Sharing the Same Sky, We Are as Close as Lovers
Tokimeki Memorial Girl's Side First Love
Himuro Reiichi x Heroine
By Gabihime at gmail dot com
Part Four: Plural Pronouns
After disposing of the remains of the collapsed green tea taiyaki, Himuro suggested they locate a restroom to wash their hands and faces, as their memory, now fondly in the near past, had left an inconvenient mess in its wake. He disliked being untidy, and while he was willing to put up with it in the moment, particularly when Midori was looking at him with starry eyes, after the moment passed he itched to fall into a fury of self-grooming until he was once again austere and perfect.
Midori was amenable, and so they went their separate ways into the appropriate washrooms and met again in the street, both feeling refreshed. With her stomach filled with taiyaki, and her heart filled with the image of Himuro judiciously licking green tea filling off his thumb, Midori was in high spirits, and quite prepared to experience absolutely everything the shopping arcade's Tanabata celebration had to offer. After all, it wasn't even eight o'clock yet. She surely had at least a little while to spend with Himuro yet, before she had to responsibly escort her beloved Grandpapa back home to his bed.
She had linked her arm through Himuro's and was just thinking on what they should do next when she heard a familiar voice behind her.
"Onee-chan," it called, and as she turned around, the call was repeated, "Midori-onee-chan!"
It was Tsukushi, the youngest of the Yumeno family, and perhaps the canniest. He was a popular elementary student, a powerful information broker, and perhaps most importantly, her younger brother. He was a little out of breath as he jogged up to her, but he soon recovered.
"Tsukushi!" she exclaimed, surprised that he would come upon her in such a fashion in the middle of the festival, particularly when he was supposed to be spending it with her sister Satomi. She peered to the left and right around him, but she saw no sign of her sister. "Where's Satomi-chan? Why aren't you with her?" She put her hand against her breastbone as she made a small gasp, "Nothing's wrong is it? Nothing has happened to Satomi-chan or Grandpapa has it?"
Tsukushi raised both of his hands in front of his face and waved them in a flurry in an attempt to head his sister's worst fears off at the pass. "Midori-onee-chan, calm down. Everything's fine! The Old Man is fine. Satomi-onee-chan is fine. Everyone is fine."
Midori heaved a sigh of relief and then fluttered her hand at Himuro, "This is my brother Tsukushi, sensei. Tsukushi, this is Himuro-sensei."
"We've met," Himuro reminded flatly.
Tsukushi made a short, respectful bow, "Sensei."
"Mm," said Himuro in response.
Midori let go of his arm and stepped towards her brother, cocking her head to the side.
"Well, where is Satomi-chan? She made plans to spend the festival with you, didn't she?" she asked, then frowned. "You didn't go and leave her some place strange, did you Tsukushi? I won't forgive you if you did!"
Tsukushi waved both his palms at his sister again, "I don't know where you get these weird ideas, Midori-onee-chan. I didn't do anything to her. Sure, she agreed to spend the festival with me," he said. "What she didn't tell me is that she also made plans to spend it with Hazuki-san. She didn't tell him either. Apparently she had no clue that this was not the best idea. Because I am a good brother and I love both my older sisters very much, I excused myself from their date and told Satomi-chan that I'd be fine on my own."
"And Satomi-chan let you go?" Midori asked incredulously. "You're only an elementary school student!"
Tsukushi put one hand on his hip and rolled his eyes. "Honestly, onee-chan, I'm more capable than you and Satomi-onee-chan put together. I worry about the two of you when you go out alone."
Himuro thought about interjecting seriously to defend Midori's general competence, but then reflected that he also worried about her when she was out on her own. She was charming and winning and innocent and sweet and completely trusting. Given these qualities, he was surprised the yakuza hadn't abducted her before.
After giving her little brother a look, Midori decided to otherwise ignore his comment. "Well, the festival probably isn't very dangerous," she leaned back on her heels, thinking about it. "What are you going to do when it's time to go home? Are you coming home with Grandpapa and I?"
