CHIHAYA
A biting wind assaulted me as I stepped off the train in Fukui. I nestled deeper into my scarf and looked up and down the platform. Apparently no one was foolish enough to wait outside on a day like this, so I followed my fellow travelers and found the entrance to the station.
Once inside, I heard a throaty voice call out from somewhere to my left. "Chihaya!"
I spied him then. Bundled in a dark winter coat, he was waving to get my attention as his long legs swallowed the distance between us.
Anticipation surged through me. I'm really here! Preparing for the Queen match. With Arata.
"Arata!" I called back with a grin. Leaving my suitcase, I raced the few steps that remained between us and threw my arms around him. "Eeeee! I'm so excited!" I told his shoulder.
Suddenly realizing I was hugging someone who'd been more a stranger than a friend for four years, I grew embarrassed and released him. "Sorry!" I cried. "I'm just so happy to be here!"
His cheeks wore a tinge of pink but he quickly said, "No, that's okay." He broke into a smile that made my heart feel all melty. "I'm really glad to see you too," he said warmly. He colored a bit more at that and looked past me. "Here, let me get your bag." He took the handle of my suitcase and directed me toward the exit.
"My mom wanted to bring the car since it's so cold out today," Arata said as we left the station and headed toward where a line of vehicles stood waiting. He stopped next to an older model compact and opened the passenger door. Leaning one hand on it, he stuck his head in and greeted his mom. "We're here." He stepped back and ushered me into the front seat.
He closed my door and was hefting my bag into the back seat as I turned to greet my hostess. Her brown hair was cut short and matched her brown eyes. Like Arata, she wore clear-framed glasses. Her expression was open, a welcoming smile on her lips. My interactions with Taichi's mother had left me apprehensive, but I suddenly remembered how Arata's mom used to be pretty solicitous when I visited their apartment back in the old days.
"Thank you for having me!" I burst out, lowering my head respectfully.
She chuckled, and I raised my head to see what was funny. She wore an indulgent smile. "We're very pleased you could come. Was the trip difficult?" she asked.
"No, it was fine. I couldn't sleep on the train, though, because I was afraid I'd miss my transfer."
Arata was quiet and let his mom lead the conversation. Soon we were pulling into the driveway of a comfortable-looking, two-story home. As we entered I noticed again the nameplate by the door: Wataya.
I had a strange feeling about being here again. Memories of my last visit were filled with anguish. Wataya-san slipped out of her shoes and excused herself to make some tea. As I pulled off my boots, I searched Arata's profile. He was kicking off his tennis shoes, but turned when he felt my gaze. "Is something wrong?" His blue eyes were darker than usual, and the concern they held pulled at me.
I shook my head. "Mm, no, sorry."
With a wry grin he said, "I promise to be more hospitable this time."
My mouth fell open. "How did you…" I trailed off.
He didn't answer, just slipped on his house shoes and pulled my bag behind him as he opened the shoji doors to a room on our right. I vaguely remembered this room. Just like last time, there was a kotatsu table set up in the middle of what served as a family room of sorts, with a TV in one corner and well-stocked bookshelves against the wall.
Arata walked straight through to the shoji doors opposite the entry. I followed him and found myself in another room I recognized. It had been dark last time I entered, and I'd laid out the karuta cards in the light from the main room. And then…everything had gone wrong.
Arata stopped and was setting my suitcase against a wall with built-in bookshelves that showcased a row of large trophies. The blinds at the window were open today, casting light on a neatly made bed and the end table beside it. A few boxes cluttered one corner, and a television occupied another. Next to the door where we'd entered was a cabinet that clearly held the remembrances of Arata's grandfather, the Eternal Grand Master Wataya.
Alarmed, I sought Arata. "I'm not staying in here, am I?"
His face clouded in confusion. "W-well, yes. Is that a problem?"
"B-but…this was your grandfather's room, right?" Inside, I cringed at the possibility of seeing Arata's temper again.
"Oh, I see." His expression cleared and he summoned a smile. "You're right. This was Grandpa's room, but we all use it a lot now. My aunt and uncle always stay here when they visit, and I…" I thought I saw a tinge of pink on his cheeks. "I like to practice karuta in here."
"Oh." I exhaled in relief. "You're sure it's okay? I could just sleep on the floor in the living room."
He waved his hand back and forth. "No, no, it's fine. Besides…" A knowing smile pulled at his lips. "I think Grandpa would be happy to have a future queen staying in his old room."
