TAICHI
"Taichi, hurry up," Chihaya urged.
I finished tying my laces and placed my indoor shoes in my locker. "Well, you're the one who had to go back to the classroom three times," I retorted.
"Just…let's go," she said, setting off toward the glass entry doors. "He'll think we're not coming."
I grumbled. I knew he'd wait as long as it took for her.
A warm spring breeze rustled through the trees as we strode down the path leading to the school gates. "Did he definitely get your message about the change of plans?"
The school cultural festival was approaching quickly, so all clubs were on hold while the classes made preparations. The campus was abuzz with students running here and there and carrying all manner of materials—from lumber to paint to elaborate costumes. Girls I knew waved and smiled at me as I passed.
Except the one in front of me, who seemed to have forgotten my existence.
She came to an abrupt halt just outside the open gates, looking left then right. "Ah, you're here," she said to someone just beyond the wall. The tension drained from her face.
"Sorry about that," she was saying as I rounded the corner. "I forgot we all have to work on the cultural festival this week."
There he stood, his back to the concrete wall, blue eyes fixed on Chihaya in that slightly confused expression she seemed to elicit from him. Students flowed around him, taking little notice of the tall but nondescript-looking guy. His suit jacket was draped over one arm, so his white shirt and black tie looked fairly close to another school's uniform.
Nothing exceptional here, you'd think. I knew otherwise.
He noticed me approaching. "Taichi!" He greeted me with a warmth I didn't deserve. Every fiber of my being resented him being here, staying in Chihaya's house, spending tonight with her.
I rallied and tried for civility. "Hey, how are you?"
We exchanged courtesies and talked about his interviews and the plans for admission by recommendation. "Well, it sure would be nice not having to worry about entrance exams," I concluded.
Chihaya had been unusually quiet throughout our discussion. She wore a thoughtful look.
"Do you want to go get something to eat?" Arata asked.
"No, I can't," I answered. "I'm actually supposed to be out buying nails and some other stuff for our class. I should get going."
"All right. I guess I'll see you in June then." He smiled. "Maybe we'll get to play each other this time."
All the jealousy and anger stewing inside me begged for an outlet. "Count on it."
-0-0-0-0-
CHIHAYA
I refused to stay after school with my class when Arata was in town. By way of a compromise, I'd agreed to go home and test out some of the recipes people had proposed for our café menu. I offered to let Arata spend the afternoon at the Shiranami Society, but happily he said he'd stopped by earlier to pay his respects to Harada-sensei.
So he accompanied me to our usual grocery store and helped me find the ingredients needed. It could have been strange, watching the Arata of my exalted imagination pushing a grocery cart up and down the aisles and helping me compare prices, but it was somehow comfortable and homey. He seemed perfectly content to pitch in, just as if it were his own class project, so we put our heads together over my printouts and puzzled over labels.
Soon we were carrying our bags down the road. It was a perfect, late spring day. The air was comfortable even though the bright sunlight felt a little too warm on my back. The trees along our path were all vibrant with the green of new growth.
"What kinds of things did they ask in your interview? Was it just one person or a whole bunch?"
He described the scene and some of the questions and how he responded to them. I listened and nodded, but mostly I just drank in the sound of his voice with its distinctive timbre and the accent I'd come to hold dear. There was a warmth being in his presence.
Arata always seemed to accept me for me. I know I can be an airhead sometimes, but Arata always talks to me with respect. He makes me feel more capable just because he believes in me.
"Chihaya," he asked, "are you planning to go into modeling like Chitose?"
"Me? No, I don't think so. I mean, it's not hard work or anything, but it's kind of boring. I just started doing it recently since Chitose's agent saw me on TV and asked about me."
"On TV? Oh, at the Queen match. Then, have you thought about what you want to do after graduation?"
I had. I'd thought about it a lot. One thing kept coming back to me over and over since my talk with Coach S last summer. But it was so preposterous…
"Chihaya?" Those beautiful blue eyes were regarding me curiously.
"There is something," I admitted quietly.
He waited, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the silence.
I looked at his face and warned him. "You can't laugh."
He looked surprised. "Okay, I won't."
I turned my eyes to the horizon. "I think I…I want to become a high school teacher and coach a karuta team," I blurted. I tensed, waiting for the laughter.
Instead he said, "I can see that."
It was my turn to be surprised. His expression was serene, a slight smile pulling up the corners of his mouth as if he were remembering something pleasant.
"But," I spluttered. "My grades are terrible! I don't pay attention in class half the time, and I forget about assignments…. If anyone from school heard I wanted to be a teacher they'd never believe it."
"What do they have to do with it? If that's what you want to do, then you should do it." We waited at a stop light before crossing the street. "But if you don't really like your classes, what kind of a teacher do you want to be? Usually for high school you have to specialize in one area."
"A P.E. teacher," I answered readily. I'd already considered this much. "I ran track in middle school, you know, and of course there are all sorts of exercise systems that would benefit karuta players. I'd just have to learn a little more about the rules of some of the sports, but I wouldn't mind memorizing that kind of stuff."
"Oh, that makes sense." He smiled at me. "I bet you'd be a really motivating P.E. teacher."
"Well, to be honest, I'm more interested in being the karuta coach than being a teacher, but you have to do something."
He chuckled.
"Our club," I ruminated aloud. "It's not just me. I think it's been something special for everyone. I mean, Taichi would be popular no matter what he does and probably Porky too, but Kana-chan and Desktomu…and our kouhai…it's not just something we do together. It's a place where real friendships are made." I looked at Arata. "I just think it would be amazing to spend my adult life making sure other kids got to experience what we have."