Tsukushi shrugged his shoulders, as if he was relieved that she had finally let him get to his point. "That's why I came to find you. Otherwise I wouldn't disturb your, uh," he eyed Himuro briefly, "Study session. I already talked to the Old Man and he sent me to tell you that he'd let me take him home when he's ready to go, so you and nee-chan don't have to worry."
"I can't let you do that, Tsukushi! You're just a little kid, and Grandpapa is my responsibility!" Midori protested.
"Look," said Tsukushi, folding his arms behind his head. "I'm just telling you what the Old Man said. He told me to tell you that he's absolutely going home with me no matter what you say, so you might as well enjoy your evening."
Midori was deeply moved by her grandfather's sacrifice on her behalf. He and Tsukushi were not the best of friends, and he far preferred her doting to Tsukushi's irreverence. For him to relieve her of her responsibilities to him for this one night and let her do as she pleased - surely he was the finest grandfather in the world.
"I'm afraid my car only has two seatbelts," Himuro said, crossing his arms over his chest.
"Oh, I know," said Tsukushi, still leaning back. Then he hastened to correct himself. "I mean, the Old Man knows. We're going to take a taxi home when he's ready."
"Do you need any money?" Midori asked, putting her hand into her bag to find her wallet.
Tsukushi shrugged again and shook his head, "No, Satomi-onee-chan gave me loads. I have plenty. Besides, it's not like the Old Man doesn't have a wallet."
Midori sighed and then pleaded, "Tsukushi, try to be gentle and loving to him. He's the only grandpapa that you have!"
Tsukushi rolled his eyes before answering, "Thank goodness. I dunno what I'd do with two of him. Anyway, we'll be fine. We called a truce for the evening."
"Well," she said doubtfully, "As long as you're getting along."
Tsukushi patted his sister's arm. "We're getting along like peaches and cream. Or like, prunes and cream I guess." He suddenly turned his attention to Himuro again. "Sensei, do you think I could borrow your cell phone for a minute to schedule a taxi for later? The Old Man gave me the number and the time."
Himuro almost automatically moved to unbutton his jacket and retrieve his cell phone, but then he remembered his last encounter with this espionage expert and raised an eyebrow.
"Why don't you use your sister's cell phone?" he asked suspiciously.
Tsukushi made an exaggerated shrug. "Onee-chan's phone is perpetually out of power because she never remembers to charge it, so I usually don't bother asking."
Himuro fixed Midori with a stare, and she obediently dug in her bag again and produced her cell phone, which she held in front of her so they could all examine it. As Tsukushi predicted, it was grey and blank and would not turn on because it was entirely out of power.
"See, onee-chan, this is why I worry about you when you're out on your own," Tsukushi explained and Himuro felt he knew exactly what the boy was feeling. He was mildly worriedabout Midori's ability to take care of herself in basic life situations.
This is why Grandfather Yumeno wanted me to look after her this evening, he thought. She really shouldn't be left alone.
Mollified, Himuro again made to unbutton his jacket and give over his cell phone, but he stopped when he happened to catch a momentary glint in Tsukushi's eyes. He produced his wallet instead and gave the urchin some change and advised him that there was a pay phone near the electronics store.
Tsukushi muttered something under his breath in response, and it sounded as if it might have been 'cheapskate.' Then he was all smiles again, and a respectful bow to Himuro. He assured his sister again that he and 'the Old Man,' would be perfectly all right, and then slyly suggested that if Himuro gave his phone number over, Tsukushi could call him and inform Midori when he and the grandfather were at home safely. Midori looked about to agree with her brother's suggestion when Himuro interceded.
He put one hand on Tsukushi's shoulder very seriously and then said, as if he were the heartless but inspiring coach in a television drama, "We have great confidence in you, boy. Now go and fly fearlessly into your future!"
Utterly defeated, Tsukushi went.
Midori smiled fondly at Himuro as her brother departed, and she moved to take his arm again.
"I think you gave him a lot of confidence," she said.
"I am not entirely convinced," he answered, watching the boy go, "That he needs it."
