Warnings: None

Speak

Chapter 09:

"Messages"

Kurama's wristwatch started beeping just before I grabbed his hand. If I were just a bit less polite, I'd call that thing a major cockblock, but I'm not, so I won't. He thumbed a button on the watch's side and promptly excused himself to make a phone call. Said the alarm was a reminder that he needed to get in touch with 'an associate'.

Not a friend. An associate. And he'd looked so utterly surprised by my need to talk to Yuuki about my problems, too. It was like the possibility of needing a friend in hard times hadn't even occurred to him.

'I suppose that is a normal human impulse,' he'd said. Like normal human impulses didn't actually apply to him.

Kurama was smart, and kind, and funny—but I've gotta say, he was the weirdest person I'd ever met. Not in a bad way, but it was sort of like he wasn't used to being around people. Or like maybe he wasn't used to being around people his own age? Something. There were secrets behind that pretty face and patient smile, I could tell. He tried to act normal, but his secret-keeping was a major tipoff. There was so much more to Kurama than met the eye.

And darn it, I wanted to know every last part of him in spite of myself.

Was I delusional in thinking I could handle someone as complicated as Kurama, though?

Through the front window I saw Kurama take up position on the café patio, standing under the awning while he dialed a number on his cell phone. It was too cold for anyone else to sit outside. He had a private place to talk about his secrets, then. Good. I'd promised I wouldn't pry. I'd be remiss if I let anyone else pry, too.

Yuuki touched my arm as she pulled out her earbuds and turned off the CD player. I flinched, but I smiled at her on reflex. Her eyeliner sparkled when she angled her head just so.

"You OK?" she asked.

I looked toward Kurama. He stood with his back to me, folds of his wine-colored trench coat bringing out the subtle ruby nuance of his bright hair. Crisp shirt, ironed pants, smart shoes…he was as professional as he was handsome, even when meeting a girl for coffee. I thought he looked nice enough. Sugi would doubtless insist we take him shopping. 'Dress him for his age,' she'd say.

"What do you think of him?" I signed.

Yuuki frowned, glancing out the window at Kurama. As if feeling our eyes, he looked over his shoulder and offered us a small, warm smile. I returned it. A thrill when through me when his green eyes danced, and then he went back to his phone call.

"He's got a lot going on under the surface," Yuuki murmured. "Hard to read. He's had practice, controlling himself." She looped her arm through mine, huddling close. "He likes you a lot, though. It's obvious. He wouldn't go to this much trouble to make things right unless he liked you."

My heart stuttered. I lifted my brows and made the sign for "Really?"

Yuuki nodded.

"It's not just because we're…family?" I hated saying it, but the question bore asking. How much of his interest was actually obligation, since our families had married into each other? How much of this was an effort to keep me happy and avoid awkwardness? Not that prolonging our relationship and putting off a breakup would make things any less awkward. Kurama certainly seemed too smart for that trap.

"I think he genuinely likes you," Yuuki assured me. An exaggerated wink. "After all, you're awesome! What's not to like?"

"Still, though," I signed. "I'd hate to think I was guilting him into this."

"Pffft. As if! He's not the type to let people manipulate his emotions." Her eyes went slightly vacant as she regarded Kurama's back. "If anything, it's the opposite. He's the type of person who knows how to say exactly the right thing, the thing people want to hear—but only so they'll stop asking questions and leave him alone. He wouldn't string you along."

Yuuki's uncanny people-sense was rarely wrong. I didn't sign and ask questions. Best not to interrupt her when she went on one of her psychoanalysis benders.

"His ability to say the right thing is geared less toward manipulation than it is survival, though," she said. "I doubt he'd ever use his intelligence to hurt people who don't deserve it. He likely makes a habit of protecting those he cares about, but if I had to bet, that list of people is pretty short. He's a loner, a private person who isn't used to opening up. He uses his intelligence to keep his life that way. He's all about controlling emotion and perception, not letting emotions take over. So I really don't think you should worry." A smile ghosted across her lips. "But with you, he's willing to talk about stuff. He wanted to know how you felt, and he looked for your approval. That's unusual for him."

Yuuki's head tilted, pigtail brushing my chest. Her hands slackened around my arm.

"In fact," she murmured, "he wanted very much for you to be happy. And usually he doesn't care so much for people he's just met. The fact that he's already added you to his list of protected persons scares him. He isn't used to being scared. He's not sure if he likes it, but he sure as hell likes you. So don't be surprised if he wants to take things slow."

Like a light coming on, Yuuki's eyes snapped back into focus. She shook her head and scooted away so she could take a big gulp of her leftover cocoa.

