ARATA

Chihaya read for the second match, which was somewhat distracting. Her voice was high and sweet, and hearing it sent electricity through my heart. I was fortunate to lose by only five cards.

As we put away the cards and stood around finishing our bottled drinks, Chihaya engaged us in another aggressive question and answer session. Murao seemed to appreciate the opportunity to think through his decisions and also hear my side of the story, so I didn't realize how late it was getting until I heard someone's stomach growl.

Chihaya looked sheepish.

"I think we all need to get some lunch," Director Kuriyama stated, softening his address with his usual mild manner. "And Shinichi-kun…"

"Yeh, I need to get going," Murao said, checking his watch. "I'll be heading down tonight." His brow knit instantly.

"Thank you very much for your help!" Chihaya declared with her usual enthusiasm. "Let's work hard!" Her blazing eyes sent him a challenge.

"Heh." Murao's face relaxed. Behind his glasses, his eyes looked faintly amused. "Thanks, he said awkwardly. "I'll look for you tomorrow."

Director Kuriyama went to buy lunch and left Chihaya and me in the lobby sharing a bento between us on one of the couches. We picked out various morsels with our chopsticks and chatted as though this were an everyday occurrence. It was comfortable, pleasant. I felt happy.

"I can't believe I'm going to see Shinobu-chan tomorrow," Chihaya mused. "At the other tournaments, there was no guarantee I'd get to play against her." She looked out the window. Thoughtfully, she said, "Somehow I always did in the end, though."

"Sounds like fate," I remarked.

"Hmm. Anyway, you never told me if you used a particular strategy to beat her last time."

"She was sick, you know, during our match," I reminded her.

"But still…" She popped another bite in her mouth and gestured with her chopsticks for me to elaborate.

"Well, Grandpa said that you break an opponent by attacking their strengths. So what would you say her strengths are?" I turned the question back to Chihaya.

We were still talking strategy when her phone buzzed. Pulling it from her bag, she checked the messages. "Oh! It's from Taichi." Jealousy pricked at me. Chihaya continued, oblivious. "He says Kana-chan, Hanano-san, and Desktomu are going to come with him tomorrow!" A glorious smile illuminated her face.

Taichi's coming. Well, of course, he would. And this Desktomu guy…she's mentioned him a number of times too.

"Oh, some more messages came in earlier…" She scrolled through them. "Aw, the Empress can't come," she commented, a disappointed note in her voice.

The Empress?

Her face lit up again. "Oh, and Yama-chan wrote! She says she's praying for my success, and she and Arai-kun will be watching."

Arai-kun? How many men does she know, anyway?!

"Ah, Harada-sensei…" she trailed off, concentrating, and tapped out a reply.

"You have a lot of people sending you a good wave," I commented.

"Mm!" she nodded, her glowing smile back in place.

My heart sighed. Will I ever be close enough to reach her?

-0-0-0-0-

CHIHAYA

I was excited and nervous. The more I prepared for tomorrow, the more jittery I felt.

Focus! I commanded myself. Visualize the Uruyasu Room, the lights, the TV crews, my friends and family all watching expectantly.

Kuriyama-sensei's voice drifted over me. Naniwa Bay, now the flower blooms…

Yes, this was better than the CD player. He'd read for my match with Murao-san earlier, so I was growing accustomed to his voice.

but for winter…

I leaned forward, eyes trained on the cards. Focus. Visualize. Be ready to attack.

A low chuckle close by broke into my fevered dialogue. Still leaning on my palms over the playing field, I lifted my head to see Arata's face hovering inches from mine. He was perched over his territory as well, and he wore one of those perfect smiles that crinkled his eyes into half-moons.

My heart swooned. "Are you trying to distract me?" I accused.

"Relax," he said, looking as though he hadn't a care in the world. "Let's have fun."

I felt the ball of tension inside me uncoiling under the influence of his doting look. Ah. This is still a match against Arata. It's going to be fun. Really fun.

"You're on." I shot him a feisty smile before turning back to the field.

I heard Kuriyama's preparatory intake of breath. In the sl…

I tapped the corner of the card, just as I'd practiced. It shot away. Haha! Mine!

The match continued with an intensity that was electrifying. Every card I took was sweet, and every card I lost was a near miss. Dead cards were irrelevant onlookers.

When Arata snatched the last card he needed, I growled in frustration. It's over. And he won again. I want to beat him one day! I want to show him we are equals.

"Thank you for the match," I said by rote, bowing while my mind still raced. He mirrored my actions.

"Wonderful! That was a beautiful match." The Director's voice sounded excited.

He beat me by eight cards this time; I was closing the gap. Playing Arata and Murao had attuned my peripheral vision somewhat, so that I could pick up on subtle shifts in their stance and make predictions accordingly. But he'd driven me into a fault not once but twice, the little stinker. How should I counter that?

As my thoughts chased one another, I was vaguely aware that I hadn't bothered to sit up yet. It felt so good to just let my body sink down into the tatami.

I'd open my eyes in just a minute…

When my senses returned, I felt cool fingertips against my forehead, gently brushing my bangs aside and stroking my cheek as they pulled hair off my face. It felt nice. Comforting.