With her brother gone and her responsibilities for the evening entirely dispensed with, Midori found that the shopping arcade opened to new and heretofore unknown vistas of delight. She had begun to gravitate in the direction of the small turtles again, leading Himuro along, when suddenly she spied something that made her stop dead in her tracks.
It was the most adorable thing that she had ever seen, and it was hanging there, above her head, from the eave of a nearby booth.
Without consulting Himuro at all, she let go of his arm, charged right over to the counter, and planted both of her hands.
"How much to play?" she asked, not even knowing what sort of a game it was.
"One big one, little lady," laughed the barrel chested man behind the counter, whose bald head gleamed under the lantern lights.
She dug in her bag and produced a large round coin, and pushed at the man, who offered her a pop gun in return. She looked down at it, there in her hands, and it was at this point that it occurred to her to ask.
She pointed up above her head, at the treasured item. "How do I win that, mister?"
He stroked his chin and nodded twice. "Ah, setting your sights high right off the bat, huh, little lady? That one's extra large, so you need to score a thousand points in three shots or less."
Then the barker turned around and began explaining the targets to her and their point values. Not surprisingly, a thousand points in three shots would be very difficult. There were only three targets with values high enough to allow her to make that score, two at five hundred points a piece, and one at seven hundred and fifty, and all three of them were small and somewhat oddly placed.
She took a deep breath and tried to prepare herself. Himuro had followed her to the booth, and had been standing behind her as she received the explanation as to the rules and reward structure.
"Just relax," he advised, "And be sure to use your sights. Be calm, and picture in your mind that the bullet has already struck the target. When you fire, you're not causing the the bullet to hit the target, but rather, the act of hitting the target has led you to firing the gun."
"Sensei," she began uncertainly, raising the gun to check the sights, "I'm not sure I understand."
Himuro crossed his arms over his chest. "It is not to understand," he explained. "It is to know."
"Um, all right," she said, and took another deep breath. "I'll try."
She raised the gun so she could sight down the barrel, and then leaned forward until both her elbows were steady on the counter. Then she fired: once, twice, and at last a third time.
She earned two hundred points, and that she earned even two hundred was a miracle, as the last pop bullet had ricocheted off something else to impact the target that she scored on.
The barker offered her his condolences, and then allowed her to choose a small prize for her points. She selected a key chain with some little bells on it because she thought they made a pleasant sound.
Holding her key chain cupped in her palms, Midori looked up forlornly at the extra large prize that was jut out of her reach and wondered if she could really afford to play again. She resolved that she really couldn't. Their were birthdays to think of, and the school trip was happening in the autumn, and Midori had no personal income apart from her monthly allowance. She was just getting her heart accustomed to the idea that the most adorable thing would not be coming home with her when she heard her sensei clear his throat.
"I'll play," he said, and put his wallet down on the counter.
"Sensei!" she cried, her heart leaping. She clapped her hands at his show of chivalrousness.
He turned to look at her and he smiled very briefly before he turned his attention back to the targets, his eyes narrowed. He studied the layout of the booth carefully for some seconds, then selected his pop gun and leaned deliberately over the counter. After sighting carefully, he fired once, twice, thrice.
Then he leaned back in consternation.
He had made zero points.
"You," he said, addressing the barker, with some sharpness, "Are you sure these are calibrated properly?"
The barker laughed. "Sure. I calibrated them all myself this morning. Of course, kids have been playing with them all afternoon, so some of them may be a little out of whack. You're welcome to recalibrate them," and here he raised a canny eyebrow, "Of course, every three shots will cost you one big one."
"That's fine," answered Himuro shortly, and Midori watched as he passed the barker another coin and took the small cork pellets in return.
Himuro studied the pop gun for some minutes, took it to pieces, fiddled with it, and then reassembled it. All the while, other people came to the barker, took their shots, collected their prizes, if they won any, and left. Midori watched Himuro intently as he worked, and then applauded when he successfully reassembled the popgun.
"Himuro-sensei, fight!" she cheered, throwing a fist into the air.