"Sorry, totally spaced out for a minute!" she said. After dumping the last of the cookies directly into her purse (Yuuki loved her snacks) she shooed me out of the booth so she could stand up. "I'm gonna go pay. Don't worry about your check. I've got you both covered."

Yuuki was always trying to pay for things. I started to sign that her generosity wasn't necessary, but she grabbed my hands and forced them pointedly into my lap—the signer's version of a silencing finger over the lips. I would've found the gesture offensive from anyone but her.

"Don't even start with me, miss lady-ma'am," she said, winking one glittery eyelid. "Consider it a good-luck wish as you try to bag yourself a cute boyfriend!"

And with that, she skipped off, platform combat boots clopping against the tile floor like horse hooves. I'd picked a booth at the back of the café, isolated behind a bookcase of potted plants I could just barely see through. Didn't want people staring at my while I signed. Good view of the front doors, but the rest of the restaurant wasn't visible from this angle. Yuuki disappeared behind this bookcase as she beelined for the cash register.

Shortly thereafter Kurama moved, red hair glinting as he turned around and came back indoors—only instead of coming back to our booth, his eyes narrowed. He promptly disappeared behind the potted plants, heading for the cash register as well.

Uh oh. He probably didn't want Yuuki paying. I grabbed my purse and lurched to my feet, only just as I neared the edge of the bookcase, I heard a voice—Yuuki's voice. I stopped, peering around the plants as Yuuki and Kurama talked. She stood with her fists clenched at her sides, staring up at Kurama with a pout.

"Don't be silly!" she was saying. "It's my treat!"

"I really insist you not do this," he said, silky voice concealing an iron will. "I'm afraid my pride will simply not allow it."

She looked thoughtful. "Well, for the health of you ego…" Then she stuck out her tongue. "Psyche! I'm paying!"

Kurama smiled, a little helplessly in the face of my friend's enthusiasm. "Yuuki-san—"

"Don't hurt her, Shuichi."

Kurama fell silent as Yuuki's abrupt change—in both topic and demeanor—took him (not to mention me) off guard. All traces of humor had vanished from Yuuki's face in the slim space between seconds. She stood with head held high, jaw jutting, back straight. Yuuki rarely looked serious, but just then, her elfin face might as well have been carved from stone. Kurama inclined his chin, lips thinning.

"I do not intend to hurt her," he said.

"I know," Yuuki said, "but I could tell how agitated you were, earlier. About your name." My best friend's lips twisted. "You kept your cool and Momo probably didn't see how close you were to snapping, but…she's a good person." Her stony face cracked when she smiled. "She's the best person I know. She'd never hurt anyone. So please…"

Kurama ducked his head. A chuckle tumbled from his chest, deep and rich and warm. My toes curled in spite of myself.

"You're a good friend to her," he said.

"Her best friend," she corrected. It was her turn to incline her head, trying to look down her nose at him even though she was basically a midget. "Which means you have to do what I say, because my approval is important!"

"I will take that under advisement," he said—and his gentle, teasing tone solidified into sincerity. "Yuuki-san, I will not hurt her. I promise you."

"Good." She sniffled. "I lost a best friend once already. I won't let another get hurt."

She meant her sister, of course. My heart swelled, as it always did when she equated me with her dead sibling. I was not ignorant to what a gift that comparison represented.

Just as quickly as it had appeared, the sadness vanished. Yuuki leveled an accusatory finger at Kurama's face. He blinked at it, unable to keep from smiling.

"I will not let Momo get hurt," Yuuki declared, "so you'd better watch out, mister!"

"I see," Kurama said with comical gravity. "Is that a threat?"

"You'd better believe it."

"In that case, consider me thoroughly intimidated. Momo's safety is secure."

"Good. It better be." Yuuki crossed her arms, clearly pleased with herself. "I should join the Yakuza. I might be short, but I'm scary!"

A five-foot-nothing crybaby wearing goth Lolita petticoats, declaring she should be Yakuza? I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. Seems Kurama felt the same way. He covered his mouth with his hand, but the gesture did little to hide his smile.

Yuuki pouted. "What?"

"Nothing. You remind me of someone I know, that's all." He bowed. "Thank you for your help today, Yuuki. I appreciate what you do for Momo."

"Of course," she said, with an exaggerated curtsy. "She's my bestie. Bestie's gotta look out for each other."

"Yes. I suppose they must." He gestured behind him—back in my direction. "If you'll excuse me…"

I ducked away and sat down, arranging my skirt and my purse so it looked like I'd never moved. Kurama rounded the book case just after I pillowed my chin on my hand and began toying with the spoon in my coffee cup. Eavesdropping? Who, little ol' me? No way. Not if I wanted to turn this meeting into a legitimate date. Needed to look cute, not conniving.

