Yes, yes, I know. After a year I still have the nerve to even post?!
Sorry.
I'll write a conclusion, even if it comes later, in like six years, when we're all married and whatnot.
"Think things are after me,
My catastrophe
I'm a kitchen sink,
You don't know what that means
Because a kitchen sink to you
Is not a kitchen sink to me."
Physics was one of Mari's best subjects. Seeing things in terms of the fundamental forces was a totally magical thing to witness. How people didn't fall off the world. How everything was held so tightly together by things no one could see. And then there was a whole other world of motion.
She heard the courts before she saw them: other clubs had finished already, and a throng of people (mostly girls) stood screaming. It was loud and started a new headache; she was grateful, because it pushed the other one out of the way, at least. Mari could barely make out the barest swing of a racket let alone get closer. She was more than thirty feet away from the courts, and shut up, yes, she was short, thanks.
Looking around, she searched for a place with a better view. The bleachers were filled with people to the point of pushing some off in excitement. A thick crowd lined each side of the Regular courts, and making her way through the mob was not an option.
There were, however, trees. They were sturdy, leafy ashes lined all around the court: perfect. Mari snuck up to the closest one and examined it. Nonchalantly glancing around and seeing no one was watching, she jumped and grabbed a branch just above her reach. And planting a foot on the trunk, hoisted herself up and around the lowest branch.
Briefly, she thought of Zacchaeus and the sycamore tree, perching, feet level with the crowd. She craned her neck to see, but the leaves obscured her view. Mari deftly moved higher and sat gingerly on her skirt at a fork in the branch high enough up to see the rooftops of neighboring homes over the foliage of trees like this one.
Mari wasn't a sports person, but if she had to choose one, she would pick tennis. Watching the boys' team play either killed her preference or fueled her interest more-or maybe both. She was an exceptionally technical person: things either worked by the rules or they didn't exist.
And their playing was walking the line between reality and dreamland.
Balls sliced across rackets and disappeared before her eyes. A seemingly simple spin sent the sphere into the ground where it spun like a windmill...until shooting back up again. Her eyes caught violet eyes- uh, Bunta Marui hit a neat shot that let the ball ponk onto the net.
And roll around on it a bit. Mari's open mouth couldn't stop her from grinning: it was almost like the ball was just sort of saying Gravity's got nothin' on thisbefore bouncing neatly onto the other side.
The bag on her shoulders slipped down a bit.
Oh my, Mari.
She looked around more and spotted Renji and considered greeting him. Mari raised a hand-then shot it down. Rule number three: why was she forgetting all her basic rules all of a sudden? What was wrong with her?
It wasn't like Renji was-
Mari shook her head and turned her eyes back on the game.
He seemed to move before the opponents even swung their rackets; Mari rubbed her eyes, because that wasn't natural, was it? (For goodness sake, Rikkai-people!)
86% chance of a backhand to the right corner of the court. And accounting for wind speed, velocity, force, spin, and inertia, estimated point of impact would be right...NOW!
The ball sailed across the net, flying past Kirihara's left foot and touching the ground at the baseline, bouncing hard into the fence. Renji touched his racket strings. His probability of winning was 98.43% today: slightly less than usual.
Kirihara was performing at his normal abilities, so it wasn't that the second-year had improved. I must concentrate, Renji frowned, lifting his racket. 100% chance of a knuckle serve then a cross-shot to the left...a flicker of movement caught his eye. That tree was behaving awfully strangely. 96.6% that was a Rikkaidai skirt. The white stockings rolled down her thin ankles to rest on her 22.5 cm shoes. 100% it was-
"Oi, Renji! Are we playing or not?" Kirihara twisted the ball between his knuckles and pressing his irritation into his next serve. It was an easy return, and he humored Akaya with a rally. Next is a straight shot. A backhand. A cross-shot. A downspin ball. Now, it's time for Yukimura to say-
"Practice is over, everybody," their captain called. "I'll see you tomorrow."
The crowd began to disperse slowly as the Regulars disappeared into the changing rooms. When they leave, I should probably get down from here, Mari speculated. Her back was pressed comfortably against the bark, and she stood a few branches from the ground so no one would see her up here. No unnecessary attention should be directed in her direction: Rule number three, she thought aggressively, pounding it into her brain.
One: no asking for anything. Asking is expecting. Expecting is disappointment.
Two: exception to one is only if partner activities are involved.
Three: unnecessary attention is...well, unnecessary.
Four: don't poke the alpha with a stick.
She ran over them over and over again until the very air quivered with them once more. They made her hard. They made her stronger. Better.
(Right?)
When everyone was gone and the Regulars were making no sign of exiting, Mari hopped down and brushed down her skirt. She went to sit down on the bleachers to wait.
It was a nice day, she mused. So blue. A few puffy clouds dotted the sky like sheep, and ash tree leaves skittered gently on the ground. Peace, for once. No responsibilities, no obligations, just-
Riiinnnngggg.
-her phone ringing.
Riiinnnngggg.
Beep.
"Hello?"