He leaned back over the counter with his reassembled weapon, and planted his elbows firmly before taking his three shots.
Again, he made no points.
"Fight, sensei, fight!" Midori continued to cheer, as Himuro passed another coin to the barker and the barker again provided him with cork bullets.
Midori watched Himuro take several shots this way, and pass several coins and bills to the barker, all the while cheering for him, her spirit in no way diminished by the fact that he had not yet succeeded. The determined look on his face made her heart flutter and she knew she could never suggest that he give up, no matter how much money he gave the barker. As long as her sensei was willing to fight, then she was willing to believe in him.
This didn't stop her from offering him advice between her cheers, however.
"Sensei, maybe you ought to use the Weaver stance when you shoot, like James Bond," she said, and then cupped her face in her hands, flushing, "Sensei would look so wonderful."
"Buuuuuuuu," said a voice directly behind her. "James Bond doesn't use the Weaver stance," it said, "Besides, the Weaver stance is for handguns. You can't use it with a rifle, even a toy rifle. Maybe he ought to try the quick kill method."
Midori wheeled around to find herself face to face with a giant cat whose small pink nose was only centimeters from hers.
"Waugh!" she cried out in surprise jumped back, nearly falling over the counter behind her. But then the huge cat moved to the side and Midori recognized her sister Satomi's calm, serious face. The giant cat was a huge stuffed animal that Satomi was carrying in her arms, and Hazuki Kei was standing at her right.
"Good evening, Midori, Himuro-sensei," was what he said.
"Satomi-chan and Kei-kun," Midori heaved a sigh of relief. She was truly glad that the one offering her advice really wasn't a giant talking cat. A small talking cat would have been all right, but a giant talking cat was right out. "Have you been having a nice evening together? Isn't the festival wonderful?" she asked, radiating her own pleasure.
"The festival is very nice," Satomi agreed, her voice calm and slow. "We ate some ice cream, and then we wrote wish cards, and after that we went and looked at the little turtles."
Midori turned instinctively to shoot a pleading look at Himuro when the little turtles were mentioned, but Himuro was entirely focused on his target practice, and paid her no attention. Midori turned back to her sister.
"Did you win a little turtle?" she asked hopefully, but her sister shattered her hopes by gravely shaking her head.
"No," Satomi said, "We only looked at them. I don't need to own a little turtle. That they exist is enough."
Midori sighed deeply and leaned against the counter in resignation. There would be no little turtles for her, either at home, or here at the festival.
"We did play the pop gun game earlier though," Satomi announced seriously. "Kei-chan won this for me," she put the huge stuffed cat in front of her face again and exhibited it as if it might have been a rare treasure. Midori clapped politely, then remembered that her sensei was still doing battle with the shooting gallery on her behalf.
"Sensei, fight!" she cheered again, and Satomi and Kei came up behind her to watch Himuro shoot.
Himuro passed another coin to the gallery attendant and Midori tried not to think of how much he had paid this one barker in an attempt to win her the stuffed animal she wanted. She had seen him change out larger bills for coins twice already.
"Himuro-sensei," began Kei, after having observed Himuro shoot twice, "Don't sight down the barrel. Sight above the barrel."
"Mm," said Himuro in response, and this was his first acknowledgement that Satomi and Kei were there.
This time, Himuro hit the five hundred point target, but as it was his last shot of three, he did not qualify for an extra large stuffed animal, and instead Midori selected another smaller one when she was bidden. Nonplussed, Himuro silently gave over another coin and demanded his cork pellets.
This time he scored a thousand points in two shots and at last the tenseness in his shoulders seemed to relax as he stood up.
"Sensei, that was really impressive!" Midori was cheering happily as she produced a cute pink handkerchief from her bag to dab at the sweat that had beaded on his brow under the bright lights of the shooting gallery.
Himuro took the handkerchief from her and wiped his forehead with it before folding it and putting it into his pocket.
"To win a game like this requires systematic analysis of the physical conditions," he said to the three students that were gathered before him.
"What sensei says is not untrue," Satomi said, shifting the huge stuffed cat to one side to regard her teacher seriously. "Even Kei-chan had to try twice."
