I can't believe I forgot to mention the tanned girl! Remember her, the girl who was attacked by Motoko in Chapter 3? Basically she's known as a ganguro, a trendy girl who visits tanning salons, dyes her hair blond, and wears white makeup. They also wear flashy clothes like platforms and miniskirts. I saw a picture of them and they were scary looking!
With OCs, I spend more time than usual naming them, even though they're really minor roles in my fics. If I had bothered to name her, she'd probably have a name like Leiko or something. (Leiko means "arrogant" in Japanese.) I probably didn't give her a name to emphasize how Makoto looks down on everyone, so that even the most unusual person doesn't have an identity. But enough from me. Disclaimer!
Disclaimer: I disclaim any claim to Furuba whatsoever. If you blink, you might miss it!
The sun was saying goodnight from its ship on the thin clouds. It slowly began to make port behind the hills. In apology for its absence of light and warmth, it left a breath-taking pink and gold sky. Shafts of marigold light stung my eyelids, but as this was the ballad of a dying sun, it didn't severely handicap my sight.
I sat in the bus with my chin in my hand and my cheek against the cold windowpane. Sleepily, I thought about her.
I should have been furious at Motoko's behavior, but I somehow couldn't rouse my earlier rage. She was like an anarchist, proudly trumpeting her ignorance, her rudeness and shamelessness, but I had to condone her. She was like a small child: naïve and stupid. She didn't know any better.
This was what I told myself, but I didn't believe it.
But it really wasn't her place to… Ooh, if only I had thrown those words back at her, flung them right in her face to let her know her position! She might be a third-year, but she was still below me!
But why did I hold her?
It was the question I asked myself a dozen times, in various languages, but always with the same indecisive result. (Yep, I can speak four different languages: French, Hindi, Cantonese, and Thai. I consider this ability to be among my most salient talents.)
I don't know.
When I discovered Motoko was missing, I felt something terrible. At first, I was simply worried about what would happen to me if something had happened to her. I knew I'd be in severe trouble if it came to pass that she had become involved in a situation in which her life or physical well-being was in jeopardy. I'd lose my reputation, and end my term badly, making it that much harder for Yuki to begin his on the right foot!
But as the search wore on, less of my fear was reserved for him. My heart pounded in terror for her. My reputation, Yuki's reputation, the school's reputation… In comparison to her life, nothing else mattered. Just her. The feeling of my heart dropping was enough of a testimonial.
And then I held her after that embarrassing show of emotion. But how could I forget how fast my heart beat as I did it?
She was soft.
Especially in the middle.
Perhaps she'd gained weight?
And she was so warm.
Yeah, warm from that LONG hike to the convenience store! Wasn't convenient for me or anybody else.
But it felt…. Somehow, in some way…
Nice.
"H—How can I even be thinking this?!"
I covered my mouth, blushing when the eyes of millions of schoolmates focused on me. I was spotlighted, even to the driver. There was nothing for me to do but sink into the slippery vinyl seat to the concerto of laughter.
It took all of my willpower not to look back at Motoko. I felt the heat of her unsolicited glare.
I let my mind flicker to the scene after the strange hug.
She shoved me, but I held on. Her hands were ineffective cat paws against my chest. I didn't care about the disdainful voices around me or her club's protests, not about the fiery gossip engulfing us. For once, it was as if we were sharing the same experience, and that brought me closer to her. I wanted to hold on to that feeling, and the only way I could was to hold her. It was a feeling I couldn't express in words.
But Motoko had a lot to say about this unwanted contact.
She swore.
She called me a loser.
She asked me why I was holding her.
She questioned me about my sanity.
Of her sanity for letting this continue.
And then she ripped herself out of my embrace.
And she gave me this look...
One of surprise and resentment.
Of rage.
And it was as if she were absolutely rejecting my heart.
As if just by pulling away, she'd shredded my heart into pieces.
One last glare before she sauntered off.
Her friends gave me watered-down versions of her stare while mashing Motoko into their arms.
I'd never forget those cruel, steely eyes.
Winter eyes.
Cold, cold winter eyes.
"Motoko...," I murmured sleepily. I could feel my eyelids droop. "Why did you... Who are you to... It wasn't your place to..."
Before I knew it, I dozed off.