PLEASE HEAD OVER TO THE "Falter" REMAKE INSTEAD.
It's been awhile, so there are a few updates — first, if you're interested in seeing how Miyu (and other OCs) look like, you can go here ( tiny. cc /ye6uw ). Second is my translation of Buchou Musou, a Hakkaya Ueno Hisa anthology, where Hisa's paired up with many different characters for cute short stories (of either a romantic or platonic nature), available at the usual place on my site. Third is only relevant if you're an Itou Shizuka fan — I've done some translations of interesting blog posts of hers.
And finally, "Falter" — happy belated birthday to Mihoko, and happy early birthday to Hisa, in case I don't update until after her birthday.
Her body was cosily warm, but her calves and feet were slightly chilly. She shifted to curl up and tuck her legs closer, while the glowing warmth concentrated in her upper body seemed to give the peaceful sensation of being enveloped within a loving cocoon. Strangely, one side felt warmer than the other, so she turned and snuggled closer to the source of heat. She grasped a fistful of pleasantly rough material in her hand, and murmured sleepily as she felt a soothing, rhythmic pressure on her head. A sense of tiredness remained somewhere in the far and distant reaches of her mind, but she felt herself slipping away from its grasp, gravitating instead toward the safe haven of what held her now.
She could stay like this, right here, in this moment forever.
—
Hisa began to wake as the wispy tendrils of sleep dissipated, clearing the fogginess of her mind. What struck her at first was her sleeping posture — she was resting on her side in an unfamiliar, uneven position. And her head was at a much steeper angle, as though the buckwheat hull pillow she'd used had risen several inches in height. Feeling somewhat disoriented, Hisa peered through her bangs to see grey fabric in front of her. It took her a few moments before the material registered in her head as a yukata.
Whose —
Whose lap was she in —?
Then the thought of Fukuji-san came unbidden into her mind, and she knew, even as Fukuji-san's soft voice permeated her brief contemplations.
"How are you feeling?"
"Mm, not too shabby," Hisa mumbled through a yawn. She turned to gaze upward, but the glaring lights above made her shield her eyes reflexively. "Agh... are those lights 200 watts or something?" she moaned.
Mihoko chuckled as she brushed Hisa's mussed hair. "You got me. I switched them out while you were asleep."
Hisa peered cautiously from under her arm. "You must be really something to manage that while acting as my pillow."
"You were dead to the world," Mihoko said affectionately, "so I'm sure I could've managed."
"Ah, shoot, was I asleep for long?" It hadn't yet occurred to her just how long she'd been sleeping in Fukuji-san's lap — nor could she recall how she even ended up sleeping on her. "I should get up before your legs —"
As she started to get up, she felt Mihoko's hand on her arm.
"I-It's all right — I don't mind, Ueno-san."
Hisa paused midway, unsure of Mihoko's response. It seemed like an odd thing to say while she was in the process of getting up. She hesitated and ventured a reply as she gestured vaguely. "Um, you sure?"
"Yeah," Mihoko said.
"Alright then —"
Hisa settled back into her previous position somewhat doubtfully, feeling slightly awkward now that she was deliberately lying down.
She'd only rested in someone's lap like this with Yuuko, before they'd been broken up.
The thought of her brought up faint nostalgia and — a ruefulness that had, like everything else, lessened with time. The covert contact they'd originally maintained since the incident had only grown sparser and sparser until it dwindled to nothingness; it had been hard and difficult to deal with for both of them, even without everything else. Perhaps forgetting was for the best.
She wondered how Yuuko was doing now.
"You're frowning," Mihoko murmured. "What are you thinking?"
Hisa broke out of her reverie. "Nothing much," she said. "But hey... you sure your legs are okay?"
"Really, I'm fine. And I thought I was the worrywart?"
Hisa tried to put some cheer in her voice. "Do you know how awful it feels being called a worrywart by the queen of worrywarts?"
Mihoko laughed, "I'm afraid I don't."
Hisa directed a well-aimed poke to Mihoko's side, and felt her squirm. "I'd watch it if I were you."
She received a ticklish poke in the ribs herself. "Likewise."
Hisa covered her eyes and mock groaned. "Okay, okay. Truce. Raincheck on the tickle fight? I'm too tired for one right now."
"All right. Do you want to head back? We'll be starting early tomorrow too."
With an arm still over her eyes, Hisa sought her target and gave Fukuji-san a light flick on her hand. "Make up your mind already. You were the one who got me to lie back down — I'm not budging."
"What a pushy buchou-san... might I have to reconsider the idea of transferring to Kiyosumi?"
"And you think I'd want a worrywart queen running my place?"
They giggled quietly, and it lifted her mood. Hisa grinned and peered over her arm when she got a playful flick back on her hand. Fukuji-san's hand rested lightly on hers, and though cold, Hisa welcomed the touch. It was hard not to notice how distant Fukuji-san was with her physically most of the time, compared to how she interacted with her regulars.
It was as though a wall were keeping them apart at a formal distance, despite how well they got on with one another. So it was reassuring to know she was opening up to her. Smiling at Fukuji-san, Hisa curled her fingers to give a little squeeze to Fukuji-san's hand, hoping she could convey how she felt with the gesture.