A future queen… His words made me fall for him all over again. "Arata…" I said in wonder.
His smile grew until his eyes disappeared into crinkles. "Come on. I'll show you the rest of the house."
I followed him back through the family room. We passed under a row of certificates perched atop the doorsill, all bearing Arata's name. My mind spun, wondering how many tournaments he'd won before I ever met him.
Rather than climb the stairs we faced, he took a turn down the hall and led me into the kitchen. His mom's back was to us as she fussed over a teapot at the stove. We passed the rectangular table and ducked under a flap to enter another hallway. Bypassing one closed door, Arata stopped beside another and slid it open. He didn't enter but motioned inside, saying, "Here's the bathroom."
"Okay." I filed that away and he turned back down the hall. I trailed behind him, my eyes tracing the outline of his shoulder blades through his faded black t-shirt. I was still kind of in a daze, not able to believe he was this close.
His mom was pouring the tea as we passed through again. "Tea's almost ready," she said. "Have you had lunch, Ayase-san?"
"I had something on the train, thank you."
"We'll be down in a minute," Arata told her. We continued on up the stairs and he pointed out his parents' room, another bedroom that seemed to be used for storage, and, lastly, his bedroom.
Curious, I wandered into his room. It was pretty spartan; the only furnishings were a single bed against the outside wall and a rectangular table stacked with books and overshadowed by an adjustable desk lamp. The walls were conspicuously lacking the usual posters that you'd see in a teenager's room. A few notes and a calendar were tacked up here and there. I was drawn to the window, to see what Arata looked out upon…the street, apparently, and a similar house on the other side.
I felt Arata come up beside me. Still looking out at the clouds chasing one another, I said. "Now when we talk on the phone, I'll be able to picture you here, in this room."
He chuckled. "The road isn't a busy one, so at night I can see the stars really well."
I could picture that as well, Arata's straight form gazing at the night sky. "Mm." I smiled at him.
His head turned to meet my gaze, and I realized how close we stood. Though I'm tall for a girl, he had me by a few centimeters. His blue eyes held mine for a moment before widening suddenly. He took a step back, clearing his throat. "Ah, well, anyway…" He turned and ducked into the hall again. "There's a restroom up here as well," he gestured toward a door across from his, "But we all use the one downstairs for baths."
I followed him out but paused at the threshold. Turning for one last look at his room, I tried to memorize it. I saw Arata standing at the window looking out into the night; Arata reclining on his bed reviewing the cards; Arata doing homework under the light at his desk. I slid the door closed behind me and turned to find that he'd stopped, halfway down the stairs, to watch me.
I hurried after him, and we found his mom setting out tea service on the kotatsu. "Your home is lovely," I told her. The old dingy apartment in Tokyo loomed in the back of my mind. This place was quite different. Tokyo…
"Oh, I forgot!" I stopped mid-kneel and popped up again, hurrying to my room. I returned with a small box, placing it on the table before Wataya-san. "Thank you for having me," I said respectfully, clasping my hands and making a quick half-bow.
When I looked up, I saw her smiling at the box. "Ooo, from Shisheido," she cooed. Unfastening the lid she peeked inside. "Is that cheesecake? I've heard theirs is wonderful."
"My mom picked it out," I admitted. Wataya-san served each of us a small cube, while I emailed my parents to let them know I'd arrived safely. Arata's mom carried the conversation as we ate, asking about my family and what I'd been doing in middle school and high school. She seemed a bit keyed up at first, but eventually grew more comfortable as we reacquainted ourselves. Arata said little, sipping his tea and watching the show.
"Well," Wataya-san said, pushing herself up from the table. "I need to go to the store and get some things for dinner. Is Murao-kun still planning to join us?" she asked Arata.
"Yes, that was the plan," Arata confirmed.
"Ayase-san," she addressed me next. "What do you like in your hot pot?"
"Pork!" I blurted, excited for the dish. I shrank back, remembering my manners. "But anything is fine. I like just about everything, really."
She put a hand to her mouth, hiding a smile. "I see." Arata and I helped her gather the tea service and convinced her to let us clean up.
While we worked, Arata explained the plans. "Murao-san is coming over when he gets off work, and after dinner you two can try playing a match. Tomorrow, Kuriyama-sensei said the three of us could practice at the society during the day, but he wants you and Murao-san to finish up early so you can rest."
I was already getting fired up. "I'll be fine. I don't need to quit early."