Act casual, Momo. You got this.

Too bad for me, Kurama was going to bail.

Kurama sat down at the booth with a regretful smile. Soon as I saw that look, I knew. This was the end of our talk today. Ugh. So much for a date.

"I apologize Momo," he said, "but an urgent matter has come up. I'm afraid I'll need to be on my way."

Yup. There it was. He was hot one minute, cold the next. Talk about mixed messages. I tried not to look as disappointed as I felt, momentarily hiding my face behind my hair as I pulled a notebook from my purse. "Everything OK?" I wrote.

Kurama glanced at my message. Smiled. "Yes, of course. It's a small matter, but one that must be addressed quickly."

A polite answer, velvet-voiced and sincere, but vague. Pretty sure it would've worked on anybody but me. I pressed pen to paper. Hesitated. Then, caution waving goodbye on a northward breeze, I wrote, "Past haunting you again?"

Kurama read the note. He paused. The pause lasted a fraction of a second before he started speaking in his typical smooth cadence, but I noticed. I'd struck a nerve, one he didn't want me to know I'd struck.

Yuuki wasn't the only person in my friend-group with good people-sense.

"I don't want to lie to you, Momo," he murmured, "but this involves Yusuke, the man you met the other night. And yes, he is a part of the past I am trying to leave behind. He also happens to be a friend—one of the few people I can call as such. I'm obligated to help him with this matter."

I think he meant that last statement as a joke, given the lilt setting his lips askew, but infinitesimal tightness around his eyes gave it away. If this was a joke, it only barely qualified.

Geez. Kurama really did have a short list, as Yuuki put it.

I picked up my notebook and scribbled a reply: "Go. Friends come first."

"Momo, thank you." He looked oddly surprised, maybe because I wasn't asking questions. Tough to tell, especially since he immediately stood up and gestured for me to follow. "I enjoyed our time together today. I'll be in touch soon."

"You'd better," I wrote, with a little winky face.

I was rewarded with Kurama's silky laugh, but beyond that, there wasn't much else to say. We got up and walked toward the front, snagging Yuuki before exiting onto the café patio. The tables were all empty due to the cold weather; frost rimed the little metal fence surrounding the patio, ice stark white against black iron. Kurama bowed to us, breath misting, apologizing for needing to leave on such short notice and promising he'd get in touch soon. We bowed back. My heart sank when he turned to leave, but just as he neared the gap in the fence, a group of three people—one woman and two men—rounded the corner and cut off his escape.

"Excuse me," he murmured, ducking to one side—but no one replied.

Mainly because the people he spoke were looking at Yuuki, not at him, and also because they couldn't hear him in the first place.

The woman stopped when she caught sight of us. Then she waved and darted forward to hug Yuuki, grinning when they pulled apart. Her signing was fast, precise, and full of emotion. She signed, "Wow! It's been forever!"

"For real!" Yuuki replied, signing and speaking aloud at the same time. "So good to see you. How are things at the Center?"

"They're going well, but we could use you, if you want to volunteer again," the woman signed. Her eyes slid my way. "Nice to see you again, too."

"You remember Akemi," Yuuki said. She spelled the woman's name, then showed me her corresponding name-sign. "I think you've met a few times."

"Yeah—small town for signers," I replied. "How have you been?"

"Good!" Akemi beamed. "Miss seeing you around, too. Could use you as interpreter if you're ever inclined to help out."

"Speaking of which," Yuuki said and signed as she gestured at her lacy, textured dress, "I would've worn solid colors if I'd known I'd be seeing you today. Sorry!"

"It's fine. We'll manage," Akemi said, with a dismissive wave. "Tell me, are you—"

Yuuki and Akemi began discussing something regarding the Center I knew very little about. I took a polite step back and averted my eyes. The two men with her nodded at Kurama and I before slipping indoors where it was warm—oh, Kurama was still here? I caught his eye and smiled. He returned the expression, but when the smile melted into a frown I could tell he had a question.

"Solid colors?" he asked, dipping his head toward Yuuki. "I hate to eavesdrop, but I'm wondering what she meant by that."

Oh. I could see why he'd be confused. Listening to just Yuuki's half of the conversation was confusing enough, even if you already knew about Signing rules and customs. I pulled out my notebook and jotted down an explanation.

"Easier to read signs on dark and solid colors," I wrote. "Patterned background = unclear signs."

Kurama's eyes widened. Then he laughed, uncertainty easing.