The look she got back from Fukuji-san was laden with similar emotion. They held each other's gaze for several heartbeats, and Hisa felt they had connected and reached an understanding on some level, where words would have surely fell short. Caught up in the moment, her heart began to pound as she continued to hold Fukuji-san's gaze, and the fleeting, but dreaded feeling of attraction to a straight friend surfaced briefly.
Hisa pushed the thought away — the alternative would only bring unnecessary complications that neither of them should have to go through. The feeling had probably only surfaced because Yuuko came to mind, and since Miyu had been spouting her usual nonsense earlier. Although Fukuji-san was attractive in many respects, it didn't mean she was necessarily attracted to her.
Hisa broke her gaze, and decided it was as good a time as any to sit back up. She pushed herself up and parted her mussed hair as she stalled for time.
"Hey, thanks..." Hisa began, "for letting me catch some sleep."
"It's no problem," Mihoko said with a small shake of her head.
"Still, thanks." Hisa looked away and patted the mahjong table. "I should clean up — and," Hisa drawled, "you sit right there. No helping."
Hisa furrowed her brow as she mulled over what she felt just then — she turned the discards face over row by row, and aligned them along the ledge at the corner closest to her. Then she moved onto the walls, moving them row by row. The whole process took less than two minutes.
"Okay, that's that." Hisa stood, and felt a slight wave of dizziness from her fatigue, but it wasn't particularly bad. She turned to Fukuji-san who was still on the floor. "Wanna head back?"
"Yes, but, um... my legs are asleep," she said sheepishly, knowing the reaction that would soon follow.
Hisa stood akimbo as she said, "And why didn't you tell me this before? Like when I'd woken up?"
"It didn't feel that bad then?"
Hisa knelt down to be at eye-level with Fukuji-san. "Sometimes..." she murmured with bewildered exasperation, "I just don't know what you're thinking."
Mihoko gave a chagrined look and could only offer a small smile.
Eyeing Fukuji-san sympathetically, Hisa asked softly, "At the pins and needles stage now?"
"Yes," Mihoko winced. "But I think I can move soon."
"Alright, I'm walking you back to your room when you're ready. Are there... any objections?" Hisa arched an eyebrow.
"Not at all," Mihoko smiled.
After several minutes, they slowly made their way back to the Kazekoshi room. They kept their voices low in the hallways, aware that many, if not most, were already asleep. Hisa made light conversation with Fukuji-san as they walked, too tired to engage in anything more strenuous.
When they reached the room, they stood outside by the shouji at a slight distance, mindful of the sleeping Kazekoshi regulars.
"Thanks for everything," Hisa whispered. "I'm kind of regretting the schedule I came up with, but make sure you get a good night's rest, alright?"
"You too, Ueno-san — you still look very tired."
"Gee, thanks," Hisa grinned. "Well, see you in the morning?"
Mihoko nodded. "And... please make sure you don't drink so much coffee."
"Alright, alright," Hisa said good-naturedly. "G'night?"
"Good night," Mihoko said.
Fukuji-san hesitated momentarily, as though she had more to say — before reluctantly turning to reach out for the shouji.
"... hey," Hisa found herself calling out on impulse.
Mihoko paused mid-action with her hand almost at the door, and looked at Hisa questioningly.
"Um, I just wanted you to know... I'd love to see them both again —" Hisa gestured lightly, "— outside of mahjong matches, like today."
A look of confusion visibly crossed Mihoko's face as she furrowed her brow. "You mean Kajiki-san and Amae-san...?"
"No, silly. I meant your eyes."
Finally understanding, Fukuji-san looked away and brought a hand to her eye, as though she were not aware it had been open until that point. Hisa stepped closer and tugged lightly at the sleeve of Fukuji-san's yukata, until Fukuji-san gave way and let her hand fall to her side.
"You don't usually hide something that someone just said they'd love to see again, you know."
"I — I guess not," Mihoko said haltingly.
"In any case, I do mean it. Your eyes are really beautiful," Hisa whispered.
A sudden, magnificent blush coloured Fukuji-san's cheeks, harkening back to their first meeting years ago. If it weren't for these eyes, Hisa thought, she may never have remembered their chance meeting at the tournament. Nor would she have connected the two, to realise the Kazekoshi mahjong captain and the girl she'd played against were one and the same.
And as her embarrassment abated, Fukuji-san began to laugh softly with tears in her eyes.
"It — It's like three years haven't passed at all," Mihoko said as she wiped her unspilt tears.
"I'm sure we'd have been friends sooner, if I'd continued the tournament," Hisa murmured gently as she wiped a tear from Fukuji-san's cheek with a knuckle.
"Or if you came to Kazekoshi —"
"That too," Hisa agreed. She pat Fukuji-san lightly on the head as the girl composed herself.
"But we're friends now — I'm really happy for that, Ueno-san." Sniffling slightly, she brought herself under control. "— I shouldn't get emotional like this —"
"Hey, it's alright," Hisa smiled. "We're friends, right?"