A voice from across the room was saying something, and beside me another voice answered. "She should be fine after a little rest. It sounds like this happens pretty often." That low voice. It spread warm honey all over my heart. Arata. "I'll make sure she takes it easy for the rest of the day," he continued.

The rest of the day… Ack! My time with Arata is slipping away and I'm here sleeping! I sat up quickly and barely missed cracking his chin with the back of my head. He was regarding me with surprise written all over his face.

He blinked. "Are you okay?"

"Mm. Fine." I clasped my hands together and stretched my arms over my head. "What's next on the agenda?"

"That's up to you. Do you want to go home and lie down for a while? Or do you want to walk around town? Do you need to eat? The only thing is, we ought to get going before people start showing up here for practice."

"Oh, okay." I stood and stretched my back this way and that. "In that case, let's walk around for a while. I'd like to see more of your hometown. Oh! And your school, if we can." I loved seeing all the normal places in his life. It brought him closer.

We said our goodbyes to the Director and stepped into the cool outdoors. The sidewalks were much less crowded than Tokyo, and we walked companionably side by side. Arata pointed out various buildings of interest and I exclaimed over cute items in the shop windows. It felt kind of like a date, but without feeling nervous.

I wanted to try the outdoor ice skating rink we came across in one plaza, but Arata refused, insisting I needed to take it easy. We wound up going to a movie instead. We shared popcorn, and every now and then I leaned over to comment on the film. He didn't seem bothered by my interruptions, and as I looked at his profile, the light dancing over his glasses and the way his lips parted slightly, I wished we could do this every day.

When we left the theater, we found that the sky had clouded over and the light was already fading into the early evening of winter. We pulled on our hats and scarves. "We should probably head home. Mom will be starting dinner soon."

"But your school?" I asked hopefully.

"We can go by it on our way back," he said, indulging me. He greeted a couple of boys who looked near his age as we left the theater behind.

"Did you want to stop by the shrine tomorrow morning? We need to figure out what time we're leaving."

"I guess," I said without enthusiasm. "I've been trying to pay more attention to what God wants me to do each day, and it's cool how I feel like he's actually guiding me somehow. I mean, here I am, going to the Queen match. But I always feel bad when I remember the first time I went to that shrine."

We walked a few steps in silence. "What happened?" he asked.

I sighed. "It was the first time our team went to Nationals. We all went to the shrine together, and I remember that I prayed something like, 'God, I'm not asking for a miracle.'" As an aside, I explained, "Even though it was our first time, I still wanted to win really badly. But I didn't dare ask for that; it seemed, I don't know, like too much. So I said, 'I'm not asking for a miracle. Just keep all of us safe and healthy so we can compete.'"

"But then you got a fever and passed out," Arata filled in the rest. He'd been present for that part.

"Right," I said miserably. "Why didn't God answer my prayer? I've always wondered."

We turned the corner and a more residential avenue opened before us. After a minute, Arata said, "I don't know why I came that day. Something just kept bugging me to go and watch you and Taichi." I checked his face, curious, but he was lost in thought. "I almost couldn't do it. After Grandpa passed on, everything about karuta was painful for me. I felt guilty, because I was at a karuta tournament when he…" He clamped his lips together tightly and breathed through his nose for a minute. Our footsteps sounded in the quiet.

"Anyway, I didn't think I could ever play again, but I just had to come see you for some reason." He caught my eye, his expression earnest. "Something changed that day. When I saw how happy your team was, even after they lost, and when I talked to some of the people who remembered Grandpa there." He chuckled. "And you…you were so desperate to get back to the match you'd forfeited. You wanted to play so badly… I realized that deep down, I wanted to play that badly too. And that Grandpa would have wanted me to keep playing. He loved karuta. He wouldn't have wanted me to leave it behind." Watching the sidewalk in front of our feet, he concluded, "It was a miracle."

"Arata," I said, compassion ringing in my voice. I put a comforting arm around his waist.

He stopped and turned to gather me in a loose embrace. "I'm sorry you didn't get your miracle that day."

"Arata," I said against his scratchy coat front. "You coming back to karuta was a miracle for me too. It was an answer to the deepest prayer in my heart. I didn't even know how to ask for it, but if my fever helped bring you back to karuta, then I don't mind…not at all." My voice trembled as I remembered. "I was so scared that you'd changed forever. That I'd never get to see you again." The tears were slipping from my eyes.

Arata took a step back to inspect my face and caught me wiping them away. "Ah, I shouldn't have upset you."

"No," I insisted. "No, it's okay. Because you're here now and you're okay, right?" I turned my weepy eyes to search his face.

Behind clear glasses, his blue eyes were intense. "Chihaya, I…" He seemed to struggle with himself for a moment, then his face settled into a look of resolve. "I'm all right now. And I need to get you home before you end up with another fever."

"Oh! You're right!" I said. As I turned to head home, I gasped. "Arata, look! It's snowing!" Tiny crystal flakes appeared here and there, drifting down over us like a blessing.

