ARATA
She was sitting up, stretching her shoulders, and her big brown eyes looked somewhat unfocused. A sharp nod was my answer. I pressed the Play button.
Naniwa Bay, now the flower blooms…
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath through my nose. I thought I heard Chihaya doing the same, but then she burst out laughing.
…but for winter…
She hit the Pause button, still laughing. "Did I learn that from you?" she asked incredulously.
"What?"
"The whole…" she mimed an exaggerated inhale and exhale.
"I don't know." It had been a habit of mine for as long as I could remember.
"I'm sorry," she said, putting her hands to her cheeks. "This is just…I'm finding it really hard to settle down and concentrate. I've been dreaming of this day for so long."
My chest squeezed, empathizing perfectly. I sat back on my heels. "So have I," I admitted, my heart leaping at my audacity.
We stared at one another for a minute, while I listened to my racing pulse.
Finally she closed her eyes and her face cleared. "All right. Tell me again what to visualize for Saturday's matches."
I did my best to describe the scene, both Grandpa's personal recollections and my observations from watching on television. She inhaled, exhaled, and—without looking my direction—took a stance bent over her cards.
I followed her example, breathing in and out and clearing my mind, before resetting the player to begin anew.
…now the flower blooms….
For y…
I hit the card on my side just ahead of Chihaya. As I went to retrieve it from the corner, I checked on her. She was still eerily focused, eyes on the cards, mouth set in a firm line.
Repositioning myself, I pressed the Play button again.
The sight of the…
I began my swing in one direction and made a quick cross when the unique syllable began to form. I beat Chihaya by a little more on that one.
She still appeared calm.
In the…
Chihaya was moving before the unique syllable was uttered. I waited a moment too long, for she had known—somehow—that the next word was "sleepy." The card spun alone from the tip of her finger. Inwardly, I gasped. This…this is the talent that will challenge Shinobu-chan. This could beat her.
From there, the game grew more intense as Chihaya's hearing adjusted to the reader and my strategy adjusted to her play. It was a high stakes tug-of-war asking the best of both of us, mentally and physically.
When it finally ended, fifteen cards remained on her side. I was still caught up in the swirl of possibilities and sounds and sensations, but it felt like a huge balloon of happiness was expanding inside me. We bowed and said our thank-yous by rote, and I sat up quickly. "Chihaya, that was amazing! I can't believe how far you've come! I mean, I can believe it-you're going to the Queen match after all-but you were just…" My babbling was cut short when she slowly sat up and I noticed she was wiping tears away.
"Chihaya?"
Tears still leaked from her eyes, but she said, "That was fun." She wiped them away again. "Really fun, Arata." Her watery brown eyes found me and her lips formed a tremulous smile.
"You're crying," I said dumbly, uncertain what to do.
She half-laughed. Her tears seemed to be slowing. "Don't mind this." She sniffled. "I always cry when I finish a match that intense and fun. I can't help crying some and then I usually…oh…" Her voice trailed off and her eyes drooped. Her body seemed to go limp and began to fall forward.
"Chihaya!" I cried, diving and catching her in my arms before we both fell sideways across her cards. "Ow." My right shoulder took the brunt of our fall, but I'd managed to protect Chihaya's head, holding it tight to my chest. I lay on my back a moment, panting with adrenaline. Her upper body sprawled over mine.
"Chihaya?" I rolled onto my side, carefully shifting her weight to the floor and guiding her head to rest in the crook of my arm. I took a moment to examine her.
Her cheeks had good color, and her long eyelashes fluttered now and then. Her lips were pink and hung open slightly. She didn't seem to be in distress. In fact, she looked like she was merely asleep.
I was still worried, though. "Chihaya, are you okay?" I placed my hand against her cheek. It was warm, but not fevered. Several strands of fine hair splayed across her face. Tenderly, I smoothed them from her skin and back into place. My heart was racing, and I couldn't say whether it was from worry or from holding her in my arms.