"Yeah —" Mihoko gave Hisa a small smile. "And as your friend, I've taken up enough of your time for one day. Let — let me say good night for real now."
"You can take up my time twenty-five hours a day if you want," Hisa grinned. "But I really should be heading off."
Mihoko nodded and held her hands to her chest as she said, "Good night, Ueno-san."
"Good night."
Mihoko smiled again as she dipped her head. She slid open the shouji and entered the room quietly, casting a last glance toward Hisa. They lingered, waving to each other lightly before Mihoko closed the door, and Hisa headed for her room.
Hisa padded toward the Kiyosumi room with thoughts of the events that had transpired between her and Fukuji-san. Though she was somewhat tired, it left her cheerful, light-hearted, and most of all — looking forward to the next day, and everything that it had to offer.
—
The next morning, she woke up groggily to the sound of her alarm. As she slapped the snooze button, she was thankful that the first-years were all still asleep. She'd prodded them about getting enough sleep to wake up bright and early — her own lethargy would reflect poorly on everything she'd been saying.
She dragged herself out of the futon, and into the bathroom to splash some cold water on her face. She went through a mental checklist of the day's tasks. Amae Koromo and Fujita were waking up late, and there was the usual business with tacos, pork cutlet bowls and ordering more normal lunches for everyone else. With a mental groan at the errands she had to run, she groped for a towel to wipe her hands off.
Hisa ran her fingers through her hair quickly, trying to tame the bit of hair that always stood on end whenever she slept. She opened her small bag of toiletries, and began her daily routine.
—
She spent most of the morning coaching Bundou, Tsuyama, and Senoo on playing against less orthodox opponents, but ran into trouble trying to get them to move past their theory-oriented and probability-entrenched minds. Senoo, as a beginner, was more impressionable and open to explanations — but Hisa felt somewhat incompatible coaching someone who won with yakuman on a regular basis. In Senoo's case, it seemed like a basic grasp of orthodox play, rather, would benefit her more.
The time for a breather finally came during a lull in the late morning, about half an hour before one of the scheduled breaks between matches. Hisa looked all around the room, hoping to catch a glimpse of Fukuji-san, but to no avail. They'd managed a greeting or two when they first saw each other, but little more than that — it would be nice to spend some time with Fukuji-san, if she could.
Spotting one of the Kazekoshi regulars, Hisa ambled over, hoping the girl would be able to help her. Wishing she had Fukuji-san's capacity for remembering names, Hisa approached the girl wearing glasses and inquired politely.
"Excuse me, but would you happen to know where your captain is?"
"Ah... I think Captain said she was going to prepare some snacks, so perhaps you might find her in the shared kitchen?"
"I see, thank you. Now if you'll excuse me —"
Hisa hurried away in search of Fukuji-san, leaving the room before anyone else could notice her absence. It took her several minutes to locate the kitchen area — as she had subsisted on snacks they'd brought, the vending machines, and the meals ordered the last two days, she never had a reason to go there before.
She knew she was near when she heard the telltale sounds of a refrigerator door opening and closing; bowls clinking lightly against the counter; and the brisk, assured mixing of ingredients brought on by the tynes of a fork striking against a bowl.
Hisa peeked her head in to see an apron-clad Fukuji-san hard at work by the counter. To the side, half a tray of uniform-looking onigiri were arranged in neatly presented rows, while slices of bread were placed on her right on a wide plate. Hisa spent a moment just watching her prepare the snacks, fascinated by this very different side of Fukuji-san that she had not yet been privy to. Like watching Fukuji-san fumble with her cell phone that day at the student congress council room, Hisa felt as though she were seeing a part of Fukuji-san that the girl would not have shown so easily otherwise.
Fukuji-san hummed quietly to herself as she spread margarine onto slices of bread, sometimes pausing to count the slices she had prepared. When Fukuji-san closed the lid to the tub of margarine, Hisa cleared her throat and voiced a soft greeting.
"Hey."
Startled, Fukuji-san turned quickly with the small tub in hand.
"Ueno-san? What are you doing here?"
Hisa walked into the room, feeling somewhat out of place. "I was looking for you and didn't see you in the main room," she said, "and one of your regulars said I could find you here."
Mihoko placed the margarine in the fridge and wiped her hands off. "You must mean Yoshitome-san — I asked her to watch things for me while I was in the kitchen." Then her expression softened as she regarded Hisa. "Are you feeling okay this morning? You look really tense."
"Yeah — I'll live." After all, it was only going to last a day and a half longer, and she could catch some shut-eye on the bus home — as long as Yuuki wasn't going to be too boisterous. "But sorry though — I had to have two coffees this morning to get my engine running."
"You do look like you need it," Mihoko said considerately with a small smile. "What do you say we let it pass just this time?"
"Alright, deal." Hisa aded conspiratorially, "And I suppose we'll let it pass that you're making snacks instead of playing mahjong like you're supposed to right now, too, huh?"
"Will it help if I bribe you with either a tuna sandwich or onigiri?"
Hisa gave Mihoko a bright grin.
"Tuna sounds good."