Kei, who was apparently embarrassed that Satomi had chosen this inopportune time to remind everyone of how he excelled at everything, said, "I probably play games like this a lot more often than Himuro-sensei, so he needed time to gather data."
Himuro very frowned briefly at the both of them, but then schooled his expression again. Midori, apparently had not realized that her sister had taken issue with Himuro's performance, and was still ecstatic that he had played on her behalf, won on her behalf, and now she could take home the most adorable stuffed animal in the world and it would be infinitely more special now, because her sensei had won it for her, and she would think of him every time she looked at it.
"Well, young man," the barker was guffawing, "I'd say you definitely earned that prize. Which one is it that you want, little lady?"
Midori pointed above her head delightedly, and the barker used a short pole to hook the stuffed animal and hand it down to her. She was in heaven as she wrapped it in her arms. It was as big as her sister's ridiculously huge cat.
She turned around to look at them again, her wonderful new acquisition clutched to her breast.
"Are you sure that's the one you wanted?" asked Kei, looking first from the stuffed animal in her arms and then to the row of other prizes that still hung like tempting apples from the eave of the shooting gallery.
Satomi looked entirely unsurprised. "Midori's sense of what is cute is," she paused and thought of how to say it, "Midori's sense of what is cute," she finished, and had no other way to explain herself. "Don't try to understand it. She's a strange girl."
This statement seemed dubious coming from her sister, who apparently thought it was fine to go on a date with the boy to whom she was slavishly devoted and bring her little brother along for advice and company.
"Satomi-chan is more strange," Midori observed frankly, then turned to show her prize to her sensei, who had fought so valiantly to win it.
"It's very," began Himuro, trying to keep his voice very even and steady and to not give himself away by coughing. "It's very nice."
"Isn't it?" she asked, her voice trilling a little. "I knew sensei would understand me," she said, clutching the huge stuffed chameleon to her chest and admiring how its sweet googley eyes reoriented themselves whenever she squeezed it and fawning over its charmingly curled tail and the sticky pads on its feet. "I'm going to name him Debussy," she announced.
"Strange," commented Satomi to the open air.
"What did you name your giant cat?" demanded Midori.
"Charmant," Satomi answered very seriously, with a touch of terrible smugness in her voice.
"Strange," Midori commented in return, sticking her tongue out.
Satomi was apparently unruffled by her sister's declaration and shrugged. "Kei-chan and I are going to eat taiyaki now. Do you want to come?"
Midori smiled, hugging her chameleon, but then shook her head. "No. Sensei and I already ate a lot of taiyaki. Make sure to try the egg custard one, because it's really delicious."
"Mm," nodded Satomi in agreement, then she put her hand in Kei's. "Have a good evening, onee-chan, Himuro-sensei."
"You should go straight home after the festival," Himuro said, as if he suddenly remembered that he was their teacher. "Don't linger anywhere. It's dangerous for students to be out late at night."
"Of course, sensei," was what Hazuki Kei said in return, and Midori was not entirely sure of it, but she could swear there was a faint undercurrent of amusement in his normally calm tone.
So they said their goodbyes, and Satomi and Kei departed down the arcade, leaving Midori standing next to Himuro, her arms full of her chameleon. She leaned her head far to one side, so her ear touched her shoulder and she smiled.
"Really, thank you very much, sensei. I really, really, really appreciate that you went to so much trouble for me. You have to let me try to make it up to you somehow." She thought about it and her brow scrunched up. Himuro was just on the cusp of assuring her that he required no reward when her face suddenly brightened. "I know!" she eurekaed, "I'll make you bento for one whole week next term. I'll even make them with your list, if you want me to," and here she began reciting from memory, "Four slices of rye bread, six stalks of celery, five hundred ccs of milk, um, some cheese?" She seemed unsure, but then she finished with, "And looooooots of vitamins and supplements, right, sensei?"