Her lashes fluttered and slowly her eyelids rose partway. Her gaze seemed far away, but, as I watched, it came into focus. Her eyes looked into mine as she murmured, "People would always ask if I was pining for someone…."
I recognized the line from one of the Hundred Poems. Where did that come from? Her chocolate brown eyes were filled with longing, almost as if she really were pining for someone. And they were fixed on me. Was it possible…was she pining for me?
A surge of emotion almost overwhelmed me. This precious, precious woman in my arms…
Another poem sprang to mind, and her yearning gaze pulled the truth from my lips. "My love has grown like the river's quiet depths," I confessed. This seemed to placate Chihaya, and her eyes drifted closed, a peaceful smile overspreading her countenance.
I continued to watch her face, paralyzed by the feelings tearing through me. Suddenly, her eyes shot open and met mine in alarm. She tapped a hand against my cheek. "You're really here, aren't you? What happened?" she asked in confusion.
"Are you okay?" I asked again.
"Yes, I…think so," she sat up dazedly. I did the same, shaking circulation back into the arm she'd used as a pillow.
"Oh, that's right," she continued. "You beat me and I…oh!" Her face cleared in an instant. "I fell asleep," she concluded cheerfully.
"Wah! Chihaya, are you sure? It was really sudden."
"Oh, yeah, definitely. Happens all the time. Harada-sensei tells me it's really creepy." She was collecting the cards we'd strewn about, but she paused to look up at the ceiling. "Come to think of it, I bought some snacks on the train but I was too nervous to eat much. I should probably…" She trailed off, reaching for her backpack and digging inside it. Withdrawing a box, she popped something in her mouth and held it out to me. "Chocolate?" she offered.
My mind was still spinning from the emotional ride. I wasn't sure what had just happened. Did she mean what she said to me? Did she forget what I said in return?
Not knowing what else to do, I took one of the candies and ate it.
-0-0-0-0-
CHIHAYA
I was still grilling Arata some time later when I heard the front door open and close. The sound didn't register, though, since I was concentrating hard, trying to learn from Arata's answers. "So why did you send "The fall paddy shacks" just then?" I asked.
Arata's mom appeared in the doorway, several plastic grocery bags dangling from her arms. The worry lines in her face seemed to ease when she spotted us. We probably looked like kids again, sitting on the floor in the midst of crumpled candy wrappers and separated by the cards, which we'd reconstructed in the formation from our game.
"I'm home," she said needlessly.
Arata stood quickly. "Are there any more bags to bring in?"
Aw. That was sweet of him. What a good son.
"No, this is it, thanks." She turned, no doubt heading for the kitchen.
I raced after her, insisting on helping. Eventually, she conceded and assigned some vegetable chopping to me and Arata.
It felt nice to work beside him. Very domestic and comfortable after our intensely competitive match.
Of course, I still peppered him with questions about his strategy while we worked. Patiently he explained his thought process in each case as best he could remember. I felt like a sponge, taking in all his wisdom.
"Arata," his mom called. "Would you set these bowls and chopsticks out on the kotatsu?"
He complied, and when he'd left the room I felt her presence at my elbow. "You two sound just like he and Grandpa used to," she said. A wistful smile touched her lips. "It was hard on both of us, losing my dad, but especially on Arata." A shadow crossed her face. "They were really close."
"But," she continued, "It's good for him to be in the role of the teacher now. I hear Arata saying things to you that my dad used to say to him, and it's…healing. It turns our sadness into precious memories."
I felt tears pricking the corner of my eyes. "I want to help in any way I can," I told her.
She smiled, dabbing beneath her glasses with a corner of her apron. "I know," she said. "Just be yourself. I think that's all he needs."
-0-0-0-0-
I was setting sauce dishes on the kotatsu when the doorbell pinged. I saw Arata come from the kitchen to answer it. Curious, I wandered into the foyer where I found him greeting his karuta friend. He was an average-looking guy probably in his mid- to late twenties (although his conspicuously dark-framed glasses may have falsely aged him) with thick, chestnut hair parted in the center. My first impression was of someone a little nerdy but clearly comfortable with Arata.