I held my gloved hands out before me like a kid, watching the gifts from above, trying to catch them. I grinned at Arata and caught him watching me intently, a gentle smile curving his lips.

"You look just like you used to," he said fondly.

My heart whispered another unspoken prayer: that in the not too distant future we could spend every day like this.

-0-0-0-0-

When we arrived back at Arata's house, his mom insisted we get our baths while she worked on dinner. I'd gotten a bit chilled as we walked home so I wasn't sorry when Arata sent me in first.

Exiting the bathroom a little while later, we nearly collided when I ducked under the flap that led to the dining room.

"Whoa!" His hand flew to my arm and held me steady.

"Sorry!" I said. "I didn't see you there."

His eyes lingered on me a moment too long, and then his face flushed. He dropped his hand and averted his eyes. "I-I'll be going next." He turned quickly, long strides taking him toward the stairs.

I checked my appearance as I passed the mirror in the foyer. Sure, my hair was wrapped in a towel, but I was wearing a robe over my pajamas. I should have looked presentable, certainly not indecent. I wasn't sure what had bothered him.

I got a clue not long afterward. I was setting side dishes on the table when he emerged from the bathroom in jeans and a t-shirt that clung to his still-damp skin. His black hair glistened with moisture and fell messily about his head. His face looked different, more vulnerable without his glasses. And when he brushed past me, I caught his clean scent and inhaled deeply. The lemony aroma went straight to my head in a delicious rush.

I grabbed onto the back of a chair and took a minute to pull myself together. That was waaaay different than when Dad finished his bath each night.

"Chihaya-chan, are you all right?" Wataya-san asked.

"Huh?" I shook my head to clear it. "Oh, yes. F-fine." I studiously attended to the placement of dishes on the table.

What was that? I'd never known such powerful feelings before…

Wataya-san interrupted my spiraling thoughts. "What time do you need to be at Omi Jingu in the morning?"

We were discussing our schedule when Arata's dad came in. "Smells good. I'm half-starved. How about you, Chihaya-chan?" He headed for the stove and made a show of looking over his wife's shoulder at what was cooking. I saw him wind an arm around her stomach and press a quick kiss on her temple.

"Kenji," she scolded him in an undertone. She peeked over her shoulder and caught me spying. She blushed and turned back to the stove. "Go hang up your coat. It's wet," she scolded. But she didn't sound upset like last night.

"Right," he agreed easily. "It was snowing earlier, but it's mostly stopped now."

Arata returned soon afterward, glasses in place and hair combed. Dinner was tasty and the atmosphere was comfortable. Arata's dad flitted from one subject to another, but eventually settled on telling stories about Arata when he was little.

We'd finished eating when one story prompted Arata's mom to hop up. "Let me see if I can find the album with the pictures from Omi Jingu," she said.

"Mom, Chihaya doesn't want to see that," Arata complained.

"Of course, I do!" I enthused. I followed her into the family room. She pulled a couple photo albums from the tall bookcase and set them on the kotatsu. I knelt beside her as she flipped pages.

"Ah, here you go." She said, sliding the book under my nose.

I felt Arata kneel beside me. "Oh, I remember that." He was holding a trophy and smiling up at his grandfather. A pudgy boy stood next to him holding a smaller trophy. Arata pointed him out. "Do you recognize him?"

It took a couple seconds. "Porky?!"

"He's on your team, right?"

"Yes, but…wow, I never thought about it. You used to play each other even back then…"

I turned the page and pointed out things that I recognized. Arata shared his recollections from various tournaments, of Porky, even of Shinobu-chan as a young girl. At some point his mom left us, but I didn't really notice.

I kept flipping pages, eating up the images of little Arata. So cute! We settled in, side by side, with our legs stretched out under the kotatsu, and I soaked in the sound of his husky voice as he recounted memories. After some time, he stopped and turned to catch my eye. "I'm probably boring you." He offered an apologetic smile.

"No!" I said emphatically. "I like hearing about your childhood." His blue eyes held mine, a mirror of the happiness I felt. We'd been huddled together over the book, and when his gaze fell to my mouth, I was suddenly aware that only inches separated us. His eyes returned to mine, looking somewhat panicked. He turned back to the book, quickly flipping the page. I struggled to breathe normally while my heart tried to pound its way out of my chest.

What are these feelings?

We'd nearly finished the second album when Wataya-san appeared in the doorway. We'd had our heads together, peering intently at the card placement in a picture of Arata playing his grandfather. At her chuckle, we both looked up quickly. One hand covered her mouth, but behind her glasses I saw her eyes crinkled in amusement.

"Sometimes you two still look like kids back in Tokyo," she said. I smiled at the sentiment. Sometimes it felt like that.

And sometimes it didn't.

"You should probably get to bed soon. It'll be an early start tomorrow."

We agreed and she left us to put away the albums and turn off the lights. Arata lingered in the doorway. Tomorrow we would go our separate ways again. The thought was depressing.

"Do you need anything?" he asked. I shook my head.

"Well, then, uh, goodnight," he said. I could hear the regret in his voice.

"Goodnight." As I watched him ascend the stairs, I admitted it to myself. I'm in love with him.