The prospect of lunches from the loving hands of his pet student hit Himuro in a weak point he hadn't know he had until recently. His normal diet was hellaciously methodical, and read like the ingredients a sports nutritionist might throw into a blender in an attempt to produce a healthy, disgusting, high energy drink. He was the sort of man who would have eaten food pills, had technology been sufficiently advanced. As it was, he often wondered why food scientists didn't perfect some sort of balanced cube diet for humans the way they'd done for lab mice.
But years of careful living and controlled eating had ended recently when Midori had forced some of her own homemade lunch on him. Although it was not what he was used to eating, he liked it very much, and quite against his will, as he had expected to swallow her cooking like bad medicine, due to a previous unfortunate experience.
"You don't have to be so precise. I'll trust you to use your own sense when you're packing the lunches," he said, "Your cooking has really improved over the past year."
"Hasn't it?" she glowed like a star on the water. "That's because I worked really hard. After sensei made me write that report about the spaghetti udon I made at camp last year, I realized that I really wanted sensei to eat what I made and not look like he was about to die, so I spent a lot of extra time studying cooking this year. I wish I could say that I'm a natural, but sensei knows the awful truth: I am not."
Concealed beneath the buttons of his suit and shirt front, Himuro's ego swelled at the realization that she had spent so much care and time on self-improvement for his benefit. He congratulated himself on fulfilling one of his sacred vows as a teacher: to help one of his precious students improve herself. Surely being able to cook would be a valuable skill in anyone's life, even the life of a professional musician.
Reflecting on his teaching vows, he hastened to remind her of the rules he had set out previously. "Don't let anyone else know you're bringing lunch to me or we'll both be in trouble. I'll take them, since you seem so excited about making them, but remember, it's for one week only, and you mustn't tell anyone."
"Why would I tell anyone?" she asked curiously, the way she always did. "It doesn't have anything to do with them. It only has to do with us."
Himuro felt that strange mixture of elation and fear in the pit of his stomach again, and this time he knew the cause. He always felt this way when Midori used plural pronouns.
'We understand one another.' 'It's wonderful when we play the piano together, sensei.' 'We just won't tell anyone right?' 'Do you think anyone will know it was us?' 'We've both been staying late to share our music with one another, right sensei?'
His mind swam as he was besieged with small turns of phrase, isolated bits of conversation, all of those little things she was always saying to him. They were all loaded with meaning, with intention, and he was dizzy from it. Beyond troubling, Yumeno Midori was dangerous.
But then, having emptied his pockets to win a giant, grotesque stuffed lizard, he was aware that he had already accepted his fate.
"You're right," he said. "It only has to do with us."
Midori squeezed her giant stuffed chameleon tightly, both pleased and embarrassed as her cheeks flushed rosy pink. The sky was filled with an uncountable infinity of stars, twinkling deep in the velvet of the night above the warm glow of festival lanterns, and her sensei was looking down at her fondly, without saying a word, because no word need to be said. Her heart was beating allegrissimo, trembling and feverish. The world was suddenly wide, and impossible, and at the same time small and private, like a secret garden, and she and Himuro were the only two people who lived there. Her soul was full of music.
But then, the bald-headed barrel-chested barker at the shooting gallery behind them cleared his throat, and the moment was entirely broken.
Midori wheeled around to face the barker with a dangerous pout forming on her lips. She seized her other prize from the counter, tucked it under her arm, and then said, "Thank-you-very-much-mister-but-we'll-be-going-now," a little louder than absolutely necessary. She then took possession of Himuro's hand and dragged him off with the passionate strength of ten high school girls.
Midori charged around the arcade heedless and directionless, dragging Himuro reluctantly along as she worked off her steam. At last she stopped and let out a deep breath, as if she'd been holding one in for a long time. Then, her frustration having apparently subsided, she turned to Himuro and bowed her head.
"I'm sorry sensei. I'm sure I was just very rude, but I knew if I stayed there then I was going to say something cross. I misjudged Mr. Bald Attendant. I thought he was the ally of a young girl's heart, when obviously, he was not."
With her emotions put into words in such a way, Himuro was forced to cough to cover his chuckle, and he patted her bowed head in consolation.