He was shaking his head gravely. "You know how much concentration it takes to play Shinobu-chan; you'll be exhausted after a couple matches. And Murao-san could end up playing five matches against Master Suo, so he needs the rest even more than you."
"Oh! You're right. I forgot they played best of five."
Arata was drying the last teacup. "Is there anything you especially want to do while you're here?"
My eyes snapped to his, a fire rising inside me. Of course, there was only one thing I wanted to do. The one thing I'd been waiting five years for... "I want to play you!"
His eyes crinkled up as he broke into a grin. "I thought you'd say that. All right, lez play."
-0-0-0-0-
ARATA
As we headed into the hall, I said, "I'll get the CD player and cards from upstairs." I took in her stylish outfit. "Do you need to change?"
She gave me a blank look. "Change? Why?"
"Well, your…" I stopped short of saying what I'd been thinking…Your pants and jacket look tight and might be hard to move in.
Clearing my throat, I tried rephrasing. "Don't you usually wear more comfortable clothes to practice?"
She looked down at herself, as if she'd forgotten what she had on. With an easy smile she announced, "Oh, don't worry. They make women's jeans with lots of stretch, see?" She pushed her sweater up a few inches and tugged on the waistband.
I couldn't help but see her exposed midriff. Heat rushed to my cheeks. "Ah. Okay then," I quickly turned away and made for the stairs. "I'll be right back."
Chihaya had been kind of a tomboy in sixth grade. Nowadays she seemed to dress more fashionably and her hairstyle was more feminine. I'd expected her to be more—I don't know—modest, or coquettish, to match her attractive appearance. But it seemed she was still oblivious to her effect on the opposite sex. Or at least rather naïve. I vaguely remembered her arguing with Taichi over panties the last time she was here. That girl… She had no idea how fortunate she was that Taichi was raised to be proper. I felt a bit of compassion for him, imagining the temptation she'd surely presented on many occasions.
Returning to Grandpa's room—her room—I noticed she'd tossed her scarf and jacket on the bed. She was confining her hair in a ponytail as she stared at the cabinet with Grandpa's picture.
"How many years was he Master?" she asked.
"Seven," I answered. She nodded thoughtfully. "He never stopped loving karuta," I added. "He was always showing me a new idea he had for card placement or recommending something to visualize. He told me that the first enemy to defeat in the Master match is the room itself…with TV cameras and all the pressure of others watching and waiting…. 'Visualize yourself there,' he always said."
I came out of my daydream to find Chihaya watching me avidly. "It's good advice for you today, I guess," I told her with a small smile. She answered with another thought-filled nod.
"I've been visualizing playing Shinobu-chan for a long time," she said. "Sometimes I even dream about it!"
A laugh escaped. It was just too cute, hearing those impassioned words and seeing that determined look on her fine, model-perfect face. She should have been a dilettante, prattling about makeup and stringing men along for fun, but she wasn't, she never could be. What I loved about Chihaya was her steel core…that part of her that believed in justice and in working hard and saw the potential in a bunch of high schoolers from different backgrounds to become a first class karuta team.
I set the box of cards on the tatami and went to plug in the CD player. When I returned she was kneeling, mixing the cards with a happy look on her face.
"Your favorite part, right?" I asked fondly.
She looked surprised and then confused. "You told me once," I reminded her as I knelt. "Your favorite part is right before the cards are divided up." She nodded slowly, and her eyes thanked me. My heart swelled in response.
"Yes," she confirmed, collecting the cards into a stack. "When there are a million different possibilities and you don't know what the future will hold, but you know—whether it's a perfect hand or a difficult one—you know it will be fun."
Ah, yes, this'll be fun…
We began placing our cards. The action was so familiar that it settled me, and I was able to rein in my focus to the game.
More or less, anyway. Some part of me was still jittery with the realization that it was Chihaya sitting across from me.
I didn't have a lot of recent data on her, so I had to make some extrapolations based on what I'd witnessed at the high school tournament. Of course, she'd been playing left-handed the only time I really got to watch. I'd been busy with my own match when she'd used her dominant hand against the Queen.
Her practice swings were impressive—sharp and focused. Kind of like Shinobu-chan, but with more power and less precision. I found myself distracted again, amazed at how the girl in front of me had changed.
A shrill beeping from my watch indicated our memorization time was up. I took it off and set it aside. Making eye contact with Chihaya, I asked, "Ready?"