He looked up from removing his shoes and his brown eyes spotted me. Arata introduced us.
"Murao-san, this is the friend I was telling you about, Ayase Chihaya."
Murao offered a cordial smile, saying, "I'm pleased to meet you in person, Ayase-san. I saw you a few times at Omi Jingu last summer. Congratulations on winning the team tournament."
I squinted at him. "I don't think I remember you…"
He took no offense. "I'm not surprised. I spent most of the time helping with registration or in the Class C and D rooms."
We migrated into the kitchen. "Something smells great," Murao said amicably. His comment made me aware of the delicious, stewy aroma permeating the air.
"Hello, Murao-kun," Arata's mom greeted him comfortably. "How have you been?" They exchanged pleasantries while I tried to shush my eager stomach. "I think dinner's just about ready," Wataya-san said. "Arata, take them to the other room and get some cushions while I call your father."
As we made ourselves comfortable at the kotatsu, I could hear Wataya-san's voice from down the hall. "Where are you?" Pause. "Did you forget Arata's friend was coming today?" Pause. "Yes, it was. And his senior from the karuta society is here for dinner, too." Pause. "Yes. I did." She sounded peeved now. "Fine. Come when you can."
She appeared with the hot pot soon afterwards. "Dad got tied up with something. He said to start without him." She did not look pleased.
"Ah, well, this looks great," Murao said as he surveyed the table. "Thank you for inviting me, Wataya-san." She rallied a bit at his attempt to smooth things over.
Arata's mom took my bowl and began filling it with various morsels. When she handed it back, reaching for Murao's, I exclaimed. "Pork! Oh, but you didn't have to…"
She tossed me a small smile. "It was no trouble. But be sure you and Murao have some beef as well; we don't want to you to have any issues with anemia this weekend."
My heart melted. She was thinking of my welfare, of helping me for the Queen match.
She noticed my frozen chopsticks. "Eat up!" she gestured toward the food, a genuine smile in place.
"Itidakimasu!" I said with gusto.
Dinner was comfortable. Murao-san and I swapped karuta histories, which led to stories about when Arata was younger. I could tell from the way Murao spoke that he and the other folks at their society looked on Arata as a little brother. I was happy for him.
Partway through the meal, I heard the front door again, and we were joined by Arata's father. He was taller than Murao and I could tell right away that Arata's black, spiky hair came from this man. His oval face wore a five o'clock shadow.
"Sorry I'm late," he declared, though there was more gregariousness than apology in his tone. As he passed behind me I caught a whiff of what smelled like beer.
"Murao-kun, good to see you." They shook hands and he took a seat by Arata. "Whew! It's really cold out tonight. This was a good idea, Dear," he said as he filled his bowl. His wife pursed her lips.
Looking up, he sought me out. His eyebrows rose. "Can this be Chihaya-chan? The last time I saw you, you were this high and looked like you might get in a fistfight any second."
I had to laugh at that. "That's pretty accurate." I noticed Arata smiling fondly at the memory as well. "Hopefully, I've grown out of that. At least, I haven't thrown any punches yet this year. These days I save my energy for karuta."
He grunted at that. Not a karuta fan? I wondered.
"Well, we're pleased you could come stay with us. Arata's really been looking forward to it." Arata squirmed. Thankfully his dad turned to Murao again to talk local sports.
I'd finished eating, and my eyes roamed from one person to the next. There was a strange tension between Arata's dad and mom. His mom tended to be reserved, but she'd always been kind to me, just as she had earlier today. I wasn't sure what to think.
When all the bowls were empty, Arata's mom began to collect the dishes.
His dad stood as well. "Murao-kun, can I get you a beer?" he said affably.
"No, thank you. Ayase-san has promised me a match this evening, and from what I hear, I'd better have all my wits about me."
Yes! Time to play!
"Ah," Arata commented, a grin tugging at his mouth. "Look at that face. I hope you're ready, Murao-san."
Murao's cool composure slipped for just a second and then he stood. "Shall we?"