"Don't worry about it," he said, then very seriously pushed his glasses up his nose with two fingers so the lenses gleamed with triumph. "After all, we beat his game, didn't we? You took away his greatest treasure." Here he pointed deliberately at the googley eyed chameleon she still held against her chest.
At this, she looked up with sparkling eyes, her faith in the universe restored.
"It's only because sensei is so wonderful!" she praised, and Himuro allowed himself to bask in her affections for a moment before clearing his throat.
"Now," he said sensibly, "You have had a full evening at the festival, I think, but it's beginning to be late for a high school student to be out."
"Himurochi," she started her chorus, her voice as warbling and pitiful as she could make it.
"Yumeno," he called out crisply, sharp, but not unkind.
"All right," Midori gave in, as she saw she could not influence him to add any more minutes to her time as Cinderella with this tactic. Still, she was not entirely beaten. "But," she said, pointing excitedly at a streamer hung with cards that fluttered nearby, "We have to write wish cards before we leave the festival. It's won't really be Tanabata unless we write our wishes and hang them up," she said, as if what they did together was what gave the festival its meaning, not the thousands of other people off celebrating it this very evening.
"Very well," Himuro agreed, as he did not imagine writing and hanging cards would take an overly long time. It also seemed to fit the sense of the evening, as she had said. He had not come out to Tanabata in years. The least he could do was see some wish cards hung. This feeling was one that Yumeno Midori's vivid light and elusive, unforgettable song had begun to nurture in his heart.
He was glad he had come to the festival, against his better judgement.
He offered her his hand, and this time he did not look away when he did, but instead looked down at her seriously. She smiled as she looked up at him, the roses blooming in her cheeks, and gave her hand away, her other arm filled with her beloved festival winnings.
And they went together to look for a place to write wishes.
Midori had seen a place selling lovely folded paper cards of all kinds near the ceramics shop, and so it was in this direction that they went. At the stall, she was obliged to deposit her burden on the pavement momentarily so that she could better regard the cards that were neatly arranged across the counter.
The little cranes were lovely, and the small kimono were folded so well that Midori clapped her hands twice in happiness. The beautiful older woman in the booth smiled indulgently at the two of them and then asked, "What is it that you want to wish for?"
"Oh," said Midori thoughtfully, "Hmm. Studies, because there are so many things I still need to learn, and health, so I can put up a good fight every day. And lots and lots of happiness. Oh, and health for my Grandpapa so he can live to be five hundred, and safety for my whole family, and music, music. I have to wish for a lot of wonderful music to be born in my heart."
The older woman had covered her mouth as Midori was talking, a discreet attempt to hide her smile at the girl's pure enthusiasm.
Midori turned her head slightly so she could view Himuro's profile, as he was standing a little behind her.
"What is it that you want to wish for, sensei?" she asked.
He shook his head briefly. "Nothing," he said. "I have already achieved my dream, and therefore have nothing to wish for."
"Sensei," she chided, putting both her hands on her hips. "Don't be silly. Don't you know that once you make one dream come true you have to think of another one and then work on making that one come true?"
"Another dream?" Himuro asked, startled. Midori was still talking.
"I can't believe sensei didn't know that," she was waving one hand in the air, "Himurochi sure is like a little kid sometimes. Of course you can have more than one dream come true. Even an elementary school student knows that."
It was not something he had ever seriously considered. Another dream.'Once you make one dream come true, you just start working on another one,' he could hear her words chiming in his head, and then he thought of her face: a bright, energetic smile and a conspiratorial wink. He was on very uncertain ground. He bent his head as he thought carefully about it, and his hair fell into his eyes, obscuring his face.
"All right," he said at last, looking up, his eyes narrowed as he continued to grapple with this new problem. "But I haven't had time to think of anything yet, so you write a card for me, Yumeno."
"Yes sir!" she saluted him with enthusiasm, as if he had given her a vital duty, and then she gave him that troubling, conspiratorial wink, and turned back to the woman in the booth.