"An utterly practical reason," he said. "I admit I'm embarrassed."

I quirked a brow. He shrugged.

"I confess when I heard her comment, I wondered if the Deaf identify themselves by wearing certain colors," he confessed. "This makes much more sense."

I made an 'oh, I get it' face. Lapsing into silence, Kurama observed Yuuki and Akemi's lopsided conversation, calculating eyes locked on their hands as Yuuki spoke half of their conversation aloud. He glanced through the window, where Akemi's two friends signed to each other as they found a table. I didn't blame him for staring. Sign was cool to watch, and since he wasn't familiar with it, I'm sure it held quite a bit of novelty.

Still, staring wasn't polite. I scribbled a new message and proffered it to Kurama.

"Akemi = Director of the Sarayashiki Center for the Deaf," I wrote. "Yuuki learned Sign there."

"Ah," Kurama said. He glanced toward the street, then back at Akemi (probably trying to decide if he was in too big a hurry to ask a few more questions, if I had to guess). "Are all of your Deaf friends mute?"

I winced. Thank god Akemi was too busy with Yuuki to attempt to lip-read Kurama. I wrote, "Not mute. Non-speaking. Mute implies can't talk/inability. Non-speaking is choice."

"Oh," Kurama said. To his credit he looked thoughtful rather than defensive. "My apologies. I wasn't aware there was preferred terminology."

"Learning curve," I wrote.

"Indeed." He smiled, rueful. "I have a lot to learn about your culture, it seems."

I froze a second. My cheeks heated.

"It's not my culture," I wrote. My handwriting wobbled on the page.

Kurama frowned. "I'm sorry, what do you—?"

"I'm not Deaf."

Kurama read my message with a confused frown. "I know you're not deaf. But you sign, and—"

I didn't let him finish. I couldn't. It looked like he was going to argue with me, or maybe quibble, or just ask a question that was far more complicated that he realized—and all of a sudden I didn't have the energy for that, for his questions, for patiently abiding well-meant ignorance even from someone I liked as much as Kurama. I held up a hand to stop him before ducking back down to my notebook.

"You should get going," I wrote. "In a hurry, right?"

His lips shaped the words as he read them. He looked at me. I smiled as brightly as I could before flapping the notebook at him—and obvious shooing motion.

"Go," my gesture said. "It's fine. Now go."

Thankfully—after bidding me reluctant goodbye one more time—Kurama did just that.

Mom and Yuuki watched me talk in silence. When I put my hands in my lap and sat back against the couch cushions, sighing my frustration, they exchanged a glance. Mom curled her legs under her, thumbs resting on the rim of her mug.

"Sorry, honey," Mom said. "Sounds like you need to give him some reading material."

I rubbed my temples. Yuuki joined me on the couch and gave my knee a sympathetic pat.

"He's new to this," she said. "He didn't mean anything by it. You just need to educate him, that's all."

I transferred my hands to my eyes, rubbing them until I saw stars. I agreed with Yuuki and Mom on a logical level, but neither of them knew what it was like to be in my position. Not really. Constantly having to educate every single person I came across about my condition and customs was grueling—and those were the strangers I encountered.

Having to constantly educate a romantic partner? Having to worry about the thoughts and opinions of someone I gave a damn about? Now that sounded like a recipe for exhaustion.

Not that dating a Deaf guy would be any better than dating a hearing one. I'd tried both. Neither worked out, for different reasons. Hearing dudes just couldn't talk to me. And connected as I was to the Deaf community, even I made terrible mistakes about Deaf culture. I appropriated Signing because it allowed me to connect with the world, but mute though I was, I'd never understand the specific challenges of Deafness. I'd once made the same mistake about mute vs. non-speaking that Kurama made today. I could be as dense about Deaf culture as Kurama was about my own condition.

Kurama.

Over one hurdle, only to run afoul of another.

Why couldn't things with him be simple?

"I just don't fit in," I signed. Mom's lips twisted; Yuuki looked at the floor. "I'm not Deaf, so I don't totally fit there, and I don't fit with the hearing world, either, because I can't talk." I couldn't suppress my next sigh. "Maybe I'm supposed to stay single."

Yuuki gasped, brown eyes flashing. Mom scowled, reached into the bag of popcorn by her side, and chucked an unpopped kernel at me.

"We will be having precisely none of that self-pitying attitude in this household," she said, tone desert-dry. "Perfect fit or not, Deaf culture is part of your life. Hearing culture is, too. Dating in either culture will take work…but since when have you feared putting effort into anything?"