"Mari! Thank goodness...listen, I have a patient scheduled for tonight that I can't miss: you know how it is. Could you pick up Nori for me at seven from the nursery? Suzuki-san's been telling me he's been misbehaving again today, so make sure he doesn't bite you again."
"Ah-I-"
I have tutoring today. No, I don't know how it is because I'm not a therapist like you. I don't want to pick up Nori. I don't want to watch out for him biting.
"I-I...sure. Just-just sign out as 'relative', right?"
"Oh, thank you, Sweetie! Could you cook tonight too? You know how it is these days-"
"Yeah," Mari replied flatly, "that's fine."
"Great. Kisses. Love you, Hikari Mari."
"Bye, Auntie."
Mari hung up and put her empty hand over her eyes. Three headaches in one day was not normal.
Okay, so this is what I have to do: reschedule with Renji, run to pick up Nori, scourge the supermarket for some noodles (again), strap Nori in his booster and plant him at the window to watch the cars pass while I cook...then, if all goes smoothly and I somehow manage to finish eating before nine thirty, I can get married and ride into the sunset, she added on sarcastically. Maybe get a pet and have a bunch of little babies...
"Who was that?" Renji's voice came uncomfortably close to her ear. Mari was too overwhelmed to be startled.
"My aunt," she scowled. "Listen, can we reschedule? I have a dinner to cook and a baby to take care of-"
"You have a baby?" a familiar voice asked. Mari turned around. There was the scraggly black-haired boy with Marui Bunta and the boy with the tan bald head.
"No, I- yes. I got pregnant at fifteen and had a baby."
Rule number three, how could you- oh, just shut up, will you?
Renji made no move to reply, and Mari's eyes softened. "I'm sorry, but I just can't do this tonight."
"You are aware we have a cumulative test in German tomorrow," Renji stated. "Kawamura-sensei is expecting you to participate and achieve an 85% or better, or you will be dropped to a lower class." Mari sighed. She'd invested all this time and energy just to be dropped to a lower class? Having Renji over for a little while didn't seem too bad. Then everything else flooded back and made the back of her skull feel heavy.
"Look, it's my grade: not your problem. So unless you can change a diaper, amuse a two-year-old, shop, cook, and teach me German at the same time, I can't possibly accept your assistance tonight. Thank you, but goodbye." Mari stood up and stepped off the bleachers when-
"I'm not sure about cooking and diaper changing, but it's my extra credit, and I'd like to help." The look on his face was sincere, and Mari almost accepted it. But she would handle it by herself, and she would be fine: she was always fine.
Well.
Fine, okay? She was always fine.
"Who are your girl friends, Mari?"
"Is this for your little data book again?"
"Yes."
"Then it's not happening."
"What if it's not?"
"Then it's still not happening."
They sat side-by-side in the library. He was looking over her math homework while she read his literature essay- starkly pristine, as usual. Their friendship seemed to have expanded beyond her abysmal German. She learned that Renji had the slight habit of using circular reasoning much of the time in his writing. It was a tiny victory for her, to mark it up with a red pen, but still made Mari feel worlds better to find the fatal flaw of Renji Yanagi.
"I only ever see you alone," he continued, not pausing as he marked one of her sloppier problems.
"I like being alone," she replied, making a point of underlining a particularly circuitous sentence.
"You're an extravert."
"It's not an exclusive role."
"It's not an antisocial role either."
"I am not antisocial!" Mari said defensively, frowning up at him. "I'm friends with...you know, Yumi Ainako. And Chou Rei."
He looked at her plainly.
"It's not unhealthy," she muttered, finding nothing else to mark and quietly cursing Renji's detailed yet surprisingly interesting essay on 19th century Japanese literature. Darn him. "It's a matter of personal preference, is all."
"Okay," he said.
"Okay," she replied, a bit irritated.
Because.
Because whatever. So Hikari Mari wasn't a social butterfly.
Not like Renji was either, right? And Yumi Ainako had been Mari's friend, though a few years ago; and Chou Rei had called her nice and invited her to a party last year. Mari hadn't actually gone to that party, but Rei assured her that it was totally understood, what with the accident and everything going on with Mari's parents and etc. And she and Yumi had planned since junior high to join Gardening Club together, but things fell apart and it was pretty okay too.
Of course things were pretty okay, because for Mari, they never got worse or better than pretty okay, or she never let them be.
"You know, Renji," she said suddenly, putting down her pen, and he looked at her again. "I think you're my only friend. Isn't that sad?"
There was a silence in which Mari was sure she had finally scared him off for good.
But finally, Renji said: "I think that's just a matter of personal preference."
She had found herself in very good company indeed.
Been thinking of posting a new story soon...keep in touch! It's weird to think I started this story over two years ago in my obsessive stage of writing everything down. I'm busier than ever but writing calms me down and lets me vent. (So if there's a really angry chapter that just pops up, there's your explanation.)
Lyric creds to Twenty One Pilots' "Kitchen Sink". I feel so cool referencing them- call me a hipster (please don't).