With the attendant's guidance, Midori selected several cards and using the inks and brushes available, began to write her wishes. Her cursive strokes were very lovely and delicate, sinuous and smooth, and bespoke many hours spent practicing with her grandfather as a child. Himuro watched her write her cards intently, following the serene movements of her hands. Often she was so full of excited, emotional energy that she moved in a whirlwind of accidents and joy, but now, as when she played her music, her movements were measured, thoughtful, and full of grace.
A new dream, he thought seriously, but he could think no further along the path beyond those simple words, as if they formed an obstacle he did not yet know how to cross.
She had finished her own cards, a myriad of wishes for herself, her sister, her brother, her mother and father, and her grandpapa - he even saw one in the interests of the cat - and now he watched her carefully as she arranged the card meant to hold his wish.
Her strokes were slow and fluid as she wrote the kanji compound for music on the pale yellow card, then she looked up at him hopefiul, the paintbrush in her hand and one finger raised.
"Music is what makes sense happy, right?" she said. "So I thought it was best to ask for music, since music feeds our hearts and souls."
"Ah," Himuro began uncertainly, but then as she saw her tilt her head in curiosity, he smiled briefly. "That is, thank you, Yumeno. You chose well."
"Right?" she asked cheerfully, then looked back down at the card. "Only, I think sensei better write it too, otherwise Kami-sama might send the wish to the wrong place."
"I would also be happy if the music came to you, Yumeno," he answered honestly, and she might have had a palpitation at this had she been listening to what he said.
"You absolutely have to write it too, sensei, absolutely!" she was adamant, both her hands balled into fists under her chin as she insisted.
"All right," he relented, and took the brush from her, dipping it carefully into the ink and writing the kanji for music in small, sharp strokes under the wish she had written for him.
She beamed at him as he finished, and they waited briefly for this last wish to dry, then gathered together the pile of other wishes she had accumulated and moved to hang them in open spots along the arcade. Himuro's wish they hung last, her sensei stretching on his toes to hang it from a high branch of a decorative tree that grew behind a small iron fence and was already quite bedecked with the wishes of others.
But as she watched the wish flutter a bit in the breeze as Himuro returned to her side, she knew that it was special.
Because it's our wish, her heart said to her, and she took Himuro's arm, and then went back to the stationary stand to retrieve her treasures.
With these collected, and the evening feeling very full and bright indeed, Himuro reminded her that it was time he saw her safely home, and she agreed only a little reluctantly. So they walked together in the direction of her sensei's familiar car, not as slowly as she would have liked, because she was savoring these last few moments as if the like would never come again, but not too terribly quickly either.
But at last the moment had passed, and they were standing together at his car, while he unlocked and opened the passenger side door for her.
She deposited her chameleon and his smaller companion down on the seat and then turned to look at Himuro, pushing the hair out of her eyes nervously.
"You know, sensei," she said, her voice soft and uncertain. "Tanabata is a star festival, but I feel like I haven't really looked at the stars at all tonight. It was too bright and noisy at the festival. Do you think," she began timidly, "Do you think we might stop some place on the way home to look at them just for a little while?"
Himuro stood there next to her, one hand braced on the frame of his car, for what seemed like a long time, and then at last he answered.
"All right," he said. "I know a place. But only for a little while."
Her nervous happiness lit up his evening again and then, brushing her fingers against his hand one last time, a brief, tactile thank you, she climbed into his car, and he closed the door behind her.
So Tsukushi has made his appearance at last! I hope you all enjoyed it. This is completely how I imagine he operates. And now you have also briefly seen Satomi and Kei. I also want to write something about the two of them. This story is now almost done, yay! I can't imagine now that I really intended it to be a one-shot. What was I thinking? XD
I am also here to report that I fixed the mangled formatting in the previous chapters. FF.N won't allow me basic formatting options, and deleted the white spaces I use with sense and moderation. I have replaced them with ugly line breaks because that appears to be the only option to set sections apart here anymore. It is not beautiful, but I hope it is at least functional, so you can follow the story the way it is intended to be read.
Hope to see you at the end,
Gabi