Mom smiled when she said that last part. I smiled back—and the tension on my shoulders eased. Nothing like a pep-talk from your mother when your love life is in crisis.

"Your mom's right," Yuuki piped in. Her lips, covered in sparkly bubblegum lipstick, almost bounced into the shape of a smile. "You're the hardest working person I know. If you want to date someone, and it takes work, you can do it! I believe in you!"

My mother smiled at Yuuki's chipper declaration. "I believe in you, too. But a relationship takes two. You're going to have to put in effort to make this work, but so will anyone you date. You need to determine if Shuichi is even prepared for that."

I frowned, questioning. Yuuki cocked her head like a dog listening for a distant sound.

"You own dozens of books about Deaf culture," Mom continued. "Give Shuichi a few. Tell him to read them. If he does, he's serious about you. If he doesn't, cut the boy loose." Mom spared no time for euphemisms this evening. Her dark eyes burned with stark conviction. "You deserve someone who's willing to put in the same amount of effort you are. Otherwise, they don't deserve you." She pointed at me, expression hard. "You listen here. You deserve someone amazing, you understand me? Don't you dare settle for someone who'd half-ass your relationship. Call me biased, but even if you weren't my daughter, I'd say you're worth infinitely more than that."

Two seconds later, I launched across the room and hugged my mother around the neck. Only barely managed to avoid spilling her tea. Yuuki giggled as Mom groused about my touchy-feely tendencies. I'd definitely inherited those from my dad.

Mom excused herself after that. She had an early shift, so she was off to bed in preparation for twenty hours in the trauma ward. Yuuki and I retired to my room, where we spent the next hour digging up Sign Language dictionaries and textbooks about Deaf culture. Mom was right. I had a ton. The selection I came up with wouldn't be hard to read, but there was a lot of material.

If Kurama didn't put forth the effort to read it…

Yuuki grabbed my hand when it froze atop one of the books. Her soft smile warmed me like a shot of whiskey.

"It'll be OK," she murmured. "No matter what happens, we'll be together. So it'll be OK. Stop worrying. Please?"

I wanted to promise her I would. I wanted to, but I couldn't. Just as I raised my hands to tell her that, to extrapolate my feelings and really exorcise them, Yuuki looked away. Her hand went to her pocket. From it she pulled her pink cell phone, case covered in gold spikes.

"It's Sugi," she said, frowning at the screen. "She says—oh!" Yuuki looked up, eyes flashing with excitement. "We gotta go, Momo!"

She handed the phone to me. I scanned the text.

My worries vanished.

We didn't need to talk about what to do. I darted to my closet and shoved a few outfits into a bag—I'd been told what to bring to this weeks ago. Yuuki gathered her things, fingers of her right hand flying across her phone's keyboard while her left packed up her purse. Girl was almost as good a texter as I was. Didn't even need to look at the keyboard.

"I've gotta go home, grab my bag of tricks," she said as I started to change clothes. "Texted you the address."

On cue, with shirt up over my head, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

"Sugi is heading there first," Yuuki said. I yanked my shirt off and scrambled for a sports bra, pausing to glance at Yuuki's excited face. "Akko's meeting me at the station near my house. We'll meet you there!"

I shot her a thumbs up. Yuuki squealed with delight, then darted from the room.

"This is gonna be awesome!" she screeched as she thundered down the stairs. "Hurry your butt up, Momo!"

The door slammed. I yanked on a sweatshirt and yoga pants, then grabbed my bag of outfits and followed Yuuki out the door.

Incidentally, I also left my worries at the door.

Now was not the time for stressing over Kurama. Not when I had something else—something so cool—to think about.

NOTES:

Where are they going? You'll see.

Talking with my Deaf friends and family, one of the things they get very tired of is having to explain the basics of their lives over and over and over again to clueless strangers. That and the staring. It makes Deaf-hearing relationships difficult.

Momo isn't Deaf. She just can't talk. Sign was a communication solution, but it's not perfect for her, either, since hearing people don't usually Sign. Momo can't really lay claim to the Deaf community, since she's not deaf, but the hearing community doesn't fit her, either. Momo doesn't fit anywhere, and it's rough. More on this later.

Miscellaneous observations: Writing teenagers is hard. Love Momo's mom. Yuuki is my favorite character in this story. Kurama's chapters tend to contain plot. Momo's contain clues about the plot. Lots of puzzle pieces are already on the table. Have fun!

So glad to hear from you last chapter. You're amazing: rya-fire1, Xanaldy, Rynn, TimeLordKitsune, Sanguinary Tide, Kaiya's Watergarden, OdinsReaper, Aria2302, jcampbellohten, sofia334, and halem847.