"Chihaya, that's…" He regarded me with wonder. "That's really cool."
My wheels continued to turn. "Well, I don't know if I could even pass the entrance exams, though."
"If it's you, you'll do it," he asserted. "You just have to decide that's what you really want, and –I know you—you'll make it happen." He was smiling that eye-crinkling smile again.
My heart melted.
He really believes in me.
-0-0-0-0-
We were finishing up a batch of cookies and working our way through a recipe for omurice when I heard Mom in the foyer, apparently talking to someone. As she stepped though the shoji door to the living room, I saw that she was on the phone.
"Well, it can't be helped," she said to the person on the phone as she set her purse down on the table. "Yes, these are great seats and she just won them today." Pause. "I already told her we'd come." Pause. "Of course we will."
She glanced our direction. "They'll be fine." She chuckled. "All right, I will. Hurry home."
She flipped the phone closed and came around the counter to examine our work.
"Good afternoon, Ayase-san," Arata greeted her with formal politeness.
"Wow, you've been busy." She had her eye on the cookies. "Can I try one?"
"Sure," I said easily. "Hey, Mom, do we have more soy sauce somewhere?"
She checked one of the cabinets and, after some digging, pulled out a new bottle. "That was your dad," she said. "My co-worker won four tickets to a show tonight and invited us to come. We'll be going to dinner with her and her husband beforehand, so I guess you're on your own." She looked curiously at the recipe printouts and ingredients piled everywhere. "Were you planning to make dinner anyway? What is all this?"
I explained about the cultural festival while Arata pulled a batch of cookies from the oven and removed them to a cooling rack. He was pretty handy in the kitchen, I had to say.
Mom left us and went to get ready for her night out. Arata was peering over my shoulder at the printout when Dad stepped through the door.
Arata jumped aside and greeted my dad as he had Mom. Dad looked disturbed.
"What's the matter, Daddy? Did you have a bad day at work?" I asked.
Dad looked abashed. "N-no, I'm fine. How was your day, sweetheart?"
It seemed like he kept stealing looks at Arata while I explained again about the cultural festival. Arata stood stiffly, not adding to the conversation.
Mom swept into the room, her heels click-clacking on the wood floor. "Oh, good, you're here," she said upon seeing Dad. Collecting her purse, she said, "Let's go. You know the trains are going to be packed this time of day."
Dad cast one more lingering glance at us as Mom dragged him toward the door. "Make sure you clean up when you finish," he said. He stopped just inside the doorway. "We'll be back before bedtime, most likely," he said. He seemed worried. "Yeah, in fact, it might be boring and we might leave early." Laughing nervously, he said, "So, we could be back at any time, really. You never know…"
"Come on," Mom said with exasperation. She gave him a shove out the door and turned to smile warmly at us. "Have fun."
From down the hall, a muffled male voice said, "Not too much fun."
The front door closed and I turned back to the recipe. "Okay, where were we..."
Arata's low chuckle came to my ear.
"What?" I said, looking up at his amused expression.
"Nothing," he said with a smile. "Your dad really cares about you."
"I know," I said contentedly. "He keeps a scrapbook with all my pictures and newspaper articles and stuff. Can you believe he does that?" I rifled through the plastic bags looking for the onions. "It's silly, but, to be honest, I like it."
"It must be hard having such a pretty daughter, er, daughters."
He called me pretty. Suddenly I felt beautiful. And self-conscious.
Arata began dishing out the last of the cookie dough while I stared at the printout trying to regain my focus. "I think the rice is done," he commented, one eye on the cooker.
"Good. Okay, we just need to dice these and these…"
We worked companionably side by side talking about whatever.
"About tomorrow, I'll probably have to leave before you finish school," Arata said.
My heart sank. "Oh."
"I was thinking. I could probably ride partway with you tomorrow morning. I looked at the route and it would work out."
"Okay," I agreed glumly. "You can see Taichi again, too, that way."
"Oh, right. So you guys ride together every morning?" There was a funny note in his voice.
"Yeah. I used to go in later, but some guy from another school asked me out after seeing me on the train a couple times. After that, I started riding the same train as Taichi. He said it would be safer."
Arata chuckled darkly.
I'd been wanting to know about Arata's romantic status for a while. He never talked about a particular girl much, but…
It came out of my mouth before I realized it. "What about you, Arata? Do you have a girlfriend?"
He kept peeling carrots at the sink. "No. There was this one time in middle school… My friends all told me this girl liked me and they convinced me to say 'yes' when she asked me out."
"What?! You had a girlfriend, too?" Gosh, Arata wasn't so different from Taichi after all.
An unpleasant feeling filled the pit of my stomach.
"I guess so, but nothing really changed. I had to go straight home to be with Grandpa, and she was in a different classroom, so we hardly saw each other." His long fingers deftly sliced the vegetables. "We had one date, but it didn't go so well. I guess I thought it would be cool to have a girlfriend, but the real thing was… well, when we were actually together I kept wishing she was someone else."
My curiosity meter was off the charts. "Who?" The knife hung limply in my fingers. My attention was riveted on his story.
He kept his eyes trained on his hands as he worked. "There was this girl I liked in elementary school. But it didn't work out."
"And you were still thinking of her even then. Wow, she must have been incredible."
Slowly, he brought his gaze up to meet mine. Behind clear glasses, his blue eyes seemed to be telling me something. "She is."
For some reason, my heart began to pound rapidly. I was trapped in his stare. I couldn't think.
His brow wrinkled and he made a face. "Uh-oh." He turned swiftly to the oven, and when he opened the door I smelled it too.
"Oh, they're burning!"
