'd have to drink to that sometime later. Cardinals of 15th century Rome apparently hadn't seen anything remotely resembling modern-day hentai. Sadly, the holy asses decided to besmirch Mike's paintings by hiring some schmuck whose name escapes me but is known as "Il Braghettone", or "The Breeches-Painter", because he painted fig leaves all over the pertinent anatomy. What a way to build your career.

The Last Judgment loomed over me. I snorted. It seemed unfair, to be judged for things you did when you didn't know any better, to be told that you weren't good enough. Typical Christian behavior, and I hated it. For me, it was better to think of the Sistine as a museum rather than a church. I glanced at Tomiko, wondering if she knew just how much annoyance being here was causing me to feel. Her eyes were locked onto The Last Judgment, flitting from one detail to the other, perhaps noting how different it was from the other frescoes in the place. Did her reverence stem from something religious, or from something more spiritual than a closed set of stiff rules being bandied about by bible-beating hypocrites? I wish I knew.

While I'm wishing, I might as well wish—again—for that kiss. Heck, if I kissed Tomiko right now, she probably wouldn't even notice. I glanced at her profile for what must've been the twentieth time since we entered the Sistine. There was some kind of inner light in her eyes that really made her beauty shine. No offense to the artists who worked on everything in here, but Tomiko was a far lovelier treasure than all of their works put together.

After what felt like an eternity, it was finally time for us to leave. Our guide rounded us up like wild cattle, shooting off broken Italian in an effort to show off, then headed for the exit. Kei and Rizu hurriedly caught up from somewhere—God only knew where they'd been this entire time—and they were excitedly chattering away about the Sistine. I joined in from time to time with juicy bits of sarcasm, while Tomiko remained silent. She had this weird smile on her face, which made me think that that was probably how she'd look drunk, but her blue eyes were slowly growing clear again. (At one point, however, she turned and started walking backwards again, and I had to guide her by the elbow to make sure she didn't trip over something or fall down any steps. Good grief.)

I stayed for a while at the doors of the Chapel, going through everything that had transpired in my head. I decided that churches and religion still didn't impress me one bit, especially this particular one. Places like this, and the feeling they invoke in you, well, it just held too many memories for me. I cherished those memories, but that was all that they were. Just memories.

Still, being here had given me a glimpse into her world. And, in spite of everything, somehow it was a beautiful experience.

-Tomiko-

The following day, we set off for Venice.

Before that, though, something happened the night before.

Sei and I were winding down for the night. She was still on her "I want a kiss from Harada Tomiko" shtick, which annoyed me to the point that I actually just wanted to get the whole thing over with and just do it to shut her up. What cinched the night for me though (or, rather, pushed me over the edge) happened when I was getting ready for bed. I had just taken a bath and was brushing my teeth. I left the door slightly ajar when I brushed my teeth, and proceeded to scrub away any and all food bits that might take up residence in my teeth. (Yes, I might have OCD. Bite me.) I was about to rinse when she crept up behind me and grabbed my waist, spilling my gargling water and almost causing me to spew toothpaste all over myself.

"Ho, are you freshening up for our kiss, Tonkoneko?" Sei purred into my ear. She did feel pleasantly warm against my back… Oh my Buddha, what was I THINKING?!

"Oi, oi, OI!" I said, backing away. "I thought you and Rizu had an agreement that the room was a no-molest zone?"

Sei grinned. "Well, thebedroom is a no-molest zone," she refuted. "The bathroom, however, is fair game. There was nothing about it in the verbal contract." I had to duck to avoid another glomp from behind, and whatever thoughts I might have entertained about giving in to her request (she did help me out with that artist) flew out the window. Things were about to take a turn for the worse when I heard a knock on the door.

Kei and Rizu were out in the hall, dressed in their pajamas. Rizu had an unusually happy look on her face. They were holding hands.

"Hey," Kei said, smiling. "We couldn't really sleep, our adrenalin's still pretty much up. Let's have coffee at the lobby café."

I clambered off Sei (she had somehow managed to pick me up and was about to carry me to the bed kicking and screaming when Rizu and Kei came along) and pushed several strands of hair that came loose. "Okay, okay, let's go. Now."

The lobby café was almost deserted, with only a young Roman (also in her PJ's) curled up in a little cushioned chair with a fashion magazine. Kei grinned.

"This is perfect. Let's sit there, by the fireplace."

We had settled into the lavish couches with our mugs when Kei and Rizu suddenly burst out, "It's us now."

I knew that it would be sooner or later before it happened, so it wasn't much of a surprise for me. Sei, too, seemed to have sensed it coming. A grin was spreading across her face faster than wildfire. She leaned over and clapped Kei—hard—on the back.

"Uwa, omedetou!" she said. "So tell me, when's the wedding? Should I expect a little one toddling about soon?" she went on, winking. I had to smile. At least Italy had good romance for them.

Back at the hotel room, Sei was still going on and on about the kiss thing. Glaring at her seemed to only encourage her to tease and prod about it, but somehow I wasn't up to it that night. Shooting her one last glare, I settled into bed.

Morning came before I even knew it, and I woke up to a nice soft feeling of warmth. Opening my eyes, I saw I had two layers of blankets on myself. Turning over, I saw Sei's back, covered in one of her ubiquitous (and utterly ridiculous) long coats. It didn't take much to put two and two together. It was really cold last night, and now that I thought about it I seem to remember someone tucking me in with a second blanket.

Well, who else would that be?

I felt guilty. I had been nothing but a brat this whole time, now that I thought about it.

It was time that I paid her back for everything she did.

I edged over very quietly and peeked over her shoulder. She was still pretty much asleep, and there was the slightest hint of a little snot bubble contracting and expanding with her breaths. She actually looked quite cute asleep, like how even the naughtiest boys look like angels in repose. A little voice niggled in my head, urging me. Despite the protests of my right brain, I prepared to give her what she had been asking for the past few days. I closed my eyes, pursed my lips, and inched closer.

Actually, I had really meant to kiss her on the cheek. Just the cheek. How was I supposed to know that the hand of fate would have her tilt her head at the exact moment and have my lips land on hers?

All the blood rushed to my head and I backed away immediately, tripping up on the blanket (which was entwined around my legs) and I toppled over the bed and landed on my bum on the floor with a thud.

Sei bolted upright and looked over the edge of the bed. "Oi, daijoubu?" she asked, a worried look crossing her now quite-awake face.

My hips hurt like hell, and my butt—well, my butt was indescribably painful. I wanted to cry, but I managed to recover and rub my eyes. I had to pretend, right?

"Ah, yeah," I said. I'd be nursing some pretty bad butt bruises later. "Was just having a very lucid dream, I guess."

"Ho? Was it about you giving me a kiss?"

"Hell no. And stop it about the kiss already."

Sei propped herself up on one elbow. "Aw. And I was having such a good dream. I dreamt that my princess gave me the sweetest kiss I could ever hope for, and under the Bridge of Sighs too. Any kiss under that bridge would ensure eternal love, did you know that?

"It's just some romanticized tourist shit," I retorted.

"Aw, have some romance in your life!" Sei exclaimed, bolting up and out of bed, arms outstretched.

"Not with you I won't."

"You'll be singing a different tune once I kiss you."

"I-ya-YO."

"When we go to Venice today, kiss me under the bridge for real, okay?"

"Hell no."

Unless maybe if you fell asleep. But that's my secret, I thought with a small smile.